by Diana Palmer
“I’ve moved on with my life,” she continued. “You’re of no interest to me.”
“You kiss as if you’re really interested. Face it, Sierra. I still turn you on.”
Some instinct warned him and he managed to grab her arm before her palm connected with his cheek. She struggled to continue her forward motion and slap him. When it became obvious he was stronger, she tried to pull away. He didn’t let that happen, either.
“Let go of me,” she demanded.
“Not until you listen to me.”
“You can’t say anything I want to hear.”
Frustration bubbled inside of him. “You’re probably right.”
So he did the only sensible thing under the circumstances. He kissed her again.
He hauled her hard against him, pulling her until she was once again flush against his body. He was still aroused and her belly nestled intimately against his groin. He deliberately rotated his hips, making sure she understood what he was doing. The small sound that escaped her parted lips told him she’d figured it out.
He waited a heartbeat, willing to listen to any protests, but there was only the faint whisper of her breathing. So he lowered his head to hers and claimed her mouth.
She’d already parted her lips. He didn’t bother with polite inquiries, instead sweeping inside to claim her, like a wild animal claiming its territory. He wanted to taste her and touch her, to be around her and in her, joined in the most intimate way possible.
When he knew he had her complete attention, he released her arm and rested his hands on her waist. She placed her palms flat against his chest, fingertips lightly scratching at the fabric of his shirt. They belonged together—they always had. Anyone else would be second best…for both of them.
They consumed each other, caught up in the flames of arousal. He lost himself in the heat of her, in the overpowering need. He’d spent a lot of time trying to convince himself being with Sierra wasn’t nearly as intense and perfect as he recalled. He knew now that it was more so.
She met him with a passion that matched his. They danced together, the movements sure and familiar—specific touches and motions they’d taught each other all those years ago. He withdrew, allowing her to follow him back so she could tease his lips, his mouth. He lowered one hand to her rear, cupping the curve, squeezing gently. A shudder rippled through her. Her body tightened, her muscles tensing in anticipation. Her hands pressed flat against him.
“No!” Sierra gasped, and pushed away. She staggered a step away and folded her arms across her chest as if she were trying to hold herself together. “No, Dylan. Please don’t.”
The soft plea worked as nothing else could have. His entire being still on fire for her, he nodded briefly. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “I won’t kiss you again if you promise not to run off,” he managed to say at last.
She shook her head. “Let it go. Let me go. There’s nothing left to talk about. We have separate lives.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does. It always mattered.” Her smile was bitter. “I never figured out what you saw in me back in high school. I dressed in jeans and shirts, not those pretty dresses the rich girls pranced around in. I wasn’t especially smart or funny or anything that you would have wanted.”
“I loved you.”
Hazel eyes darkened. “Why?”
At last an easy question. “Because you made me laugh,” he said, remembering all the fun they’d had together. “I liked how you think, how well we got along. I enjoyed your company, your way of looking at the things. I liked looking at you, being with you. Loving you was the best part of my world, Sierra. I was a better man when I was with you. We understood each other. We wanted the same things. I could imagine growing old with you.” He shrugged. “None of that has changed. At least not for me.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground. “I asked,” she muttered quietly. “I only have myself to blame for your answer.”
They were both silent for a few minutes. Dylan tried to figure out how to convince her that this time would be different. This time he was a grown-up, not a kid trying to act like an adult.
“Find someone appropriate,” she said, still not looking at him. “You’re appropriate.”
“Hardly. I’m not domestic. My idea of gourmet cooking is taking the frozen entrée out of the plastic container before eating it. I can’t make small talk. I don’t decorate. I’m not interested in chic charity work. I’d be a lousy mother. Besides, look at how I’m dressed.” She motioned to her shirt and jeans. “What would your friends say?”
“They’d adore you.”
“Yeah, right. Think they want to shake hands with me?” She held her hands out in front of her. The skin was rough and tanned. Several cuts and scars formed an erratic pattern on her palms. She turned them over. Her nails were short, but she had long, lovely fingers. They might not look right in an ad for nail polish, but he’d felt them on his body and to him, they were perfection.
He stepped forward and took her fingers in his. “You’re beautiful. Everything about you is exactly as I want it to be. Why can’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re not being realistic. Our worlds are too different.”
“You’re just afraid.”
She met his gaze. He watched her expression harden and she pulled free of his grasp. “Do you blame me?”
And then he knew. Whatever he’d suffered when he’d left her, it wasn’t close to what she’d gone through in being left. He’d gone away, with a wife and a child. She’d stayed behind in a small town that thrived on gossip. In doing the right thing, he’d destroyed the only woman he’d ever loved.
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t tell you how sorry.”
“It’s too late for apologies. They can’t fix anything now. It’s not important anymore. We’ve changed. Let the past be, Dylan. Let me be.”
“I don’t believe that’s what you really want.”
“Why? Because it’s not what you want?” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not the same person you left behind. You don’t know me anymore. Don’t presume to think you understand anything about me.”
“Fair enough. We’ve both changed. But some things have stayed the same.” He drew in a breath to steady himself. Maybe it was too early to play this card, but he wasn’t sure he had a choice. “I still love you.”
She froze like a small creature catching the scent of an approaching enemy. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Color fled her cheeks leaving her oddly pale, despite her tan. Her hands slipped down her hips and hung loosely at her sides.
“No,” she said, the word more shadow than sound.
“Yes,” he told her firmly.
“No.” She shook her head. “You’re just saying that. It can’t be true.”
“Why is it so impossible to believe?”
She closed her eyes and half turned away. An unexpected pain shot through him as he wondered if she was going to cry. Torn between giving her space in which to compose herself and wanting to go to her and hold her close, he did nothing. After a moment, she turned back toward him, her expression neutral.
“You just disappeared,” she said, her voice resigned. “You’d made me promises about being together forever, and then one day you were gone. You took everything. My hopes, my dreams. I didn’t know how to exist in a world without you. I didn’t know how to get over the lies.”
“I didn’t lie to you.”
“What would you call Rory if not a lie? You swore you h-hadn’t—” Her voice cracked. She straightened her shoulders. “You swore to me you hadn’t slept with Claire, yet the proof that you did is your nine-year-old son.”
There were dozens of things he could tell her. The truth for one. But the stiffness in her body warned him she wasn’t prepared to listen. Not now. He shouldn’t have told her he loved her. He should have waited a little so she could get used to having him around.
&nbs
p; “I didn’t just disappear,” he said, deciding to pursue a safer topic. “I wrote you several letters. You’re the one who didn’t write back.”
Her mouth twisted. “I never got any letters.”
“I know. Maybe you should ask your brother about that.”
“What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “Take it up with Kirk.”
“You’re saying my brother kept your letters from me?” Her tone highlighted her disbelief. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“All it takes is one question, Sierra. Why would I lie about something so easy to check?”
Her eyebrows drew together. He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her again. He needed to feel her body against his. Only when they were together did he know he’d finally come home.
But he didn’t bother trying to hold her or kiss her. She’d erected fences and signs warning him to Keep Out. He would listen…for now.
He stood by his truck until she’d ridden away. When she disappeared over a rise, he slowly opened the vehicle’s door and stepped up into the driver’s seat. His parents had taught him he could do anything he set his mind to. In all his attempts, he’d only failed once—he’d let Sierra down. But he wasn’t an impressionable kid anymore. He couldn’t be manipulated by well-meaning adults or one determined young woman.
All that stood between him and what he wanted was a little information and a few demonstrations that the fire was still burning bright between them. He knew he still loved Sierra and he was willing to bet everything he had that she still had feelings for him, too. All he had to do was convince her of that.
He thought about kissing her and holding her—and about the incredible thrill of making love with her. They belonged together. He would use everything in his power to make her see that. He’d lost her once—he wasn’t going to lose her again.
Chapter Five
“I’m ridin’, Sierra. Look at me!” Rory grinned from his perch on the small gelding.
Sierra couldn’t help smiling back. “You’re doing a great job, too. Don’t forget, keep your back straight and your heels down.” She scanned the boy’s posture and nodded approvingly. “Perfect. You’re a real natural at this. We’re going to have you out herding cattle in no time.”
“I’m a cowboy. Dad, look at me.”
“I see, son. I guess if you’re one of the working cowboys, I’m going to have to raise your allowance.”
Sierra tried not to let the sound of Dylan’s voice have an effect on her. It was tough enough to concentrate just knowing he was standing by the corral railing, watching her. Not watching her, she amended quickly. Watching his son. She was just the instructor.
Or so she kept telling herself. But she didn’t believe those words any more now than she had when she’d first arrived and Dylan had greeted her. There was no denying the man still had the power to get to her.
At least he hadn’t tried to make small talk. She wasn’t sure she could have suffered through that. She was still recovering from everything he’d told her last week—about still being in love with her.
Don’t go there, a voice in her head warned. Dylan McLaine is nothing but trouble.
She forced her attention back to Rory. “That’s it,” she said, turning in place as she stood in the center of the ring so she could keep the boy in view. “Relax your hands.” She walked toward him.
“Whoa, Chet. That’s it. Pull back gently to bring him to a stop, Rory. But gently.” She patted the elderly gelding on his shoulder, then smiled at the boy. “Remember these reins are connected to a piece of metal in Chet’s mouth. If you tug hard or keep pulling, you’re going to hurt him.”
Rory frowned. “I don’t wanna hurt him.” He leaned over and peered at the horse. “You okay, Chet?”
Chet snorted.
“He’s fine,” Sierra said. “Just think about having braces and someone attaching a string to them. You wouldn’t want that person jerking your head around, right?”
Rory drew his eyebrows together in fierce concentration. “Okay, Sierra. I’ll remember.”
“You’re really good,” she said. “You’re learning fast. I’m impressed.”
Another grin split his face. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. He was a sweet kid and she couldn’t help feeling drawn to him.
“Really?” he asked.
She reached up and tapped his nose. “Really.” She stepped back and slapped Chet’s rump. “Go ahead. Start walking.”
Rory gave an exaggerated squeeze with his knees. Chet obligingly took a step forward. As she turned, she made the mistake of glancing up and found Dylan watching her. She was too far away to know what he was thinking, which was just as well. Just the sight of him leaning casually against the fence railing was enough to make her heart beat faster.
But she was determined to pretend he didn’t matter. So instead of returning to her place in the center of the ring, she sauntered over to where he was standing. Although she was willing to let him think she was immune, she wasn’t foolish enough to put herself in actual danger. She made sure she was well out of touching range.
“He’s a natural,” she said and leaned against the wooden railing. Not only did her stance make her appear casual, but it also had the added advantage of allowing her to watch Rory’s progress without having to look at his father.
“He looks great on a horse. I really appreciate you taking the time to help him.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s a fun change for me.” She paused, then decided the truth wouldn’t be so bad—this one time. “He’s a good kid, Dylan. You’ve done well raising him.”
“I think Rory gets all the credit.”
He continued to speak about his son, but she couldn’t concentrate on his words. Her body betrayed her, shivering slightly in anticipation of his touch, even though she’d positioned herself so that wouldn’t happen. Her mind, still reeling from all he’d said the last time they’d spoken, replayed his unbelievable statement—I never stopped loving you.
Had he really said it? Had she imagined the words because she wanted them to be true? Did she want them to be true?
It didn’t matter, she reminded herself. He couldn’t still love her. Not after all this time. And based on all that had happened when he left, she wasn’t sure he’d ever cared. But why would he lie about that? Was he trying to trick her into trusting him again? To what end?
“Back straight,” she called as the boy continued to ride around the ring. “Very good. Try to feel Chet’s movements and sway with him, not against him.” Rory moved back and forth in an exaggerated mimic of the horse’s slow gait. “Excellent. Just like that.”
“You’re very patient,” Dylan said.
“It’s not difficult to be patient with one bright child. But I don’t think I’d do well with a ring full of nine-year-olds.”
“You’d be fine.”
She made a fatal error in judgment and glanced at him. His dark gaze was warm and affectionate. Instantly her toes curled in her worn boots and she felt her heart begin to pick up its pace. Without wanting to, she leaned toward him.
Get a grip, she told herself and quickly straightened.
She turned her attention back to the child on the horse, grateful for the distraction. While she watched Rory, she searched her mind for a neutral topic of conversation. Something that would distract them from—she wasn’t sure what, but they needed distracting.
“Have you found someone you want for the foreman job?” she asked.
“Sure.”
His easy answer made her stomach tighten in an involuntary flinch. He’d only asked her a couple of days ago. Foolishly she’d thought he’d meant the job offer. “Really?” She was pleased her voice sounded calm. “Who?”
“You.”
She turned toward him. “I said no.”
“I’m going to keep asking until you say yes. You’re the right person. I can be very stubborn when I need to be.”
He gave her a slow smile. A smile she remembered from her past. A smile designed to make her want him all over again. Damn him, it worked. She felt her resolve melting and if he’d asked her again, right then, she might have found herself saying yes.
“You’re destined to be disappointed on this one,” she told him, hoping her face didn’t betray her inner thoughts.
“Life has taught me a couple of lessons. I’m no longer willing to give up things that are important to me. I’ve learned the value of hanging on, no matter what other people might think.”
She knew he was trying to tell her something, trying to explain a moment from their past. She didn’t want to know what it was. Enough time had passed that she was no longer troubled by those memories, but that didn’t mean she wanted to relive them.
Before she could figure out how to answer him, he pushed off the railing. “I nearly forgot. I have something for you. It’s in the truck.” He turned and walked toward his barn.
Sierra watched him go, then returned her attention to Rory. She called out a few more instructions. Today he was simply getting the feel of being on the back of a horse. Next time they would work on staying in the saddle during a trot.
Her gaze moved past the boy and she took in the wide-open spaces around the main buildings. Despite a few years of neglect, Dylan’s newly purchased ranch was impressive. There was plenty of acreage, a huge three-story house, three barns, houses for the ranch hands, along with several thousand head of cattle. Once again she regretted the fact that he was the one offering her the job. If it had been anyone else, she would have jumped at the chance to run a place like this. The potential, the challenges, even the long hours of work all appealed to her. She could have made something of this place.
She heard footsteps behind her and angled toward him. He handed her a large, round box with a familiar logo on the top.
Sierra raised her eyebrows. “You bought me a hat?”
“Yours got trampled when you rescued Rory. It was the least I could do.” He shifted his weight as if he were uneasy. “I hope you like it.”