by Diana Palmer
Maris searched her brain for something to talk about, recalling the little she knew about Mary Jo. Apparently she had suddenly turned up one day in Whitehorn and established herself by landing a job in the children’s library. It wasn’t long before she began dating Dugin Kincaid and then, rather quickly, they had gotten married. It was two months before their wedding that baby Jennifer had been left at the Kincaid ranch. And yes, Maris remembered now, someone had been murdered at the ranch on their wedding. Judd had told her about it, a man by the name of Floyd Oakley.
As if guessing Maris’s thoughts, Mary Jo said, “Well, even if you didn’t attend the wedding, I’m sure you heard about the unfortunate…incident. You know, that fellow that was found murdered on our property? Fred something-or-other I think was his name….”
“Floyd Oakley, you mean?” Maris corrected her.
“Yes, that was it. Poor Mr. Oakley. Never even got his share of all that free champagne, I imagine,” Mary Jo said, looking a bit embarrassed to be smiling at her own joke.
“Well, it must have been awful for you, having to deal with such a horrible situation on your wedding day.”
Mary Jo lowered her gaze to examine her manicured nails and thick, diamond-studded wedding band. “Oh, you know what they say, the show must go on.” She gave a brave little laugh. “I tried my best to keep a smile on my face, for Dugin and his daddy’s sake. Even though I was quite shaken up,” she admitted in a low, serious tone.
“I can imagine,” Maris replied, though she guessed that it took quite a bit—maybe even more than a murder on her wedding day?—to shake up this lady.
“Dugin was wonderful. He’s just my tower of strength,” Mary Jo added sweetly.
“Dugin is a very…kind man,” Maris said, searching for a reply that would be both tactful and still basically truthful.
Having known Dugin for years, she sincerely found it hard to imagine him anybody’s tower of strength. He was known to be spoiled, weak-willed and totally dominated by his father, Jeremiah. Dugin’s older brother, Wade, had been Jeremiah’s favorite. But Wade had died years ago, in Vietnam. It was said that Jeremiah would have much preferred mourning Dugin, if the tough old cowboy had been offered the choice. But maybe that bit of gossip wasn’t entirely fair to Jeremiah. Maris had always known him to be a fair man, if a bit hard at times.
Mary Jo certainly didn’t share the popular opinion of Dugin, though. It was newly wed enthusiasm that had clouded her vision, Maris thought and on those grounds she could be exempt from having a rational perspective. After all, it had taken her quite a long time to see Ray clearly, and even then it had taken her longer to fall out of love with him. She wondered if Mary Jo was indeed in love with Dugin, or just in love with his money.
“I certainly admire you, Maris,” Mary Jo said suddenly.
“You do?”
“You, a widow, running a ranch all on your own.” Mary Jo shook her head. “In my book, that takes courage and a tremendous amount of strength. Both physical and emotional, I mean.”
Maris took a sip of her coffee. “It’s just my life. I really don’t think of it as being superwoman or anything like that,” she said with a smile.
The waitress arrived with Mary Jo’s order and Maris thought it a good moment to excuse herself. “Speaking of the ranch, I’d better be heading back. Nice talking with you, Mary Jo,” Maris said, getting up from the table.
“Nice visiting with you, Maris. Let me know the next time you’re coming into town. Maybe we can have lunch.”
“Well, my visits are usually in sort of a rush. Just running in for supplies or some other emergency. But maybe we’ll bump into each other again sometime,” Maris replied. She picked up her purse and left a dollar and some change near her plate for a tip. “So long, Mary Jo.”
“Bye, Maris.” Mary Jo looked up at her with a warm smile.
Maris left the table feeling a little sorry for Mary Jo and a little guilty at brushing off her offer to get better acquainted. It wasn’t easy to be new in a town like Whitehorn, where most people knew each other for years. She had once been in the same position herself. But Maris didn’t have much time for socializing, and Mary Jo just wasn’t her type. In fact, there was something about the woman that made her downright uncomfortable, Maris decided.
Mary Jo watched as Maris paid her check at the cash register and left the café. Then her eyes fell on the money next to the empty coffee cup. Her fingers virtually tingled, instinctively about to reach for it. She made a little fist instead, then took a spoonful of her diet gelatin.
Mary Jo laughed to herself. It was hard sometimes to remember that she was now the wife of the richest man in town and hardly in need of stealing a tip from a poor little waitress. But grabbing for that loose cash came just as automatically to her poor old body as breathing. And she always did have a light hand. Light as a feather, Floyd used to say. But old Floyd had always taken too much credit for her success. Sure, he’d taught her some of the finer points. But she’d been basically a self-taught operator when they’d met. Plying her trade as a truck-stop hooker, she’d quickly learned how to double her profits by cleaning out a john’s wallet right under the poor guy’s nose—or some other unsuspecting part of his anatomy.
The trick was not to get caught. If you got caught, you had to pay. Painfully, too. It hadn’t taken her long to learn that rule either. And she’d never forget it.
But no telling how far you could go if you didn’t get caught, Mary Jo reminded herself as she sipped the last of her tea. Her diamond wedding band sparkled in the late afternoon light, catching her gaze. She held out her hand, admiring it. How far she had come. Floyd had been impressed. And to think this was only the start. Just the first step in her plan.
The waitress came by just then, interrupting her thoughts. “Anything else today, ma’am?”
“Just the check, please,” Mary Jo said.
The waitress totaled the order and tore it off her pad. “Would you like me to take that up to the cashier for you?”
Mary Jo glanced at the amount and nodded. The check came to a little under three dollars. She took out her wallet; the smallest bill she had was a ten. She pulled it out and handed it to the girl with her check.
“Here you go. And you keep the change, honey,” she said generously.
The waitress stared down at the money a moment, then back at Mary Jo. “Gee, thanks. Thanks a lot.”
“That’s all right.” Mary Jo closed her purse with a loud snap and got up from the table. “It’s my pleasure, honestly,” she added with a charming smile.
Luke was still working, Maris saw when she drove into the ranch compound and parked the truck. She sat there a moment, thinking about her next move with Luke. After last night was it any wonder he’d expected more from her this morning than the cool reserve she’d shown him? Then there was that lecture she’d laid on him, which had been rude and presumptuous. Her next move with Luke should be an apology.
Getting out of the pickup, Maris headed for the corral. Luke saw her coming and went over to the spigot to splash water over his sweaty face and chest. He was drying off with a towel when Maris walked up to the fence.
She got right to the point. “I owe you an apology. We both know how we each feel about rodeo versus ranching, so there’s no point in my constantly haranguing you about the choices you’ve made in your life. I’m sorry.”
“Well, now, I sure didn’t expect to hear that from you,” Luke said calmly. “But I appreciate it. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She looked at the horse he’d been working with, a black gelding with a white blaze on its forehead. One by one he was making his way through the herd, but he had to be getting tired of the same routine, over and over. “You must have the patience of Job,” she told him. “Doing virtually the same thing every day. Isn’t it starting to wear thin?”
He looped the towel he was holding around his neck and walked over to the fence where Maris was standing. “I guess I do have
patience, Maris. And it doesn’t stop with the horses, either.”
“Meaning?” Her heart was suddenly beating harder. Looking into his shimmering blue eyes was definitely raising her blood pressure.
He suddenly became bold and brash and gave her an impudent grin. “How about the two of us taking a shower together? You can wash my back and I’ll wash yours.”
Maris gulped. “You never give up, do you?”
“Not when a woman crawls into bed with me all of her own volition. Maris, we’re good together.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “I wonder if you realize just how good. If I asked about your previous sex life, would you give me a straight answer?”
“If I asked about yours, would you give me a straight answer?” she retorted.
He thought a moment. “Yes. Do you want to hear about it?”
“Every detail?”
“If that’s what you want, yes.”
Maris scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Try me.”
She took a breath. “No, I don’t think so.” Turning, she walked away, heading for the house.
“Someday we’ll talk about it, Maris,” Luke called. “You’ll see.”
“Maybe when hell freezes over,” she called back over her shoulder.
Thirteen
Keith got back late that night. Maris awakened when he came in, but though she was curious—and a little worried—about his day, she remained in bed. Keith would tell her what he wanted her to know in the morning, she decided, and if he told her nothing at all, she wouldn’t push him. Seeing his father in jail had to have been a traumatic experience, but it wasn’t her place either to sympathize or offer guidance. That was for Jessica McCallum to do.
Once awake, however, Maris didn’t immediately fall back asleep. Keith went directly to his room, and in a very few minutes the house was silent again. As Maris stared into the dark, the day flicked through her mind.
Sighing, Maris turned on her side to face the window. Was she falling in love with Luke? Was she really so stupid as to fall for another man who couldn’t stay in one place for more than a few weeks without getting antsy? Hadn’t she vowed several years back that if she ever found herself single again for whatever reason, she would never get married again?
Maris’s lip curled wryly. Luke had hardly proposed marriage, so that line of thought was a little ridiculous. But a relationship went either forward or backward, and “forward” to Maris meant marriage. What it might mean to Luke was a complete mystery, other than lots of hot sex and then a cheery “So long, babe. See you one of these days.”
“God,” Maris moaned aloud. Her agony was all her own fault. She should have set Luke straight the night they took that horseback ride. Instead she’d gotten all female and giddy and responded to him as though he were her only hope for life itself. Then there was that business of her going to his room and getting into his bed. How could she have done something so moronic? Small wonder that Luke had seen today as another opportunity. If she had agreed, he probably would have kept her in bed all day.
That thought brought Maris’s body temperature to a fever pitch. She moaned again. Wanting Luke was becoming a painful, miserably uncomfortable habit, particularly when her sane and sensible side refused to comply.
Would September ever arrive? Nothing would be normal again until Luke Rivers left for good, she thought for perhaps the hundredth time in the past few weeks.
Keith was unusually subdued during breakfast the following morning. Maris smiled across the table at him and he managed a thin smile in return. But he wasn’t offering information about yesterday and she couldn’t bring herself to ask. He ate quickly and, grabbing his hat from the wall hook near the back door, started out. “I’ll be at the corral, Luke.”
Luke nodded. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, Keith.” When Keith was gone, Luke looked at Maris. “Do you think he’s all right?”
“I think that yesterday was difficult for him.”
“Everyone has problems.” Luke took a swallow of coffee. “Keith, you, me, everyone.”
“What problems do you have?” Maris sounded skeptical.
“You don’t think I have any?”
Maris was silent a moment. “Yes, I think you have problems, though I doubt very much that our opinions would coincide on what they are.”
Luke surprised Maris by grinning. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”
“You’re teasing,” she said shortly, getting up to begin clearing the table.
“I’ll be serious if you will,” Luke responded quietly, all signs of levity gone from his voice.
Maris turned, one eyebrow cocked. “Fine. How about if you go first?”
“Me first? Well…I think I’d rather have you go first.”
“That’s just about what I figured you’d say.” She hadn’t believed for a second that he would really talk about himself. Not about anything truly private, such as feelings, at any rate.
Luke finished off his coffee and got to his feet. Maris was heading for the sink with a stack of dishes and didn’t see him walk around the table and come up behind her. But no sooner had she deposited the dishes in the sink than his hands were on her upper arms, drawing her back against his chest. “You look mighty pretty this morning,” he said huskily, breathing into her hair.
“Luke, don’t. Please don’t.” Her voice had instantly and foolishly become hoarse. “Keith is right outside.”
“Keith is down by the corral. In fact…” Luke peered around her and out the window. “I can see him from here. He’s sitting on the top rail of the corral fence with his hind side to the house.” Forgetting the window, Luke lifted the back of Maris’ hair and pressed his lips to her neck.
The thrills began compounding in Maris’s body. “You’re making me angry,” she whispered.
“Yeah, I can tell,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and the side of her face. His hand crept around her waist to the front of her jeans, which he deftly unsnapped and unzipped. Then that wily hand slid down into her clothing, under her jeans, under her panties, and stopped right where he wanted it to be.
“Luke, no!” Maris grabbed at his hand.
“Tell me it doesn’t feel good,” he whispered. Her gripping his hand through her jeans and panties was no deterrent to the movement of his fingers. She could feel him rubbing his aroused manhood against her behind, and the whole thing was so erotic she couldn’t find her voice to speak.
Instead she moaned, softly and deep in her throat. His fingers were pure magic, opening her, stroking her most sensitive spot. “You’re hot and wet,” he whispered. “I’m burning up. Let’s go to your room for a few minutes. That’s all it would take, honey, just a few beautiful minutes.”
A wildness swept through her. Not only was she on fire with sexual need, there was a very good chance that Luke was too worked up to remember protection.
“Do it here,” she said thickly.
“What?”
Ignoring his surprise, Maris turned quickly and opened the buckle on his belt. Excitement whipped through Luke with the impact of a tornado. He yanked down her jeans and his own. Then he lifted her to sit on the counter and buried himself inside of her hot, velvety depths. She was utterly swamped with overwhelming desire. Her fingers ran through Luke’s hair and gripped his broad shoulders.
As Luke had predicted, it took only a few beautiful minutes. Dazed and dizzy, clinging to her lover, Maris moaned as the rapturous spasms began. Luke’s cry of release was seconds behind her own.
Panting and disheveled, Luke brought her head to his chest. “Maris…damn. You’re really something.”
She jerked her head away to look outside and make sure Keith hadn’t suddenly decided to come to the house. And then, without warning, she burst into tears.
“Hey, hey, what’s this?” Luke put his arms around her.
To her complete humiliation, she couldn’t stop crying and instead sobbed uncontrollably into his shirt.
“
Maris…honey…what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“It’s perfectly obvious, isn’t it? I…I’m totally disgusting!”
“You’re what?” Luke pushed her away to see her tear-streaked face. “Listen, I might be a little disgusting, and sure as grass is green a whole lot of other folks are definitely in that category. But not you, Maris, not you. Why would you say such a thing? Why would you even think it?”
“After what I just did, you have to ask?” She could hardly force herself to look at him.
“Making love makes you disgusting?” It was written all over Luke’s face what he thought of that sentiment. “Are you deliberately looking for a guilt trip, or does it just come natural to you?” He gave her shoulders a gentle shake. “Maris, you’re only human, the same as everyone else. Why are you so hard on yourself?”
Being assigned the same slot as “everyone else” didn’t elevate Maris’s flagging spirit, not when Luke’s life revolved around men like Ray and easy women. Maris’s shoulders slumped. That’s what she had become, easy pickings. All Luke had to do was put his hands on her and she melted into a chunk of mindless desire. Emotionally she was a mess, and the urge to cry about it was again filling her eyes with salty tears.
“I’m not being hard on myself,” she said, her voice cracking. “But there is such a thing as common decency, you know.” Pushing on Luke’s chest, she forced him to step back. “You’ve got work to do. Keith is waiting.”
“Now you’re mad at me,” Luke observed grimly.
She had slid off the counter and was scrambling to straighten her clothes. “At you, at myself, at the whole damned world!”
“That’s silly, Maris.”
“So I’m silly. Sue me!” Maris started from the kitchen. “Go to work, Luke.”