The words barely penetrated the fuzz in her brain, but Kathleen knew without a doubt she couldn’t let go.
“Not yet,” she said, reaching down to draw him up. She rubbed her thumb over his silken tip and felt him tremble. “I want you inside me.”
Slowly, Jackson withdrew his fingers, sat Kathleen back a scant few inches, and reached into his back pocket. He pulled a foil packet from his wallet then tossed it onto the chair with their clothes.
When he was sheathed, Kathleen rose then lowered herself onto him.
As she slid down his length, Kathleen felt her muscles tighten in response. Jackson moved his hands to her hips as she found her rhythm.
With every movement, she felt her insides tightening. Then he reached between their bodies, his thumb brushing against her and she was lost. Kathleen threw back her head on a low moan and watched the stars above explode in color.
She felt another climax as Jackson bucked beneath her. He pulled her chest to his and drew his strong hands down her back, around her buttocks, and squeezed.
“Sweet Jesus,” he mumbled. Kathleen felt the same.
Chapter Eleven
The next week passed much like the first few days. Every morning Grandfather asked Jackson to take a tour of the property. Jackson quickly declined and disappeared into San Antonio, reappearing for dinner several hours later. Somehow he had even won Vanessa over. The last few nights she had been positively cordial. And almost warm.
He was still keeping secrets, still hadn’t told her even the most uninteresting fact about his life before UTEP, not that she could blame him. Just because she was falling head over heels for him didn’t mean he felt the same, and Jackson wasn’t the type of man to share his thoughts or actions with anything less than a true friend.
With each day she wondered more about his secrets, hoping that he would finally tell her everything. He knew all of her secrets — her first boyfriends, the love/hate relationship with her sisters, her fears about Nathaniel.
Their nights, though, were Kathleen’s favorite time. When they stripped away the lies they were living and became the Jackson and Kathleen she had dreamed of in college. Except sharing their bodies was quickly driving a wedge between them that Jackson refused to see. She hated not talking to him. Hated that he wouldn’t tell her what was so important in San Antonio. She hated that she cared enough to want to know because it was only asking for heartbreak in the end. In less than two weeks Jackson was free to return to his life and obviously that was what he wanted.
While she wanted to turn two more weeks into fifty more years.
Lord, she was a hopeless case. And now she was waiting on the side of the road to follow him into San Antonio, assuming that was where he actually went every day.
Kathleen loved the city, but was there really enough in San Antonio to keep a man practically glued to it eight hours a day for more than a week? She felt like an idiot for complaining, even to herself, because their deal had been breakfast and dinner together only. In Mexico she’d made it clear that her days would be occupied with training Jester and that Jackson could do as he pleased.
In Texas it didn’t seem to be working. Oh, no one seemed any the wiser that they were only playacting at marriage, but watching Jackson drive into the sunrise each morning, wondering where he was all day and never getting a straight answer was getting to Kathleen.
Jester wasn’t taking her lack of attention well. In fact, she had no idea why the horse was the only one in her life who seemed to sense her growing stress level. Jackson was oblivious. Vanessa and Nathaniel always put their issues first so their lack of attention wasn’t surprising. But even Grandfather seemed to think things were perfect for the newlyweds.
She should be happy he couldn’t see through the veil of lies but instead it made her angry. Why couldn’t he choose now to pick apart her life? It might make Jackson open up to her.
Which was why she was ignoring the training schedule, skipping breakfast and waiting in Guillermo’s decrepit truck this morning. Picking at a loose thread in the upholstery, she felt like a loser. Or worse, one of those made-for-television movie-wives who started a cheating husband detective agency.
Why did she care about this in the first place? It made no sense. Jackson in Texas made no sense. He so obviously belonged in the New York art world that even four weeks in Texas had to be suffocating him. Yet he didn’t complain. He made nice with her family, including Nathaniel who had been staying around the ranch and drinking less lately. Why couldn’t she be happy with that and let him lead his life however he chose during the days?
A cloud of dust in the distance caught her attention. Kathleen shoved the old cowboy hat down low over her eyes, pulling the old truck onto the highway. Jackson’s rented SUV appeared in the rearview mirror but he didn’t pass. What was he waiting for? She was barely doing the speed limit.
Jackson seemed in no hurry so Kathleen slowed her vehicle. Jackson followed suit, seemingly content to watch the coleche rocks pass his window at a snail’s pace. Her heart rate sped up and she clenched her hands around the steering wheel. Did he recognize the truck? Or her?
She slowed again, now cruising well below the speed limit and Jackson slowed as well. Sunlight hitting his windshield kept his expression hidden. Was he going to follow her now? This was getting ridiculous. Kathleen’s sweaty palms slipped on the wheel and the tires jerked slightly to the left. She righted the old truck and considered slowing yet again. Maybe that would force Jackson to pass her. Or flash his lights, letting her know for certain that he recognized her and wanted to talk.
No. She wasn’t going to slow down. She would keep the truck moving slowly but steadily toward town. Jackson would pass her eventually. Right?
Another mile ticked slowly past and Kathleen began second guessing her decision. It would take all day just to reach the city limits at this point. Maybe she should pull over and admit to trying to follow him. He’d think she had lost it but at this point what did it matter?
A gravel road dog-legged to the right and Kathleen took it. Jackson remained on the main road. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and took another breath. He hadn’t recognized her behind the wheel of the old truck. It should be a relief but wasn’t. Kathleen shook herself and turned the truck around.
The angel on her right shoulder argued with the devil on the left. The angel told her to turn around and go back to the ranch. The devil insisted Jackson was hiding something in San Antonio.
The devil won and she turned the truck toward Lockhardt and the road to San Antonio. She didn’t want Jackson to recognize her, at least not yet. First, she needed to know what pulled him into the city for hours every day. Reaching the highway, she saw Jackson’s truck shrinking in the distance and pressed hard on the gas pedal.
Kathleen left plenty of space between the vehicles, hoping that Jackson would think nothing of another truck on the road. Before she was nearly ready, San Antonio appeared in the distance and the city traffic began. She cut the distance between the vehicles but left enough room for a car or two to drive between them.
Jackson took the exit toward the downtown area and Kathleen breathed easier. There were plenty of areas to photograph downtown. Maybe Jackson was working on a coffee table book or some other project that was taking up more of his time.
Past downtown, Jackson kept driving. Moving quickly through the historic neighborhoods without so much as a tap on his brakes. Where was he going? The area became increasingly rough and rundown. Kathleen’s breath caught when he turned into what was left of a parking lot, shut off his truck, and sat staring at one of the large buildings.
Trying not to draw attention to herself, Kathleen drove slowly past. She refused to look in Jackson’s direction, pretending to be interested in another building. Not that he would notice a run-down truck in a run-down neighborhood. A block farther on, Kathleen parked around a corne
r and locked the truck. She pushed her hair beneath the cowboy hat and zipped a lightweight jacket over her torso, hoping it would camouflage her body.
Jackson still sat behind the wheel of his SUV staring at the building across the road as if he could see through the walls. What was in there that was so important? Kathleen tried the door but it was locked. No one seemed to be there. Was this an apartment building? An office? There was nothing to identify it, not even a street number. Afraid Jackson would notice her, Kathleen continued down the street. She watched from around the corner until Jackson left the SUV, camera in hand, and began to walk.
He snapped a picture now and again — a child on a makeshift tree swing, an overgrown ball field, an abandoned school. Kathleen followed him at a distance, ducking into doorways or around corners when it seemed he might turn in her direction. With every passing second she felt dirtier.
What was she doing? Jackson was obviously taking photographs for his New York show or maybe for a book or postcard series. She had no business following him around like a parole officer waiting to pounce. She should go home. Now.
She looked around, not recognizing anything. She’d been paying too much attention to Jackson and not enough attention to their surroundings. He obviously knew where he was going. Kathleen promised herself she would go home as soon as anything looked familiar.
Gradually they made their way back to the first building and once again Jackson seemed entranced by the empty place. He sat on the curb taking photographs from several angles. Mad at herself for spying on him so long Kathleen walked back around the block, climbed into Guillermo’s truck, and began driving back to the ranch, her heart breaking for the sadness in Jackson’s posture as they walked the area, as he stared bleakly into the building.
What had happened to him there?
• • •
Jackson tossed the camera onto the passenger seat and slammed the door to the SUV. What was he doing back here? He had no business in the neighborhood. There were no answers here. No answers to be found anywhere if he were honest with himself.
Maria had deserted him when he was seven. Even if he found her what did he expect? A hug and a sob story about why it had been better for her to leave? And that would change his life how? It wouldn’t change the fact that he’d been a nuisance to his father, a reminder of the past she didn’t want to exist to his step-mother, and a threat to his half-brother.
Face the facts, man.
There were no justifiable reasons for a mother to leave her seven year old child, alone, in a big city. It shouldn’t matter to him, not now. He made it through college, landed a plush job freelancing for a few magazines, and built that into a profitable business working with the best designers, models, and magazine editors on the planet.
And yet he tortured himself with a walk around the area every day for more than a week. Hoping what? That Maria would show up and change his life? His life was damn good. If she did show up she would likely want money, money, and more money
This was doing him no good. He should at least capture the essence of San Antonio.
The pictures from the barrio wouldn’t fit in his New York show but he couldn’t stop his eye from framing shots or his fingers from taking them. Enough of this. He had wasted enough time on this childish urge to find his mother. Over the next few days, he would take that ranch tour Mitchum kept talking about and start capturing San Antonio in pictures. Make something of this crazy trip into insanity.
Starting with sepia prints of the Alamo.
Yet instead of pointing the SUV toward the River Walk or the Alamo, he took the exit for the highway into the Hill Country and Kathleen.
Another mistake. She was on his mind too often lately. Today, in fact, she was everywhere. He thought he saw her driving a run-down truck outside Lockhardt. But Kathleen had a fleet of shiny SUVs and sportscars at her disposal. Jackson couldn’t recall seeing a vehicle more than five years old at the ranch. By the time he shook the image of her in the old truck, he thought she was the squat old man wandering the street near the apartment. But Kathleen could never be mistaken for an old man.
Everywhere and nowhere. Kathleen filled his every thought. Just another reason to stop sleeping with her at night and take up residence on the pallet she made on the floor that first night. Only he knew he wouldn’t. He might not deserve Kathleen but he wasn’t a fool, either. His ability to keep his hands off her for more than a few minutes declined drastically as soon as her family disappeared after the nightly inquisition they called dinner.
Sleeping on the pallet would weaken his resistance and he might do something really stupid. Like telling her about his past. Then instead of desire he’d see pity in her eyes. Instead of having a good time she would try to fix him. He didn’t need fixing. He needed space.
He needed to get back to New York and his solitary life taking pictures.
Pulling through Lockhardt, Jackson spotted Nathaniel’s Mercedes at the bar. Not ready to face Kathleen and her questions quite yet, he pulled into the lot and walked quickly inside. Maybe a round of beers with her father would give him enough time to figure out how to handle this strange connection they had.
Even in the dim light it was easy to pick Nathaniel out of the group of older men inside. He sat at a table near the big, tinted window playing chess with the man from the gas station. The waitress delivered two giant mugs of amber liquid as Jackson walked up.
She raised an inquisitive eyebrow and he motioned to the drinks on the table. “I’ll have what they’re having.”
“Back in a second, honey,” she said, clucking her tongue like a chicken. A few patrons turned to watch him for a moment but seeing him at Nathaniel’s table they quickly lost interest.
Nathaniel cut his eyes to Jackson. “Am I late for dinner or something?”
Jackson shook his head. “I’m back in town early. Thought I’d check out the local color.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“You gonna make a move or should I finish the game myself?” his chess partner asked.
Nathaniel moved a piece without looking at the board. “Bishop to Queen Six.” His partner clenched his teeth and studied the board. Not a bad move for a man who was usually drunk by now. Nathaniel hunched over the board, making a point to ignore Jackson. “Go home to your wife and leave me to my game.”
“She was your daughter before she became my wife.” Jackson turned a chair around and sat. “I’m here for a drink. Just like you.”
“Humph.”
The waitress delivered his drink and Jackson took a long drink, nearly choking at the smooth taste of icy, sweet tea when he was expecting beer. Nathaniel was drinking tea? According to Kathleen the man was a drunk and from the slurred speech at dinner Jackson had agreed. Until now.
Nathaniel took his opponent’s last pawn. He was making short work of the game so he definitely wasn’t drunk or even drinking.
“Well? Are you going to leave or do I have to find another chess game?”
“I wasn’t sent here to spy on you, Nathaniel,” Jackson said, standing to toss a few bills on the table. “But as long as I’m here, did it ever occur to you that acting like a drunk has Kathleen worried sick about you? Seems like a trick a kid would play, not a grown man. By the way, he’s left his king’s wing open,” Jackson said to the other man and stalked out of the bar.
The Witte family was making him crazy. Kathleen was every sort of mad that he wouldn’t talk about his past when she should be paying attention to her own family. Mitchum was using Kathleen’s past to keep her in line. His line. Forget about Kathleen’s hopes for the ranch, the old man was holding her hostage to his hopes, killing her a little bit in the process.
Stooping, Jackson picked up a handful of gravel and tossed a rock toward the trees across the way. What was he doing here? He couldn’t solve Kathleen
’s problems any more than he could answer questions about Maria. He tossed another rock, listening as it pinged against a tree branch.
He didn’t need this but he couldn’t stop thinking about the family he’d started to care for. Nathaniel obviously wasn’t spending his days drinking at the bar. Why he pretended to be a drunk Jackson couldn’t comprehend. After a week with no communication from her ex, Vanessa still couldn’t seem to grasp the reason he’d kicked her out of their house, which had the Witte clan walking on eggshells around her.
He was so out of his depth it wasn’t funny. And he was turning in to Mr. Fix-It from all Kathleen’s keep-it-together talks. His skin itched with the need to leave. Get out of Texas as quickly as possible and lose himself in his work again.
No, he couldn’t do that to Kathleen. He tossed the last rock and returned to his rental.
Annoyed that he cared, Jackson shoved the SUV in gear and roared off down the highway. Why was he intent on helping a woman who couldn’t or wouldn’t do anything to help herself? Her reasons for going along with Mitchum were weakening every day: sure, he might sell the ranch, but she could take Jester to another facility. Get a job at a different training stable. She didn’t need to keep the ranch going so that her drunken father would have a place to stay. Her drunken father would probably just move into the bar so he could play chess all day long.
And forget about Vanessa. The spoiled sister would land on her feet, probably with another deep-pocketed husband, before the summer was out.
The ranch came into view and Jackson slammed his foot against the brake pedal. This whole plan was a waste of his time and Kathleen’s, too, and it was time to put all of it behind him.
Time to go back to New York, where he belonged.
Chapter Twelve
By the time Kathleen reached the ranch, she was certain of two things: Jackson would never feel for her the way she felt for him, but she couldn’t let him live with whatever pain was in his heart. So she hatched a plan to skip the family dinner and go straight to being alone with Jackson.
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