by Sharon Sala
His heartbeat doubled as the blood hammered against his chest. “You’re too well informed for my peace of mind,” Chance muttered, and tightened his hold on her waist. It felt wonderful to be holding her, touching her.
“You have no secrets from me,” she teased.
Oh, but I do, Chance thought.
Chance knew he shouldn’t. He knew it would be a mistake. But he couldn’t help himself, or stop Jenny. He stared at her face, inhaled sharply, and lowered his head.
His mouth was cold on her lips, moving gently, tentatively and, for Jenny, too achingly slow. She sighed, shifted in his arms, and stepped forward, aligning herself completely against his body, relishing in the muscles that tightened beneath her, the feel of desperation with which he held her.
Chance shuddered. He yanked his head up like a drowning man desperate for air. He started to step back…away from her arms, but Jenny wouldn’t let him go. Instead she slipped her fingers inside the edges of his front pockets and gave his jeans a gentle tug.
“Don’t do this,” she begged. “Don’t turn away from what’s between us. What’s always been between us.”
He shook his head. “You don’t know…”
“No,” Jenny said. “You don’t know. You don’t know that I almost didn’t survive this semester. You don’t know that I was so homesick I almost quit twice.”
Chance cupped her cheek. “I knew leaving home would be rough for you, honey. And I’m sorry Marcus wasn’t here when you arrived. But I’m sure it was unavoidable. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Don’t kid yourself…or me. Marcus will come home when he’s ready and not one second sooner. To hell with whoever comes or goes around here. Besides, I wasn’t homesick for him. It was you that nearly had me running home. It was you I dreamed of, and you I missed.”
His eyes burned with unshed tears. His mouth worked, but no words would come. The need to tell her what was in his heart was almost overwhelming. And then she spoke, her words sending him reeling.
“I love you, Chance.”
It was this declaration that had broadened the gap between them. And it was what stood between them…always.
He continued to move along the truck’s red exterior with his water hose and sponge. It was a damn shame that he couldn’t wash away the ghosts in his life as easily as the dirt came away from his truck. Jenny’s persistence during the past three years had nearly sent him over the edge. He needed to claim his woman, and he needed to get the hell out of Texas. Both were necessary, but neither seemed possible.
He jerked the hose sharply and began to rinse the soap off the grill. The water trickled to a slow stream and then came to a complete stop. He cursed beneath his breath as he dropped it to the ground and started back around the truck, thinking it had become caught and trapped the flow of water. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Jenny stood at the tailgate of his truck, wearing a green bikini and a taunting grin as she held up the hose, indicating impishly that she’d just twisted it into a knot.
“Dammit, Jennifer,” he said, “turn it loose. I’ve got places to go tonight. I can’t be messing around like this.”
The “places to go” was what did it. Jenny knew good and well that he “visited women” when he disappeared once a month. She wasn’t a fool. But the fury that grew with each impending fourth Saturday was getting the best of her. If he wasn’t such a pig-headed idiot, he could be “visiting” her instead of strangers. She reacted without thought, intent only on delaying his trip.
“Fine,” she drawled. “You want water…” She released the kink, knowing full well that the water was going to come gushing through the limp hose and cause the end that he’d just dropped to do a dance on the muddy ground beneath him.
The look on Chance’s face when the hose came to life between his legs was priceless. One minute he was straddling limp, gray rubber, the next he was trying to dodge the wild, snakelike slither of the nozzle as it spewed mud and water alike over him and his freshly washed truck.
Jenny doubled over with laughter. By the time he’d caught the hose and halted its wild behavior, he looked as if he’d just pissed his pants in a hog wallow.
Chance stared, aimed the gushing hose away from his soaked jeans, and inhaled the sight before him. He knew damn good and well that Jenny’s outfit was intentionally seductive.
Her breasts were covered just to the point of indecency with small triangles of green, drawing the eye straight toward her long brown arms and legs, her flat stomach, and her curves that taunted and teased. He’d just straddled a cold shower that had had no effect on the instant heat that rushed through his body at the thought of making love to Jenny in the cool mud—peeling that little green bit of nothing off of her one inch at a time and burying his hot, aching body in her softness until neither of them knew the way home.
“Think that was funny, do you?” he asked. The glint in his eye should have warned her, but she saw it too late to run.
The spray hit her square in the chest and knocked her back against the truck. She gasped, trying to catch her breath as the water pummeled her breasts. And then it seemed to take on a life of its own as it awakened her body with powerful and continuous strokes.
Chance jerked in reflex. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he watched her nipples taunt him through the thin, wet fabric. He stood transfixed while the water touched her in a way he dared not.
“Holy hell,” Chance muttered. Jenny’s face was alive with passion. It was move or die. He moved. The hose fell to the ground, writhing wildly as it spewed water onto the already muddy earth. Chance backed blindly, knowing that he had to put as much distance between them as possible before he burst.
Jenny was just as shocked as Chance. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
A long silence hung between them. It took all Chance’s willpower not to gather her in his arms and carry her off to his bed. Jenny’s face was a mixture of torment and confusion, but it was nothing next to the knot she’d pulled in his gut. She looked up in time to see him stagger over to the faucet and turn off the water.
“Chance…” she began, when his curt order halted her.
“Get the hell out of here, Jennifer Ann. You had no business pulling a stunt like that. Stay away from me, dammit. Just stay away!”
Shocked tears flooded her eyes, but she’d be fried in hell before she cried in front of him.
“I live here, mister,” she yelled back in his face. “But if that’s the way you want it, it won’t be for long. Marcus wants to marry me off like a damned brood mare. He has never even acknowledged my existence, and now, all of a sudden, he sees me as a marketable asset. You don’t want me around. Why the hell should I not comply? Why the hell not? I’ve yet to meet a man who ever wanted me anyway.”
Chance couldn’t move. Marcus wanted her to marry? He’d heard nothing about it! The thought made him sick. He couldn’t imagine another man with his hands on Jenny. In his heart, she belonged to him. But, in the real world, she never would.
She watched the shock appear on his face. Good! she thought as she struggled to her feet and started back toward the house, gaining momentum with each yard that separated them.
“Jenny, wait,” Chance called, but it was too late.
She was too hurt and mad and blinded by tears to stop. Her ears roared and the world turned dark as she staggered into the backyard and collapsed onto a lounge chair. She was hurt, and God knew she was mad. But words weren’t necessary. An inspiration had occurred to her. If Chance thought he didn’t want her…then she’d see how he liked it if someone else did.
But that Saturday night, for the first time since he’d arrived on the Triple T, Chance McCall didn’t come home at all.
The men were laughing about the boss’s wild weekend when Jenny came through the door of the stable area in search of a horse for her daily ride. The sudden silence was not soon enough to quiet the pain that shot through her when Chance’s name was mentioned.
&n
bsp; She didn’t have to hear it from them. She’d been the first to know that he hadn’t come back from his Saturday night fling.
She’d sat dry-eyed, numb and sleepless, as she watched the driveway for a pair of headlights that never appeared.
The next morning she and Marcus shared something rare…breakfast.
“Jenny, it’s great to be having a meal with you,” he said, letting his eyes wander across the face of the daughter who’d suddenly become a woman without his noticing.
She was so precious to him, yet such an unknown. He could make a deal with the best businessmen, pick out a stud horse that would make him millions, yet he knew nothing about what made his daughter tick. And he knew it was his own fault. Every chance he’d had to act as father to his girl, he’d delegated to someone else. He sighed. Hindsight was always clearer that foresight. But looking back was not Marcus Tyler’s way. He was forever and always looking toward the future. And the future for him seemed to warrant delivering his daughter safely into the hands of another man…namely a husband.
She smiled and nodded, lost in the overwhelming memory of Chance’s refusal to admit he loved her. And she didn’t think she was mistaken. She could actually feel the intensity of emotion whenever they were together.
Marcus knew something was wrong. It was unusual for Jenny to be so silent. He said the first thing that popped into his mind. “How would you feel about Jordan Whitelaw and his son Darrin coming to dinner tonight?” He’d barely started to whitewash the question with reasons when she agreed.
“That would be fine with me,” she said. “I have a new red dress that I’ve been wanting to wear. It’s the perfect opportunity. I think I’ll call my hairdresser and see if she can’t work me into her schedule this afternoon. I need a trim.”
Marcus nearly dropped his fork at her response, but he wasn’t going to question his good fortune. “That’s great, honey,” he said. “Whatever you need, just go ahead and get it. Buy yourself some new dresses—Buy a whole rack. We should do this more often.”
His eyes lit up as he envisioned a table full of family, with him at the head. A son-in-law…grandchildren…he could hardly wait, unaware of the undercurrent of reasons boiling inside his daughter.
Jenny nodded and smiled again. She felt a little guilty at letting Marcus assume she was interested in meeting eligible men. But if this served its purpose, it would be worth it. As far as she was concerned, she’d already met the only man she’d ever want. She just had to find a way to make him admit he wanted her too.
Thinking about the dinner tonight almost made her shudder. She knew what it would be like, being put on display for the studs that he intended to parade before her. That was how Jenny categorized the so-called eligible men into whose company she would be tossed. She wondered grimly if she was going to have any choice, or if she should even care. If their presence brought Chance around, it would be worth it.
Jenny grabbed her leather gloves from the hall table, shook the leg of her blue jeans down over the top of her boot, and tucked her brown plaid shirt inside her belt. She picked up her hat, shoved it on top of her head, and headed out the door. She needed some air. Last night’s dinner had been a disaster. Darrin Whitelaw was nice, but he wasn’t Chance. She’d gone to bed sick to her stomach with guilt and frustration.
Her daily rides had become the only thing she could look forward to, and today she needed a challenge. The stud horse she had in mind was a good choice. It would take all her skill and strength to keep him in line.
“Henry, is Cheyenne available to ride today?”
The look on his face told her volumes. He was fully aware of the fact that Jenny and the foreman were in love. And he also knew why she wanted to ride that unruly stallion. He suspected that it matched the turmoil in her heart.
“He’s here,” Henry drawled, “but he ain’t bein’ friendly.”
Jenny knew what he meant. She bit her lip and kicked a divot out of the dirt floor of the stables.
“Well, I’m not feeling any too friendly myself at the moment,” she answered sharply. “Maybe we’ll suit each other just fine.”
Henry shrugged and walked off to saddle the horse. He knew better than to argue. Jenny was capable of handling the animal. He just didn’t like the idea of her taking any chances.
Chance walked past the barns, leading two young horses toward their stalls, satisfied with the daily training session that they’d been through. The breeding program they’d initiated was working out very well, and he saw a lot of potential ahead for the Triple T line. Crossing Cheyenne’s fiery endurance and clean lines with the dependability and faithfulness of their better mares was resulting in some fine colts.
He heard Jenny’s voice before he saw her, and then when he watched Henry walk away with a look of resignation on his face, knew that he’d better investigate. He handed over the two horses he’d been leading to one of the ranch hands and started toward the stalls where the riding horses were stabled.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked when he saw Henry leading Cheyenne out of his stall.
Henry shrugged and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb as he pulled a saddle blanket down and slapped it across the powerful stallion’s back.
“Jenny’s goin’ ridin’.”
“Not on that she isn’t.” Chance took the reins out of Henry’s hands, yanked the blanket off the horse’s back, and tossed it to one side as he returned the horse to its stall.
Cheyenne yanked back on the reins and danced sideways, rebelling at the premature return to the small, confined area of his stall. He was antsy enough knowing that mares were close by and ready to breed. It was what he was born to do, dominate and lead. Being confined within the space of a stall when his instincts told him to be gathering a herd was making him too randy to ride.
“Well, I ain’t gonna be the one to tell her,” Henry drawled, and disappeared down the shadowy hallway.
Chance grimaced as he slipped the bridle off of the stallion. He moved him to one side, stepped out of the stall, and fastened the door. Ignoring the horse’s neigh of discontent, he walked to the other side of the stables, saddled and bridled one of the riding horses, and led him to where Jenny was waiting.
Jenny turned around at the sound of the approaching horse and then frowned.
“That’s not Cheyenne,” she said.
“No, ma’am, it’s not.”
They stared, man to woman, appraising the other’s determination in this issue.
Jenny shrugged. She hated to admit it, but she’d been apprehensive about riding the stallion anyway. She’d seen the look on Henry’s face. She’d just been too stubborn to admit she was wrong. Chance had called her bluff.
“Doesn’t much matter,” she mumbled, and reached for the reins.
“Come here,” he said, and cupped his hands to give her a leg up on the horse. She vaulted into the saddle.
She stared down into his eyes. The sounds around them muted and faded until Jenny forgot everything and everyone but the man who was gazing up at her. He was so familiar, and yet such a stranger.
Who was this man, Chance McCall? Why did he shun her when every other man in the area would give his eyeteeth to bed her? Her silent questions went unanswered as Chance handed her the reins. Their hands touched, inadvertently, and then with purpose. His thumb rubbed across her knuckles as he pulled absently at the stirrup.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Jenny felt like crying. She knew he was trying to get past the truck washing incident and reestablish a line of communication. It was obvious to her that Chance was as miserable as she.
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Riding anywhere special?” he asked softly.
“Just riding,” she answered, willing silently—almost begging—that he would accompany her.
But he shrugged and then stepped away. “Be careful.”
His eyes devoured as his voice seduced. Jenny shivered.
“As alw
ays,” she answered, and watched him walk away.
3
Chance stared down at the dust on the floor of the corral and tried to ignore the circle of people outside the arena. He’d been given orders to parade Marcus’s latest acquisitions before the crowd, and that’s just what he intended to do. But from the way some of the younger men were ogling Jenny, he felt like he should rope and halter her and lead her around with the horses. She was the one Marcus had put on show. It made him mad as hell.
She perched on the top rail, ignoring most of their catcalls and jests, giving them only the attention that manners demanded. Her cool, touch-me-not demeanor only intensified their behavior.
Jenny heard the young men’s teasing invitations, but she wasn’t interested in them. Her sole interest in the proceedings lay in Chance’s reactions.
Her father’s announcement had been cool. Inviting some horse buyers out for an afternoon showing of some of his newest purchases and then following that up with some of the stock he had for sale was not out of the ordinary. But Jenny saw through his plan. It was solely for the purpose of assembling as many eligible men as possible at one time, and she knew it. What other explanation could there possibly be for the fact that most of the prospective buyers were under the age of thirty?
“Chance!” Marcus called. “Bring that mare that just foaled. Run her and the baby out here and let these men have a look-see at the latest results of our breeding plan.”
He nodded. Henry led away the horses that had been on display as Chance went to get the mare.
She whickered a hello as Chance entered her stall. “Come on, momma,” he said softly. “Some VIPs want to look at you and your baby, here. If you play your cards right, you might wind up eating your oats off of china instead of out of a feed bag.”
His sarcasm was lost on the horse. She led easily, a gentle, docile horse with clean lines and a strong build. The foal stole the show as it nickered and kicked, its stubby tail flying high behind long, delicate legs as it ran short, nervous circles around Chance and its mother.