There came the sound of vehicle tires crunching on the gravel, and a moment later the slamming of a door had all of them looking toward the back door. Jeb called out and strolled into sight a moment later.
Roman almost groaned out loud at the sight of Jeb. Oh, Jesus, he thought, staring at the massive shoulders and impressive height, I'm a dead man. To his relief, however, Jeb seemed delighted to meet him.
A huge, welcoming smile on his lips, Jeb stuck out his hand, and said, “Am I ever glad to finally meet you—al-though I almost feel as if I know you already—Shelly talks about you all the time. She says you're a great guy, and her word is good enough for me. Welcome to Oak Valley—if there's anything I can do to make your stay more enjoy-able—you let me know.”
Smiling, Roman said, “Are you sure you don't want to beat my brains out first?”
Jeb looked confused, then he glanced over at Acey, Nick, and Sloan, who all wore identical expressions of embarrassment. Light dawned, and Jeb laughed. “Oh, the guys give you a bit of the Me-Tarzan, You-stranger greeting?”
“But we're all the best of friends now,” Sloan said ruefully. “And feeling duly chastened.”
Jeb joined them at the table, eyeing the last piece of pie in the pan. “Anybody mind?”
No one did, Roman especially thinking that he'd rather fight a grizzly bear with cubs over the last piece of pie than Jeb Delaney. My God, the man was huge. And muscled. He brightened. And his friend.
Again the conversation drifted back to the previous night's tragedy and Shelly and Nick's plans for the Granger Cattle Company.
Shelly sighed. “Well, we're not giving up, that's one thing for sure.” She smiled sadly at Nick. “Guess we'll just have to do it from the ground up like our, er, my grandfather did. Those Texas cows have a lot of Granger crosses in the background, and your stock goes back to Granger blood, too. We'll just have to start from there.”
Jeb frowned. “Uh, I may be missing something here, but didn't Granger Cattle Company do their own semen collecting? I know your grandfather did, had that lab and all that fancy AI equipment brought in as soon as it became available, and I know that your dad did the same thing—your dad kept everything up-to-date. AI and doing their own collecting and storing was one of the things that made Granger Cattle Company so progressive—any new technology, they were Johnny-on-the-spot. Even Josh did—at least for a while.” He looked at Shelly, who was staring at him open-mouthed. “I even think that he toyed with some embryo transplants, but gave up on it, deciding that AI was good enough for him.”
Shelly and Nick's eyes were fixed on him like two pairs of green lasers. “Come on, quit looking at me that way,” Jeb said. “You've both heard of artificial insemination.” When they still both just stared, he growled, “Snap out of it. AI? Remember the boon of the cattle industry? There's got to be a semen tank around here somewhere. Besides, I seem to recall that several smaller breeders kept some straws in your tanks. Josh may have pretty much shut down the cattle operation, but even he wouldn't have dumped it. And as long as he kept the nitro levels up, you've probably got semen from some of the greatest bulls Granger's ever bred. Properly kept semen'll be viable for fifty years—at least that's the longest known right now, but I'll bet that you've probably got a lot of semen straws that belong to bulls your Dad bred.”
Shelly swallowed. She looked at Nick. Nick looked at her. Hope blazing in her eyes, she stood up.
“The barn,” she croaked. “The lab in the barn.”
Like a tidal wave they swept out of the kitchen, Nick and Shelly in the lead, their pace increasing with every step they took, until they were running so fast that their feet hardly hit the ground. In through the wide double doors they flew, past her office, past the feed room, the tack room and wash rack next to it, to stop abruptly in front of the door to the lab.
Her hand was trembling so badly that she couldn't turn the knob. Nick's warm hand closed over hers, and their eyes locked. Together, they pushed open the door.
The lab hadn't been opened or used in a while, that was apparent from the musty odor and the cobwebs, but it was clean, pristinely so, and looked as if it were ready to start up again at any moment—once several of the cobwebs were dispensed with. The steel restraining rack was almost in the middle of the room, counters and stainless-steel sinks to the right. A dust cover hid the microscope on the counter, but Shelly and Nick both recognized the shape. A portable ejaculator system in its case sat nearby, the lid open to reveal the bull probe and semen collector. A quick glance inside one of the cupboards showed packages of semen straws, J-Lube, gallons of blue Nolvasan solution, disposable plastic gloves.
Her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst out of her chest, Shelly scanned the remainder of the room, her breath catching at the sight of two rotund objects not much more than two feet high sitting on a sturdy cabinet in the far corner of the room.
Standing in front of the innocent-looking objects, the others crowded around her, Shelly simply stared at the tanks, elated and absolutely terrified. Elated by what their contents might mean to her and Nick, terrified that there was nothing in them.
“Go ahead,” Sloan said softly from behind her, his hand resting comfortingly on her shoulder, “open one.”
“Carefully,” Jeb warned.
Her breathing suspended, she carefully turned the lid and lifted. Wispy white smoke drifted from the tank and inside, ampule after ampule, each with dozens of semen-filled straws, rested snugly in the liquid nitrogen. The date on the inside of the tank revealed that its nitrogen level had last been checked and filled about four months ago.
“At least he kept the tank filled,” Jeb commented. “Would a been a shame if he'd have let it go dry—you'd a lost everything.” Since Shelly and Nick, who were standing side by side staring in awestruck silence at the contents, seemed incapable of moving, Jeb reached around them and took out the inventory that was taped to the inside of the lid.
He and Sloan glanced at it. Sloan whistled as he recognized the names of some of the outstanding Granger bulls of twenty to thirty years ago.
“The contents of that tank is worth its weight in gold,” Sloan said as he tapped Shelly on the shoulder and handed her the list.
She and Nick read it together, dazzled at the prospect in front of them. With the semen from these bulls there was nothing to stop them.
Laughing and crying, Shelly threw her arms around Nick's neck. “Look out world, Granger Cattle Company is coming back.”
“Well, ain't this just the dandiest thing that ever happened?” Acey demanded, a big grin on his face. He slid a sly glance at Maria. “Figure this calls for a celebration…and another of them deelicious pies of Maria's.”
Chapter Twenty
After the discovery of the semen tank, no one had been in a hurry to leave and the afternoon had stretched into evening and Shelly and Maria had put together an impromptu dinner. Everyone had pitched in; Jeb and Sloan cleaning out the old brick barbecue pit off to the side of the house; Nick and Roman dragging over a redwood picnic table and benches; Acey helping Maria in the kitchen. At least that's what he claimed he was doing, but according to Maria he'd been sampling and snacking as much as he'd been helping. Another pie from the freezer was baked, and Maria made a crisp green salad and dips for chips while Shelly scrubbed potatoes for baking and made up a pitcher of iced tea; Acey had finally been sent to town for New York steaks. The meal had been great, and the conversation had been excited and full of laughter; the subject, of course, the semen tank and what it meant to Granger Cattle Company. Everyone had stayed late, lingering over pie and coffee, but eventually one by one they'd wandered off until there were just Sloan and Shelly sitting side by side in the darkness, Roman seated across the table from them. After a few minutes, Roman yawned hugely and declared that he was exhausted. Rising to his feet, he bid Sloan and Shelly good night and disappeared inside the house.
“Tactful guy, that cousin of yours,” Sloan murmured, as he plac
ed his arm around Shelly and drew her next to him.
Shelly smiled. “He's known for it, believe me.” Her smile faded, and she glanced at him, barely able to make out his features in the darkness. “I told him about us.”
“Hmm, and what did our tactful guy have to say about that?” Sloan asked, nuzzling her ear, his mind on how much he wanted to make love with her, not on her cousin's opinion of their relationship.
Shelly hunched her shoulder, half-protecting her ear from his marauding mouth. “He said that I should maybe believe your take on things—that Josh would have done just about anything to keep me from marrying you—or any Ballinger.”
Surprised, Sloan lifted his head and stared at her shadowy profile. “He did?” When Shelly nodded, he murmured, “Tactful and smart. You know I could grow to really like this guy.”
Shelly pushed him away and stood up. “Will you stop it? I'm trying to have a serious discussion here.”
Sloan rose to his feet, pushing aside the bench on which they had been sitting. Pulling Shelly into his arms, he said against her lips, “And I'm trying to seduce you…which one of us do you think will win out?”
Sighing, Shelly put her arms around his neck, and muttered, “That's not even a fair question.” She kissed him gently, mindful of his split lip.
At the touch of her lips, Sloan groaned and Shelly jerked her mouth away. “Oh, Sloan, I'm sorry,” she said, stricken. “Did I hurt you? I tried to be gentle.”
“I'll tell you what hurts,” Sloan said huskily, “and that's not having you in my arms and not making love to you.” His mouth caught hers in a deep probing kiss, leaving no doubt in her mind about his intentions. He lifted his mouth, wincing just a bit. “I'll admit that hurts, too, but not as much as not kissing you.” He smiled, wincing again from his split lip. “I think this is where I say be gentle with me.”
The grass was cool and thick at her back as Sloan lowered her to the lawn beside the picnic table. For one flickering second Shelly hesitated, then Sloan's hand cupped her breast and his mouth found hers again and any remnant of reason vanished.
They made love to each other slowly, tenderly, Shelly mindful of his many cuts and bruises, Sloan gripped by passion, hardly even aware of his aches and pains. Fumbling fingers and hands dispensed with clothing and soon their discarded jeans and shirts made a soft nest on the already welcoming grass.
Time was suspended as they explored each other, Shelly's hands sliding softly over his hard body, the slight stiffening of his body here and there telling her more clearly than words when she touched a painful spot. Her mouth followed her hands and she pressed soothing kisses along his ribs, across his chest and shoulders before returning to his bruised face.
Half-sitting, half-lying beside him, she trailed her lips across his mouth, her tongue making dainty ventures into the intoxicating depths of his mouth, her fingers caressing the hard little buttons of his nipples. Sloan groaned, desire spearing through him at her arousing touch, one hand cupping a buttock, the other skimming up and down her back as she worked her magic.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked softly against his mouth.
Sloan shook his head. “No, but you're killing me, I can tell you that.”
She chuckled and ran her lips up and down his throat, nipping softly as she did so. “Poor baby. Suffer.”
Desire hummed between them, every touch, every caress, every kiss increasing the need for more and more and more…Their mouths locked together, their hands roamed with increasing urgency over each other as they teased and tormented the other almost to the point of madness.
With Sloan laid out on the ground like a feast before her, Shelly's mouth ravaged him, tasting the saltiness of his flesh, savoring the texture of his skin, the coarse hair on his chest, and the sleek muscles of his body. Sloan froze when her questing lips followed that line of hair that arrowed down to his groin, and he half growled, half groaned when her hot damp mouth closed around his erection. She drove him wild, the slick slide of her tongue on his sensitive flesh, the soft nibbles along his shaft, and when she took him fully into her mouth, he thought he'd die of pleasure. His hands clenched in her hair, his body arching in encouragement; he endured the dazzling torture of that sweet mouth as long as he could.
Unable to bear it a moment later, Sloan pushed her down on the ground, his mouth on her nipple, his hand between her legs, searching and exploring the hot dampness he found there. Shelly moaned, pushing up against his hand, silently inviting, demanding a deeper caress. He gave it to her, two fingers sinking into the satin heat, and her hips twisted upward to meet their thrust. Fire seared her belly, flames leaping into her veins as he plundered her depths, his fingers sinking deeper and deeper into her, taking her to the very edge of ecstasy. When his thumb found the swollen nub at the juncture of her thighs, and he brushed it once, twice, she screamed at the burst of pleasure that rocketed through her, cramming a fist in her mouth to block the sound. The world went incandescent, and she spun away, lost in the splendor of the moment.
It was Sloan's lips on her breast that brought her back to reality. Her fingers tugged at his hair, and his head lifted. Barely able to make out his features in the darkness, she kissed him, and said, “No one else. No one else has ever made me feel the way you do.”
“Good,” he muttered, “because it's the same for me. There's only you, only you.”
His mouth came down hard on hers, but when he would have moved between her legs, she pushed him back, forcing him to lie flat on the ground. A siren's smile on her lips, she straddled him and took him inside her. Slowly, torturously she rode him, her flesh clinging and tightening around him. “My turn,” she said softly.
“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned, as she increased the tempo, the sweet slide of flesh against flesh, making him writhe in pleasure, “you really are going to kill me.”
Breathless, ecstasy beginning its mind-blurring spiral again, Shelly said, “Then enjoy it, because I have no intention of stopping.” And she didn't.
It could have been minutes or hours later that they both became aware of the world around them. They were lying naked on their clothes, Shelly's head resting on his shoulder, and they were gazing through the leaves of the oak tree up at the star-studded sky.
“Have you ever noticed,” Shelly asked dreamily, “how many more stars there are here? How much brighter they are; how much blacker the sky is?”
“Hmm, yeah, you're right. It's the lack of outdoor light,” he replied, one hand gently caressing her hip. “No light reflection to fade the stars.” He shifted slightly so that he was staring down into her face. He kissed her. “Of course, I've always thought that it was the result of really good sex.”
Shelly made a face and pushed him away. Sitting up, she began to put on her clothing. Standing to finish pulling on her jeans, her head bent, she asked quietly, “Is that all it was to you? Just good sex?”
Sloan had risen, too, and he sighed. He didn't say anything as he dragged on his clothes, and Shelly's heart sank. Had she been a fool…again?
“Come here,” he said, and, catching Shelly by the arm, half walked, half dragged her over to the rear of the house. As she watched in bewilderment, he opened the back door and switched on the yellow bug light that hung above them.
His face washed in the yellow light, he stared down at her. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, giving her a little shake. “I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you. I want to marry you. I'm going to marry you. And no, it wasn't just good sex. It was great sex—the way it should be between people who love each other and plan to spend the rest of their lives together.” As Shelly stared openmouthed at him, he shook her again. “Does that answer your question?”
Her brain went fuzzy. Feeling weak and dizzy, she could only stare at his beloved features. “But what about…I mean…” Her fingers suddenly gripped the front of his shirt. Desperately, she asked, “Are you sure? Do you really mean it?”
He smiled tenderly. “With al
l my heart.” His finger lifted her chin, and he kissed her with great sweetness. “This isn't the time or the place that I would have chosen for this moment,” he said softly, “but will you marry me? Please?”
Shelly's green eyes glowed, and there was a tremulous curve to her mouth. “Oh, wow!” she said, quite, quite unable to think of anything else to say.
Sloan quirked a brow, the one with the split in it. “Is that a wow yes, or a wow no?”
“Oh, wow, yes,” she said breathlessly, not giving herself time to think. She flung herself at him and, wrapping her arms tightly around him, muttered, “Oh, yes, yes, yes!”
A killing weight he hadn't even been aware that he carried slid away from Sloan, and he crushed her to him. “This time,” he vowed into her hair, “this time nothing is going to stop us. I want us to be married as soon as possible, and unless you want a big wedding with all the fanfare, I'd just as soon fly to Reno tomorrow and get married there.”
Shelly stiffened. Pushing him away, she studied his face. He was serious. She hesitated, torn. She loved him. He loved her. They'd waited seventeen years for this moment. She didn't really want a big wedding—in fact Reno would do her just fine. But not…tomorrow. And there were, she reminded herself, still questions about the past, about just what had really happened that night she had found him in Nancy's arms. How could she marry him if she doubted him, if she thought him a liar and a cheat? If she couldn't trust him, what sort of marriage would they have? Oh, but she loved him! But how long would their love survive if she harbored suspicion and mistrust?
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