Memories: A Husband to RememberNew Year's Daddy (Hqn)

by Jackson, Lisa

  “Yes, I know. She’s got two.” The lights of Cascadia loomed in the horizon just as the snow began to stick to the road. “I guess she’s lucky.”

  “She likes one better than the other one.”

  “See, she’s got problems, too.”

  “But Travis is nice.”

  Back to him again. “Yes, he is.”

  “He likes you.”

  “And I like him but that’s not enough reason for people to get married, okay?”

  “But—”

  “Subject closed.” She drove past the welcome sign and old, empty sawmill near the railroad tracks. She could understand why Amy would try to pair her with Travis. They’d had dinner together the past three nights and had visited Shelly while Bryan watched Amy. They’d finished decorating the old lodge and celebrated by kissing under the mistletoe that Travis had hung in the foyer. Ronni had struggled with the idea of buying him a Christmas present, then decided to give Bryan and him a housewarming gift instead. It seemed safer and less personal. As each day passed, she and Travis were becoming closer. Just thinking of him caused a warm feeling deep inside, and whenever they were alone, the sparks flew.

  She now knew the name of the company—TRK Inc., the holding company for smaller corporations—that he’d started and built into the empire that it was today. She’d also gained a little more insight into his marriage and why it had failed. Though he still blamed himself, it sounded as if his wife was as much, if not more, at fault for their union’s slow and painful demise. Yes, Ronni and Travis had grown closer, emotionally as well as physically.

  Never, since Hank, had she been tempted to make love to a man. She’d been a virgin when she and Hank had started dating and hadn’t slept with anyone since her husband’s death. She’d always just assumed she would never make love again, never wake up to the smell and feel of a man’s arms around her, never experience a man’s touch on her breasts or spine or—

  She brought herself up short. Lately, her thoughts had a way of turning wanton, and she knew where to lay the blame for that. If Travis weren’t so damned sexy…but it was more than his looks. There was the strong man with the soft center that appealed to her and touched her deep inside.

  With a sigh, she wheeled the van into the parking lot of a local mom-and-pop grocery store and steadfastly pushed Travis Keegan out of her mind. She just didn’t have time for a man in her life—no matter how fascinating he was.

  *

  “That’s it then,” Travis said, handing his son the thick sheaf of papers that had come from the school. Aside from health, registration and fee forms, there was information for all of the classes in which Bryan was enrolled. “Looks like a lot of work.”

  “Looks like a disaster!” Bryan corrected, eyeing the pages as if they were his death sentence. He hobbled over to the fireplace and sat on the raised hearth.

  “They would have been here sooner, but they were sent to our address in Seattle and forwarded here.”

  “Great. Just goes to show you how on top of it the school is.”

  “Give the school a chance, Bryan.”

  “Why? So I can look like a freak to all the other kids.”

  “You won’t look like a—”

  “What about these, huh?” Lifting a crutch and swinging it in the air, he added, “What if the doctor doesn’t let me get rid of them? I’ll look like a geek. A weirdo—”

  “A kid who had an accident,” Travis said, trying to understand his son and yet remain firm. “I know it’ll be difficult going to a new school, trying to make new friends, hoping to fit in, but you’ll do just fine.” He offered Bryan a smile. “You’re worrying this to death.”

  “Because it’s my life!”

  “Your new life.”

  “I liked my old one.”

  “Did you?” Travis asked softly.

  “Yeah, I did. And I liked living with Mom.”

  That was a lie, but Travis wasn’t about to call him on it. Not while the boy was so upset.

  “You know how weird it is living with your dad?” Bryan asked.

  “No.” Travis sat on the edge of a couch and let his clasped hands drop between his knees. “Why don’t you tell me.”

  “It’s way beyond weird. Guys live with their parents or their mother but no one lives with his dad.”

  “So that’s it. You want a mom?”

  “I’ve got a mom.” He made a dismissive motion with his hand and bit his lower lip. “She’s just not here.”

  *

  “There you go, guys.” Ronni shook forkfuls of hay into the manger and two velvet-soft noses began plucking at the dry blades. Contented snorts and the swishing of coarse tails contended with the rustle of straw as the horses shifted in their stalls.

  Lucy, the white mare, was round with the foal she would deliver in the next couple of months, and Sam, the sire, a gray stallion with a black mane and tail, nuzzled her out of the way.

  “Greedy,” Ronni admonished. Liquid brown eyes blinked, dark ears flicked, but he kept on chewing and snorting, determined to get his share and then some. “Just like a man.”

  Ronni hung the pitchfork on two nails driven into the interior walls, dusted her hands and was ready to snap off the light when she saw the shadow. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and she reached for the pitchfork again as Travis stepped out of the doorway and into the lamplight.

  She gasped, then shook her head. “You scared the devil out of me!”

  “Sorry, just got here. I knocked at the house, but no one answered.”

  “Oh, well…” She had trouble catching her breath and her heart beat a little faster than it should.

  “Amy’s had a big day—shopping, Santa and all that—she’s already asleep and I’m late with feeding the horses, so that’s why I’m not in the house….” Why did she feel the need to explain herself? Why couldn’t she tear her gaze away from his mesmerizing stare? Why did her blood still race stupidly?

  “How’s your sister? Her husband’s kind of tight-lipped about what’s going on.” In the shadowy light he looked more handsome than ever as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

  Ronni cleared her throat as it didn’t want to work. “Vic’s worried about her, of course, and the baby, but she’s hanging in. Between her neighbor and me, she gets a little relief with the twins, but I think she’s still on her feet more than she should be.” She tightened the lid on the oat barrel, trying to regain some of her fast-fleeting composure. “But at least Victor’s working and that’s helped relieve some of the stress.” She glanced past him to the darkness and prayed he couldn’t hear the ridiculous hammering of her heart. “Are you here alone?”

  Nodding, he said, “I finally got a packet from the school with information on Bryan’s classes and they’re different from the ones he was taking in Seattle, so he’s doing some catch-up reading—Charles Dickens.” His gray eyes touched hers again and lingered for a second. “Well, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing.”

  “So…you decided to take a walk,” she guessed. Dear Lord, were her palms sweating? It was cold as ice out here, yet she felt a warm flush.

  His smile was positively wicked as he snapped off the lights and the only illumination was the reflection of moonlight that bounced off the snow to shaft through the small windows and open door. “Actually, I decided to see you,” he admitted with an edge of reluctance to his voice.

  “Should I be flattered?” she asked, unable to stop flirting a little even though her heart was beginning to knock crazily in her chest.

  “Definitely.” He pulled the door shut behind him and they were suddenly alone. More alone than they had been.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, her pulse leaping wildly.

  “Because it’s been a long time since I wanted to be with a woman,” he said, walking slowly up to her. “Maybe too long.” Stopping just inches from her, he wound his finger in the long braid that had flipped over her shoulder to curl around her breast. “You k
now, Ronni, I just don’t know what to do with you.”

  “No?” she asked, the barn suddenly seeming to close, the air hard to breathe. “Why not?”

  “You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Maybe…maybe not.” She licked her lips nervously and a muscle worked his jaw. “I don’t want this,” he said.

  “Want what?” But she knew. They both knew. Desire, new and frightening, yet as old as time, hung in the air.

  Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered, “I don’t know what it is about you, woman. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something damned irresistible.” His arms circled her waist. “I just can’t fight it,” he said, “though God knows I’ve tried.”

  His lips brushed over hers and though she knew she was wading in dangerous waters, she couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. It had been too long and Travis touched her like no other man. Ronni’s breathing was already shallow, her heartbeat fluttering like the wings of a frightened bird. She gave herself without hesitation, kissing him, holding him, feeling his weight drag them both to the straw-strewn floor.

  His lips were warm, the air cool and the quiet nicker of the horses in counterpoint to the soft hoot of an owl. Ronni closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him, the way his lips touched the shell of her ear, the pressure of his hands as his fingers found the zipper of her jacket. She sensed the cold whisper of air caress her skin as he lifted her sweater over her head, and then, with weak moonlight filtering through the windows, unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill into the night.

  He kissed the deep cleft, breathed fire across the goose bumps that raised on her skin and touched a nipple that puckered and strained until his tongue encircled the taut point.

  Writhing in sweet agony, she arched upward, her blood on fire, a dark need unfolding deep within. His hands reached behind her, pressing intimately on the naked small of her back, tracing the long depression of her spine as his lips surrounded one nipple and he began to suckle, creating a whirlpool of desire deep in the most feminine part of her.

  “Travis,” she cried when he delved beneath her jeans, his fingers grazing her buttocks, his hands hot and ready. The buttons of her fly opened in a sharp series of pops and soon, still making love to her breasts with his mouth, he skimmed the jeans down her legs, discarded her shoes and socks and she was suddenly naked in the dark barn. Burning and anxious and naked.

  When he lifted his head, she cried out, but then he moved lower, his tongue tracing a path along the center of her abdomen. She bucked, her hips rising off the floor with the want of him and he whispered, “Slow down, honey. Just slow down and enjoy.”

  She knew she should stop, that she was crossing an invisible and dangerous line, but she couldn’t find the words and her voice was dry and hoarse as he continued kissing her and stroking her, spreading her legs gently, slowly finding that sensitive part of her that she’d sworn no man would ever discover again.

  But she didn’t stop him and as he touched her, slowly at first and then more rapidly, she found his rhythm and moved furiously with each magic stroke, inviting more, wanting more, gritting her teeth with the need of him, all of him. His hands and mouth were exquisite and she felt herself soaring ever higher like a shooting star careering across the sky until the release, when it came, rocked her so hard she would have sworn the heavens split and the world shattered.

  Only when it was over, when he was holding her in his arms and kissing away the tears of relief, was she able to slow the beating of her heart and hear the soft sigh of the wind over her own ragged, desperate breaths. How could one man affect her so? How could she ever let him touch her again—how could she not? In a few short weeks, she’d come to rely on and trust him as she had trusted no one since Hank.

  “Travis, I—”

  “Shh, honey. No need for words.” But his eyes had darkened as if there were unspoken gestures hanging between them.

  She nestled in his arms for a minute before becoming aware of the sharp tensile strength of his muscles, the hard planes of his face and the very noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans.

  Turning to him, she held his face in her hands and began kissing him, slowly at first and then more feverishly until he moaned with pleasure. With fumbling fingers she stripped him of his jacket and sweatshirt, her fingers playing softly in the swirling hair of his chest.

  Strong and sinewy, his flesh was hot and firm. She kissed him on his bare skin, rimming one of his nipples with her tongue and letting her fingers explore him, the ridges and planes of his muscles, the slope of his back, the rounded firmness of his buttocks.

  When she opened his fly, he didn’t stop her and as she pushed off his jeans, he groaned in some kind of male ecstasy. Her fingers glided over the hard muscles of his thighs and she moved lower, but before she could pleasure him as he had her, he kissed her and his knees parted her legs. Eyes, seeking and dark, stared at her breasts as he poised over her. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, sweat beading his upper lip.

  “Yes,” she lied. How could she be sure of anything? But she wanted him…maybe even loved him….

  “No regrets?”

  “None,” she promised.

  Biting his lower lip, he fumbled in the dark, found his jeans and shook out his wallet. Deep within the leather he found the foil packet and opened it quickly.

  Ronni was still breathing hard, her abdomen rising and falling, her breasts full and wanting as he kissed first one nipple, then the other. He lifted her hips with his hands. Eyes locked with hers, he entered her, so slowly she thought she would die in ecstasy, and then he withdrew just as lazily, as if he had all the willpower in the world. She would never have thought she could be ready so soon after being satiated, but her need was great and she moved with him, accepting his thrusts, yearning for more, wanting all of him.

  His tempo increased. She moaned and cried out as he fell to his elbows and joined her in a fierce, ancient dance that caused the earth to shatter and the seas to part.

  “Travis,” she whispered, his name familiar and right. “Travis, oh, please—” And then it came, that sweet spasm of delight that caused him to collapse against her, crushing her breasts and jarring her to her very soul. This was how it was supposed to be.

  She held him close, her heart pounding wildly, and a new sensation akin to love surrounded her in its gentle blanket. The horses snorted as if in disapproval, but she didn’t care. For the first time in nearly four years, she felt like a woman, a full, complete woman.

  “You’re beautiful, Veronica,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and when he stared at her, she saw deeper emotions in his eyes, as if he too felt the change in their relationship, he too realized there was no turning back, he too knew their lives would never be the same.

  Levering up on one elbow, he stared down at her and touched the hill of her cheek with one long finger. “I…I…” He stopped, took in a deep breath and shook his head. “Look what you’ve reduced me to, woman.”

  A tightness was forming in her throat as she realized how serious he’d become. How sober. How intense.

  A heartbeat, then his gaze locked with hers. Her throat turned to sand. Oh, God, she knew what he was going to ask before the words, those beautiful, frightening words whispered through the barn.

  He took her hand in his as if afraid she might pull away, “I want you to marry me.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I…I DON’T KNOW what to say,” Ronni whispered as Travis plucked a piece of straw from her hair.

  A smile split his jaw and some of the tension drained from his face. “How about, ‘Oh, Travis, I never thought you’d ask, I’ll marry you and bear your children, clean your house, wash your clothes, kiss the ground you walk on and be devoted to you for the rest of your life?’”

  Ronni, close to tears a moment before, laughed. “Oh, sure, that’s what was on the tip of my tongue.” Kissing
him, she saw the merriment in his eyes and she hugged him closer. Marriage. To Travis. “I—I want to be sure,” she said as the reality hit her.

  “You aren’t now?”

  “For the moment, yes, but for the rest of our lives…? I barely know you.”

  He smiled, his teeth flashing white in the darkness as he stared at her. “I feel like I’ve been looking for you all my life.”

  “Really?” she asked and he laughed. “Be serious for a minute.”

  “I am. Dead serious. I want you to be my wife.”

  “I though that after your divorce you were through with marriage.”

  “But I didn’t count on meeting you.”

  Sighing, she said, “I don’t know if it would be fair—to you.”

  “I know what I want.”

  “Do you?” Still reeling from his proposal, she sat up and felt the cold air chill her skin. Never once had he said that he loved her, nor she him. It was just too soon, too early in their relationship. She’d known Hank for years before she’d married him and even now, almost four years after his death, she felt as if she was betraying his memory.

  “I’m willing to take a chance.”

  “But I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “There’s Amy—”

  “Who’s crazy about me and Bryan.”

  “That much is true.” Wrapping her arms around her legs, she stared at this wonderful man. Her first impulse was to say yes and throw herself into his arms and make love to him over and over again, but she had to be practical. She was a mother; he, too, had a child. It wasn’t just the two of them, they weren’t impetuous teenagers.

  “How do you feel about my son?”

  “Oh, that’s not it,” she said, reading his thoughts. “Bryan’s a little on the surly side sometimes, but that’s just the nature of the beast. A teenager suddenly thrown into a new situation—new home, new school. Then he wracks up his knee and feels like a fool so he covers it with bravado.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

  “You disagree?” She arched a dark eyebrow high.

  “Not at all, and I think you’re just what he needs—a no-nonsense woman who likes kids.”