“He gave me more than one bloody nose. My dad would send us both to the stables and make us muck out all the stalls.”
“Your father was a very wise man.”
Ty seemed to consider. After a moment, he nodded. “I think he was. He was tough but fair. He was always gentle with my mother, though. He adored her. When she died—”
He stopped abruptly.
Carly knew he’d disclosed more than he’d meant to about his family. Ty had been a teenager when his mom had died.
“I’m sorry,” she said simply. “I know how it hurts.”
He pulled into a parking space at the resort. “How did we get on such a morbid subject?” He swung out of the car and came around to help her out. “It’s cool up here. You’ll need your jacket.”
He took it from her and held it while she slipped it on. His fingers brushed her neck lightly as he settled it on her shoulders.
Heat rushed to the spot, then spiraled down into the innermost parts of her. She hated to go inside. It had been nice, talking quietly to him about the past, sharing the loneliness.
She took a shaky breath. Loneliness wasn’t a basis for a relationship. So what was? She was afraid to answer that.
Chapter Eight
The reception was in full swing when Carly and Ty arrived. Genny Barrett rushed forward to greet them. “I’m so glad you could come. Tina said to expect you. She and Shane are sitting on the sofa where the crowd is. You’ll have to fight your way through to them. Rafe and I will talk to you later.”
“Right,” Ty said to their hostess as she turned to greet the next arrivals, then took Carly’s arm and guided her across the crowded room. Each person had paid fifty dollars for the ticket to the reception and the play that would be staged next week.
“This turnout should earn quite a bit for the new the ater and ensure a large audience for the new production,” he remarked to Carly as they wound their way through the huge room. “Do you want a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
He changed their course and headed for the bar. “What would you like?”
She recalled that he had once been a heavy drinker. The thought made her uneasy. “A ginger ale.”
He ordered her drink and a club soda. He cast her an oblique glance. “Except for a beer or wine, which we’ll probably have with our meal, I gave up hard liquor three years ago.”
“When you were divorced and you had your son to take care of on your own?” She was guessing.
Annoyance flared over his handsome face and was gone. “Don’t you ever keep your thoughts to yourself?”
“Sorry. The timing fit.”
“You’re right. Jonathan needed a father he could depend on. I’d do anything for my son.”
“Including marrying again?” she asked curiously. She studied his face as he paid the bar bill.
He handed her a glass. “No,” he said, so deadly quiet she knew he meant it.
The room seemed darker all at once. She managed a gay lilt of laughter. “I was told to watch out for you, that you change your women the way most men change their shirts.” She took a sip of ginger ale. It was icy cold and felt good to her tight throat.
He shrugged. “I’ve found that women build up expectations when a man sees them more than once or twice.”
“You’ve made it plain to me that anything more than the moment is out. Didn’t you warn them, too?”
He slugged down a drink of club soda. “Yeah, but some don’t listen. They can’t believe a man doesn’t need a woman to manage his life and fortune.”
“Jonathan thinks you do.”
“Jonathan is a child.”
Carly deliberately looked him over. “And you’re not.”
“No. And you damned well know it.” He gave her a grin that was both arrogant and endearing. “Let’s go see if we can have a snack. For fifty bucks apiece, we should get really great food, maybe some of those little hot dogs ‘wrapped in a biscuit,” he added facetiously, causing her to laugh.
She laughed again when they reached the refreshment table. The cocktail wieners, wrapped in a pastry crust, were neatly stacked in rows on a tray.
“Here. You hold the drinks. I’ll get the food.”
She took his glass in her right hand.
“You have a very alluring laugh,” he told her, piling food on a tiny plate, his gaze flicking briefly to her mouth.
She stopped smiling. This was dangerous, being with him, enjoying the moment with no thought of tomorrow. It would take so little to send them both over the edge….
“Not too much,” she reminded him when the stack of food threatened to overflow the plate. “We have dinner yet to go.” She took a drink of his club soda by mistake, made a face and sipped the ginger ale.
“Believe me, it will be at least nine before we eat.”
He was right. It was ten minutes before the hour before they and the other two couples left the reception, which showed no signs of ending soon, and retired to a private dining room.
“Oh, that was fun,” Tina said, sinking into a comfortable chair, her maternity top flaring around her as she did. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her toes.
She was dressed in a deep red outfit. Her eyes and skin glowed. Picture of a woman in love, Carly thought. Shane didn’t hover too much, but he kept an eye on his wife and was always close in case she needed an arm to lean on.
Ty, Carly noted, was also attentive to his sister-in-law. He brought her a glass of water while Carly drifted to the window and looked outside at the moonlit landscape.
She wondered if he harbored any lingering feelings for his brother’s wife. He’d thought he was in love with her at one time, according to the ranch women.
That had been ages and ages ago, when he’d been but a lad of twenty-one. Fourteen years. She’d have been sixteen then. That had been the year her foster brother, Brody, came to live with Aunt Essie. She suddenly missed him. He was a year older than she was, the one who’d always listened to her chatter without complaining.
“Penny for them,” Rafe Barrett said, coming to stand beside her at the window.
“I was thinking of my foster brother,” she told him. She gestured to the magnificent scene outside the window. “He would love it here.”
Night had settled in. Far away, lights twinkled in the valley, making it look magical. A fog bank was creeping up the river toward the small town tucked into a fold in the mountains.
“You’re lonely for your family,” he concluded, surprising her with his insight.
“Does it show?”
He shook his head. “Merely a guess on my part. My sister and I were raised in boarding schools. That was lonely, too.”
“Where is your sister now?”
“She’s married to one of the McPherson brothers. They have-”
“A ranch up near Crater Lake,” she finished for him. “I read a story in the paper recently. One of the brothers taught a roping class the other day after school. Ty’s son took part. Did you see it on the evening news?”
“Yes. Kids and calves running everywhere. It was pretty funny. Kerrigan handled it well. He and Rachel and their two kids spent the weekend with us. I had a plaque made up for him.”
She laughed as he described the award, which he’d had engraved with Hero in large letters.
“Dinner,” his wife announced after consulting with the waiter. They took their places at the table.
Ty’s arm brushed hers as they were seated. His eyes met hers. She saw anger in them and wondered what was wrong. Perhaps Shane had mentioned something that upset him.
However, he seemed to get over it in a short time. She found she was enjoying the company immensely as the evening progressed and his smiles came more often. He even teased her about her ranching experiences when Shane brought the subject up.
“I was a very good worker. Admit it,” she demanded.
“She was terrible,” he told the others behind his hand and dodged the slap she playfully tri
ed to deliver. “She can’t cook.”
When the waiter offered a brandy to Ty, he refused. She hesitated. She wasn’t light-headed, but she was feeling pretty happy. Perhaps she shouldn’t overindulge.
“Go ahead,” he murmured close to her ear. “I’m driv ing.”
“Well, one more.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s mid night,” she gasped in surprise.
“Going to turn into a cinder maid?”
“More likely a pumpkin,” she corrected, patting back a yawn.
“Me, too,” Tina said, also yawning. “Of course, I am a pumpkin.” She made a comical face while the others laughed.
They chatted a bit longer over brandy and coffee, then walked down the steps and outside. Fog hung over the valley, gossamer and ethereal in the moonlight. Snow glittered on the peaks.
Shane and Tina said good-night and went to their car. Their host and hostess added their farewells and went teward the condos rising on the side of the hill like phantoms of the night.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Carly said on a catchy breath.
“Yes.” But he wasn’t looking at the scenery.
They walked to the car and started down the winding road into the valley. The fog closed around them, blurring the moonlight to a hazy glow. The taillights of Shane’s vehicle winked in and out, then disappeared in front of them. On the interstate highway, the fog was worse. She felt safe and snug inside the warm car.
“I should have brought my car,” she murmured, “then you wouldn’t have to drive down to Yreka in this.”
“Do you think I would let you drive it alone?”
She thought it over. “No,” she said. “You’re very gallant when it comes to women.”
He gave a low snort. “Women don’t like that sort of thing nowadays. It’s old-fashioned to let a man take care of you. I don’t suppose you plan on staying home and having babies once you’re married.” He gave her a quick look, then peered back at the road, which seemed to shift, too, as the fog moved across it.
“I don’t think I’ll ever marry. I’m going to be a famous entrepreneur and—” she smothered a huge yawn “—and… I forgot what I was saying.” She lapsed into silence.
He slowed to a crawl. “The fog is getting worse,” he muttered under his breath. It was growing steadily worse as they neared the river. Visibility was sometimes no more than ten feet.
“Maybe we shouldn’t try to get to my place. Isn’t there a motel at the next exit?” She squinted against the obscuring mist and tried to remember where she’d seen the sign for the place.
At the exit, they found the road was blocked by the highway patrol. “Bad accident down the road,” the trooper told them, recognizing Ty. “The highway is closed.”
“You have any idea how long it’ll be before it’s cleared?”
The trooper shook his head. “Not anytime soon. It’s a five-car pileup. This fog is a killer.”
Carly felt sorry for the patrolman. He looked tired. Ty took the exit. He stopped at the intersection with the country road. “There’s a back road to the ranch. You could stay at my place. That would be the sensible thing to do.”
Her heart stopped, then gave a giant lurch. She forced a nonchalant amusement into her reply. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic. I might think you want me.”
“I do. That’s the problem,” he said, sounding as snarly as a sore-tailed dog.
“I know. I want you, too.” She sighed. Life could get in such an impossible coil.
He studied her in the dim light from the dash, then turned onto the road. A mile down it, he turned onto another road, one that was gravel. They crept up and down the fog-bound hills. The fifteen-mile trip took almost an hour. She realized he really was taking her to his house.
Well, it was the only practical thing to do, she decided while her insides curled into knots.
When they crossed the bridge and entered the long driveway that led to his house, her heart started thumping loudly. Ahead of them, the headlights barely cut through the fog.
It was a relief when the garage door slid open to let them inside. She felt both safe and vulnerable—safe because they’d escaped the fog without accident, vulnerable because she’d have to stay the night in his home, knowing he was close by.
The house was totally dark when they entered. Ty flicked a switch, and soft light brightened the hallway and the stairs. He led the way up the marble steps. “You can use this bedroom.”
He touched the switch that turned on a lamp and stepped back for her to enter.
Carly glanced back down the steps. The house seemed curiously vacant. “Where’s your baby-sitter?”
“Jonathan is spending the night with Martha and Buck.”
“Oh,” she said, then “Oh” as the implications hit her.
“Are you going to faint at the thought of being alone in the house with me?”
He waited, a mocking gleam in his eyes as she struggled with an answer. She wanted to demand to be taken home at once, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Hardly,” she replied with remarkable calm considering that her heart and lungs were working in fits and starts. “This room is fine. Could I borrow a T-shirt to sleep in?”
She held his gaze until he nodded. When he turned and walked down to the end of the hall, she entered the bedroom.
After laying her purse on a table, she removed the sequined jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. Then she stood in the center of the room with her hands cupped around her elbows while she waited for Ty to return.
Her gaze was drawn irresistibly to the bed.
The queen-size mattress was covered by a floral spread that matched the yellow, white and green print on the chair. The drapes were striped in the same hues. The sheer undercurtains were a soft golden beige.
A selection of books and solitaire-type puzzles and games was available in an oak bookcase flanking one of the windows. A small bureau and a lamp table next to the chair completed the furniture.
From the window, the fog eddied around the house like ghosts wearing ragged sheets. The low moan of the wind around the eaves caused her scalp to prickle and tighten.
She heard a sound behind her and whirled around with a gasp.
Ty stood in the doorway, watching her with a curious gaze. He held out a pajama top. “Will this do?”.
She stared at the garment as if it might attack at any moment. “Uh, yes. Of course. Thank you.” She took a step toward him.
His dark eyebrows went up fractionally as he dropped the nightshirt on the chair. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and rolled his shirt cuffs up. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”
Involuntarily, her gaze skittered to the window. She swallowed and shook her head.
“I think you are.”
“No.” She clasped her arms tightly against her, drawing inward as she reacted to emotions she couldn’t name.
He crossed the polished wood floor and stood in front of her on the braided-rag rug. “You’re trembling.”
His voice was low and soothing, with the cadence of a lullaby. It strummed over her taut nerves like the bow of a violin held by a master musician. With quiet despair, she stepped forward.
“Would you hold me?” she whispered.
Several thoughts raced across his face, too fast to read. Something raw and elemental blazed into his eyes. “What if I can’t let you go?” he asked quietly.
“Maybe I don’t want you to.” She managed a shaky smile.
He opened his arms. She took the step to bring her close. His arms closed around her, holding her but not pressing.
She clenched her hands on his shirt, gathering up the soft white cotton in her fists, then sighed as she leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes.
In the silence, she could hear his heartbeat, solid and strong beneath her ear. After a minute, he rested his cheek on her head. The trembling quietened as his warmth seeped through her.
“You always smell so
good,” he murmured. “Like lemon basil, sort of sweet and tart at the same time, but with an undertone of spice. Your own special scent. I like it.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you remember that day you were shelling peas on the porch? You dropped one. I picked it up and ate it.”
“Yes.” She was so sleepy she could hardly talk. “You left right after that.”
“I had to.” His voice went deeper. “I wanted to… do things to you.”
She lifted her head and stared at him. He smiled, and it tore at her heart. It was both wistful and cynical.
“You scare me,” he confessed.
“Why?”
“Holding you reminded me of things I’d forgotten. I didn’t want to remember how it felt to admire a woman, to want to share things with her.”
“What things?”
“Quiet conversation, observations on life… things.”
“I see.” She laid her head against his chest again.
His hands moved over her back as he massaged the muscles at either side of her spine. Her head felt so heavy, as if the long fall of hair weighed a ton. Slowly, she let her head tilt back until she stared up at him again, her strength barely sufficient to hold her eyelashes up enough to see him.
“When you look at me like that,” he whispered, almost to himself, “as if the world were filled with wonder, it makes me wonder what you would do if I kissed you.”
“I think I would kiss you back.”
He smiled slightly. “Would you?”
As the world stood still, he bent to her, not to her lips, but to her neck. He kissed her on the pulse that beat in her throat. A sigh escaped her, a tiny sound of need she couldn’t suppress.
His hands tightened, then moved again. He stroked up and down her side with one hand, coming perilously close to her breast as he did. His lips continued to maraud her neck.
Tantalizing sensations shot over her from every caress. Acting purely on instinct, she moved, turning her body slightly so that his hand grazed the side of her breast.
But that wasn’t enough, either. Impatient for more, she followed his hand when he would have moved it away.
Tension turned his body rigid for a second, then he slid his hand over, covering her breast with his palm. She sighed and arched against him.
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