by Sandra Brown
Her confidence in herself as a woman must be restored. Tonight. Or it might never recover. She desperately needed someone to hold her, to tell her she was beautiful, to reassure her she was every bit as desirable as Wanda Burns. She needed love. Not parental love. Not sibling love.
She needed to be loved by a man.
Her heart began to pound. Her head throbbed with the thought that had taken root there. Like a seed, nestling itself in the earth, the idea had secured itself in her fertile brain. There was no stopping it from germinating and growing.
Whirling toward her dressing table, she gazed at her image in the mirror and tried to imagine how a man would see her, a man who was as alone and lonely and without love tonight as she.
Before she could change her mind, she yanked up a wrap and threw it around her shoulders. No one heard her as she crept down the stairs and let herself out the front door.
THREE
The old barn smelled of hay, horses, and leather. Banner liked those familiar smells. She filled her head with them as she slipped inside and soundlessly pulled the door closed behind her. The warm, musky air settled around her like a blanket. The atmosphere was still, yet teeming with hidden life. Mares, heavy with pregnancy, rested in their stalls. Crickets chirped from secret hideouts.
It wasn't all that unusual for her to be standing in the barn in her nightgown. Often she had been allowed to keep vigil through the night when a mare was in the throes of a difficult birth. But it was unusual to be in the barn in her nightgown and alone with a man, even a man who was a part of her memory as far back as it went.
She felt the first twinges of apprehension. What she was about to do was bold. Twenty-four hours ago, it would have been unthinkable. But twenty-four hours ago she hadn't known fate could take such cruel twists or that futures could be altered so drastically without one's consent.
The decision had been made. She had come this far. There would be no turning back.
Stalks of hay pricked her bare feet as she tiptoed toward the small pool of light in one of the back stalls. The stabled horses were so accustomed to her scent that they didn't even nicker as she moved down the row of stalls.
Jake's hat, wide-brimmed, fiat-crowned, and black, was hanging on a nail on one of the support posts. She touched the felt brim, smiling at the dark streak her finger left behind by picking up dust.
She peered around the shoulder-high wall that separated the stalls. Jake was hunkered down at his mount's right front leg. He had bent it back and, with the hoof propped on his knee, was inspecting the bruise the stone had made.
Banner was glad she had this moment to study him without his knowing it. She had grown up seeing him in one light. Tonight she would consider him in a whole new way. He could no longer merely be her champion, her parents' trusted friend, or Lee and Micah's idol, or Ma's son. Banishing all her previous views of Jake Langston from her consciousness, Banner considered him strictly as a man, as though seeing him through a stranger's eyes. What she saw pleased her mightily, and she honestly didn't think that having loved him all her life in another way prejudiced her opinion as she gazed at him now.
Every fine strand of white-blond hair captured the lad tern's glow. His hair was as vital as the rest of him, unruly hard to control, lacking discipline. With his head bowed as it was, she could see that it grew from a whorl on the crown and fell about his head in wayward strands that arranged themselves attractively of their own free will. She couldn't imagine him ever plastering it to his head with pomade as Grady sometimes did his brown curls. No, Jake would never subject any part of himself to that much constraint.
He wore it long, whether from neglect or design, she didn't know. It brushed against the collar of his shirt when he moved. It was curled only slightly around well-shapep ears. Sideburns the color of ripened wheat grew down his cheek to the middle of his ear. Those hairs looked crisp, curlier. She wanted to touch them, to feel the contrast of them against the velvety softness of his earlobe. His eyebrows, which were now lowered in concentration, were that same incredible light shade of blond.
She analyzed the face she had known since childhood, what she could see of it as he bent over the injured hoof. His brow bone jutted slightly over his eyes and his cheekbones were prominent, his cheeks slightly concave. He was saved from appearing gaunt only by a discernible wiry strength.
His jaw was hard and definitely chiseled, with no softening contours to make it appear anything but determined. It seemed ready to issue a challenge to anyone, no matter how formidable. If allowed to grow, no doubt his facial hair would be blond, too, but its stubble now shadowed the lower part of his face.
She wondered what he would look like with a thick mustache like Papa's, but immediately dismissed the idea. His mouth was wide. The lower lip was a tad fuller than the upper, though the upper was nicely shaped. Staring at his mouth made her stomach feel funny. She decided it would be a crime to cover up such a beguiling mouth with a mustache.
She supposed he had changed out of his wedding clothes as soon as they returned to the house. He still had on what he had been wearing at supper, a soft cotton shirt in a muted blue. Denim pants. His boots were old and scuffed. There was a faded red bandana tied around his neck. He didn't have on the holster that carried his Colt, or a vest, or leather chaps which she had seen him wear.
The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up to his elbows. Banner noticed how supple the muscles in his arms were when he moved them. His skin was deeply tanned and dusted with hairs so light they appeared white in the glow of the lantern.
His hands moved deftly but soothingly as they examined the horse's injury. The fingers were slender and long, but their strength was evident as be alternately squeezed and released them around the hoof. Watching that rhythmic massage, Banner's stomach took another unprecedented somersault.
She had never been aware of such maleness. Sheer maleness. Mature maleness. Packaged so compactly. And her curiosity in it was unwarranted because she had been around men all her life. Ross, Lee and Micah, the ranch hands. But she had never studied them as she did Jake bow. Nor did she think she would have been as impressed if she had.
He was manly in a way that unnerved her. She quailed against such raw masculinity. But oddly, her femininity gravitated toward it too. It forced her to speak before she could talk herself into slipping from the barn unseen, to wonder forever what this night would have held for her if only she had had the courage to go through with it. She would have much to regret about this day on the calendar, but failure to act when she felt compelled to wasn't going to be one of them. "How's your horse?"
Jake's head popped up. "Heavenly days, girl! Don't you know better than to sneak up on people? You almost spooked both me and Stormy." He took in her bare feet and the hem of her nightgown, which was all he could see beneath the deep fringe of her shawl. Her arms were crossed over her chest, wrapping her in the shawl like an Indian in his blanket. "What are you doing gallivanting around out here? I thought everybody had gone to bed."
His eyes really were incredibly blue. Why was it that she had never paid much attention to them before? Oh, if someone had asked, "Hey, what color are Jake Langston's eyes?" her automatic answer would have been "blue." But tonight they seemed to shine right through her as he looked up at her from his squatting position.
The colors were well demarcated. The whites were very white. The blue irises were as cerulean as the sky in late fall. The pupils were an ebony that reflected an image of herself. She noticed for the first tune that his eyelashes were dark at their base and sun-bleached on the curling tips.
They were interesting eyes, and she wished she could stare at and assess them without his knowing it. She couldn't; he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to tell him why she wasn't safely tucked into her bed.
"I couldn't sleep." Suddenly shy, she ducked her head.
"Ah," Jake said, raising his body to its full height and patting Stormy's neck. He dipped his hands into a pail of w
ater, washed and shook them off, then wiped them on a towel. "Well, that's understandable after what happened today."
Banner raised her head and looked up at him. Whatever he was about to say next was momentarily postponed, as though he had just taken a clip on the chin. "Uh..." he stalled. His gaze was riveted on her face. He removed it by force; he blinked. He noted her dishabille. "You could get in a heap of trouble fanning around out here in the dark dressed like that." His tone was a fraction cross.
"Could I?"
An expression of profound bewilderment flickered over Jake's lean face. His lips parted slightly. An instant later he drew them together in a stern line. "Yeah, you damn sure could. Come on, I'll walk you back to the house."
He reached to take her arm, but she sidestepped him and ran her hand down Stormy"s ribs. "You didn't tell me how Stormy is faring."
"Fine."
"Is he?"
"That hoof will be tender for a few days. That's all. Now
come on—"
"Whatever happened to Apple Jack?"
"Apple Jack?19 Jake repeated. His face broke into a spontaneous smile. "He was some cow pony, wasn't he? He knew before I even nudged him with my knees what I wanted him to do. I used to say that I could sleep all day in my saddle and Apple Jack wouldn't let one stray go by. He was a damn good horse. But he stepped in a prairie dog hole and broke his leg. I had to shoot him." He cocked his shining head to one side. "How come you remember Apple
Jack?"
"I remember." She was still running her hand over Stormy's gleaming russet coat. Like all cowboys, Jake took better care of his horse than he did of himself.
For some reason, Jake couldn't take his eyes off her hand as it coasted over Stormy's broad back. The shawl slid back toward her elbow. The sleeve of her gown was sheer. Through it, he could see the shape of her arm.
"When I was about twelve you came to see us. You had been visiting for a few days, but you were leaving that afternoon. Mama had cooked black-eyed peas and cornbread for dinner, fried chicken, and apple pie. All my favorites. But I didn't eat anything. I was mad because you were going away again, even after Papa had asked you to stay. Papa told me to straighten up and act civil or leave the table. I went up to my room to pout and refused to say goodbye. From my bedroom window I watched you nde out of the
yard."
She turned toward him then, leaning her head against the horse. "But I couldn't stand it. I bolted down the stairs and ran after you. I chased you down the river road, calling your name until you finally heard me and reined up. When I got even with you, you lifted me up onto Apple Jack with you and hugged me. You told me not to cry, that you would be coming back for Christmas." The eyes that had the warm glow of topaz and the liquid fire of emeralds gazed up at him accusingly. "But you didn't."
"I reckon something came up, Banner."
"You didn't come back for two years."
Only now did she realize the significance that day had had on her adolescence. Long after he had ridden away, she had lain in her bed and wept bitterly. Intuitively she had known it would be a long time before she saw him again and her young heart had been breaking over it.
She must have had a crush on him. He had been tall and good-looking. He was gallant and exciting and full of wonderful stories to tell. He had teased her, but not in the irritating way Lee and Micah did. His teasing had made her feel all grown up.
She rose and took a brave step closer to him, close enough for the hem of her nightgown to brash the toes of his boots. "You let me ride to the gate with you on Apple Jack. That was a special goodbye because the rest of the family wasn't crowded around. I had you all to myself." She let her gaze lock with his. Her head tilted back and sent a dark cloud of hair down her shoulders and across her breasts. "You kissed me."
It had been one fraternal quick kiss on her cheek, but she had never forgotten it.
At those three whispered words, Jake jumped as though he had been shot. Roughly, he encircled her upper arm with his strong fingers and turned her toward the opening of the stall. "It's time you got to bed. You need a good night's sleep."
Purposefully she dragged her heels behind his hurried footsteps. "Where are you going to sleep? In the bunkhouse?"
"No. I want to keep an eye on Stormy one more night. I'm going to bed down where I did last night. Here in the barn."
"That couldn't have been too comfortable," she said, disengaging her arm from his grip
"It was fine, Banner, now come—"
"Where were you sleeping? Did you have any padding?"
"Padding?" It was a near shout, but for the life of him, he couldn't pen down what was irritating him. "You're talking to a man who has spent more nights outdoors on the ground than indoors on a bed."
"Well, that doesn't mean you have to sleep like that when it's not necessary," she countered with an asperity that matched his.
Before he could stop her, she spun around and checked each stall until she found the one where his saddlebags and bedroll were.
Propping her hands on her hips she faced him. "Jake Langston, what would people think if they knew that the Colemans of River Bend let their guests sleep like saddle tramps?"
Her stance allowed the shawl to gape open over her breasts. She was revealing to him the scooped, rose-bordered neckline of her gown, not to mention what lay beneath it. She almost lost her nerve and gathered the shawl back across her breasts and ran, but she stood her ground, pretending to be vexed with him.
"It's fine, Banner," Jake said tightly. The muscles in his jaw looked like they were cramped and could barely move. "Now, if you'll get out of here I'll make use of this bed, such as it is."
"No, you won't. At least not before I make it more comfortable for you. Hand me a few of those spare horse blankets. They're clean. At least I can spread those beneath your blanket."
He ran an impatient hand through his hair before turning away to get the blankets. As he handed them to her he said tersely, "Hurry up. It's late and you shouldn't be out here."
Ignoring his deepening scowl and afraid to speculate on what it meant, she tossed aside his blanket and with more movement than necessary, flapped the first horse blanket in the air before letting it settle on the hay. She did three more tike that before spreading his blanket over them and kneeling to smooth out the wrinkles. If she was aware that the shawl had slipped off one shoulder dragging the sleeve of her nightgown with it, she made no move to rectify it.
Her breasts moved beneath the sheer fabric of her gown. She could feel their swaying weight as she extended her arms to prepare his pallet. She felt the soft caress of the batiste on her nipples as her knees caught in the cloth and pulled it taut. The mellow light from the lantern was flattering to the tone of her skin. Was it creating a shadow in her cleavage? Had Jake noticed that she was no longer a twelve-year-old girl with a tear-streaked face? Garnering all her courage, she stood up and faced him.
"There, that's much better, isn't it?"
Jake wiped his palms on his pants legs. The lines running down the sides of his mouth had deepened considerably. A vein ticked in his temple. "Yeah, that's better. Now, good night, Banner."
He turned away abruptly and began arranging the items from his saddlebag on one of the slats that served as a shelf.
"But I'm not sleepy."
"Go to bed anyway."
"I don't want to."
"I want you to."
"Why?"
"Because you shouldn't be out here like... like this."
"Why?"
"Because."
His shoulders were hunched defensively. His motions were quick and clumsy. He was having a hard time getting his shaving mug to fit on the narrow shelf.
"Jake?" He grunted an acknowledgment. "Jake, look at me."
His hands stilled their needless activity. He even braced them for a moment on the top of the stall. Banner saw his shoulders lift and his ribcage expand with a heavy sigh. Then he turned around.
He didn't lo
ok at her, but stared into the near space just above her head. Her hands found each other at her waist and came together as through drawn by strong magnets. She stood straight and rigid, her legs pressed tightly together from groin to ankle. She wet her lips with her tongue.
"Jake, make love to me."
Seconds ticked by silently. The air was thick with tension, unspoken thoughts, labored heartbeats. Neither of them moved. Finally one of the stabled horses snuffled. Jake glanced in that direction. He looked down at his feet, rolling one back on its heel and inspecting the toe of his boot as though he'd never seen it before. He shoved his hands into the hip pockets of his pants, but removed them as though he'd touched something hot inside. He crossed his arms over his chest. He glanced down the row of stalls, up at the rafters, over at the flickering lantern.
At last his eyes came back to Banner. This time, he looked at her. "I think you would do well to leave right now and let's forget you ever said that."
She was shaking her head before he finished. "No. I've said it. It's what I want. That's why I came out here. Please, Jake. Make love to me."
He snorted a soft laugh, relaxing a bit and shaking his head. "Banner, sweetheart, honey, I don't want to laugh at you, but—"
"Don't you dare laugh at me." The words were brittle. "God knows that's what everyone else in town is doing tonight."
Jake cleared his face of all humor lest she mistake it for derision. "I would never laugh at you, Banner. But what you're suggesting is ridiculous and you know it."
"Why?"
"Why?'' He winced when his shout startled several of the horses. He gave them time to settle down and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper. "It's ridiculous. I'm.. .we're ... you're... you're too young."
"I'm old enough to get married."
"But not to me! Banner, I'm twice your age."
She dismissed that argument. "I was supposed to be a bride tonight, Jake, to know a man's love. I've been cheated of that. Help me. I need you. Do this for me."
"I can't," he snapped.
"You can."
"I can't."