He turned off the vehicle and just sat there letting his eyes travel over the land he had come to associate with her. This was the first time he’d been here since her death. He hadn’t been able to look at the tree where he’d carved their initials the first time he’d brought her home and where she’d spent quiet times reading one of her many romance novels. He hadn’t wanted to hear the frogs croak in the pond, knowing he would never hear Jeanette joke about them being princes who’d been trapped in a wicked witch’s spell and were calling out to princesses to come kiss them.
Now he forced his legs to walk across the soft grass to the willow tree. They’d often brought a blanket and sandwiches to enjoy on leisurely afternoons. They’d laughed and talked while eating and more times than not had made love. Sitting down, he leaned his head against the trunk and let the memories come. He had expected his heart to ache, but instead he felt only remembered joy.
Although he wished he could change the past and keep Jeanette from dying, he couldn’t. But he had no doubt that he’d made her happy in life. He’d been a good husband. He’d loved her with everything he had within him and had spent every minute of every day showering her with that love. That was all a man could do.
The truth, hard as it was for his heart to face, was that Jeanette was gone. He hadn’t had as much time with her as he would have liked—a million years wouldn’t have been enough—but the time they’d shared here had been the best of his life. Now he had a choice to make. He could mourn her loss forever or he could live again.
The answer came to him clearly and immediately. He was ready to live again. The guilt and fear that had kept his heart locked up tight were gone, leaving a small but growing hope for the future.
He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted Camille.
He took one last look around the quiet sunlit meadow, then whispered, “Goodbye, Jeanette.” He knew she was somewhere smiling, happy that he’d finally put his grief behind him.
* * *
Camille tugged on the stubborn weed, yanking it from between two pink flowers, then added it to the growing pile of undesirables. For the past three hours, she’d been clearing the landscaping surrounding the pool, taking out her hurt feelings on trespassing weeds. Could anyone blame her if she used a little more force than necessary?
The sound of an engine grew louder, and she was surprised Jericho was returning so soon. It was barely noon. He’d made it clear that he wanted to increase the distance between them, physically as well as emotionally, and to return to how things had been between them before last night. Before she had all but begged him to make love to her. He’d let her down easy, but still his rejection had felt like being dropped from the top of the Empire State Building. Her heart had splattered and she had barely managed to scrape it together.
Still kneeling, she leaned forward and stretched for a weed that was hiding beneath a yellow rosebush. She yanked on it but it didn’t give. Oh, no. Not today. She reached forward and pulled with all of her might. Finally the weed surrendered. If only her feelings were as easy to subdue.
“Hey.”
Camille jumped, backing into a rosebush and scratching her arm on a thorn. The pain was immediate, and she sucked in a breath. She’d been so busy trying not to think about Jericho that she hadn’t heard him approach.
“Are you hurt?” He knelt and reached for her.
She turned away from him, ignoring the flash of pain in his eyes. He didn’t get to reject her, then act like he cared. “No. It just stings a little. I would have worn a long-sleeved shirt, but I don’t have one.” Borrowing one of his was too personal, especially given the way he’d pushed her away last night.
Jericho shifted around so he could better see the jagged cut. He took her hand and gently turned her arm, then brushed a finger across the bloody streak. A couple of bright red drops dripped onto the ground. His touch set off tingles, and the burning pain of the cut vanished. “We need to take care of this so it won’t get infected.”
“I can do that on my own.” She tugged at her hand, but he tightened his grip, not so much that it hurt, but to make it clear he wasn’t going to let go.
“I know. But I want to help.”
Realizing that arguing was a waste of time, she let him lead her inside. Shadow had been nosing around in a rabbit hole that from all appearances had been empty for a long time. He lost interest in the dirt and dead grass and raced over, following them into the house. When they got to the bathroom, he nudged her knee with his nose and whined.
“Not now, Shadow,” Jericho said. He edged the dog aside, then grabbed a first aid kit from the old-fashioned medicine cabinet above the sink. He scrubbed his hands for so long he might have been prepping for surgery, then grabbed a cotton ball and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
“I think you’re making too big a deal of this.” It was just a scratch. Sure it stung a little, but it wasn’t going to kill her.
“You don’t want to risk an infection. Something simple can turn into a serious problem if it isn’t treated carefully.”
Since she knew how he’d lost Jeanette when everything had seemed all right, she made allowances for his overreaction. Despite evidence to the contrary, her heart squeezed, hoping this was a sign that he could come to care about her, too.
His hands were gentle as he washed her scratch, careful not to cause her more pain. They were a man’s hands, with little nicks and cuts, calluses and scars. Yet his touch was so gentle he could have been tending a baby. She longed to feel those strong hands caressing her body. He was standing so close his heat reached out and singed her, firing up her desire. Even though she knew better, she stepped closer.
He looked into her eyes. His were filled with concern and something else she couldn’t name. “This might sting a little.”
“I’m tough,” she joked, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. Once she’d loathed him. Now she couldn’t remember why she’d found him so detestable.
He raised an eyebrow, leaving her wondering how to interpret his expression.
He dabbed her arm with a dampened cotton ball, and her eyes watered.
“Sorry. I’m almost finished.”
“I’m fine.” She blinked back the wetness.
His focus was on her arm, so she took the opportunity to steal a look at him. He was undeniably handsome with his rugged jaw, beautifully shaped nose and lips, and intelligent eyes. His shoulders were broad and strong, tapering down to a trim waist and muscular thighs, the result of the physical labor he performed on the ranch. But he could have looked like the troll who lived under the billy goat’s bridge and he still would have been handsome to her. His kind heart made him beautiful. That compassionate heart allowed him to shelter someone who had been hateful to him. That heart had ignored its own pain to give three children a happy day on his ranch. How could she not have fallen for him?
“Done.”
Camille snatched her wandering mind to attention. Although Jericho was finished cleaning and bandaging the scratch, he still held her arm. They were standing so close that their breath mingled when they spoke. If either of them moved the tiniest bit, their lips would meet. And yet he didn’t step away. Neither did she.
The room, which was small to begin with, suddenly shrank to the size of a shoe box. She told herself to say thank you and go to a place where her heart would be safe, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the words.
His eyes dropped to her lips, and her heart stuttered to a stop. He’s going to kiss me. Her entire body vibrated with anticipation. Then he expelled a breath and stepped back.
“We need to talk.”
She forced a smile to cover her disappointment. Would her stupid heart ever get the message? “You’re the only man I know who actually wants to talk.”
His lips quirked into a crooked smile. He tossed the used cotton balls into the trash can and put away the f
irst aid kit. “I’ll be in the living room.”
Dread began to form a solid knot in her stomach, and her imagination began to take over. She didn’t think he had something nice to discuss with her. He’d been too serious for that. Perhaps he was going to tell her that he couldn’t force his heart to let her in. Of course, he wouldn’t use those words. Men didn’t talk that way. But the point would be the same. He didn’t want her.
Not particularly eager to face rejection again, Camille tried to conjure up strength, but she was all tapped out. So she stalled. She washed her hands, taking time to clean the soil from beneath her nails. Next she splashed water on her face, frowning at the amount of sweat and dirt clogging her pores. Finally she removed the scrunchie holding her hair in a messy ponytail. She finger-combed her locks, then pulled her hair back into a slightly neater ponytail. There was only so much she could do without a comb. Her shirt was smudged with dirt, but there was nothing she could do about that. Jericho hadn’t seemed to notice earlier, so she doubted it would make much difference now.
When she got to the living room, Jericho was peering out the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned and smiled when Camille entered, then offered her a glass of lemonade.
“Thanks.” She took the glass and swallowed a sip of the tangy liquid. The ice cubes jingled against each other, mimicking the jangling of her nerves. She didn’t know why she was on edge. She had a good idea what he was going to say. But even so, no woman wanted to be told her attraction wasn’t mutual.
“Do you want to sit outside, or have you had enough sun for the day?”
She headed for the door. “There’s no such thing as getting enough sun. I love the outdoors. No matter what’s going wrong in my life, there’s something about the fresh air and sunshine that makes it better.”
“I feel the same way,” he said as they stepped onto the porch.
She bypassed the chairs in favor of the top step. Leaning back against the rail, she took another swallow of lemonade before setting the glass on the porch floor. He sat beside her, closer than she expected. Camille wiped her hands on her shorts and waited. This was his show. She looked at him and noticed he seemed at ease. This was definitely the most peaceful she’d seen him look since she’d arrived.
“I took a walk down memory lane. Or rather a drive.”
“Oh.” He seemed to be waiting for more of a response. She couldn’t imagine what he expected her to say. She decided neutral was best. “Was it nice?”
“Yes. Unexpectedly so. I visited Jeanette’s special place. I had avoided that part of the ranch since I lost her. I didn’t think I could stand the pain of being there without her. But I was wrong.”
“Wrong how?” Camille’s stomach tightened with anxiety as she waited for Jericho’s response. Amazingly her voice sounded normal.
“There wasn’t any pain. At least not the kind I was expecting. It was a bittersweet experience. It felt strange to be there without Jeanette, but I wasn’t overwhelmed by sorrow. Instead I remembered the good times we had. There and in general. We had a great life.”
Camille didn’t know what to make of any of this. She didn’t know what he expected her to say, so she nodded. Luckily that satisfied him.
“But as good as those times were, they’re in the past. I can remember them, but I can’t relive them. For the longest time I refused to face that fact. Couldn’t face it. Now I have.” He looked directly at her, his eyes warm. “Because of you.”
“Me?” Her heart suddenly began galloping. She tried to breathe deeply but managed only a shallow breath.
He smiled and scooted closer to her. It was as if he was closing not only the physical distance but the emotional one, as well. “Yes. I spent more than a year numb and in limbo. Then you came along and helped me to stop wallowing in my self-pity.”
“Me?” Why was she repeating herself? And when had she begun to speak in a squeaky-mouse voice?
“You.” He took her hand in his. Despite the fact that his palm was rough, his touch was gentle. Soothing. She reminded herself not to get her hopes up. Just because Jericho had accepted that Jeanette was well and truly gone didn’t mean he’d suddenly fallen in love with her.
“Camille.” He grinned sheepishly and shook his head. “I didn’t see you coming.”
“I know. I just showed up and badgered you into letting me move in.”
He chuckled. “That’s not what I meant.” He paused, and her stupid heart began to hope despite having been crushed by this very man only yesterday.
“What did you mean?”
“I meant that I didn’t expect to have feelings for you.” He shook his head and muttered, “I’m messing this up.”
“No, you’re doing fine.” She didn’t want him to stop now. Not when he was on the verge of saying something she really wanted to hear.
He raked a hand down his face, then huffed out a breath. “I care about you, Camille. Not just about your safety, but about you as a person. A woman.”
“Really?” Her body began to tingle, and that stubborn hope she’d tried to pull like a weed had sprouted into a tree.
“Really.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Are you okay with that?”
Did he have to ask? “Yes.”
“Good.” His lips brushed against hers in the gentlest, sweetest kiss. It was as if a butterfly had landed on her mouth for the briefest moment and then flown away, stealing Camille’s breath. Although the kiss hadn’t lasted more than two seconds, the brevity didn’t detract from its impact. Wonderful, colorful stars sparkled behind her closed eyes, and a warm sensation skipped down her spine all the way to her toes.
If one tiny kiss could have her head spinning, what would she feel when they shared true passion?
Chapter Sixteen
Camille’s delicate body felt like heaven, and it was all he could do to keep his kiss light when he wanted to kiss her with the full desire that was raging inside him. Her heady scent only made the fire burn hotter. He controlled the yearning to scoop her into his arms, carry her to bed and make love to her until they were both exhausted.
She moaned softly, fitting herself more intimately to him, and sighed his name.
Unable to hold back, he intensified the kiss. She responded with equal fervor, opening her mouth beneath his. He slipped in his tongue, tasting her moist sweetness. His head spun, and he broke the contact. Standing, he held out a hand, which she took immediately.
Neither of them spoke as they walked through the house and up the stairs. When they reached his bedroom door, he hesitated. He couldn’t expect Camille to feel comfortable in that room—that bed—that he’d shared with his wife. She deserved a place where there were no memories. A place of her own, to match the one she now had in his heart.
He passed his bedroom and led her to the room she’d been using. When they stepped inside, she pulled her hand from his and backed away. She folded her arms across her chest. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he’d blown it.
He reached out a hand. She took several deep breaths while his breath was caught in his chest. Finally she took his hand, the first step in getting things back where they needed to be. “Let’s sit.”
She nodded and let him lead her to the bed. She sat farther away from him than he would have liked, but at least she was sitting. So maybe he hadn’t totally ruined things. Still, he had to tread carefully. One mistaken word and he might not get a second chance. Third, if you counted last night, which no doubt she did. He squeezed her fingers gently. “I think I lost you somewhere between the front porch and here. Or maybe it was down the hall.”
She blew out a breath.
“Talk to me, Camille. Let me know what you’re feeling. Tell me what I did wrong.” He kept his eyes on her face. He didn’t want to miss a nuance or physical signal. This was too important. She was too important.
“I started to feel that you were thinking of Jeanette and not me just now. I felt like the second choice. Or a substitute.”
He paused, thinking before he spoke, searching for the right words. “I can understand how you might get that impression.” She stiffened and started to rise. He pulled her back to the bed. “But you’re wrong.”
“I know love doesn’t die just because a person dies,” she said softly.
“True, but I’m discovering a heart can love more than once. At least mine can.” He waited, hoping she would respond. She didn’t. Apparently she still wasn’t convinced.
“I intentionally bypassed the room I’d shared with Jeanette.” He cupped her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was delicate, and he knew now her heart was even more so. “I didn’t want any shadows of the past hanging around. This is a new beginning for us. I didn’t want you to wonder if I was thinking of Jeanette when I was making love to you. Being in a different bed seemed the best way to remove any doubts that might pop into your mind. Obviously I blew that big-time.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his heart nearly stopped. His mind raced as he replayed the conversation, trying to figure out what he’d said wrong. He didn’t know any other words to explain his feelings. And now she was in tears. “I’m sorry, Camille. I never meant to make you cry. I’m trying to make things better, but I don’t seem to be succeeding.”
She laughed then, a choked, watery sound, but he’d take it over sobbing any day. A tear slid from her eye, confusing the hell out of him. Laughing and crying at the same time? Had he made things better or worse? He was almost afraid to ask. “Tell me what you need, Camille. I want to get back to where we were on the porch just now, but I don’t know how. I keep saying the wrong thing. What should I do?”
The Rancher and the City Girl Page 15