With her eyes closed, Kathleen twisted around and pressed her face to the door. She pried one eye open, lifting one of the louvers at the same time.
It was him.
Crap, crap, crap. She needed to reevaluate New Kathleen. The entire idea of coming down here and sowing some wild oats before she lost them all suddenly seemed like the worst idea in the world. She should have stayed home. Turned seven months of celibacy into seven years if she had to. She was an experienced woman. Knew how to satisfy herself. She didn’t need a man to help her run the ranch so why did she need a man for the ultimate gratification?
Because all the sex toys in the world don’t equal one touch from a man’s hand.
Especially the memory of the man standing outside, tanned body fully exposed to the rising sun. Jackson Taylor.
And sleeping with Jackson Taylor was the biggest mistake this Texas girl could make.
Chapter Two
After his third, “Who are you hiding from?” received no answer Jackson rolled his eyes and began looking for his pants. Kathleen was still locked behind the cabana doors not speaking. Whatever. He wasn’t thrilled that the Texas Princess was his one-night-stand any more than she seemed thrilled the poor boy from the barrio was hers. He needed to find his clothes and get out of here before Mr. Kathleen Witte, God help the man, showed up.
In college, Kathleen’s main pastime had seemed to revolve around hanging out in his wing of the dorm. Fifteen rooms, thirty other men on the floor, but she seemed to always know when he was coming or going. And usually tagged along with her roommate. Sophie? Stephanie? Something like that.
He’d been too interested in Kathleen to actually give her the time of day. Not only was she three years younger, they were worlds apart. Her family owned half of west Texas and most of Lockhardt. He was the bastard son of another long-revered Texas family, only his family had fallen on hard times and his father’s new, rich wife couldn’t stand the boy she’d inherited along with the family wedding ring. So he’d been sent to live with his mother until he was seven, when the rest of his world fell apart.
Back then, Kathleen was the kind of girl interested in forever and a ring. Not the kind of girl who would understand his upbringing, his lack of family. His burning need to get as far from Texas as he could.
No, the kinds of girls Jackson was interested back then were the types he allowed into his life now. Legs that went on for miles, a tight butt, size C bra cup, and a neck that liked to be kissed for hours. Hair color didn’t matter, but he had discovered that the blondes didn’t ask nearly as many questions as the brunettes. No redheads, a fact that had escaped Jackson until he woke up on the beach with red-headed Kathleen Witte this morning. Not that it meant anything. His number one rule for women — then and now — was that they remain peripheral and easily replaced if it came down to that.
Definitely not interested in asking about his past. His women were all about the present, and if they tried to get close…Well, he’d headed off the marriage wagon so far, hadn’t he?
But Kathleen must have changed. Jackson couldn’t make the woman on the beach, the flashes of memory that were coming back from last night, fit his memory of the girl he’d wanted so badly back then. She was obviously more experienced now, as she should be. Twenty-eight was old enough to have a string of men in her past. But women like the Kathleen he remembered didn’t change their moral compasses, and that type of change was the only reason he could think of that she would sleep with him when she was married to another.
Enough! None of this mattered. His past was his past. His alone. He didn’t think about it. He didn’t wish it was different. It simply was. And wondering about Kathleen’s life wasn’t going to find him his clothes.
The area around the pool was clear. A few lounge chairs, more potted plants but no clothing. Inside? Jackson started that direction, and more thoughts about the past bombarded him.
Kathleen taking an interest in his pictures. Asking him how he could see things so clearly through the lens. Her sad eyes the day before his graduation.
He pushed the memory aside. The day he’d left Texas behind was the best day of his life. He didn’t need to be reminded of those days now. Decade-old memories wouldn’t answer the questions circling his mind now. Had she recognized him? Decided to get a piece of the grown man since she missed out on the boy? Or had he seen her first and, different lives or not, decided to take action? It would fit. Since he turned thirty a few months ago he’d been obsessed with his past, finding memories crowding into his mind at the most inopportune times. During photo shoots, finalizing plans for his new Los Angeles office. He’d decided to put the past firmly in the past by finding his mother and confronting the sordid situation.
But that didn’t explain how he’d come to be naked on a beach with Kathleen Witte. Could she be down here recovering from a bad divorce? Not likely. She was at the age to be married, maybe for a couple of years. Maybe with a couple of kids. Scratch that. Kathleen wasn’t the type of woman to leave her children behind. No kids. No marriage for that matter. Though a dead marriage would explain her having a wedding ring, a divorce didn’t explain why she still wore the band. And Jackson couldn’t picture his Kathleen wearing a ring given by a man who no longer belonged to her.
Maybe it wasn’t a wedding ring. Could be a family heirloom. Kathleen’s family owned one of the largest ranches in West Texas. There were sure to be family jewels. Only the thin, gold band didn’t fit his ideas of family jewels.
Had to be a wedding ring. Which meant — was that a pants leg? Jackson dropped to his knees and dragged his khaki pants from underneath a lounge chair near the sliding glass doors. A bit damp from the morning dew but definitely wearable. He pulled them on and glanced around again. No white shirt beckoned. No shoes.
He swiveled his head from the house to the cabana. He couldn’t walk who knows how many miles back to his hotel on the Malecon barefoot. He needed shoes or a taxi. Preferably both. Striding quickly to the door, Jackson rapped twice but didn’t wait for an answer.
“I found my pants. You can come out now.” No sound from inside the cabana. This was getting ridiculous. She wasn’t an eighteen-year-old virgin any longer; she had to have seen a naked man once or twice. “Look, why don’t I just slip inside and call a cab?”
“That would probably be best,” she said through the door. So she wasn’t coming out. He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and knocked again, curiously reluctant to leave. Which had to be the stupidest move he had made thus far.
Being drunk enough not to notice a wedding ring was one thing, hanging around the married lady after finding out about the husband was quite another. Not that he had seen any evidence of a husband. This made the whole morning even more surreal.
Kathleen hadn’t said anything about him, come to think of it. She didn’t seem in a hurry to get rid of him, or curious about where said husband was. What was that about?
“What?” She sounded annoyed.
Jackson grinned. He wanted to ask about the ring, her husband, how they wound up naked on the beach this morning. He didn’t ask any of these things, however, settling instead for, “Where’s the nearest phone?”
He thought he heard a sigh from the other side of the door, but couldn’t be sure.
“Through the lanai doors, down the hall to the right there is an alcove with a phone.” She mumbled something that sounded like, “‘Do not pass go, do not collect $200.00’.”
• • •
Go to the phone. Go directly to the phone and then out the front door. I don’t know where he is, but if you run into him Jackson you’ll wish you’d gone to jail.
Kathleen wished she were in jail. An all-women’s cellblock. No testosterone wielding, pheromone sending men out on the make. It just figured years after college she would finally have her night with Jackson Taylor. And not remember a m
inute of it.
Jackson Taylor, the man of her college fantasies. The half-brother of her recently exed boyfriend. Lord, could this get any worse?
A glimmer of moonlight on the cove as she spun in a circle flashed into her mind. A male hand pulled her back into his arms, his hands lingering on her waist and working up to her breasts. Everything went black again. Not that she needed to see his face in her memory this time. No, those hands and those shoulders could only belong to Jackson Taylor.
She caught her breath as the muscles in her abdomen clenched following the phantom movement of his hands. Okay, so she remembered thirty seconds of last night. Didn’t make a difference.
At least she’d found her white halter-top dress tossed in a pile on one of the bench seats when she dove inside the cabana. Fully clothed she felt more like her old self. Sitting down hard on the bench seat, Kathleen buried her head in her hands. What had she done? All of her hard work over the past seven months was going to disappear down the drain if Jackson didn’t get away from the villa before Grandfather wandered outside looking for her. He couldn’t find Jackson here.
A vacation fling was the sort of act that would convince Grandfather she was just like her sisters or the string of women her father had brought to the ranch while she was young. She could hear his voice, thundering at her father even now.
“Incompetent, weak spined, won’t handle ranch life.”
And invariably Grandfather was right. Since her mother’s death, Kathleen’s father had been married five times. None of the women lasted more than two years at the ranch before running for those bright city lights. Nicholas Witte had loved them all, but hadn’t been able to keep any of them. With each defection he had lost a bit more of his spirit until he was a shell of a man.
Kathleen had tried to prove she wasn’t like her father’s women by not getting involved. By keeping men at least an arm’s length from her heart. She’d learned to enjoy their bodies, but the minute any of them made moves toward something deeper than a physical relationship she cut them loose.
It was breakup number five that caught Grandfather’s attention. When Kathleen broke up with neighboring rancher Ty Henderson, Grandfather’s version of the perfect mate for her, he started talking about selling the ranch. Leaving only the house and a couple of acres to his granddaughters because none of them were strong enough, committed enough to carry on the family tradition.
That was seven months ago. Since, Kathleen had dedicated every waking hour to the ranch. Working the new horses, overseeing the entire operation, making subtle changes in the day-to-day operation. Seven months and she nearly had Grandfather convinced she had turned over a new leaf. Then she let Vanessa, her younger sister, goad her into this stupid vacation and look where she was. Hiding in a cabana, hoping her grandfather didn’t see the now-half-naked man beside the pool. The rental car had to be his. She should be angry that Grandfather had come down here to check on her, but she couldn’t. In his heart he wanted the best for her, her sisters, the ranch. He just happened to be trapped in his old-school ways.
“Kathleen?”
“What?” She clasped her hands together, twisting the ring on her left hand. Another flash, this time of Jackson pulling a white flower from her hair. Her heart softened toward him. After their night on the beach, he had to be wondering about the cold shoulder treatment. “Jackson, the phone’s inside…” She trailed off, all of her attention suddenly focused on the thin, gold band on her left hand.
The ring she had been mindlessly twisting around her finger for the last few minutes.
What the heck?
Kathleen had never seen the ring in her life, but it was definitely a wedding band. Only she wasn’t married. Would never be married. No way. Not happening.
So where had it come from?
Another flash of brightly lit lanterns and very soft Latin music flashed into her brain. The memory of a wrinkled, brown face smiling at her filled her mind and a sinking feeling filled her stomach. She wanted to throw up, and not from the hangover this time.
No, she’d done it.
End of life.
End of the Double Diamond.
The question was who was wearing the matching band?
She focused on the closed cabana door. Jackson, who disappeared on her sometime during the night. Jackson, who knew his way around her private, rented villa. Jackson, who last she heard, was a struggling art photographer in New York because his step-mother cut him off from family money after his father died.
Jackson, who kept hanging around even though he was mostly clothed and had been in a hurry to leave earlier.
Just what was he trying to pull?
“Jackson?” Was he still there?
“Yeah.” Yep, still there. And he knew now where the phone was.
“Go call your taxi.” She listened intently, but didn’t hear footsteps leading away from the pool.
Any soft hearted feelings she had for him disappeared in a bubble of red-hot rage. Jackson, secretive, artistic Jackson who never had time for her in college was suddenly attached to her hip in Puerto Vallarta.
Kathleen jumped up and began to pace. She willed the last flash to come back. She saw Jackson pull the white flower from behind her ear and hold it out to her. She took it, they turned and then … nothing. Blackness engulfed her memory.
Crap, crap, crap. Why couldn’t she remember the whole night? She had never had this problem before. Never lost an entire night. She pounded the heel of her hand against her forehead and winced.
“Before I call, do you want to talk about what happened last night? I’ve got a couple blanks that need to be filled in,” he said. His voice sounded very close, almost sad. Not sad. Curious, maybe, but not sad. What did he have to be sad about? A marriage to a rich rancher’s daughter probably fit right into his plans.
She had more than a couple of blanks that needed filling in. More like twelve hours. She held back a sob. No, she didn’t want to talk about last night.
Idiot, idiot, idiot. The words rolled through her mind like a freight train.
“No,” she said, her voice cracking on the word. She swallowed hard and pressed her fingers into her eyes to stop the threatening tears. “I don’t want to talk about last night. I just want you to call for that cab.” And get out before your presence does more damage.
“Listen, I’m just going to slide — ”
His words were cut off when a voice from inside the house called out, “Kathleen? You out here, sweetheart?”
Kathleen knew a moment of pure, unadulterated terror. She wasn’t wrong. Grandfather was here.
Naked man by the pool. Naked man by the pool. Grandfather at the door.
She did the only thing she could think of at that moment.
Jerking open the cabana door, Kathleen tugged a startled Jackson inside the small room and slammed the door closed.
He towered over her by a good five inches, but Kathleen didn’t care. She placed her hands on her hips and hissed, “One word out of you, Cowboy, and I’ll twist your balls so hard they’ll fall off.”
Chapter Three
When Jackson opened his mouth to speak Kathleen held up her hand, index finger pointing to the ceiling. “Not. One. Word.”
Prudently, his mouth closed. Jackson turned to sit on the bench at the back of the cabana. His six-pack curved inward as he leaned against the wall, well-defined even in the relaxed pose. He really shouldn’t still have the hot university body. It would be much easier to think if he’d gained twenty pounds and developed a beer belly.
“Kathleen?” Grandfather’s voice sounded close. Too close. Kathleen peered through one of the louvered slats. Mitchum Witte stood on the lanai, just outside the house looking like an image from an old black and white Texas postcard.
Black leather boots and pressed Wranglers, a
white crease centered down the leg. Big, silver belt buckle and wide, hand-tooled leather belt with ‘Witte’ emblazoned on the back. Starched, western cut shirt, long-sleeved with only the very top pearled button left open. He held a cream-colored Stetson in his hands. His dress hat. He must have come straight from the airport.
Why had he come down here? This was her vacation, darn it. Her time alone.
Kathleen turned, sagging back against the wall. “Without giving me too many details, could you just tell me what happened?”
Jackson shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine; though I’m almost positive we had sex at some point last night.”
She knew that much. What she needed to know was why they were wearing matching wedding bands. Crossing to him, Kathleen held his left hand up so he could see and placed her left hand beside it. “No, I mean what did you do to get this ring on my finger?”
His face paled. Had he really not put two and two together? Not realized he was wearing a wedding ring? Okay, she couldn’t fault him there since she hadn’t realized it until she’d been twisting the stupid thing around her finger for several minutes.
“Because I wasn’t wearing this before I left Texas, and assuming the flashes coming to me are from last night and not several nights ago, I wasn’t wearing it yesterday either. One of us has to remember or we’re both dead.” Okay, that was an exaggeration. Grandfather wasn’t likely to kill Jackson or her. He’d just make her wish her life was over.
“So the man calling you sweetheart on the patio isn’t your husband?”
Kathleen blanched. “No, idiot. He’s my grandfather. What do you think I am some Anna Nicole wannabe?”
“No, but…Well who else would call you sweetheart besides your husband?”
She glared at him. “Start talking, Cowboy. Am I remembering last night?”
“I’m not sure, either.” When Kathleen would have socked him in the shoulder, he continued. “I was sent down here on a photo shoot for Sports Weekly last Monday. It wrapped and I decided to stay for a few extra days. I have a show booked in New York in a couple of months and I thought some shots of the crowds on the Malecon would do well. That would have been…Wednesday. Then I woke up on the beach this morning with you. So assuming this is Thursday, yeah, we’re both remembering the same night.”
Texas Wishes: The Complete Series Page 2