Marrying an Older Man

by Arlene James

  "That's fine."

  "When Rye comes, he and Kara can share the bath with me, just as we did when we were boys."

  "Whatever. I don't mind sharing."

  "Maybe Kara can go in with you, then, and Rye and Champ and I can use the bath that joins our rooms."

  "Sounds good."

  He stuffed his gloved hands into his coat pockets. "Go on. No use standing around in here freezing."

  She dropped her purse and brush on the seat of the chair and rushed to do as he'd said. The relief that she felt was almost overwhelming, and she dashed away grateful tears as she threw together clothing, toiletries and the few cosmetics she used. In afterthought, she added some books she'd picked up at the library. They were due soon, and she didn't want to chance forgetting about them. As she worked, she could hear Jesse clumping around in her kitchen, rattling pots and pans and poking around in her cabinets. Let him look, she thought. She had nothing to hide.

  When she wagged her suitcase out into the living room, he was standing in the kitchen staring at all the stuff he'd pulled out onto the counter. "We'll pack this up later. I can find someplace to store it until you're ready for it again."

  "All right. It shouldn't be too long. I've been intending to find a part-time bookkeeping job after the first of the year."

  "We'll see," he said. "Ready?"

  She nodded. He walked across the room and pulled the handle of the suitcase from her hand.

  "Do you want to speak to Nancy before we go?" he asked.

  "No, I'll call later from the ranch. They tend to sleep in kind of late when they're not on the road."

  He didn't blink an eyelash at her use of the plural pronoun. "Her husband should have done something about this place."

  "They're not married yet," she said. "They're planning a Las

  : Vegas wedding next week, followed by a Las Vegas honeymoon. Besides, I don't think he's thought about it. They aren't here

  much, and when they are I don't see them. They're sort of all wrapped up in each other."

  : The look he gave her said that wasn't excuse enough to his

  way of thinking, but he let it drop. "Doesn't matter now," he

  said. "Let's make tracks." He laid a hand at the small of her

  back and literally pushed her forward.

  She didn't know exactly what she was letting herself in for,

  , but she knew that the ranch house was warmer and more comfortable than this place. She'd gotten over the stupid idea that Jesse was attracted to her; she wasn't stupid enough to keep freezing her toes because of that disappointment. No matter how kind he was, he wasn't falling in love with her, and as long as she kept reminding herself of that fact, she ought to be fine. She didn't even pause for one last look before she closed the door and locked it.

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  Chapter Seven

  JM.e needed his head examined. What on earth had possessed him to move her into the house? But he knew the answer to that. He couldn't leave her there in that ratty apartment to freeze to death. Didn't the little idiot know that the coldest part of the winter was still ahead of them? True, this one was turning out to be one for the record, but he couldn't believe that even in a normal year some plastic sheeting stapled over the windows could: make that place livable. Still, she'd lived there four years, so desperate to hold on to it that she'd apparently refused to leave] until her mother's abandonment and the sale of the place had' given her no real choice. It boggled the mind and made him f< small, pampered and ungrateful.

  But to move her into the house! Why hadn't he just given a raise so she could find someplace better? Well, it wasn't ti late for that. He could still offer her the raise and promise to he! her find a permanent place.

  Yet, try as he might, he couldn't seem to find the words broach the subject on the drive back out to the house, but promised himself that he would bring it up soon. As for Caroli

  she seemed strangely quiet. She stared out of the passenger side window of his truck as if she'd never seen snow before. He told himself that was good, but he, couldn't quite convince himself that he liked it. This distance between them, the false politeness, felt even stranger than the avoidance. In an odd way, he missed that wide-eyed, determined youngster who had pursued him so shamelessly. Was that vanity, he wondered, or something else?

  He wished she would just smile, maybe bat those thick eyelashes at him. Even without mascara her lashes were long and silky. He hadn't been able to help thinking in that moment when she'd opened her door to him that he was seeing her face just as it would look first thing in the morning, skin fresh and as glowing as pale gold, mouth a dusty rose, eyelids heavy with sleep, lashes like corn silk. He imagined her hair spread out on the pillow beneath her head, a lazy smile curling her lips. He rubbed a hand over his face, alarmed at the train of his thoughts.

  Just this once, he wished fervently that he was the sort to indulge in pickups and one-night stands. Maybe sexual release would get Caroline out of his mind. Of course. Why hadn't he thought of it before? All he needed was a good workout between the sheets. But that would mean finding a willing woman who wouldn't expect more than sex and simple friendship—not an easy endeavor. Besides, he hated the so-called "singles scene." That was why he'd carried on so long with Nancy. The last thing he wanted to do was sit in some loud bar drinking booze he didn't want while pretending that he wasn't like the other randy fools looking over the available females, trying to figure out who was most likely to put out with the least trouble and expectations. The whole exercise was distasteful to him.

  That was why Nancy had been such a gift. She hadn't balked when he'd stated bluntly that he wasn't interested in loving anyone or having anyone love him. All he'd wanted was privacy, sex and friendship, in that order, and she'd given it to him. And yet in all honesty he couldn't say that he really missed her. He hadn't wen thought about her in months.

  Maybe if he slept with Caroline he could stop thinking about

  The very idea knocked him back in his seat He was mad to

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  even think it. Caroline wasn't like Nancy. She wasn't world-weary and content just to survive, and she shouldn't be. She was too young for that, too lovely, too loving, too bright and giving. Caroline was like Kay, the kind of girl a boy could proudly make his wife, but he wasn't a boy anymore, and he'd been down that road; he knew better than to try it again. One Kay was enough. He couldn't bear a second. It wasn't fair, not to him and not to Caroline. He would just have to get over this unfortunate fascination with the lovely Miss Moncton. She was too young for what he had to offer. Too young. And he'd damned well better not forget it.

  Caroline whirled, arms flung out, laughter bubbling up in her throat. "Oh, I love it! I just love it!"

  Jesse bent and placed the last box on the floor in front of the old dresser. He closed the wardrobe door and waved a hand at the red-on-white vertically striped wallpaper. "Hope you don't mind the faded paper."

  "Oh, no." She shook her head, rushing over to smooth a hand across the mellowed wall. "Your mother told me that you and your brother picked out this pattern."

  He chuckled. "We thought it looked more 'soldierly' than the baby stuff she wanted to put up, you know, alphabet blocks and trucks, that kind of thing. I was all of nine, and I called it a game room, not a playroom."

  Caroline laughed. "Whatever you called it, you and your brother must have had some good times up here."

  He nodded, smiling. "Yeah, we fought some pretty fierce winter battles in this room. Usually it was the cowboys and the Indians banded together against the intergalactic warlords of outer space."

  "I envy you that," she said softly. "You don't know what I'd give for a little sister or brother."

  He lifted his arms and tucked his fingertips into the back pockets of his jeans. "I can guess."

  She smiled doubtfully at that and spun away to run a hand over the arch of the footboard on the old iron bed she'd placed in the center of the long
wall.

  "Furniture's pretty old," Jesse said.

  "Your mother said mis was your grandmother's bed."

  He nodded. "My grandfather bought it for her on impulse the very day it appeared in the mercantile window. She never slept on any other bed after that. My mother and both her brothers were born right there."

  And no doubt conceived there, Caroline thought. Sighing dreamily, she pointed to the bedside table. "That was your grandfather's, wasn't it?"

  "That's his smoking table," Jesse confirmed. "The holes in the top are for his pipes. He kept his tobacco in that tin-lined drawer, and that thing on top held his matches. There's a pumice stone inside for striking. Granny took it into her bedroom when he died, saying she wanted it close. That chair, too."

  Caroline turned to the old rocker, its horsehair upholstery was faded and worn, but she wouldn't have changed it for the world. Jesse's grandfather had sat in that chair of an evening, rocking and smoking his fragrant pipes, perhaps reading some journal or other. "I'm going to knit a pretty throw for this," she said. Her books were stacked on the old-fashioned braided rug beside it, and she intended to sit here on cold evenings, snuggled warm in her throw and reading. Mornings she would curl up on one of the storage benches built into the dormer windows and gaze out at the snowy world, warm and snug in her attic room. A sense of belonging enveloped heir. It was something she hadn't expected to feel, not after all that had happened—or hadn't happened— between her and Jesse.

  "You know," Jesse said, scuffing one boot against the floor, "you've really made Mom's life a lot easier. She can't say enough good things about all you do around here. The fairest thing would be for me to give you a nice raise so you could get that apartment with the covered pool."

  Caroline laughed. "Jesse, to tell you the truth, I can't afford that apartment until my school loans are paid off. Even with a fifty percent raise, I'd still have to get a second job or a roommate. This lovely room, right here in a real home with people I care about, is more than I've ever had. I can't tell you how happy I am with it."

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  He bowed his head. When he lifted it again, he was smiling. "I'm beginning to see how you kept your roving mama here four years after she wanted to be gone."

  Caroline laughed again. "It wasn't easy, let me tell you. But she wanted me to be happy, she really did. Does, I mean. And I want her to be happy, too."

  "Well, I'm glad you're happy now," he told her softly.

  Impulsively she floated across the room to stand before him. ' 'I know who I have to thank for it,'' she told him. Her arms flew up, but she checked the impulse to hug him, just barely, hanging on her tiptoes, arms sinking. "Thank you, Jesse."

  Laughing, he threw out an arm and looped it about her. "You're welcome."

  She laughed, too, and let her arms surround him, hugging tight just for a second before letting down her weight and stepping back. It felt so good to stand close to him, to feel the heat emanating from his big body. She smiled up into gray-blue eyes, surprised to find them reflecting a-smoky warmth that momentarily stopped her heart.

  His arm still hung loosely about her shoulders. His feet shuffled lightly as they moved against the hardwood floor, inching closer. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she knew she wasn't mistaken.

  "Jesse," she whispered in delight, placing her hands against his chest and sliding them upward onto his shoulders.

  He made a small sound at the back of his throat, his arm sliding downward and tightening in the small of her back. His free hand came up to cup the back of her head, pulling her against him once more. His mouth came down on hers, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. She opened her mouth and coiled her arms around his neck, elated. He did want her! As if providing further proof, his tongue stabbed deep into her mouth. She cried out, the sound lost in him, as she felt that joining right through the center of her body. She crushed herself against him, reveling in the feel of his hard chest. He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe, and yet it wasn't tight enough.

  Everything about that kiss was a revelation for Caroline. She had sensed it, suspected how it would be, could be, when two

  people wanted each other. It was addictive, this heady need, this swirl of sensation. Every touch felt extraordinarily rich, shockingly intense and not nearly rich or intense enough. She wanted, needed, more. She ground her mouth against his, and he responded by cupping the mounds of her hips and pulling her tight against him. The hard ridge pressing against her belly told her how much he wanted her and woke an inexplicable need in her to wrap her legs around him. She didn't have the slightest idea how to go about it, but her leg just naturally curled around his, unbalancing mem both slightly so they teetered and then stumbled.

  Suddenly he was pushing her away, his big hands clamped around her upper arms. The expression on his face said clearly that he hadn't intended to kiss her, 'that he was even more shocked by what they had done than she was. She smiled reassuringly at him, wanting to do it again, hoping to do it again. His grip tightened, and for an instant she thought he meant to pull her close again, but then he abruptly released her, stepping back at the same time. One hand went to his waist, the other swept through his hair while his gaze bounced off everything in the immediate vicinity but her.

  "Jesse, I—"

  "No." He sliced a hand through the air. "That was my fault. I apologize. It won't—"

  "Don't apologize!" she pleaded. "I don't want you to apologize. I want you to want me."

  His eyes blinked wide in obvious alarm. "Caroline, you don't know what you're saying."

  "But I do, Jesse. I've wanted you from the beginning."

  He literally backed away. "Don't be stupid. What I'm feeling isn't sweet or romantic. It's pure lust, nothing more, and you're too young for those kinds of games."

  She curbed the impulse to stomp her foot. "I'm not too young!"

  "Don't argue with me! I know what I'm talking about."

  "Stop treating me like a child!"

  He pointed a finger at her, his mourn already forming the sharp words he would say, but then he stopped, gulped and bowed bis

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  head. The pointed finger became part of a fist and then, gradually, an open hand. He sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, pushed it out again and lifted his head. "It won't happen again," he insisted flatly.

  Caroline swallowed the arguments crowding her throat and folded her arms across her middle. It would do no good to try to make him see reason now. Stubborn, stubborn man! But he wasn't going to convince her that it was nothing, either. Didn't he see that they could have something grand between them? Well, he would. She would make him see that she wasn't too young to love him the way he needed to be loved. Then he would feel more than simple lust. She knew it. She had always known it, but he had made her doubt for a little while. That wouldn't happen again.

  After a moment Jesse cleared his throat. She looked up, finding him perched near the opened door to the narrow stairwell. He leaned a hip against the doorjamb and mimicked her stance, folding his arms. She knew instantly that he was trying to foster a feeling of normalcy, move them back to that place where they'd been before the kiss. Well, let him try.

  "The, um, computer came today."

  She took her time, responding only after a long pause. "Oh?"

  "Umm-hmm. Haven't had a chance to look it over yet or anything. I figure after the holidays..."

  She nodded and looked down at the floor, letting him know that she considered the subject exhausted. He nibbed his nose and shifted his weight.

  "Oh, by the way, Rye's doing some Internet research on that | arthritis clinic in Denver. He's getting all the information he can and bringing it with him when they come for Christmas."

  Caroline forced herself to relax. Strolling over to the bed, she

  swung down to sit near the foot, saying, "What does Sarah think

  about it?" !

  "I...I haven't mentioned it t
o her yet. Didn't know whether 11 should without all the information."

  "Oh, I think you should," Caroline told him. "And while you're at it, why don't you encourage her to visit the hot springs north of town? Mrs. Henderson told me that she knows several

  people who go there for relief when their arthritis is bad. In addition to the springs, they offer some sort of herbal massage. They sell all sorts of supplements and things there, too, but Mrs. Hen-derson wasn't so sure they work. Still, it can't hurt to try it, and it's close."

  Jesse nodded. "It might not be much more than a good rub-down and a hot bath, but at least it'll give her something else to look to while Rye's checking out the clinic."