Alexandria had heard that speech over and over in the beginning, but not much lately. She sat back, dropped her reins, and rubbed her neck.
“Headache?” he asked as he rode by, more a statement than a question.
“Just a little.”
He gave no reply but continued at a slow, very relaxed lope, offering himself as an example of the kind of pure, serene, easygoing movement she was looking for.
By lunch, he’d worked her mercilessly, putting her on five different horses when she usually rode three. There wasn’t much satisfaction in his role as slave driver, but he was unable to stop. Admirably, she was up to the challenge, and although she was obviously hot, tired, and disgusted, she never whined or broke stride, which made him feel more like a dog than ever.
Over and over during lunch on the porch in the shade of the huge oak, Jackson tried to relax. He was irritable, and even the simplest of things came out much too edgy and brittle. He knew how he sounded, but it was impossible to do otherwise. The woman was driving him crazy, and he was powerless to defend himself.
The worst of it was that even when she should have taken him to task for his snippiness, she didn’t. She acquiesced to his every wish, making him feel more the heel, more guilty with every word. Later, as he schooled Alexandria his efforts to be patient were fruitless. They had worked an hour or more, and all living things were hot and tired. He had just put her on a new horse, one that had a few lazy habits, and the herd was beginning to sour in the heat.
“No. You can’t change your mind,” he bit into her. “Once you pick a cow from the herd, you have to go with that one.”
“I didn’t change my mind,” she said, finally showing a little spunk. “The second cow just leaped ahead and then what was I to do? Let it go?”
“You have to be able to read them better than that,” he answered, happy that she had finally come back at him. “Next time take that brown cow a little way down the fence before you quit. You need to get that horse to work out a little farther from the herd. He wants to get in too close.”
He watched Alexandria grit her teeth and move into the herd. The brown cow in question wanted to hide among the rest and she was having a terrible time making the cut. He should have seen and understood her problem.
“Get aggressive,” he prodded instead. “Go in there and make it happen,” Jackson added, his humorless growl digging at Alexandria the way her spurs dug at her mount to urge him on. “Go. Don’t stop now.”
“I’m doing the best I can,” she answered impatiently.
“Don’t quit on that horse now. He needs to get it together. You both are capable of doing it; you just have to cowboy up!”
Alexandria pulled the horse to a stop, threw the reins on his neck, and slapped one arm across the other.
“That’s right, pout,” he said, his voice softening despite the look on his face. “You aren’t going to get good by giving up. I thought Alexandria Payne never gave up and never lost.”
She looked his way and shot the most scathing silent reprimand she had left in her. Sweat was pouring off her face, and her clothes stuck to her body. He looked calm and cool. It wasn’t fair. “I need a break. I’m exhausted.”
“You had a whole day-and-a-half break. You should have been resting instead of—”
“Instead of what?” She spat the words at him. “That’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it? You’re jealous that I went somewhere and maybe had a good time? What do you do to have a good time, huh, Jackson? Or maybe you never do?” The dam had broken and the words came tumbling out in a rush of breathless, pent-up emotion. “You drive yourself and everyone around you looking for that perfect cut. Is that why you have no other students? Because they can’t cut it, literally or figuratively.”
The silence was as heavy as the stale air in the indoor arena. For what seemed like minutes, but was seconds in reality, they stared at each other, the only sounds that of the breathing animals and the stomping of the stock. There was something in his eyes that told her she was on the verge of going too far.
She silently cursed herself. For a woman who wanted to impress a man, she was sure going about it the wrong way. “I’m sorry.” She picked up her reins. “Move the brown cow down the fence,” she said almost to herself as she moved away.
Jackson watched her work into the herd and try to separate the belligerent brown cow. He had told her to take that particular cow as a test and knew she would have a devil of a time moving it away from the herd. The horse she rode was not going to be a help either. He almost reneged and told her to take another cow, but his pride had been hurt and she had come dangerously close to prying into matters he considered private.
Scrutinizing her every move, Jackson wanted to lighten the mood. “Come on, you’ll have to do better than that. I was going to challenge you to a match at Temecula, who scores highest, but I don’t think you’re up to it.”
“You’re on,” she answered in haste, still watching the brown cow hunt for a way out. “The pupil will whip the professor.”
The brown cow challenged her, and Jackson reveled in the fact that she met the challenge and was, in fact, beginning to move the brown cow away. Just a little farther down the rail and he would call her off.
Suddenly the brown monster turned and charged the horse, which panicked and tried to run backwards and sideways at the same time. Alexandria sat the storm well, but as the horse began crow hopping, she lost a stirrup. The cow, now on the prod and unwilling to quit, continued to attack.
Jackson spurred up and rode closer, but not so close that he added to the wreck. Alexandria’s horse writhed in fear and anger, and as the brown cow smacked into its shoulder, things fell apart.
Alexandria’s body swung wide to the left, in the direction she had no stirrup for support, and she fell off.
Jackson was already on the ground and running toward her.
The cow narrowly missed stepping on her. The horse shied and ran.
It all happened so fast there was hardly time to think, but the one thing that entered and stuck in Jackson’s mind was that she might be hurt and that it was his fault.
He ran to her as she sprawled across the cool dirt, face first. Kneeling, he grabbed her shoulders and carefully turned her to him, cradling her in his arms. “My God, Alex, what have I done? Are you all right? Please, you’ve got be all right.”
Spitting dirt, she groaned and began to move.
“No.” He held her tight, afraid of what might have happened. “Be still a minute and just breathe. I’m so sorry.”
Alexandria suddenly was quiet. Tears slid down her cheeks. She wanted so very much to be here in his strong arms, but she also wanted passion, not fright, to be the reason.
He released his hold on her as she sat up.
“You are hurt.” A tortured look spread over his face. “We’re done for today, Alex. I pushed you too hard and I’m sorry.”
“No, I…” she whispered while she rotated first one shoulder then the other, “I’m OK. I’m fine,” she said, sounding less than positive. “Just a little roughed up, perhaps, but I think I’m all right.”
He wiped an errant wisp of hair from her face. His work-roughened fingers brushed dirt from her cheek, then loitered near like a starving man stays near a banquet table.
His eyes met hers and it was understood that the moment was theirs. No one was thinking about money, neither was thinking about anything except the other. His hand moved to her neck and pulled her closer.
“Shhh.” He supported her chin with his thumbs and tipped her face toward his. “I knew that cow was trouble. I’m so sorry I did this to you,” he whispered, his gruff tone music to her ears. “I want to kiss away the hurt.”
She leaned into him, thankful he was close and thankful the wait was over. The first kiss was so gentle, she thought she was dreaming. His lips were warm as the summer breeze, and unlike the first kiss weeks ago, Alexandria wasn’t thinking about how impossible he was. Her body
was screaming for more and whatever sensibility she once possessed had evaporated like the morning mist.
One kiss led to another and another.
“Alex is back,” he said, his mouth moving hungrily over her throat as she stretched like a cat enjoying the miracle of his touch.
“Yes,” she agreed, both mentally and verbally. “Alex is back and loving everything about horses, cutting, this place, and…” Her fingers touched his cheek and then his lips as she sat up. “Jackson, I…”
He pulled her back to him to remind himself of dreams that almost came true, and silenced her with a final kiss. He then drew back and brought them both back to reality. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, Alex. I know you said I was part of a summer dream, but I’m hoping you know there’s more to it than that.”
Looking to her hands, now drawing figures in the dirt, she remembered how he’d looked when she’d told him that first kiss was nice but going nowhere. She’d been struggling for control then, but now it didn’t seem to matter. She looked up to him, sitting in the dirt beside her, his jeaned legs touching hers, surrounding her like his heart surrounded her soul.
“I always finish what I start.”
“Including engagements, because, Alex, I’m not going to romance another man’s woman. I’m not that kind, and I’m willing to bet you’re not either.”
“No,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m not,” she said, knowing this was where she wanted to be and growing more determined with each word. “Paul and I—”
She was stopped cold by the instant anger in his eyes and felt compelled to increase her hold on his neck. He broke her grip and set her hands in her lap.
“We talked.”
He brought one foot under him and propped an elbow on his knee. “And?”
“And I told him we were no longer engaged; we both knew it was largely a business relationship from the beginning and…” She faltered when the reality of what she was about to say hit her. She cleared her throat but couldn’t look at him for fear of seeing rejection in his eyes. “And…” She suddenly took refuge in Alexandria. “I have reassessed my priorities and found something…” she had to clear her throat again to finish. “Someone, who”—she looked directly into his delicious brown eyes and her courage was renewed—“someone who frightens me a little, but excites me like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”
“Alex,” he said as he stood, his voice husky and soft, “don’t do this to me. I can’t kiss you again only to have you run away. I keep trying to forget the two days you just spent with your fiancé, and I’m no fool.”
She shook her head. “I told you, we’re not engaged anymore.”
He laughed. “And realistically, you’ll be gone in a week or so, and I’ll just be a memory.”
“No, Jackson.”
“No, what? You won’t be gone in a week or I won’t even be a memory?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer, so she didn’t.
“I’ll put our horses up. You stay here or, better yet, go to the house and take a good hot shower. That’ll help take some of the soreness out.” He turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 7
Memory…the melancholy words to the Broadway song, “Noise from traffic nearby, unseen people talking, the clatter of dishes from somewhere below, sounds she never heard before,” drifted through Alexandria’s mind. She tried not to imagine Jackson ever being a mere memory, but knew that was what loomed ahead if she couldn’t find a way to talk to him. His back to her, every step he took as he walked across the arena and away from her tore a little more from her heart, drove another nail in the door closing their relationship.
Her persuasive talents were known from one end of the country to the other and in many circles in Europe; why, then, was it so impossible to express herself to Jackson? Why did she choke up like a junior partner? Standing, alone, frustrated, and suddenly feeling cold and numb, she hid her face with both hands while she tried to think. Take Jackson’s advice. She wiped away dirt and sticky sweat from her cheeks and forehead, then continued on to rake her fingers through her hair. The biggest challenge of her life had just walked away and she was powerless to stop him. Maybe a shower would cleanse body and soul.
Half an hour later, the pounding hot water had worked its magic on her stiffening muscles, but left her soul still wanting. Wanting Jackson. Wanting his arms around her and his lips on hers. Wanting a meeting of minds and hearts that would satisfy them both. She curled in his chair by the window and looked toward the barn where he was. His house was silent. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, drank in the smell of his house and memorized the feel of it. She wished the simple mobile home could tell her what words to use to give her a place inside his heart.
She had never felt the pull of family, but this simple place felt like it held the key to all that was missing. Kids giggling and shouting, running through the sprinklers on a hot day; a mother and father settling in together on a rainy day and wondering how they were going to entertain their brood; sweet, meaningful smiles between a man and a woman.
A hawk flying overhead called out to its partner in a shrill shriek, and instantly her thoughts turned toward the barn. She wished she could be a mouse, hidden from sight but able to see and hear everything Jackson did, but quickly the idea failed. She didn’t want to be an outsider. She didn’t want vicarious thrills, she wanted the real thing, she wanted Jackson. Had she known that he fared no better than she at the moment, that his confusion was just as complete as hers, she might have seen some glimmer of hope.
His thoughts practically mirrored hers, his frustration was as hers, his yearnings were the same. He’d never been an eloquent speaker, but Jackson usually knew what he wanted and had little trouble getting it—until Alexandria Payne stepped into his life. Like a robot, he put both his horses up, turned them out, and began with Alexandria’s mount. He dropped the breast collar and cinch and was about to pull the saddle when he stopped. Gently he ran his fingers over the place her leg had been and where she had been sitting.
The leather was cold, but he swore he felt heat. She was the most apt student he’d ever trained and had enough talent to do whatever she pleased with a horse. Jackson smiled and thought to himself that it wasn’t only horses she mesmerized; she’d worked him into a lather like an over-eager colt and left him begging for more. He drummed his fingers on the seat for an instant, then slapped the saddle and pulled it off to put it away, like he wanted to put thoughts of her away.
He needed to ride one more horse, but knew better than to work when his mind was not focused on business. The turbulence called Alexandria thinned his patience, piqued his temper without cause, and flawed his strategy.
Habit took over chores and he worked absently, quickly, efficiently at first. Little by little, he slowed as his mind centered on Alexandria. What would happen when he went back to the house? Would she be angry or meek? Could he take her in his arms or would he pretend he wasn’t on fire for her?
The more he tried to predict the outcome, the less he hurried. The more he realized he had no idea what would come, the more intrigued he was with the woman who still had not let her hair down, whose mouth cried out to be kissed and whose body tempted even a saint. This was the point, total frustration, where he usually decided to counsel with Joker. His friend always listened and never gave bad advice. He picked up a brush, took an apple from the bag, and went to the pen behind the barn.
“I think you like her too,” he told the old horse who nuzzled him for more. “She is gentle and generous—you know she’s responsible for the apple.” He brushed for several minutes, but found no answer to the problem she posed. “I suppose you’re being close-mouthed for a reason. Must be that I have to figure this one out for myself. Well,” he stroked the wise old campaigner, “guess I’d better go face my dragon and find out if I’m smart enough to slay it.”
He strolled to the tack room, replaced the brushes, and began to wipe dow
n the equipment they’d just used. As he worked, the romantic in him wanted to step boldly forward, take her into his arms, kiss her until she was senseless with passion, then sweep her into his bedroom and make her forever, indelibly his.
Of course, his next thought was that the night would be a wild one. Alex was no ordinary woman. Finished cleaning, he stopped, leaned against the tack room doorjamb, crossed his arms, and sighed. He could think of worse ways to go, but he would much rather have her wanting him as much as he wanted her.
But it was clear she didn’t want him. She’d just spent two days and a night with her fiancé, and whether or not it was the perfect relationship, he knew better than to step in where he wasn’t wanted. He pushed off the door, closed it, and took a deep breath. Logically, there was nothing more to do here, unless he started on odd jobs that had already been put off and could reasonably wait even longer. It was his house. She was his guest. He should have no dread of going home, but as he began the long walk up the hill, the part of him she stirred was not convinced.
Was she watching?
Would she be waiting in the living room for him or would she be naked in his shower?
Hating himself for indecision and for wanting something that might never be his, he trudged on. Nothing was certain, he thought as he tried to put determination in his pace. About halfway there, he gave up. It felt like there was more swagger and false bravado in his walk than real courage, and Jackson was no fool. It was senseless to try to be something he wasn’t. And what he was was a man reeling in frustration, confused by his inability to get what he wanted…right now.
The hike up the driveway had never seemed so long or so difficult. He had no idea what he was going to say, but his plan was to let her begin. He stepped on the front deck, the sound of his feet a surreal sound to him. The screen door squeaked for the first time ever as he opened it, announcing his arrival. He stepped inside and saw her in his chair; instantly he knew she had been watching. The knowledge warmed him. He let go of the screen. It slapped behind him, but he heard nothing because she was silent. Slowly he came to her.
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