His breath came in ragged gasps. "Close?"
"Yes." She began to pant. "Oh, yes … now … now!" She bucked in his arms as a climax overtook her.
With a groan he pushed home and closed his eyes. Then he held on tight as his body shook and he gulped for air.
At last his body stilled and he opened his eyes. "Incredible," he murmured.
"I know."
"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow."
She struggled for breath so she could speak. "About that … we need to talk."
He leaned forward and kissed her gently. "No, we don't. I didn't mean that to sound like I expected more."
"That's not what I meant. I—"
"Let's get dressed." He kissed her lightly again. "We don't want to be late."
Maybe she should postpone what she had to say. It wasn't a discussion she wanted to rush through. "Okay, we'll get dressed. We can talk later on tonight."
He smiled. "Sure you want to waste time talking?"
She started to tell him it wouldn't be a waste, that their discussion could change their lives. But now wasn't the time. "I promise not to waste a single minute of being alone with you," she said.
"That's all I ask."
* * *
By some miracle Clint and Meg left the house and climbed into his pickup truck at ten minutes before six. She'd insisted on returning his hat, so he wore it and she went bareheaded. The hat smelled of her hair spray, and ordinarily he'd be ticked off about that, but she had the power to do just about anything and get away with it.
But now that they were in the truck and on their way, he was worried that she'd use this time to get into her "discussion." He had a good idea how that would go. First she'd tell him how much this time together had meant to her. He believed it had meant quite a bit, so that was fine.
She wouldn't be able to leave it at that, though. Eventually she'd begin to apologize because she couldn't keep seeing him, and to hear her laying out all the reasons would depress the hell out of him. Intellectually he understood the problems. If his heart didn't get any of it, too bad. He'd deal. She didn't have to rub his nose in it, though.
"This is perfect," she said as they started down the dirt road to the highway. "My stay wouldn't be complete without a ride in a pickup."
"This isn't just any pickup, either," he said, switching on the headlights. "Allow me to introduce Esmerelda."
"Really?" She laughed. "I'm glad to meet you, Esmerelda. I'm dying to know how you got your name. One of Clint's old girlfriends?"
"I wish I'd had a girlfriend as reliable as Esmerelda. It's a Greek name that means emerald. This truck's green and she's a gem."
"That's wonderful. I love it." She hesitated. "I don't suppose…"
He could predict what was coming.
"I don't suppose you'd let me use that in tomorrow's broadcast?"
Yep, just what he'd expected. He glanced at her. "I don't suppose I would. Low profile, remember?"
She sighed. "I remember. But I don't see how talking about your truck would be such a big problem. I don't have to say it's your truck."
"Everyone around here would know, anyway."
"So why not let me talk about it? I don't understand why it would bother you."
In some ways he was closer to her than to any woman he'd known. In other ways they were oceans apart. "That's because you're used to having lots of people know what's going on in your life. I'm not. To me it would feel like an invasion of privacy." He changed the subject, determined to steer the conversation away from any unwelcome topics. "Have you decided on the three finalists?"
"Yes, and I don't know if I can stand seeing the faces of the guys who aren't chosen. Between now and the time I end this trip in Wyoming, I need to toughen up."
Although he was touched that she cared that much, he thought her concern was unnecessary. "You don't have to worry about cowboys, Meg. They've competed in roping and riding events ever since they were kids. They can handle rejection." And so can I, so don't think you have to molly-coddle me.
"I'm sure they can, but this might be different than going for a trophy or a cash prize. Besides the cash award, this is a chance to be on national TV."
"Trust me, although they'd be thrilled to make it, TV isn't their life the way it is yours. They won't react like you would if you lost a chance like this."
"You don't think any of them want a shot at doing something else?"
Clint waited for one lone vehicle to pass before turning onto the paved two-lane highway. "Nope. They just want something to brag about to their grandkids." He gestured toward the darkening landscape, where rolling hills gave way to the jagged silhouette of the Santa Ritas on the far side of the valley. Pinpricks of light were just beginning to flicker in the navy sky. "See that?"
"See what? It's all dark out there."
"Exactly. Only a few lights from ranch houses scattered here and there, which means lots of open space, the exact opposite of a big city. We all live here because we crave room to roam around."
"But don't you get bored? There's not even a movie theater."
"I guess it's all in what you get used to. You're used to living at top speed, keeping yourself entertained all the time. Out here things go a lot slower. We watch sunsets. We take long horseback rides. We sit around the fire and talk. Or not talk. There's a whole lot of silence out here in the country, and that's how we like it."
But even as he described his idyllic picture of Sonoita, he admitted it was more of a sentimental memory than a promise of what was ahead for this area. The sprinkling of lights on the landscape had become more dense just in the past year. Not so long ago none of the streets had been named, but now they all had some kind of designation so they could have 911 emergency response.
"I have to admit I haven't missed the sirens," she said.
"But you've missed the excitement of the city?"
She laughed. "No, not with you around. You're Bloomie's, Saks and Late Show with David Letterman all rolled into one."
He put on his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the Steak Out. The place was packed, which didn't surprise him. "That's probably because I'm new and exotic. Another few days with me and you'd discover all my bad habits."
"Like what?" She made no move to unlatch her seat belt and get out.
He shut off the motor and turned to her. "Oh, the usual. I squeeze the toothpaste in the middle and leave the coffee grounds in the pot for hours. I sing off-key and hog the covers and cut articles out of the Sunday paper before anybody else has read it. Stuff like that."
"Sounds kind of nice."
"Then you must have lived with some real losers. The dirty-underwear-on-the-floor and greasy-dishes-in-the-sink category of guys."
"I've never lived with a guy," she said softly.
"Never? I thought that was what everyone did in the big city. I know what you said about your recent situation, but before that—"
"Before that I was so busy climbing up the ladder I didn't have the time or patience for a full-time relationship." In the pale light filtering into the cab from the restaurant windows, her expression grew wistful. "I've told myself I didn't need that, at least not until I've secured my spot."
"And you're probably right. Sex is one thing, but you don't need somebody hanging around all the time, mangling your toothpaste tube."
"You know what one of my favorite parts of this trip has been so far?"
The conversation was getting dangerously intimate, but he didn't know how to sidetrack it without sounding as nervous as he felt. "Let me guess. Something to do with my latest home improvement project, aka the shower." He didn't think she meant anything sexual, but he would try and make a joke, anyway.
"You have an awesome shower, and I've loved every minute of getting naked with you, but do you remember when I first arrived, and we sat out on the porch?"
"Yeah, I remember." He remembered every waking second with her.
"Nobody sits on porches
where I live, obviously. If anyone had told me it was fun to sit on the porch and stare out at a whole lot of nothing, I would have laughed. But I keep coming back to that porch thing. While we sat there talking, I felt … relaxed. I'm thinking it might have something to do with staring at nothing."
"Could be." His chest felt tight. She was beginning to fall in love with the wide-open spaces, but she wouldn't have the time or luxury to complete the process. They would never know if she might eventually get hooked on staring at nothing. But knowing that she might, if given a chance, filled him with regret. "Listen, we should go in. I'm sure everyone is impatiently waiting for the honored guest."
She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Let's have a signal for when one of us is ready to leave."
"Okay." He would be ready five minutes after they walked in the door.
"How about scratching our noses? If either of us scratches our nose, that means we want to go. But if it's bad timing for the other one, the opposite signal is running your tongue over your lower lip."
"That's no good."
"Why not?"
"If you run your tongue over your lower lip, I'm going to want to rip your clothes off."
"Oh." She laughed. "Okay, then how about eyebrow lifting? Will that get you hot?"
"Watching you walk across the room gets me hot."
"Yeah?" She sounded delighted with the news.
"Yeah. But we can go with eyebrow lifting. Come on. The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave."
* * *
The bar was jammed and noisy, but once Meg walked in everyone stopped talking and stared at her. The only sound came from the two televisions mounted above the bar, where a Suns basketball game was in progress.
For one scary moment Meg was afraid they knew what she and Clint had been up to an hour ago. "Is there a problem?" she asked, praying there wasn't.
"No problem," said the bartender. "I think we're a little star-struck, is all. What'll you have? It's on the house."
"No, I'm buying," called a cowboy from the back.
"No, you aren't," said another one, slapping his money on the bar. Then mayhem broke out as nearly every man in the place jockeyed for a spot at the bar, each waving money and insisting they were buying Meg Delancy a drink.
Jamie pushed through the crowd and came over to her. "Man, oh, man, this'll take all freakin' day. I know. I'll jus' make you somethin'. Whatcha want? You, too, pardner." He slapped Clint on the back and giggled. "Pardner. I'm really gettin' into this."
Meg peered at her cameraman. "Jamie, are you drunk?"
Jamie gave her a silly grin. "Doin' my best to be. Still too sober, though. Too damned sober."
Meg linked her arm through Jamie's. "Come with me for a minute." She glanced up at Clint. "Excuse us—we'll be right back."
With the hubbub still going on about who would buy drinks, nobody seemed to notice as she guided Jamie through the doorway into the reception area of the restaurant that was adjacent to the bar. Not a soul was in the restaurant. Everyone in town was obviously crammed into the saloon.
Meg led Jamie over to a row of chairs intended for people waiting for a table. From the way he was weaving, she thought he'd be better off sitting than standing. She gave him a gentle nudge in that direction and he sank down onto the nearest chair.
"Okay." She took the chair next to him. "This is so not like you. What's happened?"
His expression grew mournful. "Called my darling Alison this afternoon."
Meg closed her eyes, afraid of what he was about to say. "Found herself another guy. I've been gone less 'n two days." He held up three fingers, studied them and pulled one finger down. "Two days."
"Jamie, I'm so sorry. That sucks."
"Two days! How could somethin' happen in two lousy days?"
She was the wrong person to ask a question like that. Two days had made a huge difference in her life. When she'd left New York she'd imagined herself staying single for years. Now she was trying to figure out a way to be with Clint. She was thinking long-term, maybe very long-term. Like forever.
"I wanna go home," Jamie said. "Get a look at him. Try 'n get her back."
At first she panicked. Losing Jamie could jeopardize the whole trip. Nobody else had his eye for composition. Any other cameraman they sent had the potential to louse things up, and she'd pay the price.
But Jamie was already paying a price, a big one, for being here. Maybe Alison wasn't worth his concern, but he was the one who had to decide that.
"I'll do my best to get them to send a replacement for you." Mel wouldn't like it, and neither would Sharon. Meg would offer to pay the extra expense of sending a new person out. If going to bat for Jamie affected the project and her career took a hit, so be it. She waited for her tummy to start churning at the thought, but amazingly, it didn't.
Maybe the serendipity of meeting Clint had given her new respect for going with the flow. Maybe this country was beginning to have an effect on her priorities. Even that thought would ordinarily scare her to death, but she felt calm. If Jamie needed to go home to be with Alison, she'd support him.
"You'd really be okay with that?" Jamie gazed at her and seemed to make a valiant attempt to focus.
"I know how important she is to you." She smiled at him. "I hope someday to dance at your wedding."
"I hope to dance at our wedding, too." He shook his head. "Need coffee. Gotta go on the Net, get a ticket."
"Stay right here a minute. I'll find someone who can take you back to the ranch. But, Jamie, they can't get a replacement here in time for tomorrow morning. The three finalists and I are supposed to be on horseback for the broadcast, and I'm already nervous about it."
"Don't fret, Megster." Jamie rubbed her arm. "I'll do the gig and get us to Phoenix." His grin was crooked. "It's not like you can fly outta Sonoita, ya know."
"True." She glanced up when she saw a movement by the door. Clint was standing there looking worried. She beckoned him over. "Jamie needs to fly back to New York tomorrow," she said.
"What's wrong?"
"Family emergency." At least she hoped someday Alison would be family for Jamie.
Clint's worried frown deepened. "I hope nobody has di—"
"No, we're not talking about anything life-threatening. But he has to go home right away. I'm going to ask for a replacement first thing in the morning. I'll need to get up about five so I can call the studio and start the process." She looked into his eyes, and knew he was remembering the chaotic morning they'd had because of oversleeping.
"Right. I'll make sure you have an alarm clock."
"Need a ride to the ranch," Jamie mumbled. "Gotta get on the Net."
Clint looked confused. "What?"
"He wants to sober up and buy his ticket on the Internet," Meg said. "So he has to go back to the Circle W."
"I'll take him. I'll make him some coffee and let him use my computer."
It was the best solution. If she told anyone else they were free to take Jamie back, they'd know they weren't a finalist. But Meg hated to have Clint leave. She'd become used to the idea that he'd be there all evening and take her home.
"Thanks," she said, ignoring her own disappointment. "That would be wonderful."
"You'd better get in there," he said. "They're all asking for you."
"I will." She stood. "See you later."
"Right. Later."
She hurried toward the bar, but her heart was with Clint as he helped Jamie up and started toward the door. If she was this broken up over losing his company for the evening, how could she possibly give him up forever? He'd have to go along with her plan to be part of the contest as Meg's Pick. By doing that, he had a good chance to save his ranch, and they could find a way to merge their worlds. It was the only option she could see.
* * *
Chapter 12
«^»
Clint was glad for a chance to escape from the bar. He didn't know how Meg could deal with a mob scene like that on a regula
r basis. She was probably used to it, but Clint liked his social interaction to be with a handful of people, at most. One-on-one was his favorite.
And yeah, he was jealous of all the time she was giving to that crowd, and he had no right to be. She was here to see and be seen, not to hide away in a bedroom having sex with him. Anyone who ended up with Meg would have to take whatever spare time she had and be grateful.
"I 'preciate this, man," Jamie said as Clint gave him a boost up into the truck. "I promise not to barf on your seat."
"Don't worry about it." But Clint rolled the window down before he closed the door and went around to the driver's side. The cool air should help sober Jamie up, even if he didn't need to heave out the window. And having Jamie burp on his truck was better than hanging around watching guys drool over Meg. He climbed in and started Esmerelda's motor.
"She's okay, that Megster," Jamie said.
Clint had no argument with that. "Yeah, she's great."
"She doesn't want me t' leave."
"Probably not, but if you have an emergency—"
"Alison found a new guy."
Clint did a mental double take. He had to assume Alison was Jamie's girlfriend, but the situation didn't sound like much of an emergency. "That's why you're leaving?"
"Yep. Nip this in the bud."
Clint didn't get it Bringing a replacement out here would certainly create problems for Meg. Surely she outranked Jamie, so she should be able to demand that he stay with her, even if his girlfriend had taken off with another man.
He'd pictured Meg as being focused on her goal, ready to do whatever it took to keep her spot on the show. Going along with Jamie didn't fit. "Were you and Alison engaged?" he asked.
"Not yet. But she's the one. It'll happen."
From the look of things, Jamie might be the only person who thought so. Clint was astounded that Meg was buying into this program. Then he remembered her saying that she felt sorry for the cowboys she didn't choose. Apparently she had a soft heart. He wasn't sure she could afford that if she wanted to keep her job.
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