by Becky Barker
No matter how many times she asked herself the same questions, there were never any satisfying answers. She’d known coming home would be one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do. Sometimes, especially when she was this tired, the memories threatened to overwhelm her.
“I really need some sleep,” she said, forcing her lips into a smile.
Meredith returned the smile. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to yell.”
“Thanks.”
Meredith headed up the stairs. Andrea turned at the sound of the front door opening. She greeted her brother and sister with a squeal of excitement.
“Chey, Zack!”
“Andrea!” they called in unison.
She hurried toward them and Zack quickly swept her up in his arms. He whirled her in circles until she was laughing and dizzy. Andrea hugged him fiercely, gave his cheek a loud kiss and then turned to do the same with Cheyenne. They shared a group hug and laughter at the simple pleasure of being together again.
Once they’d caught their breath, she stood back and asked, “What have you two been doing? You smell kind of horsy.”
“We went for a ride after lunch,” said Chey.
Although a few inches shorter than Andrea’s five foot ten, the sisters looked a lot alike. Cheyenne shared a slim build, the Bartell eyes, a straight nose and full mouth set in an oval face. Due to her mother’s genetic influence her features had a more delicate attractiveness. Her dark-brown hair had blonde highlights and was cut in a short, sassy style while Andrea’s remained long and heavy.
“Are you suggesting we stink?” teased Zack, a masculine version of the Bartell traits with a broader nose, longer face, broad shoulders and lean frame.
“Well you know what they say, if the shoe fits…” Andrea ended the sentence with a dramatic pause and then a giggle. “Geez, I’m so tired I’m getting giddy.”
“Have you talked to Nanna yet?” asked Chey.
Her smile turned to a frown. “Yes but it’s going to take a while to wrap my mind around the conversation. Let’s not discuss it now. I just want to catch up on news and chat with you guys.”
“How ‘bout we go continental and hit the pool deck with tea and cookies?” said Zack. “I smelled ‘em as soon as I walked through the door and I’m starving.”
“Are you ever not starving?” teased Cheyenne.
“Not too often,” he conceded with a grin.
The three of them joined arms and moved toward the kitchen, where they helped themselves to tall glasses of sweet tea and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. They headed outside to a table on the backside of a wraparound porch, asking Andrea about her flight and her trip home.
The afternoon sun bathed them in warmth. The scent of honeysuckle wafted around them on a gentle spring breeze. The porch overlooked a tiled patio area that surrounded an in ground swimming pool half full of dirty water. Beyond that was a weed patch that used to be the vegetable garden and still further a grass-invaded tennis court. The signs of neglect both angered and shamed Andrea. She mourned the loss of a once-vibrant home but she understood why nobody had bothered to keep it all maintained.
“This place needs a lot of new Bartells to bring it alive again,” she said as they took seats under the umbrella of the glass table. “How about you, Chey? Weren’t you getting hot and heavy about Ben or Dan or someone the last time we talked?”
“Don, and he’s history,” Cheyenne replied sharply. “He cheated.”
“‘Nuff said. We Bartells don’t tolerate cheats,” said Andrea, her thoughts going to Noah. “Any serious plans about procreating, big brother?”
“Hell no,” said Zack. “Not even considering it.”
He offered her the plate and she took a cookie, savoring every bite. She rarely indulged with high calorie desserts because she loved them a little too much. In high school she’d battled some serious self-esteem problems due to being chubby. She’d nearly starved herself to get thin. Nanette and Caroline had saved her from anorexia but now she stayed thin by eating carefully.
“Wasn’t there someone who wanted you to marry him and have a bunch of crumb snatchers?” Chey asked her.
“My agent.”
“Not gonna happen?”
“Still undecided. Definitely not soon enough to populate the property, especially if Nanna’s ready to give it to Courtland. I said I didn’t want to discuss it but did she give either of you any details?”
“Said she’d explain when we all got home,” offered Zack.
Andrea let the subject drop. “So, Zack, are you done traveling for a while? Bored with living in lush tropical paradises?”
“Paradise is fine if you can get past the heat, humidity and insects,” he said, reaching for a second cookie. “But I’m done with the foreign engineering projects. It’s getting harder and harder to deal with the governments and all the political factions.”
“Not to mention the risks,” added Chey. “I worried every time I heard about another American being kidnapped.”
Zack flashed her a smile. “I’ll be staying closer to home. It sure beats living in barracks with communal bathing facilities and taking anti-malaria drugs.”
Chey grimaced and turned to her. “What about you, Drea? Do you have to get back to work very soon? It would be great to have you here all summer. I’ve missed you guys so much!”
Andrea reached out a hand and grasped Cheyenne’s. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy these past few years and super sorry I missed your graduation. As Nanna pointed out to me earlier, I’m getting older and my modeling career is waning. I can’t afford to turn down assignments.”
“Why not change professions or go native?” Chey asked with a grin. “I know the money wouldn’t be as good but I’m sure you could find work somewhere in Texas.”
“Sure, Drea, you could be one of those fancy underwear models.” Zack flashed a wicked grin. “You see ‘em struttin’ around on TV all the time these days.”
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Modeling underwear on the international scene is a whole lot different than doing it at home where everyone thinks you’re either a hussy or a sex kitten.”
“Good point,” said Chey. “Better keep your clothes on here in the states.”
They laughed at the silly joke and tears welled in Andrea’s eyes. She’d forgotten how much she loved spending time with her brother and sister. How fun it was to laugh with them and share stories. How much she’d missed them.
“I guess I’m even more tired than I thought,” she whispered. “I’d better take myself to bed before I go from giddy to maudlin.”
“We’ll talk later,” Zack promised. “You’re not planning to head right back to work, are you?”
Andrea shook her head. “I finished in Paris and don’t have anything else lined up for a while. I won’t make plans until I hear what Nanna has to say.” She drank the last of her tea and rose from the table. “What are you guys going to do the rest of the afternoon?”
“Zack volunteered us to clean the pool.”
Andrea laughed at her sister’s lack of enthusiasm and then covered her mouth as a huge yawn escaped. “Excuse me. Have fun with cleaning and I’ll see you later.” As she crossed the porch she smiled at their teasing exchange.
“Stop whining,” Zack told Cheyenne. “You’re spoiled, college girl. Life in the city has made you soft. It’s time to restore some of that Bartell family grit.”
“I’ve got grit.” She heard her sister’s indignant response as she headed back indoors. “It’s the grime and slime I try to avoid.”
Andrea put her empty glass in the kitchen sink and passed through the dining room to the hallway. Nanette came from the opposite direction, dangling her cast-off shoes in one hand and her purse in the other. She waved them back and forth, her expression gently reproving.
“Some things never change, huh?” Andrea said lightly, reaching for her things.
They transferred shoes and purse from old hand
s to young. Then Andrea threw her arms around her aunt and hugged her tightly. She’d been so afraid she’d lost her. It felt good to be close again even though her aunt’s body seemed unusually slim and frail. They hugged each other tightly.
Silver hair rested against sable and Nanna whispered in her ear, “I’m glad you’re home. I’ve missed you.”
It was an unexpected declaration for a woman who rarely verbalized her feelings. Andrea tightened her grip, feeling a new wave of relief that her Nanna was alive and well.
“I missed you too.”
Nanette patted her hair and gently eased her aside. “Go to bed, you’re dead on your feet.”
Andrea smiled and nodded then turned to watch as her aunt headed toward the kitchen. Were her shoulders more stooped? With all the other hoopla she’d neglected to ask about her health. Surely a person nearing eighty had medical problems. Might that be the reason she wanted them home? Some horrible diagnosis?
Shaking her head to clear it of nagging questions, Andrea whirled around and slammed into someone else. Since her hands were full at her sides, there was nothing to protect her torso from the hard impact with Noah’s rock-solid chest. The contact knocked the breath out of her and shot a jolt of electricity along her nerves. She cursed the chemistry that made her body sing at the contact with his.
Chapter Two
Andrea didn’t have to look up at many people but she tipped her head to lock gazes with Noah. Long-buried memories surfaced with a vengeance, the scent of him enveloping her like a lover’s cloak, making her skin sizzle with sensation. He always smelled outdoors fresh and purely male, uniquely Noah.
The warm, hard body she remembered had gotten broader, hotter and harder. Big, calloused hands grasped her waist, steadying her yet making her head swim as the heat of his touch seared her through the thin fabric of her shirt.
For a short, terse moment they stared into each other’s eyes, neither apologizing for nor commenting on the jagged sting of attraction that crackled between them. Andrea’s breasts tingled, nipples beading with arousal even though she hated the idea of reacting to him. Her lungs constricted, forcing her to drag in more of his scent with every breath she took.
“There’s something you should know,” he told her in a low hard tone. “Your aunt isn’t planning to disinherit you, so don’t be cruel to her. Your grandfather had a clause in his will that requires you, Zack and Cheyenne to agree on any transfer of the property.”
Andrea sucked in a breath, struggling to clear her thoughts and make sense of what he’d said. “Nanette can’t do anything without our approval?”
His mouth tightened into a grim line. He stared into her eyes with unnerving intensity. “No.”
The feel of him had every cell in her body quivering and her brain seemed to have gone to mush. “And you’re thinking we’ll all just turn over our inheritance and home to you?”
“You’ve sure as hell made yourself scarce these past few years. Why should you care if I buy the place?” he asked with an arrogance that brought her blood to a quick, bubbling boil.
“When hell freezes over!” she snapped, jerking herself out of his grasp. Turning on trembling legs, she brushed past him without another word. Sheer determination kept her head high and spine rigid as she climbed the tall, winding staircase without a backward glance.
On the second floor she paused to drag in a long, calming breath. Deep-breathing exercises had helped her in plenty of stressful situations. Inhale, exhale, she chanted, inhale, exhale, striving to regulate her breathing. It helped a little.
Then she turned toward her bedroom and opened the door into her past. The wonderfully familiar surroundings calmed her as nothing else could have done.
Decorated in peach and cream with a touch of turquoise, the room welcomed her with a rush of happy memories. Her favorite books lined one wall amidst a scattering of stuffed animals and framed pictures. The four-poster bed still reminded her of exotic movies with sheer, lacy fabric draped over the canopy.
She’d chosen the decor during high school when she’d made the momentous decision to stop being a tomboy and become a young sophisticate. She’d wanted light, airy elegance and she’d gotten it.
Someone had opened the French doors, allowing a sweetly scented breeze to fill the room. The same someone must have carried her suitcases upstairs. She glanced at them but didn’t have the energy to unpack. Instead she dropped her shoes and purse beside a padded wicker chair, reached into a dresser drawer and found an old nightgown. Next she shed her stale, wrinkled clothing, letting every item lay where it fell, and dropped the sliplike gown over her body.
The full-length mirror reflected a weary, too-thin woman with pale skin and dark circles under her eyes. Andrea pulled the pins from her heavy pile of hair and let the thick waves fall down her back. Relief from the too-tight hairdo was immediate and she sighed with pleasure. Next she collapsed across the bed, snuggled her face against the lavender-scented pillow and closed her eyes on an even heavier sigh.
A tidal wave of emotion washed over her at the exquisite pleasure of being home in her own bed. God but she loved this place, the sounds and scents that were as much a part of her as her own heartbeat. She loved every inch of it with every fiber of her being.
She’d shoved it all aside to establish a career but she’d never stopped yearning for home and the simplicity of youthful dreams. Noah held too great a part in those old dreams so she’d ruthlessly buried them with her sister five years ago. She hadn’t been home since Caroline’s funeral.
Andrea couldn’t think about him or her reaction to the feel of him. Surely exhaustion had accounted for her body’s fierce response. It wouldn’t happen once she felt more in control. As soon as she’d rested, she’d be better prepared to tackle all the new problems and maybe some old ones.
* * * * *
Noah strode out of the house and headed to the main barn without stopping or speaking to anyone. Anger vibrated through him, his body humming with pent-up frustration. No other woman had ever made him so hot yet so furious in such a short space of time. With just one haughty look Andrea could make him burn with both anger and desire.
She’d been a thorn in his side for as long as he could remember. As kids they’d always been competing in some way, on horseback, in the show ring or among their peers. As teenagers she continued to challenge him on every level, physically, mentally and emotionally. Just three years his junior, she’d wanted to do everything and anything he did and do it better.
She could sit a horse as well as anyone he knew. She could rope and ride and work the ranch with the best of them. Andrea had been the rare woman who spoke his language until she’d decided to shake the Texas soil off her boots and follow a career path he’d never understood.
She’d gone away to college, and he’d missed her more than he’d thought possible. When she’d come home they’d succumbed to the long-simmering sexual attraction and become lovers. He’d ached for her day and night, totally enslaved by his desire and her wild, uninhibited loving.
Worst of all, he’d been stupid enough to start dreaming about a future together.
Then it had all been shattered by Caroline’s death, Andrea’s bitter accusations and lack of faith in him. She’d shown her true colors, what she really thought of him as a man. It had been ugly and he’d never let himself forget.
Hard-learned lessons made the most lasting impact.
The barn was dark after the brilliance of the sunshine but Noah didn’t need much light to find his way around the familiar building. A stack of hay needed to be distributed to the horse stalls, so he tackled the hot, heavy chore.
Before long he’d worked up a good sweat but all he could smell was the scent of Andrea. It clung to his clothes and his senses. The perfume she wore was unique, created especially for her by her college roommate who’d majored in chemistry.
The scent never failed to arouse him, going straight to his head and then his groin. The surge of desire he’d
felt earlier had caught him by surprise and thrown him off balance. The feel of her sparked vivid memories of baby-soft skin, steamy summer nights and even steamier sex.
His chest heaved with exertion, his heart racing, by the time he’d finished tossing around fifty-pound bales of hay. Furious with himself and the memories crowding in on him, he picked up the last bale and threw it as far as he could throw. It slammed against the wall with a satisfying thud.
“What’s got your skivvies in such a knot?”
Stiffening, Noah turned to glare at Sam Allwood, a cowhand older than dirt and as dogged as a mule. Sam moved out of the shadows and studied him from beneath the rim of a dusty straw hat. The beady brown eyes were alive with curiosity but his weathered brow creased in concern.
When he didn’t answer right away, Sam continued speculating, “Somethin’s sure got you riled.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Noah insisted grimly, turning his back to Sam’s too-observant eyes.
“Seeing how you come from the big house,” he paused to spit tobacco juice in a can, and then continued, “I’m guessin’ it might have something to do with that expensive-lookin’ woman what climbed out of the fancy little car. Who is she?”
Noah clenched his jaws. He didn’t want to have this conversation but avoiding it would make it more of an issue.
“Nanette’s niece Andrea.”
“Her brother’s girl by his first marriage?”
Sam had started working at Bridleton after Andrea left home but he’d learned plenty about the family since then.
“Yeah, she and Cheyenne are stepsisters.”
“She the one had you drowning your sorrows in whiskey when I first came to work here? I put ya to bed a few times. Heard plenty of mumblin’ about somebody called Drea. Course you talked about Caroline too. Never did know which one drove you to drink.”
Noah hated any reminders of that stretch of personal weakness. “Both, but Caroline’s dead.” He snapped out each word with enough force to warn any sane person to back off but Sam didn’t take the hint.