Between Midnight and Morning

by Cindy Gerard

  “You can run but you can’t hide.” Cutter’s laugh trailed after him as John walked away.

  Yeah, he could run all right, he thought, scooping up Dawson and lifting him over his head until the two-year-old squealed with laughter. He’d been running and hiding for over a year and he wasn’t changing the plan now.

  It was how he kept himself in the game. It was how he stayed alive.

  “I’ll never get used to the sky out here,” Ali said as she reclined on a chaise lounge in the Renos’ back yard, staring heavenward. “It’s so amazingly beautiful. Day or night.”

  “Yeah, it’s a huge change from a city sky,” John agreed, sitting beside her in a folding lawn chair. “It’s one of the things I missed those years when…when I was gone.”

  The darkness was summer-soft, the sky a swath of velvet black glittering with the most incredible array of stars. A full moon hung like a dinner plate smack in the middle of it all.

  Despite the fact that her nerves were pretty much frazzled from the tension zinging between her and John all evening, Ali drew from the beauty of the night to help to calm her.

  And it did. But not much.

  The Savages had said their goodbyes a few minutes ago. Shortly after that Peg and Cutter had excused themselves with a promise to be right back as they’d carried a sleeping Dawson and a played-out Shelby into the house to put them to bed.

  Their disappearing act had been a little staged, conveniently leaving Ali and John alone together for the first time all evening.

  She was running out of things to talk about. And she was desperate, suddenly, to keep the conversation impersonal and benign. They’d covered the Reno children, Ellie Savage’s pregnancy, Cutter and Lee’s joint bucking herd venture. When those lines of conversation dried up, the good old standby weather and state of the economy filled dead air until finally any attempt at small talk drifted away to nothing and there was no avoiding that they were very, very much alone together.

  Yes, she was here. Yes, she’d agreed to Peg’s orchestrated effort to get her and John together. But that had been before—that nebulous before when the prospect had been far enough away that she hadn’t had to deal with it until later. Now it was later. Now it was now. And now, she really couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this almost date.

  God.

  “Can I ask you something, Doc?”

  Ali’s heart rate ratcheted up a couple beats per minute when John’s deep voice split the silence and reminded her just how now it was.

  She felt his gaze on her, considering, questioning. “Sure.”

  “I’ve been wondering…are we on a date tonight?”

  The straightforwardness of his question didn’t surprise her. He wasn’t stupid. But she was. Stupid and embarrassed. Were forty-year-old women supposed to feel this way? Fluttery and flustered and so strung out on sexual tension she had to wrap her fingers around the arm of the chaise to keep them from trembling?

  “Ali?”

  She let out a long breath, stalled the inevitable a little longer. “Do people still do that? Date?”

  Again, those dark eyes studied her in the night. “Some do, yeah.”

  “Well,” she said and gave up, knowing she couldn’t evade the issue any longer. “Then I guess you could say we’re on one.”

  His thoughtful silence added to her tension. “Interesting,” he finally said.

  She stared up at the sky. “I thought so, too.”

  When he spoke again, his voice was as soft and deep as the darkness. “Does this mean you’re reconsidering dinner?”

  Dinner. Well, as euphemisms went, she supposed it was fitting in their case. All she had to do was look at him and she felt a hunger so consuming it made her ache. But still, it was the million-dollar question. She might want dinner with him, but he wasn’t talking about pizza or burgers and fries. He was talking about a full-course meal. So to speak.

  “The jury’s still out,” she admitted because it was the truth and because she felt he was entitled to know she was still uncertain about the idea of a love affair. Her heart jumped again, just admitting that an affair was what they were talking about.

  He leaned forward in his chair, propped his elbows on his spread thighs and contemplated his clasped hands. “Well, at least I haven’t been found guilty and sentenced to hang yet.”

  “Good old frontier justice,” she said unable to stop a smile. “It was so effective and simple.”

  “This—you and me—could be very simple.” His gaze held hers across a few feet of moonlight. “You’re the one who’s making things complicated.”

  Yeah. She was. She knew she was.

  “Look, Doc, you know that I think you’re incredible. I haven’t made any bones about it, or that I’m interested in getting to know you better. It doesn’t get any less complicated than that.” He lifted a hand, a gesture that said look at me. “And neither do I. I’m just a good old boy. Out for a good time. That’s all I need to make me happy. Now what could possibly be wrong with that?”

  Everything. And nothing. “Not a thing. If you’re you.”

  “Ah.” A sage nod. “But you’re not me.”

  “Not even close.”

  “But you want to be,” he concluded, nodding his head as if he’d just figured out a complex equation. “At least you want to be more like me.”

  She could lie. But what was the point. “Maybe. Sure. I’d love to know what it was like to do what, well, what we’re talking about for nothing more than the sake of a good time. Problem is, it also puts me at odds with who I am.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly, “let’s start there. Who are you, Alison Samuels? Who are you that you won’t let yourself have what you want? And why won’t you let yourself have it? Does it scare you so much? Do I scare you?”

  “You…um…you don’t beat about the bush, do you?”

  He shrugged. “Life’s short. Why waste time?”

  Life was short. She knew it better than anyone. The love of her life was gone, his short life taken way too soon. She hadn’t been able to save him. Hadn’t been able to stop his death from happening.

  But she could do something about her life. Did she intend to miss out on an experience like John Tyler because she was so mired in what was that she couldn’t see her way clear to what could be?

  Would it really be so wrong to let this man ease some of the ache? Fill some of the void? As long as they both knew going in that was the extent of it? Nothing long-term. No fear of losing in the end. Because that, she realized as she sat there with this beautiful man watching her and making it clear that he wanted her, was the real threat. She couldn’t risk loving anyone again. It hurt too much to lose them.

  But she could like someone, couldn’t she? Like them, have some fun with them, fill a few lonely hours with them?

  She looked up into his eyes. “Maybe,” she began, her heart suddenly hammering at her boldness, “you do scare me. Maybe the prospect of having dinner with you scares me. But, maybe I’ve also reached a point in my life where I agree with your philosophy and would like very much to grasp it.”

  “And yet you can’t quite get yourself to make the leap.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “What can I do to bring you all the way over to my side?” His smile was open and curious. “I have needs. You have needs. Surely, they don’t stray that far from each other. Again, pretty simple.”

  He paused again, looked at her. “Simple unless your idea of simple has always been a nice, safe, black-and-white life. No wild rides. No chance of having too good of a time because, well, hell, that might be risky.”

  He just kept surprising her. His intellect. His insight.

  She laughed because what else was there to do. “Seems like you have me all figured out.”

  He made a self-deprecating sound. “God, I hope not. That would take all the fun out of getting to know you.”

  “Tell me what you see anyway,” she said, inviting him to elaborate. “I ca
n take it. I think.”

  He whipped his head her way, probed her eyes in the starlit night. “I see a beautiful, intelligent woman who takes herself way too seriously. You need to loosen up, Doc. Live in life, not outside of it.”

  It felt like she’d been hit in the head with a brick. My God. He was right. He was so right. Since David had died, she had been living outside of life. Living in it had been too painful. Now it was starting to feel painful on the outside.

  Still… “There are very few guarantees your way.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, you want guarantees? Not gonna happen. Not in this life—inside or outside of it. That’s part of the risk. It’s also part of the reward.”

  “And part of the reason I’ve turned my back on certain…aspects of my life,” she said, realizing it for the first time but feeling steadier somehow because of his frank openness. “Maybe you’ve convinced me that I should at least rethink things.”

  A smile crept over his face. “Things? Like dinner?”

  “Yes. Like dinner. Why don’t you ask me again. We’ll see what happens from there.”

  He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re not setting me up for another letdown, are you? I mean, all I’ve gotten so far is a pickup load of big fat rejections. Not to mention you damn near ripped my scalp off.”

  “I really am sorry about that. It was knee-jerk, you know? I guess you could say I panicked.”

  “And now? No more panic?”

  She pushed out a laugh. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

  “What would you say?”

  “I’d say, if you’re not going to ask me, I guess I’ll just have to ask you. Would you like to go out to dinner some night?”

  Another long, probing look. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Absolutely not,” she admitted then took the big plunge. “But what I am sure about is that you’ve blurred a few of the lines I’d drawn in my neat and tidy little rule book.”

  He pushed out a soft chuckle. “Thank God, because you’ve been playing fast and loose with some of my lines, too.”

  “Really?” She felt and sounded a little breathless as she watched him hitch himself out of his chair, then settle a hip beside her on the chaise.

  She made room for him by drawing her knees toward her chest. The man didn’t waste any time. He made her all shivery and aware of the dangerous territory she was about to enter when he covered her knees with his hand.

  “Really,” he whispered, bending in close and sliding his hand the length of her outer thigh until he cupped her hip, squeezed.

  Anticipation thrummed through her blood and increased her level of sensitivity until her nerve endings were singing.

  “What do you say,” he murmured, his lips hovering a breath away from hers, “wanna see if we can muddy up a few more of those lines?”

  Seven

  Her lines were already good and muddied, thank you very much, but Ali had invited this so she’d better be prepared to follow through. And maybe, just maybe, another kiss would take the mystique out of the first one, downgrade the fascination and show them both there wasn’t really all that much to get fired up about.

  She didn’t hold out a lot of hope for a letdown. In fact, she was pretty certain another kiss was just going to leave her wanting more.

  The chaise was soft and giving against her back. His hand was strong and possessive as he moved it to her waist. And the scent of him—summer warmth woven with musk and leather—filled her senses to bursting as she waited in suspended animation.

  She supposed she should say something…something sexy and clever that would minimize the tension of the moment, downgrade it to what it was…a kiss. Just a kiss. But she’d never played this kind of game before. Flirting might come second nature to John, but she’d never had any practice at it. She must have made a sound though, because his beautiful mouth brushed against hers.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Well, umm…ya-ah.

  His mouth met hers on a smile. Whimsically soft. Arousingly sensual. She lifted her hands to his chest, slid them slowly upward until they circled his neck and pulled him closer.

  And then his arms were around her, dragging her away from the chaise, folding her against him—and he was the one making sounds of affirmation. A groan rumbled up from deep in his chest as he opened his mouth over hers and drew her into a kiss that didn’t just blur the lines, it obliterated them.

  So much for a downgrade.

  The feel of his body against hers, hard and strong and hot, awakened not only the sensual memory of that first, consuming kiss, but the yearnings of a woman who’d missed the touch of a man, the taste of a man, the passion of a man who wanted her.

  The hair at his nape was silky soft against her fingers, the skin there smooth and warm. His breath, feathering across her cheek as he changed the angle of his mouth, was hot and hurried.

  She absorbed it all—the textures, the scent, the taste of him. But underlying it all was the most incredible sensation of being held by someone strong and vital, the powerful knowledge that this stunning young man not only wanted her, he was swept away with wanting her.

  The sound of a door slamming in the darkness made her jump.

  John tensed but held her tight. He drew a bracing breath, then slowly pulled away. “I think maybe someone just fired a warning shot,” he murmured, touching his forehead to hers. “We’re about to have company.”

  The tension in his muscled shoulders and the hesitancy with which he let her go belied his easy grin as he stood, leaving her sitting there, her lips tingling, her heartbeat hammering like crazy. And every erogenous zone in her body cranked up to overload.

  “So, did you get the little ones all settled in?” she heard him ask through the ringing in her ears.

  “They’re down for the count.” Peg’s voice grew closer as she and Cutter joined them in the back yard.

  “Time for me to head for the barn,, too,” John said.

  “It’s Friday night,” Peg protested. “What’s the rush? I thought we’d crack open a bottle of wine and talk for a little while yet. “

  Ali watched John shake his head. “Sorry, sweetie. Clive’s got a full day planned tomorrow and if I don’t hit the saddle with him by five o’clock, he’ll be just stubborn enough to head out on his own.”

  “I’ve got to be going, too.” Ali stood, glad for the dark that hid the flush on her cheeks.

  “Well, heck,” Peg said with a pretty pout. “And here I thought the night had just begun.”

  Cutter pulled her against his side and whispered something in her ear that made them both grin.

  “Well, if you’ve got to go,” Peg said brightly, “you’ve got to go.”

  “And don’t let the gate hit your taillights on the way out,” Cutter added.

  John laughed. “Come on, Ali. I think they’ve just decided our company isn’t so mandatory, after all. Thanks, guys. Everything was great.”

  “Yes. It was very nice. See you Monday for lunch, Peg?”

  “Oh, you can count on it,” Peg said, her smile brimming with curiosity.

  “Come on.” John touched a hand to her back and they left the Renos to their own devices. “I’ll walk you to your car, then follow you home, make sure you get back all right.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to,” he said and satisfied that she was buckled in, walked on over to his truck.

  All the way home, with John’s headlights trailing her, Ali wondered what to expect when they arrived at her house.

  Did she ask him in?

  She shouldn’t ask him in. That was the coward in her talking.

  Maybe he wouldn’t even want to come in. They were just talking about dinner sometime after all.

  Right. Dinner. Not…dinner.

  Although that kiss sure had her thinking about…dinner. A seven-course meal would be good.

  Oh, God. Forty going on fourteen.

  When they reac
hed her house and he pulled up behind her, she’d decided it was time to be a grown-up about this. Nothing said they couldn’t take this slow. Nothing said that just because they’d discussed possibilities that they had to act on them like a couple of kids revved on raging hormones.

  She was just about to open her car door when it opened, and there he was, holding out a hand to help her out. She took it, hyperaware of the feel of his calloused palm and strong fingers encompassing hers.

  On a deep breath, she rose and, hand in hand, they walked to her front door.

  “So,” he said, turning her to face him under the porch roof, “about that dinner. Will tomorrow night work? There’s a great little Italian place in Bozeman…. That is, if you like Italian?”

  “Italian’s great. Wonderful,” she said, when it all meshed for her that he really was talking about taking her out to eat. “And tomorrow night’s good,” she added when she realized the sound she’d been hearing in the background was his truck’s motor running.

  Relief would have been a little sweeter if disappointment hadn’t taken a big bite out of it. He didn’t have any intention of staying.

  “Word to the wise, Doc,” he said. “If you don’t worry about tomorrow, it’s a lot easier to enjoy today.”

  “Translated—live in the moment.”

  “You got it. G’nite.” Leaning down, he pressed a chaste and very sweet kiss on her forehead.

  “Good night,” she murmured as he left her there on her porch wondering who, during the process of the night, had turned the tables on whom?

  She let herself inside, turned on the foyer light and wandered slowly to the kitchen where she snagged a cookie out of a cookie jar shaped like a cow—a goodbye gift from her staff in K.C. Leaning back against the counter, she stood there munching, staring into space. It was a while before she realized she was smiling into the dark. What else could she do but smile?

  She’d been here a month and John Tyler had been hitting on her on an average of once or twice a week. Tonight, she gotten up the nerve to let him know she might be interested in the same thing he was. One minute, he was kissing her senseless and the next he was giving her a brotherly peck and heading home to the range.