A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle)

by Uvi Poznansky

  ❋

  After the event, the magic began to dissipate and worry seeped in. He cradled her for as long as she could take his weight, and then she became afraid that someone might see them. When she tried to get dressed, he spent most of the time wanting more of her kisses. When she badgered him into fixing himself, he complied grudgingly. He didn’t want to let her leave him, but, out of respect for his parents, she felt compelled.

  The next day, she was sorry she had. She’d whispered that she would go in first, and he could follow. Not happy to let her go, he’d wrapped his arms around her, trying to beguile her with more kisses. She almost weakened. Thinking of Rose, she gently wiggled from his hold. Spurned and not liking it, he’d turned away like a child who’d just had his most beloved toy taken away, and said, “Whatever. Go if you must.”

  Later, in her lonely bed, she’d relived the enchanted hour; falling asleep with his scent secreted in her essence and the taste of his lips rooted in her memory. In the morning, she heard the commotion when Jake found Clint still sleeping in the SUV and woke him. Disgusted with his son’s lack of dignity, the older man made him go straight to the barn. They had plans to brand the cattle for the next few days and nothing would be allowed to stop the process. By the time he’d returned to the house late that night, all she saw was an exhausted cowboy, unshaven, with bloodshot eyes, webbed red lines overriding their normal blue and an attitude that screamed, back off.

  She never witnessed her sweet-talking Clint again. Waiting for him to remember their rendezvous from that special night was a waste of time because he never did. He must have been drunker than she’d thought. Searching his eyes earned her nothing but a raised eyebrow and complete unawareness.

  Being a girl full of grief, and then fury, she was dammed if she’d broach the subject herself. A week later she returned to France. At the airport with his parents to see her off, he gave her a brotherly hug and a book he knew she’d like. What he never knew was—he’d also given her Max.

  Chapter Six

  ~Today…

  “You did what?” Clint had never yelled at his mother before, but her leaving the way she did had driven him crazy. He’d been worried about her, and he wasn’t the kind of a man who liked that feeling.

  “I went to Paris for five days and stayed with Annie and her Max.”

  “Who the hell is Max? And why in tarnation did you go all the way to Paris and not tell me? I thought you were going to the city for some medical treatments.”

  “I did go to the city. Then I flew to Paris. And I didn’t get lost or scared like you said I would when I asked you about flying there. I had the tourist agency set it all up for me. It was exhausting, but a heck of a lot of fun. I saw the Eiffel Tower and visited the Louvre. Annie and Max, who, by the way, is her little boy— I’ve told you about the child before so don’t give me that scowl— took me to all the famous sights. One night, as André’s guests, we even went to the Moulin Rouge. The show was incredible: dinner, music and all those pretty dancing girls. I enjoyed myself so much. And…Max is a wonderful boy; very attached to his ma, and, surprisingly, he has the heart of a cowboy. All he could talk about was the ranch. I finally told him he’d need to ask you all his questions. Whether I fell in love with him on first sight because he’s the spitting image of Annie, or because he reminded me of you as a boy, I’m not sure. But I did take to him, Clint. And I’ve no doubt, you will too.”

  Clint felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach by a snake-bitten mule. Annie? Max? “How the hell could you make these arrangements without telling me?”

  Rose put her finger right under his nose and made him back up a step. “Now you listen here, young man; I tried to tell you—didn’t I? Even went as far as making an appointment with you so we could talk, and you never showed up. Remember last Friday, me asking for an hour? Remember?”

  Guilt rode him hard and made him even more cantankerous. “You know that Misty-Blue had her foal that day, and I spent most of the time with the vet. After he left, I had to catch up on the chores.”

  “I know that, son. You always favored that mare. And I know you work harder than any two men on the place, and I appreciate it. But you don’t have to. You could hire a couple more hands and back off a little yourself.”

  “I have to keep on top of things, Ma. Like Pa did.”

  “Your father was a miserable man to live with, Clint. We both suffered from his controlling spite. And as much as I loved the old fool, I wouldn’t wish his like on anyone. I brought you up to be better than that. You used to have fun. Now all you ever do is work, and walk around the property looking like you’ve lost your best friend. The only person who can get you to smile is Debbie; if I’m lucky, I might get a grin to twist your stony face, but it seldom reaches your eyes.”

  Both hands reached up, one to lift off his cowboy hat and throw it on the table, and the other to rifle through his overly-long, thick, brown hair. “I’m sorry, Ma. You’re right. Work gets to me, and I forget about everything else.” He rubbed the back of his neck and hung his head. Similar to a long-ago time, he finally looked at her and reached his hand out to caress her cheek. Then he leaned in to place a kiss gently on her forehead. “I’m not an easy man to live with or get time with. And I know I’ve taken to eating in the bunkhouse with the men for the last while, but it’s because there’s been some trouble with the workers. I had to fire that lazy Peter Layton, and it left me a man short. Ma, I’m not making excuses, but it has been kinda crazy.”

  “Clint, for you it’s always crazy. At least when Debbie’s home you show up in the house once in a while. But forcing her on this camping trip has unchained you from a certain amount of your duties, and I guess it freed me, too. Otherwise I couldn’t have gotten away. But I’ve been a-needing to tell you something for a while now.” Exhausted and on the verge of tears, Rose collapsed onto a kitchen stool and clutched at her chest.

  Suddenly frantic, Clint lifted her into his arms and carried her to her favorite armchair. His heart sped up, sounding like an African drum. It beat so hard the pain had him close to collapsing. “Ma, God! What the hell is wrong? What’s going on?” He had no control over his voice, and he knew he roared at her but couldn’t help himself. Unhinged and frantic, he grabbed for her knitted throw and covered her from the waist down, and then he knelt beside her and laid his head on her knee. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry, Clint. Everyone has their time and mine’s almost up. I’m thinking your cantankerous old pa is lonely in heaven, and he’s wanting me to brighten his days, like I used to when he was still alive.”

  Sounding like the lost child he recognized from inside himself, he whispered, “But darlin’, I can’t lose you, too.”

  Rose grunted. “Dammit, son. Are you still pining away over that slutty ex-wife of yours?”

  Clint reared back as if he’d been shot. “Hell, no! She’s the last person I want back in my life. I was talking about Pa. He gave me some advice before he died, and I’ve always tried to be the man he’d be proud of. ‘Be strong, be your own man and never let anyone get to you. That’s the only way to be successful.’ And he was right.”

  Rose winced and shook her head. “No, Clint. He wasn’t. In fact, he was dead wrong. I’ll tell you what he should have told you. Being strong means loving others and helping them be the best people they can be. Being your own man means staying true to the morals you hold dear. And being successful means having a church full of folks regretting your passing and celebrating your life because you meant so much to them. Soon, you’ll be in the church for me and taking a gander at how many friends have come to honor my life, compared to the handful who said good-bye to your father. It’s the memories you leave behind while you lived, Clint. If you never remember anything else, remember that.”

  Clint heard the words but all he could think about was her. “How long, darlin’? What’s wrong with you?” Wavering, his voice didn’t filter out the stark fear he was trying
to suppress.

  “Doc said its lung cancer, and I might have a few months. That’s why I asked Annie to come back home and stay with us. Debbie is going to be scared, Clint. She’s already such a timid little mouse. Losing me will damage her. I’m praying the pain won’t be as bad with another woman nearby who knows what she’s going through. A female to help her accept that life goes on, and she needs to let herself heal and live.”

  Bitterly, Clint questioned, “You don’t think maybe, as her daddy, I could have taken on that role?”

  “Not a chance in hell!” Chuckling, Rose answered him truthfully, which somewhat damaged his self-perception. “Not that you aren’t wonderful with your little girl, but you’ve an iceberg where your heart used to be.” His eyes narrowed at her temerity. “I’m just sayin’ it like it is, son. That little princess needs a soft place to land—not a rocky ledge.”

  Sighing, he had to agree with her assessment. “And they don’t come any softer than Annie.”

  “Exactly. Remember how much she loved that foal with the disfigured face, Misty Blue? That gentle horse turned out to be one of our best riders. And the scraggly pup she named Dawg? He’s been worth his weight in gold working with the livestock and guarding the house. Being motherless herself, Annie’s just the person to help Debbie through my passing.”

  Her words struck a spike through his composure. “If it’s what you want, Ma, then that’s the way we’ll work it. In this case, I bow to your superiority. I just have one more question. Who’s André?”

  Chapter Seven

  Clint couldn’t believe that his ma had gone over his head and actually invited—no, be honest—begged Annie to return.

  Whatever had possessed the woman to fly all alone to Paris in the first place? It was the only time she’d ever been on an overseas flight in her life. She must have been terrified. In her own defense, she’d insisted that she’d shared her wishes to go there with him on numerous occasions, but he had to fess up—he didn’t remember any of it. In all truth, he hadn’t really talked to her about anything important, other than Debbie, in a number of years.

  Hell, it’d been easier to cut people off than open himself to questions or advice. After his father passed on, Clint didn’t feel as if he needed to communicate with other people. Now, as the boss, it was his ranch and therefore his decisions and better yet—his rules. This safe vacuum he inhabited was peaceful and had become second nature. He liked it that way.

  Plus, he’d had a good teacher in his ol’ man. The hardness of Jakes character had been learned young, and to the day he’d died of a heart attack, he’d never changed. Clint’s pa hadn’t let anyone, other than his close family, inside his boundaries. Even with them, he hid any softness in his nature. Only Rose could prod a smile or a hug and Clint had to work real hard to get any kind of affection or appreciation. Surprisingly, Jake had taken to Annie and she’d prompted an old-world chivalry in his dad that had surprised everyone who knew him.

  The one person Jake had disliked with a passion was his son’s ex, Cathy. Clint shoulda followed his pa’s advice about the bitch and stayed away from her but his pride wouldn’t let him take good advice.

  Not only had the she done a number on him with her slutting around, but her making him the laughing-stock of the whole county had hardened that soft place inside that had made him so popular in his youth. Since then, it was smarter not to let anyone come close enough to chip away at the rock wall covering the entrance to where his heart had been laid to rest. An intelligent man didn’t need to be played for a fool more than once to learn his lesson.

  Face it—the bitch had destroyed his give-a-damn side when she’d treated his love so callously. It had broken a tenderness he’d always nurtured for the ladies that he’d never been able to repair. Not that he acknowledged what he’d felt for her as love. It’s just that he’d spent too many nights awake, fantasizing about the one beautiful memory that had kept his heart involved with her. That incredible moment they’d shared which he’d never forgotten, but had never been quite able to remember precisely. Those precious dream-like thoughts had been what he’d clung to during the worst times in his marriage. And what he’d tried so hard to re-enact during the very few good times.

  He’d never been loved in quite such a way as she’d loved him that one time. So damn sweet! So giving! Although the vision was hazy, a man could drown in those fantasies. He’d had way too much to drink that night. Plus, the darkness in the back seat of his car had hidden her features, so he couldn’t clearly recall her face during their passionate encounter. There was one thing he’d believed afterwards, though; it was then that he’d made a baby with her—his precious Debbie.

  How could he regret those hours? He never had. Even after he’d been forced to acknowledge that Debbie couldn’t be his child. Blood tests for her tonsillectomy last year had proved the impossibility of his paternity beyond a shadow of a doubt. By then, it hadn’t mattered. In his heart, she was his little girl and always would be. The only way she’d be taken from him was over his dead body.

  After a few nights at the bar dealing with his discovery, a choice had been made. He’d struck those silly visions from his mind and refused to let them have any power over him again. How could a man be so foolish as to make decisions based on feverish dreams?

  Of course, Rose had accepted Debbie as her family. Since giving her a grandchild had been all she’d ever asked of him, he’d counted his blessings for having the little girl. Adoring Rose the way he had all his life, Clint thanked his lucky stars that Cathy, being a selfish bitch as always, didn’t want anything to do with the little angel. Years earlier, before she’d left for good, she’d been glad to dump Debbie on Clint.

  His horse neighed and brought his attention back to the matter at hand. He had been riding the fences, looking for the break where he’d lost some of his mares only the day before. They were good breeding horses, and he hated to think someone might have been responsible for them going missing. If he could determine whether the wire had broken naturally or had help from some pliers, he’d know what he was looking at.

  Other ranchers had been complaining of similar happenings—fences down, horses missing. Good thing his old man had taught him not to fly off the handle without any proof, or he’d be at the sheriff’s office making a complaint.

  The area he particularly needed to check came in sight, and he saw where the fencing lay, pushed over. Inspecting the ground and finding boot prints was upsetting. Seeing that the wire had been tampered with further added to his anger. No doubt about it. He’d been robbed. But no one took anything of his and got away with it! Time to visit the police and call a meeting with his neighbors. See what they could do to stop the thieves from getting any more of what didn’t belong to them.

  Strangely, he’d felt his stomach tighten when it dawned on him that one of the mares had been Annie’s choice ride. She’d be sad when she found out her favorite horse, Misty Blue, had gone missing. And for some reason, that thought hit harder than anything had in a long time.

  Chapter Eight

  Anne heard the serious tone in her father’s voice. “We should talk before you and Max leave tomorrow, child.” André motioned her to sit. He placed a glass of wine on the rounded oak table nearest her special chair. Then he slowly turned back to his own seat and settled himself. He lifted both hands, put his fingertips together, as he was wont to do at stressful times, and held them against his lips.

  “What’s wrong, Papa? As far as I know, we’ve covered everything necessary for our flight tomorrow. Sophie is comfortable taking charge of the shop, and the new woman we hired to replace me is working out very well.”

  He shook his head and took a sip from his glass.

  “Is it the apartment? You know Mari said she’d come and clean every second day, and she’ll prepare your meals. Since she’s a wonderful cook, I expect when we return to find you’ve outgrown all your clothes.” Anne looked over at her elegantly dressed father and knew such a
thing could never happen. The man was fastidious about his well-being. André walked every day, ate healthily and lived a lifestyle of routine that supported his overall welfare.

  “No, chéri, it’s nothing like that. I’ve pondered for days about something that Rose shared with me in a moment of intimacy.”

  “I must say, you two did bond rather well. I’ve never known you to take such a liking to another woman before, Papa.”

  “I haven’t, not since I lost your mother. Rose is very easy to listen to, and she has a wonderful philosophy on life. It’s not surprising you’ve been so enamored with her for all these years.”

  “I’m just happy you finally got to meet her.” Knowing her father, and that he would share his dilemma with her in his own good time; Anne sipped her wine. Enjoying the only restful moments she’d had during the last week since Rose had left to go back to Texas, she sighed her pleasure and waited.

  As if the contented sound sparked his interest or settled his quandary, André began. “I’ve been contemplating whether or not I could, in all conscience, share this with you. And I feel I must. It might be breaking Rose’s confidence, but knowing her secret has made me uncomfortable. I believe you should be made aware of the truth. Therefore, I will tell you.”

  “I’m waiting.” She watched as her father picked up his glass and took a gulp. This wasn’t good. As a connoisseur, he never gulped wine.

  His voice took on a toneless quality. “Rose loves Debbie very much. I gather from what she told me that the child is bright, loving and very intelligent.”

  “Yes, she sounds wonderfully clever.”