by Pamela Tyner
But damn it, he thought he’d done it for the right reasons, and he had convinced himself that the end justified the means.
He snorted at the thought. “Yeah, try convincing her of that.”
You stupid asshole.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Shit, even he wouldn’t believe it. He’d better put some major thought into how exactly to word his explanation. Otherwise, he would still come out looking like a first-class jerk.
One thing he was certain of…before Tricia walked out of his life again, he would have his say. It was important she know the truth. All of it. She might not consider it important, but it was crucial to him.
He realized, of course, even after she knew the truth, it might not change anything. But she was going to hear it, even if he had to tie her to a chair to get her to listen.
He winced and mentally kicked himself for the thought. Twice now he’d threatened to or attempted to restrain her hands, and both times she’d been panic-stricken. No, there would be no more restraint—ever.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he drew in a deep breath and struggled to think logically. What he needed to do was get her to let her guard down. Then once she was feeling all relaxed…get the words out before she even realized what was happening. He should have done it last night when she was snuggled against him.
Now, apparently, it would take some doing to get her in that position again. Well, not that position exactly, but that frame of mind. Relaxed, friendly, generous. He had no idea how he’d accomplish it, but somehow, he’d find a way.
Chapter 11
Tricia wiped her hands on the dishtowel and tossed it on the kitchen counter. Leaning against the counter, she crossed her arms over her chest and sighed heavily.
She had told a blatant lie and didn’t feel the least bit remorseful about it. It was a matter of survival.
Of course she had felt more than lust, a great deal more. But this morning memories of the past had come back to haunt her. They started out as a trickle, but quickly evolved into a raging flood. Once the flood had begun, she hadn’t been able to hold it back.
Doubts and suspicions nibbled away at her until she’d been convinced Clint would once again leave her heartbroken. She had traveled down that road before and knew exactly where it ended.
Sleeping with Clint had been a mistake. But what a wonderful mistake. For the first time in years she had felt affection and desire. She had felt…loved. When his body had finally merged with hers, she’d practically heard the angels above singing the hallelujah chorus.
Her eyes opened wide in alarm, and she straightened, drawing in a sharp breath of air. Whoa, back up. Love? How did that word manage to slip in there?
There was no love. Desire definitely, affection maybe, but not love. The only kind of love Clint was capable of was the temporary kind. He’d love her right up until the newness wore off, and then he’d trade her in for a different model and walk away without a backward glance. It was imperative she remember that.
It might be easier to think rationally if the smell of sex wasn’t clinging to her body. She headed down the hallway toward the bathroom.
After adjusting the temperature of the water, she stripped her clothes off and stepped inside the shower. Sighing with pleasure, she rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. For several minutes, she simply enjoyed the sensation of the water beating down on her body, relaxing her muscles.
She picked up the bar of soap, worked up a luxurious lather, then realized she’d forgotten to grab a washcloth from the cabinet. With a shrug, she smeared the soapsuds over her body. The smell of the soap floated up to her nose, reminding her of Clint’s scent. The feel of her hands moving over her body reminded her of Clint’s hands stroking her skin, exploring every inch, leaving her aroused and needy.
Suddenly aware of the direction her thoughts were headed, she yanked them to a screeching halt. She quickly rinsed off and stepped out of the shower.
Once dressed, she strolled back toward the living room. When she reached the door to Clint’s bedroom, her steps faltered as her gaze landed on the rumpled bed. The bed she’d spent a night in ecstasy in.
Scenes of the previous night flashed before her with such clarity she could almost feel Clint’s lips against hers. As she remembered his mouth leaving her lips to travel down her throat, she absently reached up and stroked her neck. Her body tingled as the erotic daydream continued and he kissed, licked, and nibbled his way down her body. It had almost seemed as if he had been intent on tasting every inch of her. As if he had been hungry—no, more than hungry, ravenous—and she was the only thing that could satisfy him.
When her hand drifted toward her chest, following the path his lips had taken, she curled her fingers into a ball and jerked her fist to her side. She shook her head to dislodge the mental images.
Her gaze still on the bed, she smiled. No doubt that bed, with its ugly green sheets, and the activity that had taken place in it would remain firmly ingrained in her memory. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was a memory she would cherish.
Just remember to keep things in perspective. It was sex—utterly pleasurable, fulfilling sex—but no more than that.
Stepping inside the room, she sank down on the mattress, curled up on her side, and buried her face in the pillow. She yawned and chuckled softly at the reason. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Her eyelids grew heavy, and within minutes, she drifted off to sleep.
Some time later she was awakened by a gentle shaking of her shoulder and someone calling her name, the voice soft and gentle. When she pried her eyes open, she found Clint sitting beside her on the bed. Her mind still groggy from sleep, she smiled in automatic response.
He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch whisper soft. “I’ve got to ride out and check on the cattle. I was hoping you’d come with me.”
She groaned. “My butt’s still sore from the ride yesterday.”
Clint’s lips tugged up into a smile. “You’ve just got to keep riding. It’ll toughen up eventually.”
“I actually have no desire to have a tough butt, but thanks anyway.”
His gaze left her eyes to glance at her rear. “Well, I kind of like your butt the way it is too.” He looked back at her and winked. “So we’ll take the truck today.”
Rolling over onto her back, she squinted at him as her brain began to return to working order. “Take the truck? Do you mean we didn’t have to ride horseback a million miles yesterday? We could have taken the truck?”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah. But I usually ride to keep the horses exercised. Besides, it did provide me with the opportunity to offer to massage those aches away.”
“Ah. So you had a plan then?”
“Not a plan. It just ended up working out to my advantage.”
Indeed it had. Even after she’d passed on his original offer, he had still ended up massaging her rear, along with numerous other parts of her body.
Which only served as a reminder that Clint was a dangerous man, one she needed to steer clear of as much as possible. Temptation was much easier to resist when you simply avoided being in its presence.
“I don’t have to come, right?” she asked. “Last night didn’t you give a little speech about how you were going to let me make my own decisions?”
“No, you don’t have to come. It’s your choice. But I’d like for you to. It won’t take long, and there’s something I want to…”
His words trailed off when a knock thudded on the front door. He glanced in the direction of the hallway. “Wait here,” he said as he stood and headed out the room.
She hadn’t missed the worried look that crept into his eyes, but he was gone before she had a chance to point out that she doubted Matt would announce his presence by knocking politely on the door. Matt would pound on the door, or more likely, simply break it down.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she cocked her head to the side and concentrated on listenin
g. Hinges creaked as the door opened, followed by the sound of Clint’s voice and another man’s. Although the other voice sounded familiar, she couldn’t place it. The one thing she did know was that it wasn’t Matt.
She got up, padded out into the hallway, and down to the living room. Sticking her head around the corner a fraction of an inch, she saw Clint speaking to Jack.
Although she hadn’t made a sound, Jack seemed to sense her presence. He looked over at her and lifted a brow. A huge grin spread over his mouth. “Well, look who’s here. Hi, Tricia.”
She took a step inside the room. “Hey, Jack.”
“I’m trying to convince Clint to let me do a little fishing at his pond.”
Tricia hadn’t even known Clint had a pond. Of course, she was sure there was a lot of his land she hadn’t seen.
“Ah.” She nodded. “I guess that explains that ugly hat.”
She pressed her lips together to suppress the grin that yearned to erupt. It had to be one of the most hideous things that had ever existed. The cotton was so worn it practically molded to his head. The seams were frayed, and several safety pins held the brim onto the rest of the hat. She imagined at one time it had been white, but now it was spattered with numerous stains. No doubt he was afraid to wash it because it might fall completely apart in the process.
Jack took a step back and laid a hand over his heart as if her words had hurt him deeply. “Listen to her,” he said, looking in Clint’s direction, “insulting my hat.”
“I’ve been telling you for years it’s ugly, and it never bothered you.”
“That’s because I couldn’t care less what you think.” Jack propped his hands on his hips and returned his gaze to Tricia. “When a man’s fishing, his lucky fishing hat is an essential piece of equipment.”
“I know. My dad had one too. It was just as ugly as yours.” A giggle slipped out before she could stop it.
“You won’t be laughing when I come back with a big string of fish.”
“Well, it sounds like fun.” Her tone was casual, cordial, and the words were completely insincere. Hours gazing at a little ball bobbing up and down in the water was not her idea of an exciting time. But if he was under the illusion that it was entertaining, who was she to disagree?
“You want to come? I’ve got an extra rod and reel.”
Tricia stared at him in surprise for a split second. Apparently, her words had sounded genuine to him. “I’m not much of a fisherman. The last time I went fishing I was about six years old, and my dad got mad at me because I made too much noise and scared all the fish away.”
“You can make as much noise as you want. I promise not to get mad at you.”
“I spent hours on that lake with my dad and didn’t even get a nibble. All I ended up with was a sunburn. I doubt my luck’s changed much since then.”
“We’ll sit in the shade. And if you’re real nice, I might let you wear my hat. I promise it works. You’ll be reeling them in one right after another.”
She started to refuse his offer and then reconsidered. Actually, it might not be a bad idea. It would keep her occupied. And it would make Clint happy, since she wouldn’t be alone at the ranch while he was gone.
“You convinced me. But I think I might pass on wearing the hat,” she said with a smile. “Give me two minutes to get ready.”
Clint crossed his arms over his chest. He shot a disapproving look in Jack’s direction, then turned his gaze Tricia’s way.
She lifted a brow. “Something wrong, Clint?”
“When Jack goes fishing, he stays all day long. You’ll be bored out of your mind.”
“If she gets bored, I’ll bring her back,” Jack interjected.
Clint’s gaze stayed on Tricia. “I don’t really think you’d enjoy yourself.”
She mustered her sweetest smile. “I’m sure I’ll find Jack’s company very enjoyable.”
Before Clint could protest further, she turned and walked down the hallway. After she’d thrown her hair in a ponytail, slipped on her sneakers, and grabbed her sunglasses, they headed out the door.
Jack glanced back at Clint, who stood in the same spot, arms still crossed over his chest, glaring at them. “When you get done with what you’ve got to do, come on out.”
“You can count on it,” Clint replied, his words sounding like an ominous promise.
Half an hour later, Jack pulled his truck beside the pond. After they unloaded the equipment, Tricia watched carefully as he baited his hook. She plucked a wiggling worm from the container of dirt. Of course the man couldn’t use artificial bait…it had to be live bait. Saying a silent apology to the animal that was about to surrender its life, she picked up a rod. Focusing all her attention on the task, she tried to mimic what Jack had done.
When Jack chuckled softly, she lifted her head to find him watching her.
“Want some help?” There was a spark of amusement in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were trying to hold back a grin.
“No. I can do this.”
Finally, after ten frustrating minutes, she succeeded. The worm dangled precariously from the hook, looking like it might fall off any second, but it was on the hook.
“Well,” Jack said mildly, “you certainly accomplished that.”
“Yes, I did.” She shot him a look that dared him to let loose with that laugh she knew he was holding back.
Jack demonstrated how to cast the line. Although Tricia had paid close attention to his instructions, her first attempt landed less than five feet from the shore. Jack watched her with that annoying look of amusement on his face, which she tried her best to ignore. Determined and persistent, she repeated the procedure again and again until she was at last successful.
Feeling ridiculously pleased with herself, she smiled at Jack. Not only had she managed to complete the task, but the worm had actually remained on the hook. She had been afraid that when she cast the line, it might go flying off.
They sat side by side on the edge of the pond in silence for a short time. While it wouldn’t qualify as the most exciting thing she’d ever done, she did find it relaxing. The peace and quiet that surrounded them was calming and soothing.
She rubbed a hand across her forehead, removing a layer of perspiration, which she promptly wiped off on her shorts. Grabbing the front of her shirt, she pulled the material to and fro to fan herself. Even sitting under the shade of the tree it had to be close to a hundred degrees, and not a single breeze had blown.
Jack reached for the cooler. He lifted the lid, dug through the ice, and handed her a can of soda. She smiled in appreciation, popped the lid, and took a long swallow of the cool beverage.
“Oh, that’s good,” she proclaimed as she set the can on the ground beside her.
“You looked a little hot.” Jack stood to reel in his line and recast it.
“It doesn’t look like your hat’s working very well today,” she teased.
“Don’t worry, it will.” He settled down on the ground again. “When we were leaving the house I noticed a red Chevy parked behind the barn. Florida plates. That your car?”
“Yes.”
“How did you meet Clint?”
“He already told you, he won me in a poker game.”
Jack chuckled. “As much as I’d like to believe something like that’s possible, I have my doubts.”
“We’ve known each other for years.”
Jack smiled at her. “Is that all you’re going to tell me? Is it some big secret?”
“No. We met my senior year in high school, dated for a while, then I went away to college and he left town.”
“And?” he prompted.
“And what?”
“How did you hook back up?”
“We didn’t,” she snapped. “We’re not together.”
“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, sweetie. I just got the definite impression that you were.”
Of course he had. After all
, they had given a very convincing performance at the bar.
“Things are not always as they appear to be.” Tricia searched her mind for a way to change the course of the conversation before he could continue any further with the inquisition. “I enjoyed hearing you play the other night. You’re very talented. How long have you been playing?”
Jack lifted a shoulder. “About fifteen years. I thought it’d help me pick up women.”
“Did it work?”
“It does attract some. Of course, my devastating good looks help a bit too,” he added with a smile and a wink.
Tricia examined his face and had to admit the man was handsome. But that silly hat plopped on his head shot the effect all to hell.
She held back her chuckle and struggled to maintain a serious tone of voice. “Of course. So who taught you how to play?”
“I taught myself. Clint knew me when I first started. I was pretty horrible, but he never told me that. He’d just sit there and listen to me play this awful music and then he’d say ‘Well, you’re getting better’.”
“You guys have known each other that long?”
“Yeah. He used to spend the summers here.”
“I never knew that.” Tricia waved away a bee that was buzzing around the opening of her soda can and then took another drink.
“A couple of years after his father took off, his mom decided he needed a male influence in his life, so she sent him here for the summer. After that he came every year.” Jack paused to tighten up the slack in his line. “But once he finished high school and started working, he stopped coming.”
“Sounds like he spent a lot of time here. Probably has a lot of memories.” And yet, during the year she had spent with Clint, he had never once mentioned it. “I guess that’s why he came back,” she mumbled, speaking more to herself than to Jack. She had wondered why Clint had chosen to move so far away from his daughter when he could have just sold the place and made a nice addition to his bank account.
“Could be. But I think it was his way of starting over. He was having a rough time then. His divorce had just become final, and his sister had died not long before.”