"Oh, I can't believe it! You're getting married!" Polly swooped down the steps and ran toward them, then enveloped them both in a fierce hug.
Jace thought his ribs might crack.
Then Polly stood back and looked them up and down, still beaming. "Look at you! You both look so happy!" She shook her head as if it amazed her.
As well it might, considering the way Celie used to snarl at him and he used to tease her. Now he just grinned and Celie did, too.
"They are happy, Pol'," Sloan said, looping his arm over his wife's shoulders. "Almost as happy as we are."
"Impossible," Polly said. Then she said, "Come see the house and meet our guests. Sloan brought his work home with him." She slipped out from under Sloan's arm and grabbed Celie's hand and led her toward the house, leaving Sloan with Jace.
Once upon a time as hot-headed teenagers, the two of them had battered each other into the dirt. Jace had broken Sloan's nose. A week later Sloan had returned the favor.
Jace couldn't even remember why they'd been at odds then. Six months ago he had been flat out jealous.
He'd done everything wrong—from teasing her about her crush on a movie star to trying to make her jealous in return by flirting with every girl who came in the hardware store to inviting three of them, including starlet Tamara Lynd, to staying at Artie's with him to goading Celie into bidding on "the man of her dreams" at the auction.
Of course he'd hoped she'd see the folly of her ways. He'd never expected her to actually bid enough to win Sloan! He'd been floored—and furious—when she had. And he'd done something even stupider afterward.
Not that she'd noticed what he was doing. She'd only had eyes for Sloan. She'd come home from Hollywood after her weekend there and had let him think she was still madly in love with Sloan.
Thinking about it could still make him simmer.
Now he looked at Sloan and wondered what the other man was thinking.
Then Sloan drawled, "So I guess congratulations are in order." A wry grin touched his face. He stuck out his hand for Jace to shake.
For just a moment Jace hesitated, feeling awkward even though he knew he had no reason. Polly and Sloan were happy. They were in love.
In fact, Celie said, he'd been in love with Polly for years. And she'd said it without any kind of sadness, just very matter-of-fact, as if she really was over Sloan. She certainly hadn't hung around looking goopy-eyed at him. She'd gone off with Polly quite happily.
"You're not sure?" Sloan's grin faded as he misinterpreted Jace's hesitation.
"I'm sure," Jace said flatly. He gripped Sloan's hand and shook it. Hard. Their eyes met.
"You do love her," Sloan said quietly.
It wasn't a question, but Jace answered it anyway. "Yes."
The grin tipped the corner of Sloan's mouth again. "Good. She deserves that. She's had a rough time," he reflected after a moment.
Jace supposed that Polly had probably told him about Matt. Jace didn't think Celie had.
He nodded. "Yes."
"She blamed you."
Jace sighed. "Yes."
Sloan's hard blue gaze bored into him. "Did she have a right to?"
For years Jace would have said no. He'd have said he'd done her a favor, that if Matt Williams wasn't ready to settle down it was better to know before the wedding than after. And that was true. But…
Now he shifted from one foot to the other. His gaze wavered a moment, then came back to meet Sloan's. "I'd like to say no."
But he couldn't. Not honestly. He could have behaved better. He could have been a better example. He could have acted more grown-up and responsible himself.
Sloan's mouth twisted wryly. His gaze dropped for a moment, too. Then he looked up again and nodded. "We should all have no regrets."
Jace knew they were both remembering the foolish fight they'd had. The broken noses and battle scars were probably only small regrets compared to some of the stupid things they'd done over the past twenty years.
"I'm a better man now," Jace vowed, and hoped it was true.
Sloan looked toward the ranch house that his wife and her sister had just entered. "For their sakes," he said, still smiling, though his eyes were serious, "let's hope we both are."
"Jace, I'd like you to meet Gavin McConnell." Polly drew Jace into the wood-paneled living room of the Gallagher ranch house, which was crawling with people. Four of them were Polly's kids. He barely had time to get a look at the others as she turned to the lean, dark-haired man standing by the fireplace who had his arm looped over Celie's shoulders.
"Gavin, this is Jace Tucker. Gavin's an actor," Polly said to Jace. And to Gavin, she said, "Jace is a horse trainer. And Celie's fiancé," she announced proudly.
Calling Gavin McConnell "an actor" was like calling Babe Ruth a baseball player. Even Jace, who was by no means a movie buff, knew his name and the rugged, hard, handsome face that went with it. Gavin McConnell was famous. The characters he played were always memorable, and his films were guaranteed smash hits. He had won two Academy Awards and had at least two more nominations.
He was, according to the Sunday supplements and popular press, a "man's man," an "actor's actor" and "every woman's dream."
And right now he had his arm around Celie.
He was also sticking out his other hand to Jace and saying, "Congratulations! That's great. Celie's a great gal."
"Yeah," Jace said, suppressing the instinct to add, my gal. He was fairly sure Celie wouldn't be impressed by his caveman instincts. He shook McConnell's hand and did his best to behave in a way that would reflect well on the Tucker name. "Pleased to meet you. Heard a lot about you."
"I hope not." Gavin McConnell grimaced. And Jace remembered that besides being all those other things, McConnell was reputed to be something of a recluse, as well; at least, he didn't give many interviews gladly. He seemed to be willing to spend time with friends, though.
"You're workin' on a new film with Sloan?" Jace asked, remembering that Celie had said something about a couple of Sloan's fellow actors coming for the weekend to go over material before they started shooting down in Mexico.
"Yeah. It's my baby." Gavin grinned. "Sloan's starring. I'm directing."
"And I'm costarring," a bright, oddly familiar female voice cut in.
Jace turned around and blinked as a woman with long, dark hair crossed the room toward him, a wide happy smile on her face. It took him a moment to realize why the voice was so familiar. Her hair hadn't been long when he'd last seen her. It hadn't been dark, either.
"Oh, Jace," Polly said, "you remember Tamara Lynd, don't you?"
He hid out with Polly's kids.
He had no other alternative. Polly and Celie were immersed in wedding discussions that Jace wanted no part of. The words "formal attire" and "rehearsal dinner" made him shudder and head for the hills.
But he couldn't hang around with Sloan and Gavin and Tamara, either. And not just because they were "talking shop." They were going over the script, working out motivations, Gavin told him. Discussing their characters, talking about interaction, going on about the impact of past history. They all said he was welcome to listen in if he wanted.
He didn't—because he had no desire to dredge up past history.
Even more than morning suit and tuxedo, the words past history sent a nervous shiver up Jace's spine.
He had a bit of "past history" with Tamara Lynd. Meaningless history as far as he was concerned. Stupid history. History he very much wanted to forget.
He didn't know what Tamara thought about it—or what she might be inclined to do. She had a history of chasing men. She'd chased him.
And caught him—once—in a weak moment.
He wasn't weak right now. He wasn't susceptible anymore. But even so, the last thing he needed was Tamara hitting on him now.
So he kept his distance. He would have trailed Celie around like a sheepdog, but all those wedding plans drove him crazy. So he took refuge with the kids, spending
hours in the corral with fourteen-year-old Daisy, helping her work out some kinks in the horse she was training and giving young Jack pointers on his riding so the boy could beat Eric, Sloan's foreman's grandson, when they raced.
He borrowed one of Sloan's horses and raced Jack a few times himself. It felt good to be back in the saddle. It felt right. It felt safe.
And then he turned around and saw Tamara and Gavin and Polly's very pregnant daughter, Sara, standing by the fence watching as he and Jack came back.
"You were wonderful!" Tamara exclaimed. She looked at Jace with shining eyes. "Wasn't he wonderful?" she demanded of the other two.
"You don't mean me, I s'pose?" Jack said.
Tamara grinned up at him. "You were wonderful, too," she told him. "You both were. It's just so … exciting … watching men ride. Isn't it?" She turned eagerly to Gavin and Sara.
"I'd rather watch women ride," Gavin said with a grin.
"I'd rather ride than watch," Sara said a little wistfully.
Another time Jace would have seized on that and offered to take her. It would have got him away from Tamara. But Sara was very pregnant—almost eight months—and Jace wasn't quite the rip-roaring cowboy who didn't think ahead that he used to be.
"I'll take you after the baby's born," he offered. "Come on out to the barn while I cool this horse down, and tell me what's been goin' on in your life."
If Sara was surprised at the invitation, she didn't say so. Instead she willingly waddled along with him toward the barn, talking about her pregnancy, about the college courses she was going to take in the spring if she could find the time, about not having given up her hope of going to medical school.
Jace listened. He admired Sara's fortitude, her commitment, her determination. He didn't know or care if Tamara was watching him. He didn't look back.
He couldn't avoid her entirely, though. They all ate together in the evening around the huge oak table in the dining room. Polly, aided by Celie when she could tear herself away from her plans and her lists, cooked enormous, wonderful meals. And afterwards, they all sat around the living room and told stories—about movies, about cowboying, about places they'd been and things they'd done.
Jace held back at first, standing in the doorway listening to the tales, worried that if he went in and sat down, Tamara might decide to come sit beside him. Celie had gone back to her lists and he was on his own. But Tamara barely gave him more than a grin and a glance as he stood there. She was regaling them all with a very funny story about a Paris fashion show she'd been in during the earliest days of her career.
"I didn't know you'd been a model." Gavin looked surprised.
"I was a terrible one. I wanted to be in show business, so I had to get noticed, be a star. And I had good bones—" she shrugged "—so I tried. But I also had two left feet. You need to be able to walk without looking down to be a runway model. They fired me after I fell off the runway!" She laughed and shook her head. "But it was a start. And I'd have done anything then to get my career going. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."
Even buy Sloan Gallagher, Jace thought. Her career had been stalled in the supporting-role stage last winter. She'd been doing backup roles—nasty other women, girls who died halfway through—for the past five years. She wasn't getting any younger, and she still had the dream. She'd been desperate for a boost. So she'd come to Elmer last winter to be noticed—to get media attention by winning Sloan Gallagher.
But she hadn't won. Celie had.
She'd been upset that day. Disgruntled. Annoyed. But philosophical. A girl did what a girl had to do, but she didn't win 'em all. Tamara knew that.
So she'd moved on that very night—to Jace.
That hadn't been to benefit her career, of course. That had been to assuage her pride. But in an odd twist of fate and serendipity, exactly what she'd hoped for had come to pass, anyway.
Indy film director John Cunningham had seen her in a news feature on Elmer. He'd said she looked haggard and desperate, not at all the way she'd come across in her films. He'd called her in Los Angeles three days later to see if she would be interested in playing the brittle spinster sister in his new film.
"And much to his surprise," Tamara said now, finishing the story, "he discovered I could act."
"Amen to that." Gavin said fervently. "I tapped her for Sloan's costar as soon as I saw some film."
Tamara beamed, first at Sloan and then at Celie, who had just come into the room. "Moral of the story—sometimes losing is winning." Then her gaze went from Celie to Jace and she gave him a broad wink. "Looks like it happened to you, too."
Celie looked at him a little curiously, but Jace breathed a little easier after that.
Tamara didn't have designs on him. She knew he was in love with Celie. She was happy for them both. She understood. She even spent time with Celie and Polly whenever Gavin gave her and Sloan a break, offering her opinion on wedding plans, saying how handsome Jace would look in a tux, and hoping out loud that she'd get invited to the wedding.
Jace didn't say anything to that.
Celie said, "Well, of course you will."
Later that night in bed—they actually had a room together because Gavin was sleeping in the bottom bunk in Jack's—Celie said, "Tamara's different than I thought she'd be. I mean, she's beautiful and opinionated and, I suppose you'd say … sexy … but she's real. I like Tamara. Don't you?"
"Sure," Jace said. "She's okay."
He didn't care one way or another about Tamara. He had other things on his mind—another woman on his mind.
"Come here," he muttered, hauling Celie close. "I need to love you."
They had a cookout Sunday afternoon. Afterward Celie and Jace packed up the truck and got ready to drive back to Elmer. In the morning a private plane would come to take Gavin and Sloan and Tamara to Mexico.
"Everybody's leavin'," Jack grumbled. "Don't see why we can't go, too."
"School," Polly said.
Jack wasn't impressed. "Who needs school?"
"You," Sloan told his stepson. "So you can grow up to be smart like me and your uncle Jace."
"Oh, yes," Polly said, rolling her eyes. "You two are such sterling examples of the well-educated man."
"They are good men," Tamara said with broad smile at both Sloan and Jace. Then she leaned up to give Jace a kiss goodbye. "They are wonderful men." Then she lowered her voice so the children wouldn't hear and added with a wicked grin, "And excellent lovers."
"Tam!" Sloan looked apoplectic.
Jace stood stock-still, too stunned to say a word.
"It's true," Tamara defended herself. "I was only saying. And I am speaking in past tense, of course." She patted Sloan's arm as if to reassure him, then turned her gaze on Polly and Celie.
"I never sleep with married men," she informed them cheerfully. "I never even tempt them," she added with a note of regret. "Not even really scrumptious men like these two."
* * *
Nine
« ^ »
It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Jace told himself it could have been worse.
Tamara could have said he was a lousy lover. She could have tried to insinuate herself into his life again. She could have wrapped herself around him and declared he was hers, all hers. But clearly she wasn't any more interested in that than he was.
He just hoped Celie understood that.
He wished she would say something.
They'd driven miles—they were almost back in Elmer, for heaven's sake—and she hadn't said a word.
Well, no, that wasn't quite true. She'd said a few words. Whenever he'd asked a direct question, like, "Do you want to stop and get a cup of coffee?" or "Do you want to play a tape?" she'd said, "No, thanks," politely, even pleasantly. But her words had been distant, almost absent-minded, as if she wasn't really there.
So where was she?
And what was she thinking?
He wondered if he should try to explain.
But how did you go about telling the woman you loved about a night you'd spent with another woman?
How could he explain that Tamara meant nothing to him, that in fact, the night he'd slept with her it had been because Celie had spent her life's savings on a date with another man? A man who had a damn sight more to recommend him than Jace did in every way.
He spent miles trying to find the right words, rehearsing them in his mind. But every time he did, the words stuck in his throat.
Sleeping with Tamara Lynd had been immature, stupid and consummate bad sportsmanship. If everything else Celie had ever thought about him over the past ten years had painted him in a bad light, telling her this wasn't going to help matters. It would be like giving her evidence to hang him.
So he kept his mouth shut. About that.
He talked heartily, almost frantically, about what a good time he'd had over the weekend, about what a good guy Sloan had turned out to be and what a nice, down-to-earth guy Gavin McConnell was. And because naturally he had to say something about Tamara, too, or Celie would have known he was avoiding talking about her, he said he thought she'd put on a little weight.
"You'd know," Celie said.
Damn. He should have kept his big mouth shut. Quickly, desperately, he changed the subject to Sara. "Speaking of people who've gained weight…"
Jace always talked fast when he was nervous. He talked a lot when he was nervous. He babbled about how impressed he was with Sara's determination to keep on with her studies, about how smart she was, about how she was making the best of a difficult situation. "She's a good kid," he said when he finally had to pause for breath.
"Yes." Celie stared at the mountains out the side window of his pickup. She didn't say anything else.
Jace drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He cracked his knuckles. He fidgeted and shot sidelong glances at Celie. She didn't look his way. She didn't say a word.
Say something, he begged her silently. Ask me what happened!
Hell, she could even yell at him, if she wanted to. It would be better than this. But the silence continued.
A COWBOY'S PURSUIT Page 13