“I wasn’t expecting you to come tonight,” he replied as he helped her down to the snow-covered ground. “Are you on a suicide mission?”
“A little snow isn’t going to stop me from seeing a patient. Especially one as important as Naomi.”
So she’d made the treacherous drive tonight for Naomi’s sake, not his, he thought. Well, that’s the way he wanted it, needed it. For five years he’d hoped and prayed she would move on with her life and forget him. He couldn’t change those prayers now. No matter how much her presence pleased him.
With a tight hold on her hand, he helped her over the snow-covered ground and up the steps, but once they were inside she didn’t linger in his presence. Instead she quickly excused herself and disappeared to his grandmother’s room.
Deciding the best thing he could do was leave the two women alone, he made his way to the kitchen and began to deal with the dirty dishes that he and his grandfather had left behind. But after a few minutes, he couldn’t stand it and went to his grandmother’s room in spite of his best intentions.
Bridget had taken off her coat and scarf and draped it over the bed’s footboard. She was wearing a black dress that looked like a sweater and the fabric clung to her curves like his two hands used to. At the moment, she was perched on a small footstool in front of his grandmother’s rocker and was simply holding Naomi’s hands with hers. For some reason the love and respect Bridget had for his grandmother made everything that much harder for him to bear and he couldn’t help but wonder if she would feel the same way if the Chino family had shunned her the way the Donovans had Johnny.
What are you talking about, Johnny? You’re a Chino and you’ve shunned Bridget in the deepest sort of way. Yet she still loves, still welcomes your family into her heart. What does that say about her? About you?
Oh, God, he wished he could quit thinking about the past, about his mother and the heartaches and troubles she’d brought to so many people. He wished he could quit wondering about the Donovans and how they’d reacted when Scarlett had offered them her child. Johnny had questioned his grandparents about their response to the whole matter, but neither Charlie nor Naomi had been willing to discuss the subject. His grandparents considered Scarlett and her transgressions to be dead and buried in the past. To talk of them only caused more pain and changed nothing. So to respect their wishes, Johnny had quit asking, but that hadn’t stopped him from wondering. Since he’d ended up being raised by his grandparents, it was easy for him to assume that the Donovans hadn’t wanted him. But he couldn’t be certain of that. When Johnny had been born, the family already had five children of their own. In all fairness, they could have decided they didn’t have enough room or need the added responsibility of another child. Especially one that didn’t belong to them. If only he knew the truth of all that had happened, he might know where he stood with Bridget’s family. Or would learning the truth only make things worse than they already were? he wondered.
Johnny was trying to push away the confusing turmoil in his head when Bridget suddenly spotted him standing in the doorway. Almost immediately, she rose to her feet, then bending at the waist, placed a kiss on Naomi’s cheek.
“I’ll check on you again before I leave,” she said to his grandmother.
Once she’d walked over to where he stood waiting, he asked, “She’s fine now, isn’t she?”
With her hand on his arm, she nudged him into the hallway. “The infection appears to be gone, but it’s going to take her a couple of weeks or more to regain the strength that she’s lost. I want her to eat three good meals every day and beginning tomorrow I want her to start moving around the house as much as she can.”
He nodded. “Grandfather will see that she follows your orders.”
Her brows arched slightly as she peered over his shoulder. “Where is Charlie anyway? It’s not like him to be away from Naomi.”
“He’s in another room. Sleeping. The past few days of worry have worn him down.”
Bridget nodded. “I’m not surprised. I doubt he’s hardly left her side to get any rest for himself.” She looked at him questioningly. “You said Charlie would see that Naomi would follow my orders. What about you? Won’t you be around?”
Was she asking for her own sake or for his grandmother’s? he wondered, then just as quickly scolded himself. Bridget’s motives about anything or anyone were none of his business. He couldn’t let her be his business. And yet it was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms and letting his lips tell her how glad he was to see her again.
“I’m not sure. I might be leaving on a hunt.” With a hand on her shoulder, he nudged her down the short hallway and into the living room, where a fire in the fireplace warmed the small area and washed the walls with a deep rosy glow.
“What sort of hunt?” she asked.
She smelled like violets and rain and as his gaze wandered over her bright red curls he wondered how he had lived the past five years without her presence, without ever laying his eyes on her beauty. “Cougar.”
Her gaze swung sharply to his face. “Cougar? My God, Johnny, that’s—dangerous.”
“Not if you know what you’re doing. And I do.”
Her green eyes filled with confusion. “And you like that? Going after those beautiful creatures?”
“Not really. But if I don’t take the hunters into the mountains, someone else will. At least with me along, I can make sure that hunting laws are obeyed and everyone comes back safely.”
“And that makes it all okay?”
He scowled at her. “You sound like Grandmother.”
Moving away from him, she walked over to the hearth and stood with her back to the fire. The glow of the flames silhouetted her hourglass shape and Johnny felt an ache begin to burn deep within him.
“She doesn’t approve of you hunting cougar?”
“No. Years ago she had a young cousin mauled to death by one of the big cats. She fears them.”
She sighed. “It just isn’t in you to have a safe job, is it?”
His lips twisted to a wry slant. “I’m not a safe type of guy. I guess I can thank my mother for passing on her wild streak.”
A grimace tightened her features. “You’re hardly wild, Johnny. Besides, somewhere out there you have a father who contributed half of your gene pool. I’ve always believed he must have been a good man.”
Holding back a cynical snort, he walked over to her. “Sure he was. He was such a good man that he stepped up to the plate and offered to take care of my mother and me. No, Bridget. You’re looking through rose-colored glasses.”
“How do you know that? You’ve never searched for him. You’ve never even tried to discover who he is.”
This was an old argument they’d had before. Johnny was amazed they were having it again, after all this time. But when Bridget believed something was important she hung on to it with the tenacity of a bulldog. Was that why she’d hung on to him?
Hell, Johnny. She hasn’t hung on to you. She’s simply hung on to the idea of the two of you being together again.
He rubbed a hand against the back of his taut neck. “It would be useless. Most of the old residents around here say he left the area years ago before I was ever born. But that’s just speculation. No one actually knows who my mother was…seeing at the time she got pregnant.”
“You’ve worked as a tracker. Surely you could put your skills to use and find him,” she suggested.
He swung his head back and forth. “I follow footsteps, marks and signs of movement over a terrain, not a paper trail or leads of hearsay.”
“You follow traces. It’s all the same.”
With his body slowly taking over his senses, it was becoming more and more difficult for Johnny to concentrate on what she was saying. She was like a light in the cold darkness and he couldn’t stop himself from moving close enough to touch her, smell her and breathe in her aura.
“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “I don’t even do that
anymore.”
There was a faint quiver to her pressed lips and Johnny desperately wanted to kiss it away, to feel them part beneath his and swallow her sigh.
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t want to talk about tracking. And I don’t want to talk about finding the man who sired me.”
Clearly annoyed with him, she taunted sarcastically, “What do you want to talk about, Johnny? The weather? Splitting wood? Feeding the goats? Anything that doesn’t involve your future?”
The heat that was already smoldering inside him threatened to burst into a flame. “You’re being insulting. Is that what you’ve become? A smart-mouthed woman?”
Her cheeks reddened and he was glad. If she was so set on hurting him then she needed a dose of her own medicine.
“You bring this out in me, Johnny. So if you don’t like what I’ve become, you can blame yourself.”
Unable to control himself, his hands reached out and curled around her shoulders. “Why do you want to provoke me, Bridget? I thought we could talk as friends.”
A pained look suddenly shadowed her green eyes. “That’s impossible, Johnny, because we’re more than friends. We always will be—whether you admit it or not.”
Even before his mind began to yield to his body’s wishes, Johnny’s hands were tugging her forward and into his arms. And then he was fastening his mouth over hers, tasting all the sweetness he’d missed and pined for.
For long moments he ignored the danger bells clanging in his head, the tiny voice screaming at him to end the pleasurable contact and step away from her. Having this woman, even for a few reckless seconds was like dark clouds rolling away to reveal a beautiful mountain-top. Surely he deserved these few moments, didn’t he?
The gnawing question managed to penetrate the few cool cells left in his brain and with a reluctant groan he lifted his head and thrust her from him.
While he sucked in ragged breaths, she stood with the back of her hand pressed to her lips and stared at him with wide, searching eyes. Johnny had to put up a hell of a fight with himself to keep from pulling her back into his arms.
“See what I mean, Johnny?” she whispered. “That attraction is too strong. You want me as much as I want you.”
“I’m not denying that.”
She stepped toward him and the distance he’d purposely put between them only moments before became little more than a hair’s width. Johnny told himself he should turn and leave the room. But he was so tired of running. From himself and from her.
“Your grandmother’s illness, her plea for me to help, it was all meant to be,” she said in a low, throaty voice. “It was a way for our lives to meet again. You can see that as well as I can.”
He couldn’t admit such a thing to her. To do so would rip away the wall he’d intentionally erected between them. And he couldn’t allow that to happen. Obviously, she still carried the rosy notion that her family would welcome him into the family with open arms. But Johnny would never expect the Donovans to accept him as Bridget’s husband. His mother had made certain of that.
“No,” he countered. “Grandmother got ill and you happened to be a medicine woman. Now she’s healed and this thing with us—is finished. Again!”
Her gaze continued to bore into his face. “You accused me of becoming smart-mouthed. Well, you’ve become a downright liar, Johnny Chino!”
Roused to the breaking point, he snaked an arm around her waist and crushed the front of her body against his. “I’m not lying about anything,” he seethed.
She laid her hand tenderly alongside his face and he closed his eyes and swallowed as a swell of emotion filled his heart. He’d loved this woman for so long that he couldn’t imagine not loving her.
“Then prove it,” she challenged.
His eyes flew open to meet her gaze head-on. “What are you talking about?”
“Take me to the cabin where we first made love,” she dared. “And once we’re there tell me that you don’t want me. Don’t love me. If you can do that, I’ll walk away from you and make sure our paths never cross again.”
Was that what he wanted? Johnny asked himself. For her to walk away from him forever?
Oh, God. It had to be.
And he had to end this torment between them once and for all.
“I can do that. I will do it,” he said flatly. “When do you want to go?”
Dropping her hand from his face, she said, “Tomorrow is Saturday and another doctor will be doing my hospital rounds so I have the day and night off. If the snow doesn’t get much deeper, I can be here by nine.”
A thrill of anticipation raced through him and just as quickly a mocking voice inside his head attempted to squash it.
This isn’t a beginning, Johnny. It’s an end. To everything.
“Fine,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll be waiting.”
She stepped around him and as Johnny watched her leave the room, he wondered where he was going to find the strength and the courage to resist her.
Chapter Eight
“Where are you going so bright and early this morning?” Brady asked, as Bridget joined her brother and the rest of the family at the breakfast table. “I thought you said you had the day off today?”
Reaching for the cup of coffee Reggie had poured for her, Bridget avoided making eye contact with anyone at the table. She didn’t like to lie to anyone. But she could hardly announce to her family where she was actually driving off to this morning. Unless she intentionally wanted to give her mother the vapors or father a heart attack.
Not that they would violently disapprove of her relationship with Johnny Chino. No. As far as Bridget knew they’d never displayed any sort of racial prejudice in front of their children. But they would be stunned that their daughter had had such a deep relationship with a man and they’d not been told about it.
Making her voice as innocent as possible she answered Brady, “I do have the day off. I’m just going to—get out and enjoy myself. Maybe walk around town and do a little shopping. I might end up spending the night in town with friends.”
“Good for you,” Dallas said as she smiled at her sister from the opposite side of the table. “It’s about time you thought of yourself for a change.”
Guilt clawed at her as she picked up a knife and quickly spread dewberry jam on a piece of toast.
“Better be careful on the roads, honey,” her father, Doyle, spoke up from his usual spot at the head of the table. “I think there might have been some sleet falling before daylight this morning. Maybe I should have one of the hands put chains on your tires.”
Smiling at his concern, she looked down the table at her beloved father. At sixty-eight, he was still handsome and robust and kept his finger on the pulse of the ranch in spite of being in semiretirement. Like his father, Arthur, Doyle had been a horseman all his life and had raised his family of six children the same way he’d raised his thoroughbreds, with a firm but loving hand. Bridget had always adored him and she only wished that everyone could have a father like hers.
“Thanks, Dad, but the Jeep handles the slick roads really well. I don’t think the chains will be necessary.”
Glancing around her, she noticed Liam’s chair was empty. Since he was the Diamond D’s horse trainer, he was in the same boat as Bridget. Their days were filled to the brim with work and people crying from all directions for their attention. Still, unless he was out of town, her older brother normally did his best to return from the barns to have breakfast with his family. “Where’s Liam?”
From the opposite end of the table, Grandmother Kate answered, “Louisville.”
Feeling as though she’d just emerged from a time capsule, Bridget frowned with confusion. “Louisville? We have horses running at Churchill? I thought Liam had decided to stick closer to the Western tracks?”
Across the table, her eldest brother, Conall, groaned with dismay. “It appears our resident doctor works so hard she doesn’t know what’s going on around here.”
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br /> Ignoring her brother’s comment, she looked to her sister. “What’s he talking about?” Bridget asked Dallas.
“Red Garland,” Conall interjected. “She’s qualified to run in the two-year-old filly juvenile sprint at the Breeder’s Cup.”
Amazed and a bit embarrassed that she was so out of the loop, she shook her head.
“Are you joking? One of our horses has qualified for a Breeder’s Cup race? This is incredible news!”
“He’s telling you right,” Brady assured her. “Isn’t it great? We’re all thinking about flying to Kentucky for the big event—the first weekend in November. Can you go? I know Liam would appreciate your support.”
“That’s less than a month away. I’m not sure if I can find a doctor to fill in for me at the clinic and the hospital. I’ll try, though,” she promised halfheartedly.
Normally Bridget loved to go on such outings with her family. And the prospect of going this time would be filling her with excitement if Johnny would accompany her. But as it was, she’d had to goad and push just to get him to take her to the cabin. And he’d only agreed to do that as a way to get rid of her for good.
Well, he wasn’t getting rid of her, she thought firmly. He was going to soon learn that her fight to keep the two of them together was only beginning.
“I’m glad it’s a fork handle you’re squeezing to death and not somebody. I’d have to arrest you for assault. Is anything wrong?”
Brady had dipped his head close to hers so that no one else at the table could hear him and Bridget got the feeling that he sensed all was not going right in her life. But that wasn’t surprising. The two of them had always been close and Brady had the uncanny knack of reading her thoughts, even when she didn’t want him to.
“No,” she answered. “I was just thinking about something I have to do today.”
“Humph. I never knew the prospect of picking out a pair of new high heels could be so agonizing,” he half teased.
With a playful roll of her eyes, she asked, “How often do you see me in a pair of high heels?”
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