As Jed had said, she was in the bedroom of one of the honeymoon suites.
She wore the contemplative look he’d come to know and distrust, considering it usually resulted in him moving heavy furniture around or standing forever with a prop in his hands. He’d also come to appreciate that it gave them more time together.
She was staring at a couple of glasses and a plate of strawberries sitting on the dresser. The sight of her so near the king-size bed gave him ideas he didn’t need to be having. When he strode into the room, he resolutely turned his back on the bed.
“Well, howdy, stranger,” Jane drawled.
“Missed me, huh?”
For a moment, she looked disconcerted, as if he’d hit the mark and she didn’t care for that. His certainty she had thought about him filled him with satisfaction.
She shrugged. “Let’s say I felt your absence, the way you feel residual pain after a splinter’s been removed from your finger.”
He laughed. “In other words, my memory stays with you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” He plucked a strawberry from the plate on the dresser and bit into it.
“Excuse me. Didn’t it occur to you I might have spent some time setting up that arrangement?”
“How could it not occur to me? I’ve watched you spend half an hour waiting for a sunbeam to fall just right.”
“You have not.”
“Close enough. But food is meant to be eaten, not stared at.” He reached for another strawberry and held it temptingly close to her mouth.
She hesitated for the briefest moment before taking a bite. The combination of cool fruit and warm lips against his fingertips made him hot all over. He saw her shiver. Saw her throat work as she swallowed hard. She took a half step back—reluctantly, he would swear.
He vowed to close that gap again before they finished this conversation.
Her laugh sounded unsteady. “Good thing I didn’t prep that plate for a real photo shoot.”
“Why?”
“A professional food stylist might have sprayed everything with cornstarch and water to make it shine. Or brushed it with oil. Or even have used fake strawberries.”
“Is that so? Well, you learn something every day.”
“I’d like to learn a few things, too.”
Maybe that explained why she had backed away. “Well, don’t be shy,” he murmured. The small line appearing between her eyebrows told him not to ask, but curiosity drove him to it. “Something wrong?”
“That was my question.”
Her tone sounded cool and businesslike. He was still too hot to care.
“Have you got a problem with Rachel talking with me,” she went on, “or is it me talking to Rachel that bothers you?”
“Neither.”
“Then why do you cut us off whenever we say something to each other—or even try to?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.” She smiled wryly. “I wish I’d had a tape recorder handy so I could play every conversation back for you.”
“Can’t your fancy cameras handle that job?”
She shook her head in mock despair. “Do I bring out the worst in you? Or is this just as good as it gets?”
He looked down at the Stetson he’d removed upon entering the hotel and fiddled with the brim. She had a point—though he’d eat an entire supper of fake food before he’d admit it.
On the other hand, he could tell her the truth about why he wanted to keep her and Rachel apart. Or at least, part of the truth. “Look. You and Andi don’t visit the ranch very often. Rachel barely knows you, but that wouldn’t matter to her. She’s got a tendency to latch on to folks very quickly.”
“Some people might call that a knack for making friends. It’s obvious you’re not happy with the two of us having a conversation. Why not? After all, it isn’t like I’m a complete stranger to you.”
“As good as.”
“After all these years?”
Her steady stare made his shoulders stiffen. He was botching this situation entirely, and they both knew it. He sure wouldn’t own up to the biggest reason he didn’t want her around his kids. But he had to do something to take that mistrustful look from her face.
“All right.” He sighed. “I can’t have you thinking I’m an ogre for not letting Rachel see her mama and a bastard for not being more accepting of my ex-wife.” He turned to lean against the dresser and cross his arms over his chest. It kept him from having to look in her eyes. “What do you know about Marina’s rise to fame?”
“She was an overnight sensation and she’s doing extremely well.”
“That about covers it,” he said. “One day on a trip to Santa Fe, she was discovered in an outlet store by some talent scout who handed her his card. Maybe some women would have laughed it off or forgotten it.”
“I don’t know. That chance would be a hard one to miss.”
“Marina didn’t miss it. She jumped on it. She was always meant for something bigger and better than Cowboy Creek. Or so she kept telling me. When she left, Eric was only a couple of months old. Rachel was three. They both took her absence hard. Very hard.”
“It must have been tough for you, too, being left with two babies.” She rested her hand on his arm. “I may not know much about kids, Pete, but I can tell what a good father you are. I can see you’re doing a wonderful job.”
He still couldn’t look her way, but the muscles in his shoulders unknotted. “Just trying to watch out for my kids.”
“The way my father did with me.”
Now he turned to look at her.
She smiled wryly. “Remember that first date you wanted me to tell you about?”
“When you were seventeen.”
She nodded. “My dad chaperoned. A Christmas Ball at the officers’ club.”
“That must have put a damper on things.”
“I managed.” She raised her chin defiantly, but her cheeks turned pink.
The sight pleased him. She was such a mix of sophistication and shyness. “Let me guess. That’s where you got your first kiss?” He’d figured the question would get to her, and it did.
Looking away, she ran her fingertips along the edge of the dresser. “Yes. At the end of the dance. Only I had to make the first move.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nobody messes with a general’s daughter.”
She laughed, and as always, the low, husky note drew him in, making him shift a half step nearer. Though her eyes widened, she didn’t back off. Neither would he. He rested his hand on the dresser. His fingertips brushed hers.
“We’ll see about that.” He smiled. “Remember, I’m not shy. Why don’t we find out the truth of that?”
“Why is the key word, cowboy.”
A telltale twitch at the corner of her mouth said she held back a smile of her own. “Because,” he said slowly, “there’s something between us that we ought to put a damper on—before it gets out of hand.”
“And a kiss is going to solve this?”
“Then you admit there’s something there?”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we have to act on it.”
Always good for an argument, this lady. Her defiant tone combined with the deepening pink of her cheeks only increased his need to kiss her. “Why not?” he murmured. “We could get it out of our systems. If you don’t agree, then why don’t you back away?”
“You first.”
He laughed. She was playing him—just the way he was playing her. As if this were their first dance, set to words instead of music. Set to end the way her first dance had done? He shuffled another half step toward her, moving so close she had to look up to hold his gaze. “Honey, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Neither am I.”
&n
bsp; He touched her face, his fingertips barely brushing her soft cheek. He ran his finger along her jawline. She didn’t move, didn’t protest, didn’t say a word. A first for her, in his experience.
Her silent acceptance was as good as an invitation.
Chapter Seven
Pete’s lips, warm and firm, tasted of strawberries. He pressed his mouth against hers and his hand against her back, as if he wanted more of her.
She wanted more of him, too. She touched his face with her fingertips, stroking the ridge of cheekbones, the scratch of late-day beard. Then she ran her hands through his hair, tugging him closer. If he meant for this kiss to put the damper on the attraction between them, she was darned sure going to enjoy the heat before the fire went out.
He kissed her long and hard and thoroughly, leaving her shaky enough to suspect New Mexico had been hit by an earthquake.
Then he eased up, turning his kiss soft and sweet. Sweet enough to make a woman lose herself in it.
She would have been lost, if not for the voice suddenly ringing in her head. Not the voice of reason, but the voice of his little girl. It wasn’t until she heard the question repeated that she realized Rachel stood only a few feet away.
Jane took her hands from Pete’s shoulders and forced herself not to think of what his daughter had just seen.
Later, in the privacy of her room, she would recall every lovely moment of every earth-moving touch. Now she had to act as if nothing much had happened. She only hoped she could rise to the challenge with Rachel standing in the bedroom doorway, both hands clapped over her mouth to hide her grin.
“What’s that you’re wearing, Rachel?” Pete’s question sent out a warning note. Frowning, he looked his daughter over from head to toe.
“It’s Jane’s shirt. And Paz let me wear her necklaces—look.” She lifted the cascading beaded ropes. “Red and blue and green and purple. I like the red one the best.”
“Why don’t you go visit with Paz in the kitchen?”
“But, Daddy, Jane’s going to take my picture.”
“Not today, sweetheart. Jane and I have to talk. You can show Paz and Tina and Andi how nice Paz’s necklaces look.”
She hesitated, her torn expression revealing she wanted to show off her borrowed clothes and jewelry as much as she wanted to protest. The idea of the fashion show won out, and she nodded happily. “Okay, I will.”
The sound of her footsteps hadn’t yet faded when Pete turned and said, “What’s with the outfit?”
“I was going to give Rachel an idea of what a photo shoot is like. Just some fun for her.”
He shook his head. “Don’t encourage her.”
“What’s the problem with taking a few photos? You may never use the camera on your phone, but other people must have taken Rachel’s picture in the past, probably many times. Aren’t you overreacting?”
“Maybe I am.” He shrugged, looked away, then looked back. “Maybe I’ve got reasons.”
“Well—” Catching herself, she nodded. “All right. But just so you know, the photos wouldn’t have been for the website. Even if I had planned to use them, I wouldn’t publish anything without your permission, if that’s your worry.”
“You don’t need to know all my worries.”
She inhaled sharply and bit her lip to hold back her instinctive response. The sting of her teeth against her bottom lip, tender from his kisses, almost brought her to tears. Not of pain but of regret. How could he kiss her so gently and sweetly, then moments later brush off her concern?
His reaction to the innocent situation seemed out of proportion, to say the least. Still, she had no clue where his anger was coming from or what other situations he might have faced in the past. As he had said, maybe he had reasons. And as she had learned from Tina and Ally on Saturday, he was a very private man.
“I’m sorry. Information is easily spread and just as easily gathered—possibly by the wrong people. As a journalist I know that, and as a parent you have the right—and the obligation—to protect your kids.”
“And I intend to.” Though he was frowning just as he had when he’d questioned his daughter, his voice had calmed considerably, too. “It’s not the photos. It’s Rachel. She’s already too wrapped up in herself. I’m trying to curb that, and your focus on her isn’t helping.”
“But this was no big deal. I was only going to take a few still shots. I thought Rachel—and you—would like the photos. She looks adorable.”
“And like she’s going to a funeral.”
“Black’s very fashionable.”
“Pink’s prettier on a little girl.”
“Well...you may be right. But the color of the shirt doesn’t matter, Pete. Rachel probably didn’t even notice or care. She just wanted to pretend. All little girls like to play dress-up.”
“You’ve had a lot of experience with kids?”
He had her there. “No. But I was a little girl once, too.”
“And you’re planning to have a few of your own someday?”
“Maybe...” Or maybe not. “When the right man comes along.” That ought to give him something to think about.
He eyed her for a moment. “It’s time for us to be getting home. Sharon will have supper ready. I’ll make sure you get your shirt back. Rachel will have plenty of opportunities to shine at the wedding and at her graduation.” He sighed. “Just do me a favor, and don’t question how I raise my kids.”
Before she could respond, he left the room.
He’d gotten the last word, but she hoped her remark about “the right man” had made an impression. At the very least, she hoped it proved to him he meant nothing to her. Their kiss meant nothing to her.
How could it, when it would never be repeated and she would soon go home?
She thought again of Rachel. Knowing Pete wouldn’t trust her around his daughter left her heartsick.
He was right about her lack of experience with children. She had no skills when it came to kids. And her job left her no time to raise a family.
But he couldn’t have known all that.
Why she wanted him to feel comfortable having her near his daughter, she really couldn’t say—except, to her surprise, she had begun to develop a soft spot in her heart for the little girl. Obviously, she missed her mother. Just as obviously, she needed another little girl to play with.
Rachel and Robbie were so isolated here on the ranch, just the way she had felt as a child, moving from base to base, always having to make new friends.
Worse, she suspected Rachel shared things with her she felt she couldn’t tell anyone else, especially her daddy, who, when he talked with her, “just looked sad.”
Maybe he didn’t have all the answers about kids, either. Surprisingly, the thought revealed another soft spot in her heart.
She rested one hand on her camera and with the other poked at the remaining strawberries on the plate.
Pete had tasted like strawberries when he’d kissed her.
She had to admit, kissing him in real life had been even better than in her fantasies. As was the man himself. Now that she understood what made him so uptight about her being near his children, now that she’d seen that protectiveness in action, she could view him in a different light. She saw him as a loving daddy, a champion and guardian, and as an even more interesting man.
And as one heck of a kisser.
A fling with him could easily have provided a nice diversion until she left the ranch. But now that damper he’d wanted to put into place had well and truly slammed shut.
* * *
NO MATTER THE pleasure Pete had found in kissing Jane—and he had found it a pleasure—he’d confirmed that giving in to his attraction was one hell of a mistake.
He couldn’t afford to make another one.
> Already, he’d gone over the edge when he had found Rachel all dressed up for a photo shoot. He’d told Jane his reasons for not wanting his little girl to get that kind of extra attention, and still she’d pushed him.
He could explain everything, could tell her about Rachel missing her mama and his need to protect her from more disappointments. But Jane was here only for another week or so, not long enough for him to get comfortable spilling his guts, yet way too long for his peace of mind as far as Rachel’s interest in her.
No, as he’d told Jane, she didn’t need to know all his worries. And he’d do best to keep both those worries and his hands to himself.
Rachel’s pouting on the way home didn’t help the situation.
When they reached the front steps, she dug in her heels like a contrary mule. “I wanted Jane to take my picture.”
“I know you did,” he said.
“And Jane didn’t ask me about helping me with the flowers. I said ‘today?’ and she said ‘today or tomorrow,’ remember, Daddy? But that was last week. And she promised.”
He set his jaw. He’d figured the woman wouldn’t follow through on that. More reason for him to keep his kids and himself away from her.
Sighing, he glanced at Rachel. They were on the verge of one of those long-delayed talks he needed to have with her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that’s the way life is. We don’t always get what we want.”
“Why?”
“Well—” he rubbed his chin “—sometimes, because the time isn’t right.”
“It was right today.” She turned to him, her green eyes bright with tears. “I had Jane’s shirt and Paz’s necklaces for the picture. I was all ready!”
“Yes. I know you were.” Even as her frustration sent his guilt soaring, it made him keep his voice deliberately level and low.
“Then why?”
“Because sometimes somebody else makes the rules.”
You’ll understand when you’re older.
Useless to say that to her. It hadn’t worked when his own father had tried it on him, had it? “Sweetheart, I know it’s not easy to understand, but you can’t always have things just the way you want them. Like when you’re playing with Robbie.”
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