Home on the Range

by Susan Fox

  “Home on the Range” could have been written for her.

  He gazed resolutely at the stars and resisted moving closer to her. This was intimate enough, lying side by side as if they were spent from lovemaking. Arousal pulsed through him, and he shifted position.

  “Hey, city boy, bet you don’t see stars like this in the Big Apple.” Her voice, a whisper caressing his ear, stirred his already heated blood.

  Stars. Who could think of stars when her warm breath was so seductive? Did she have any idea the effect she had on him?

  “No.” He gave a soft laugh. Keeping his voice low so no one could overhear, he said, “Well, different kinds of stars. Movie stars, stage stars, all sorts of celebrities.”

  “Whoopee,” she murmured dryly.

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic,” he teased, rolling onto his side to face her.

  She turned toward him and he saw the flash of her teeth and gleam of her eyes. Starlight illuminating Jess’s smile. It didn’t get any better than this.

  “The beautiful people,” she murmured. “I’d never make it there, would I?” Softly, she sang the words make it there to the tune of the Frank Sinatra song that played in every tourist spot in NYC.

  “You, Jess, would make it anywhere.” The words, which he had indeed meant sincerely, came out sounding too heartfelt. He added quickly, “That is, if you remembered to wash your face and comb your hair.”

  She punched his shoulder. “You big-city guys sure know how to flatter a gal.”

  He caught her fist in his hand. “Be careful who you beat up on, lady. I’m a lot tougher than I used to be.”

  She curved her hand so her fingers interlaced with his. “I thought about what you said. About the self-fulfilling prophecy? You’re right, and I’m really sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But why did I do it? I’m not mean.”

  “No, you’re not. Jess, you were kind to me.”

  “And yet . . . You know, I think it scared me, how bright you were. I felt dumb, and I don’t like feeling second best. So I had to be better at something.”

  It was a lightbulb moment. “Damn.” He gave a wry chuckle. “You and me both. I acted like a superior jerk because I was better in school. I had to play it up, because that’s all I had going for me. When I compared the two of us, you were the one who had everything else. The great parents, the terrific personality, a ton of friends, your natural talent for physical activity.”

  “And I took all that for granted and just saw that I was a dummy compared to you. Amazing that we were friends.”

  “Like you said earlier, we supported each other. Maybe not as well as we could have if we’d each been more self-confident, but I think we did a fine job. Remember, we were kids, we didn’t have the benefit of all these years of experience.”

  “True.” She smiled. “You’re right, experience counts for a lot. I’m doing a better job with Robin. I tell her she can do anything, but she needs to measure herself by her own standards, not anyone else’s. She has to feel good about how hard she tried, not worry if she did better than others. I want her to be confident, to try things. I don’t want to hold her back.”

  “Sounds like a healthy approach.” And it did. But yet—and he felt a twinge of guilt for thinking this—might her philosophy result in another low achiever, just like herself? Well, so what if it did? Jess was happy and well adjusted. Not everyone had to be a blazing success in terms of a career.

  Realizing this was the first time she’d opened up about her daughter, he asked, “How old is Robin?”

  Her hand, which had remained twined in his, freed itself as she sat up abruptly.

  “She’s nine.”

  “Nine!” He jerked up, too. “I didn’t realize she was so old. You and Dave—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered softly. “She wasn’t planned; I messed up with birth control. But Dave and I loved each other and wanted to get married and have our baby. So we did.”

  She and Dave must have gotten together right after he left town. Or even before. No wonder she’d written that she’d never felt better, and that she and Evan should go their separate ways.

  Trying to suppress bitter jealousy, he said, “Guess that makes sense. Except . . . you ended up getting divorced.”

  The unspoken question hovered between them. After a long moment, she answered it. “Dave met someone. They had the kind of love that comes around only once in a lifetime.”

  His bitterness dissipated. “That must’ve been hell.” Yet she’d remained friends with Dave. Jess was one strange woman.

  “I understood. It wasn’t that he loved Rob or me any less. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true. Anyhow, we divorced; he was going to marry Anita. Can you believe I even liked her? And then . . .” She shuddered. “She was diagnosed with brain cancer. It was sudden, severe; she lasted less than a year. When she died, it nearly shattered Dave.”

  “My God, that’s awful.” He shook his head. “Even so, I’m surprised the two of you are so close. I’d have trouble being so friendly with someone who had . . .”

  “Dumped me for someone else? Yeah, I was upset. But the love between us wasn’t that special once-in-a-lifetime kind. It was . . . comfortable. So we ended up being friends, which is maybe how we should’ve kept it in the beginning.”

  “But then there wouldn’t have been Robin.”

  Her breath hitched, and then she said softly, wholeheartedly, “Robin is the best thing Dave and I have done together.”

  Almost, she made him want to have a child of his own. He cleared his throat. “Your relationship is unconventional, but it sounds healthy for all three of you.”

  She nodded emphatically. “It’s great. Dave’s the best.” Her voice held such warmth, he experienced another irrational surge of jealousy.

  “He’s changed since Anita died,” she went on, sounding concerned. “He’s got this deep melancholy. He keeps busy, but he’s not happy. He’s overprotective of Rob. I worry about him.” She shook her head slightly. “But anyway, Rob has a great family. Mom and Pa are terrific, as you know, and Dave’s family is huge and wonderful. Rob’s surrounded by people who love her.”

  Evan felt a rush of loneliness. And envy. Lucky Robin. There had always been times when Jess could read his mind. Now she said, her voice a little scratchy, “Sorry. You know I’d have done anything to change the way you grew up.” Moonlight showed the sincerity in her eyes.

  “You’re the only thing that made it bearable, Jess. You and your parents. You gave me the only affection I ever knew.”

  They gazed at each other for a long moment. He’d been fighting arousal all evening, but couldn’t resist any longer.

  Her eyes gleamed and her lips were mere inches from his. He wanted to lean forward and—

  “All righty, folks,” Jimmy B’s cheery voice broke in. “Here we are, safe and sound. Everyone hop down, and you men give the womenfolk a hand.”

  The barnyard was dim, lit by the moon and stars. The magic spell still bound the guests as people clambered off the wagon.

  Knowing he was insane, Evan pushed himself to the edge, vaulted out on legs that hadn’t entirely stiffened up, and turned to Jess. He reached out his arms.

  “I can g—” she started.

  “Of course you can.” He didn’t step back.

  After a long moment, she slid forward into his arms. Carefully he took her by the waist and lifted her from the wagon. He held her above the ground, reveling in the experience of, for the first time, feeling strong and masculine with her.

  Slowly, he eased her down so the front of her body caressed his. She gasped and he knew she’d felt his erection. When he was a teen, he’d done everything he could to hide the fact she turned him on. Now, for whatever reason, he didn’t want to.

  Yesterday afternoon she’d said that when they were seventeen she’d wanted to know that he, too, was attracted. Maybe this was his way of finally telling h
er.

  Their gazes locked; then she swallowed hard and moved away to speak to Jimmy B.

  In hushed voices the guests bid the driver and Jess good night, then started toward the cabins. Evan hung back, behind the wagon. She hadn’t said good night to him. Had she been offended by what he’d done? Had she thought he was making a pass?

  Had he been making a pass?

  With a final farewell and a jingle of harness, Jimmy B set the wagon in motion and Jess and Evan were left alone.

  She walked toward him and he thought she was going to go straight past, but she stopped abruptly, about three feet away. She put her hands on her hips. “I was right all along. You were attracted to me.”

  He took a step toward her. “I was. I didn’t want to be, but I was. You caused me many a sleepless night.”

  “Good! Damn it, Ev, if only you’d admitted it then.”

  He took another step and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Then what? I knew we had no future.” He gave a little tug and she stepped close so she was touching him. To be more precise, she was resting her flat belly against his erection.

  He groaned. “Jesus, Jess.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes mysterious pools.

  He lowered his lips to hers.

  She met him eagerly, without restraint. Her lips were soft and hot, and when she opened them he invaded her mouth.

  Her arms went around him, one hand high on his shoulder, the other taking possession of his backside, urging him even closer.

  He was way past wanting her. He needed her, right now. His hand slid under the loose fringed top, worked her shirt free of the waist of her skirt, and stroked the smooth flesh of her lower back. The night air was cool but her skin was on fire and so was he. His hand fanned out across her back, possessing as much of her as he could encompass.

  He needed to take her quickly, but afterward he wanted her slowly, he wanted to touch and savor every inch of her body. At Zephyr Lake he’d barely had the courage to look at her, but now he would, with a man’s appreciation, a lover’s desire.

  He thrust against her and her hips twisted, increasing the pressure. The ache inside him was building to epic proportions. He was going to have to do something soon, yet he wanted to prolong this moment forever.

  Jess tore her mouth from his. “This is what it’s supposed to be like between us, Evan.” She sounded fierce, proud, passionate.

  “You’ve persuaded me.” His voice was ragged and his finger shook as he traced her cheek, the line of her jaw. “Better late than never.”

  Her body went still in his arms. Slowly, she removed one hand from his butt, then the other from his shoulder. She stepped back, leaving him lonely and aching for her.

  “Not if it’s a dead end,” she said. “We still have no future, Ev. And we’d hurt someone else. What about Cynthia?”

  Cynthia. He had completely forgotten. “Jesus.” He let his breath out in a soft whistle. “I . . . don’t know what to say. We’re not . . . engaged.”

  “You and Cynthia are talking about the future.”

  “Only talking.” He was rationalizing, behaving like an ass, and he knew it, but his craving for Jess was so strong. After years of suppressing it, its power was now irresistible.

  “I’m not the kind of woman who does this.” She put her hands flat on his chest and, with rigid arms, held him at a distance. “Yes, there’s chemistry between us. But we’re not going to do anything about it.”

  If she felt anything close to what he felt, how could she possibly stop now?

  He put his hands over hers. She resisted for a moment, then submitted to his touch. “You cared about me when we were teenagers, Jess.”

  She jerked away. “I had an adolescent crush. Had. I’m not the same person.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t still care.”

  She glared at him for a moment, and then her eyes closed. “All right, I care.”

  Warmth, the heartwarming kind as well as the arousing kind, poured through him.

  Then her eyes opened again and her chin tilted up. “But as a friend. Chemistry and friendship don’t mix. We proved that in grade twelve.”

  “That was different.” But the moment he said the words, he knew they were a lie. He and Jess had no more of a future now than they’d had then. To begin a relationship would be unfair to her, as well as to Cynthia.

  Damn. What the hell was he thinking? He groaned. The truth was, he wasn’t thinking. Just feeling. And he wasn’t used to feeling, so it wasn’t surprising he couldn’t handle it. How could he betray Cynthia? How could he treat Jess this way? What the fuck was he doing?

  He nodded firmly. “You’re right. I lost my head. It won’t happen again.”

  She nodded, too. “Good night, Evan. Let’s just . . . try to be friends.”

  Chapter Seven

  As Jess drove home, she congratulated herself. She should feel guilty for having indulged in that one searing kiss, but she didn’t. Evan had owed her for a very long time. The kiss had confirmed what she’d always believed. Thank God she’d managed to pull back, though. She absolutely refused to fall in love again with Evan Kincaid.

  But she had to wonder about the nature of Evan’s relationship with his girlfriend. Jess got the impression that, when he’d kissed her, Ev had completely forgotten about the woman he was supposedly committed to. And how could he and Cynthia consider marriage if they didn’t agree about something as important as children? Though perhaps, if they truly loved each other, they believed they’d find their way, together.

  Love. It wasn’t a word Evan used when talking about Cynthia. She’d heard respect in his voice, but not tenderness or passion. Of course he’d always been restrained about expressing emotions. In fact, he’d tried not to feel them because his parents had taught him that feeling led to pain.

  With a shiver that rippled through her whole body, she remembered him gasping “Jesus, Jess” in a husky voice that was the essence of passion.

  She pulled the truck to a stop by her parents’ ranch house. The house she’d grown up in, where she and Ev had done homework on the kitchen table, and where she’d cried into her pillow over him.

  She made a fist and bopped herself on the side of the head. “What in holy blue blazes are you thinking, woman? Didn’t you shed enough tears over the guy when you were seventeen? Don’t go there again. Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

  She was still muttering “don’t” as she walked through the mudroom and into the kitchen. To her surprise, her mother—usually an early-to-bed person—was sitting at the table in her dressing gown, her hands cradling a mug of tea. She poured another mug and shoved it across the table as Jess sat down.

  “You’re up late. Is everything all right?” Jess asked.

  Level gray eyes appraised her. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You’ve been acting oddly. What’s going on, Trixie Jessica Bly Cousins?”

  Yikes, her mother had brought out the full arsenal of names, including the dreaded Trixie. Who else had a mom who, as a girl, had been such a fan of Trixie Belden, girl detective, that she’d named her daughter after her?

  Jess sighed and took a sip of tea. Apple cinnamon. Comfort tea. “Guess who’s back, staying at the Crazy Horse?”

  “Back?” Her mother shrugged, and then her face lit. “Oh, Jessica, not that Italian man who seemed keen on your riding camp?”

  “Don’t I wish. No, I haven’t heard from Gianni Vitale. I suppose it was just the usual holiday-induced daydream.”

  “I’m sorry, dear.” She patted Jess’s hand, then said, “So, who’s back?”

  “Evan Kincaid.”

  Her mother’s face brightened again. “Evan! Really? How is he?”

  Jess had never told her parents about the way her relationship with Evan had ended. They had no idea that Jess and Evan had been onetime lovers, that Evan had deserted her so coldheartedly, that Robin was really his child. They’d thought it strange she and Evan hadn’t kept in touch, but Jess had p
ersuaded them she was too busy with her new husband and daughter and Evan was too busy at Cornell.

  Jess bit her lip. “He’s good. Can you believe he actually wants to learn how to ride?”

  Her mother chuckled. “That doesn’t sound like our Evan. What on earth brought him to the Crazy Horse? Did he know you were there?”

  “He didn’t have a clue.”

  “So . . . Oh. His mother?”

  “I don’t think so, but maybe that’s part of it.” They both knew Evan sent Brooke money.

  “He knows her address,” her mom said, “and she knows his, yet neither of them have ever written to the other.” She “tsk-tsked.” “That poor boy. And that poor woman.”

  “He says he’s here because of some club he belongs to. They’ve got this challenge where you have to do something you were scared to do, or failed at, ten years ago. He says it’s riding.”

  A realization hit Jess, making her feel stupid. “But there are riding places all over the States. If he came back to Caribou Crossing”—Hicksville, in his mind—“there can really only be one reason. Even if it’s just a subconscious one. I bet he needs to come to terms with Brooke.”

  “If those two could only put the past behind them.”

  “You can’t ever really put the past behind you.”

  Her mother gave her a sharp look. “Sounds like the voice of experience. You’re right; I phrased it badly. I mean, it’d be nice if they could move beyond the past. Evan should see how much Brooke has changed. Do you think he knows she has bipolar disorder?”

  “How would he, if they never communicate?”

  “You could tell him.”

  “I know. But I’m not sure I should start the conversation.” Evan had faced up to Caribou Crossing and horses. Did he have the guts to deal with his mom?

  “He was always touchy on the subject of his parents. For good reason.”

  The two women drank tea in silence for a few moments. Then Jess’s mother said, “So what’s got you upset? Does it have to do with Evan? Are you regretting not keeping in touch?”

  Jess stirred restlessly. “I guess, a little. And it’s nice seeing him, but . . . it’s hard figuring out how to act together, after all these years.”