Matt

by Lori Wilde

  “That hombre didn’t take too kindly to being arrested.”

  “I can’t believe you’re treating this so lightly,” Savannah said.

  The same emotions she’d experienced so vividly five years ago roiled through her, as raw and as fresh as before. Matt loved danger. Courted it. Back then, she hadn’t been able to live with his careless streak—the awful feeling of never knowing, always worrying, constantly fearing bad news.

  Briefly, she recalled the night in Kelly’s bar when that drunken cowpoke had assaulted Jackie Spencer and Matt had felt duty-bound to defend the barmaid’s honor. He hadn’t known the cowpoke carried a tiny pistol in his boot. Consequently, Matt’s heroics had earned him a bullet in the arm and cost him Savannah’s affections.

  Such reckless behavior was one of the reasons she’d married Gary instead. Her husband had offered security, predictability, safety. Ironically, Gary had been the one to die too soon. Life sure had a way of pulling the rug out from under a person.

  “Julio didn’t steal the cattle?” Savannah asked, setting her glass on the table.

  “Nope.” Matt sent her a cocky grin, as if he knew how much he’d worried her and was enjoying it immensely.

  “So?” She raised her palms. “Why did Julio run if he wasn’t involved in the thefts?”

  “No mystery. He thought I was from immigration. My Spanish is fairly lame and his English is worse. We tussled before we started communicating.” Matt indicated his wound.

  His glib attitude infuriated her. How could he remain so unflustered after having his cheek filleted? This was the Matt Forrester she remembered.

  “Actually, Julio turned out to be pretty cooperative once we got better acquainted.” Matt tipped back on the legs of his chair, balanced his weight perfectly and teased her with a mocking smile.

  “Is that what you’ve been doing the last week? Tracking Julio?” Savannah asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Among other things.”

  “What about my cattle?”

  “Haven’t seen hide nor hair of ’em.”

  Savannah glanced over to see Todd and Ginger wrapped in the throes of a passionate embrace. Heat raced up her neck when Matt caught the direction of her gaze. She inclined her head toward the bam. “Let’s take a walk, Forrester.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  She started across the yard, Matt right behind her.

  “Think they’ll even notice we’re gone?” Matt whispered, so close the warmth of his breath tickled her ear.

  “Those two had better get married soon or I’ll be forced to get out the water hose,” Savannah said wryly, once they were out of sight.

  “We used to be worse than they are. Remember, Savy?”

  Her blush deepened. “We’re not foolish kids anymore, Matt.”

  “You remember our first date?” He leaned one shoulder casually against the side of the bam. Reaching over, he lifted a strand of hair from her shoulder and rolled it between his fingers.

  Savannah inhaled sharply.

  Their eyes met.

  “Do you remember, Savy?” he repeated.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  Boy, did she ever. How could she forget the powerful energy of their first explosive kiss during that hayride at his uncle’s farm? She’d been ready to surrender herself to him at the end of that night. The memory of her wanton behavior forced her to drop her gaze.

  He swung his Stetson between a thumb and index finger with slow, calculated movements, as if fanning a flame. “Do you remember going back to my place?” His voice had lowered to a deep purr.

  “Uh-huh,” she whispered.

  “I played my guitar for you.”

  “I remember. ‘The Twelfth of Never.’ ”

  His magnetic eyes held her hypnotized. “We talked about everything under the sun.”

  “I know.”

  ‘ ‘And ordered a pepperoni and mushroom pizza to go at midnight.”

  “We ate it cold because we couldn’t stop kissing,” she finished.

  Tingles radiated from her inside out—steamy, melting, erotic. Paralyzed, Savannah drifted on the memories. Matt, his arms around her, strong and sure. Matt, his lips on hers, soft and tender. Matt, the man himself, so honest, so sincere. She’d known he would always keep her safe, would never hurt her. At least not intentionally.

  “Do you remember what you asked me, about four that morning?” His voice turned husky, dry with emotion.

  “I... I... asked if I could stay the night with you.”

  “That’s right.” His smile deepened. He leaned forward, cupping a finger under her chin, and tipped her head back until she was forced to look him in the eyes. “What was my answer?”

  Her knees wobbled and Savannah feared her legs might fold.

  She cleared her throat and laced her fingers together. His touch burned hotter than a branding iron. “You said no, that we should wait.” She hesitated. “You told me I was too special to take advantage of.”

  “You’re still special to me, Savy.”

  Her gaze, restless and hungry, wandered over his face. She’d dreamed of that dear face for so long—his sun- browned forehead, his slightly crooked nose, his firm, wide lips curling easily into a teasing grin, the slight crinkles etched into the corners of his dark eyes.

  And that fresh, jagged scar.

  Savannah jerked back, dropping her gaze. The ugly scar reminded her of the myriad reasons she’d left him—his thirst for daring adventure, his lack of fear, his need to prove his manhood with fists and weapons, the frustrating way women threw themselves at him. He’d chosen the right career for his personality. He was a brave man, a stalwart one. A man who would always put the needs of others above his own concerns, above the welfare of his family.

  “Savy?” he rasped.

  “Those days are long gone, Matt.”

  “No hope of recapturing them?” He sounded sad, wistful.

  “Nothing’s changed. The same obstacles stand in our way.”

  “Obstacles of our own making.”

  She shrugged. “Legitimate obstacles nonetheless.” Her heart strummed steadily, blood whooshing in her ears with each beat. She knew he couldn’t argue the fact.

  “I’m sorry about Gary,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  “Although I was jealous of him, I never wished him ill.”

  “I know.”

  “It must have been hard for you.” The touch of sympathy in his voice grated on her.

  “Life’s hard.” She twisted her shoulder in a dismissive gesture. Savannah knew she sounded tough, cynical, but that’s exactly how she felt.

  “I’ve missed having you in my life, Savy.”

  “I’m sure you found plenty of other women willing to be my substitute.”

  He cocked his head. “I don’t deny I’ve had my share of female companionship over the last five years, but not one of them could hold a candle to you.”

  “Not even Jackie Spencer?” she replied tartly.

  “Still jealous?” he baited.

  She tossed her head. “Not in the least.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s no business of mine who you’re sleeping with,” she retorted. Though the thought of another woman’s arms wrapped around Matt’s neck burned in her craw like hydrochloric acid.

  “Jackie was never any more to me than a friend. If you hadn’t been so all-fired stubborn, you would have found that out way back then.”

  “You expect me to believe that? Jackie Spencer is the most notorious hussy in Sweetwater.”

  “She’s a kindhearted woman, Savannah Markum, and a good friend of mine. So what if she happens to enjoy a good time? I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t slander her name. Jackie felt damned bad about the friction she caused between me and you, but I told her our problems ran a lot deeper than your lack of trust.”

  “My lack of trust! Are you saying our breakup was my fault?” She jabbed an index finger at her ches
t. Anger pulsed through her in ragged spurts. Her bosom heaved as she drew in an indignant breath.

  “I can’t help it that your daddy ran around on your mama, Savannah Raylene.” Matt’s eyes sparked a corresponding fire of their own.

  “You leave my daddy out of this!” Her voice rose shrill.

  “How can I, Savannah? Your father’s behavior was the reason you were so jealous of me. You were terrified I’d cheat on you like he cheated on your mother. You couldn’t stand the fact that Jackie and I were friends.”

  “And when did you get your degree in psychology, Dr. Forrester?” Savannah knew Matt spoke the truth, but she wasn’t prepared to deal with those old repressed feelings. Not now. Not today.

  “Admit it,” he insisted.

  “My leaving you had nothing to do with Jackie Spencer and everything to do with your reckless regard for your own sorry hide.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you, Savy?”

  “Get what?”

  “I can’t change my personality to suit you.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “It’s the reason I left.”

  “We should have had this discussion five years ago. But instead you turned to Gary Markum for comfort. Why, Savannah, why?”

  “Because you were too busy proving your manhood by smashing bullies in the teeth,” she snapped, tired of his badgering.

  “I’d forgotten how your eyes turn to liquid gold when you’re mad,” he said, leaning closer and angling his head downward.

  Instinct hollered for her to pull back, to run away, but for once she listened to her heart and stayed rooted to the sandy earth, waiting.

  Locusts buzzed in the mesquite tree. A trickle of sweat dampened the back of her neck. She looked into Matt’s shimmering black-eyed gaze, found herself trapped there like a bug in a spider’s web. She moistened her lips with her tongue.

  “Savannah,” he whispered.

  And then he kissed her.

  His mouth covered hers—hungry, searching. His Stetson dropped to the ground as his arms encircled her shoulders and he pulled her tight against his chest.

  This isn’t prudent, she thought. She should squirm free, demand he let her go, but suddenly, she had no inclination to resist, wanted only to float in this pleasurable sensation.

  His heated tongue demanded entrance past the barrier of her teeth. His eager fingers stroked her throat. He growled low and insistent, the rough, masculine sound igniting a wildfire deep in the recesses of her aching abdomen.

  “Oh, Savy,” he exclaimed, pulling away long enough to breathe in a gulp of air. “It’s been so long.”

  She surrendered. Fully, unconditionally, without a fight.

  Her weak body was as starved for him as his was for her. She tilted her head back to give him easier access, welcoming his tender invasion, heralding his long-anticipated return, savoring his delicious taste—a provocative combination of peppermint and lemonade.

  A dizzy giddiness swept through her. Time halted, reversed. She felt twenty-one again—young, ripe, ready for his loving.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair as she tugged his head down, down. How had she survived without him, without this, for five lonely years? Unshed tears collected in her throat. She’d made so many mistakes.

  One of Matt’s hands slipped beneath her blouse, caressed her bare stomach.

  Torture, pure torture. She wanted him so desperately, yet knew she couldn’t have him.

  Stop! a voice in the back of her mind warned. Before it’s too late. Before you fall in love with Matt Forrester all over again.

  Savannah moaned, distressed.

  A sound pricked her ears.

  A muffled whimper, then a full-blown cry. Cody.

  She plastered both hands on Matt’s chest and pushed hard. Their embrace cracked.

  Matt blinked, looked disoriented, as if he’d been dragged from a heavenly dream into the harsh reality of daylight. “What is it?” he rasped, his dark hair askew.

  “Cody,” she said, and hurried toward the playpen.

  Bending over, she snatched the child up and tried to ignore the throbbing of her kiss-blistered lips.

  She heard Matt come up behind her. “Savy?”

  She refused to turn around. If she met his gaze, she feared she might burst into tears.

  “I was completely out of line,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t come here to do that.”

  “I know,” she squeaked. “It just happened. We best forget it.”

  “You’re right.”

  Matt stuck his hands in his front pockets and focused his attention on the tips of his boots. Why had he succumbed to the temptation of her full, lush mouth? He’d sworn he wouldn’t kiss her again, and look what had happened. He was a law-enforcement officer. He’d been taught strength, restraint, self-control, yet one look into Savannah’s gold- green eyes and he’d crumbled like a cookie in a glass of warm milk.

  Damn.

  He yearned to comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be all right, but they weren’t kids anymore. They both knew such words smacked of mindless platitudes. Life just didn’t work that way.

  “Savannah, if you could get me Gary’s ranching records, I’ll conclude my business and be on my way.”

  She nodded and held her shoulders stiff. “They’re in the house. In Gary’s desk.”

  He followed her, feeling woefully inept. They needed to talk, to communicate, but Matt could not adequately articulate his feelings.

  What had he expected when he’d kissed her? That she would ask him to take her back? That she would renounce her past mistakes, beg his forgiveness? He snorted. Fairy tales.

  Cody smiled at him over Savannah’s shoulder. Such a cute kid. That grin affected him viscerally. Like a penny- dropped into a bottomless well, Matt felt himself falling for the little scamp.

  Matt grinned back, his spirits buoyed in response to the boy.

  Savannah led him to a bedroom in the back of the house. He glared at the queen-size bed in the corner. Was this the bed she’d shared with Markum? Had he taken her virginity here? Was this where they’d created Cody? That thought exploded in Matt’s mind like a rocket blast. He growled low in his throat.

  Gary Markum had stolen the prize that should have been his!

  Why in the Sam Hill was he torturing himself this way? Forcefully, he pried his gaze from the quilt-covered bed to the slender young woman standing in front of him.

  She burrowed through a scarred, old-fashioned, rolltop desk sitting off to one side, piled high with scraps of paper. “I’m afraid it’s a mess.” Savannah cradled Cody’s head in her palm. “I filed for an extension on my income tax because I couldn’t seem to summon the courage to go through it.”

  She sounded sad, regretful. Matt swallowed hard. Had she really loved Gary Markum? Or had she married him on the rebound? Had she experienced with Gary the same wild passion he and she once shared?

  The murky, melancholy expression in Savannah’s eyes told Matt she still had lingering feelings for Markum. That knowledge unearthed the sharpness of his buried pain.

  His gaze strayed to the third finger of her left hand, his mind searching for confirmation of her affection for her husband. Unexpected joy floated through him. Her ring finger was bare.

  Savannah stepped to the desk, her gently swaying hips causing a stir in Matt’s pants. He had to stop this agonizing self-torture. Averting his gaze, he purposefully forced his mind onto the investigation and reviewed the evidence while he waited for Savannah to locate Gary’s records.

  One—his prime suspect, Julio Diaz, had been exonerated.

  Two—he’d arrested the Abilene men accused of stealing Cal Hickey’s belt buckle, and they’d readily confessed to robbing the other five ranches in Nolan County, but all four categorically denied knowing anything about the missing Santa Gertrudis herd at the Circle B.

  Three—two local scum bags, Brent Larkins and Hootie Thompson, had been slin
ging money around Kelly’s bar and bragging of their sudden wealth. Although the two men might not have burglarized the Circle B, Matt’s instincts told him they’d been up to no good.

  Four—some unknown Santa Gertrudis cattle had turned up in Fort Worth with their brands altered.

  “I think this is what you need.” Savannah’s voice broke into his thoughts as she handed him a thick manila folder.

  ‘‘Thank you,” he said, fingering the brim of his Stetson.

  “You’ll let me know when you hear something about my cattle?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  Matt stood there, feeling incredibly awkward. Savannah studied her son, evidently as discombobulated as he.

  “Listen,” they both said at once.

  “Go ahead.” Savannah emitted a nervous chuckle. “You first.”

  “I’m sorry about that kiss.”

  “Are you really?”

  “No.”

  “Me, either,” she said, giving him a shy grin from beneath lowered lashes.

  Her confession produced a sensation in him like a helium balloon let loose to soar into the clouds—free, unfettered, giddy. Did her response mean he had a chance of winning her back?

  “But don’t you dare let it happen again,” she added, pressing her lips into a firm straight line.

  So much for hope. “I won’t,” he assured her. “I’m here to do a job, not romance you.”

  “Good.”

  Cody, his face nestled against Savannah’s breast, peeked sideways at Matt.

  “Thanks for the paperwork.” He held up the manila folder. “This’ll help me verify the brands on those Santa

  Gertrudis that turned up in Fort Worth. I’ll return it as soon as I can.”

  ‘‘No hurry.”

  Savannah walked him to the front door, his heart pounding with the remembered promise of her soft lips. Common sense told him to proceed with caution, but something stronger, more intense, tempted him to throw discretion to the wind. To keep from saying more than was prudent, Matt turned without a backward glance, got into his Jeep and drove away.

  Wanting to touch base with his most reliable contact, Matt stopped by Kelly’s bar on the way home. The heavy wooden door creaked in protest as Matt walked into the smoky room. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkened interior.