by Sherry Lewis
“I’ve just had a great idea.” His voice came out gruff with longing. He pretended not to notice and so, thank God, did Marti. “Why don’t you follow me home and join us for lunch? It will give you a chance to spend time with Cameron when he’s on his best behavior. Unless you have other plans?”
If possible, her smile grew brighter. “I’d love to.”
He felt the silly grin creep across his face again, but this time he didn’t even try to get rid of it. He pulled two packs of soda from the cooler, adjusted everything in one hand so he could rest his other one on her back and followed her to the front of the store.
She stopped once to pull a can of coffee from the shelf, once more for non-dairy creamer and sugar, then took her purchases to the cash register.
Greta kept her face a perfect mask, but Rick could see the approval in her eyes when she looked at him. To his surprise, he wanted this woman who obviously cared deeply for Marti to approve. After all, she might be the only person around who did approve of their silent decision to explore the attraction between them. Marti’s family certainly wouldn’t like it, and neither, he thought sadly, would Jocelyn’s.
MARTI PLUGGED a tape into the cassette player in the rental car and followed Rick down the mountain. She didn’t let herself question her reasons for agreeing to have lunch with him. She’d seen the look in his eyes. She’d seen the smile that matched her own whenever she was near him.
She’d had enough of surly attitudes, hostility and thinly veiled threats to last a lifetime. She’d met someone who enjoyed her company and who didn’t talk to her as if she were a child. She wouldn’t let anyone make her feel guilty for seeking his company—not even herself.
Pulling off the highway, she followed him into the parking area in front of the cabins. He hopped from the truck and hurried across the ice to her car. As she watched him walk—his legs long and lean, his shoulders broad and strong—a splinter of desire knifed through her. She’d tried for nearly a week to forget his kiss, to stop thinking about the way his arms felt around her and the muscles in his legs supported her when she sat on his lap. She’d even managed to convince herself she’d been successful. But now honesty forced her to admit she’d failed miserably. She hadn’t forgotten, nor did she want to.
He stopped beside her car and opened the door. A little embarrassed by the direction her thoughts had taken, she left her groceries in the car and hooked her bag over her shoulder.
As he had at the store, he put one hand on the small of her back as they walked. She liked the way it felt there. Strong. Sure. Confident. But as they neared the house and Cameron, she had to work harder to relax. Would Cameron really be on his best behavior, or would he embarrass them both in front of Rick’s family?
Rick’s smile faded. “Is something wrong?”
She started to shake her head, then stopped and said honestly, “I’m just a little nervous about Cameron.”
He looked relieved for some reason. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.” He opened the front door and waited until she stepped inside, then came in behind her. He stood close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his body. His fingers brushed her shoulders when he helped her with her jacket, and she melted into his touch for a second.
But before she could even look at him again, one of his nieces—the younger one—bounded into the room. She skidded to a stop on the hardwood floor when she saw Marti. “Oh. Hi.”
Marti smiled, but heat flooded her face and she wondered if the girl had noticed the way she’d leaned against Rick. “Hi.”
“This is my niece, Kendra,” Rick said. “Ken, I’d like you to meet—”
“Mrs. Johansson.” Kendra finished for him and grinned again. “Yeah. We’ve met.”
“You have?” His eyes widened slightly, but he smiled easily and motioned for Marti to step into the living room.
“Yes. Briefly.” Marti tucked a lock of hair behind one ear and tugged on the hem of her sweater, both nervous habits she usually managed to keep under control. “I ran into the girls while I was taking a walk the other day.”
“Oh.” He grinned as if it were the best news he’d heard all year and turned to Kendra. “Is lunch ready?”
“Almost.” The girl glanced over her shoulder as if she needed to confirm her answer, then grinned back at them. “Should I get Cameron and Dad?”
Rick nodded. “Sure.”
Marti watched the girl scamper to the front door. Almost as an afterthought, Kendra pulled her coat from its hook and slipped into it. “Back in a minute.”
She looked so eager, Marti wondered if she always acted that way or if maybe she had a crush on Cameron. She hoped for the latter. It might make Cameron more reluctant to behave badly during lunch.
Rick touched her again, the merest brush of his hand against her back, but it made her breath catch. “Do you want to join the others in the kitchen, or wait here?”
She wanted more than anything to spend a few more minutes alone with him, but she didn’t say so. “We can join the others.”
He led her into the kitchen and put the soda and chips on the counter by Lynette, who was already surrounded by an open loaf of bread, three empty tuna cans, a head of lettuce and a half-empty jar of mayonnaise. “I brought company for lunch,” he said. “Marti Johansson...Lynette Waverly.”
Lynette sliced a sandwich in half and placed it on top of the others she’d already stacked on a plate. She glanced at Marti and smiled. “Yes. You’re Cameron’s mother.” In the next instant, she saw Rick’s hand on Marti’s shoulder and her smile slipped.
The change in attitude surprised Marti, but she tried not to let it bother her. “Can I help you with anything?”
“It’s all ready.” Lynette focused on another sandwich, but her lips pursed in a tight frown.
Marti looked at Rick to see if he’d noticed. He hadn’t. Smiling easily, he pulled out a chair for Marti and nodded toward the six-pack on the counter. “I hope I got the right kind of soda.”
Lynette glanced briefly at the cans. “It’s fine.”
Rick crossed to the cupboard and pulled out a large bowl. Still oblivious to the tension radiating from Lynette, he opened the bag of chips, poured them into the bowl and carried it to the table.
But Marti couldn’t ignore Lynette. She wondered if life with Cameron had made her overly sensitive to it, or if she was misreading Lynette’s suddenly sharp movements, but she didn’t think so.
Rick started to sit beside her, but the telephone rang and stopped him halfway into his chair. He stood again quickly, obviously surprised. “I wonder who that could be? Everyone I know is right here.”
Lynette wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll get it. I left a message for Ryan to call.”
“You’re busy,” Rick said, and started toward the door. “I’ll get it in the other room.”
When he left the room, Lynette ignored Marti for several long seconds, then flicked a glance at her that made her even more uncomfortable. “Are you and Rick good friends?”
“I guess so,” Marti said. She tried to smile at the other woman, but her lips felt stiff and unwieldy. “We haven’t known each other long.”
A near smile lifted Lynette’s mouth but it held no warmth. “I see.”
Desperate to remove whatever barrier Lynette imagined between them, Marti asked, “How are you related to Rick? Are you his sister?”
“Sister-in-law.” Lynette lifted her gaze. This time Marti saw a challenge there. “Jocelyn was my sister.”
Closing her eyes for a second, Marti took a deep breath. Wonderful. That would certainly explain the animosity.
But Jocelyn had been dead for two years. Surely even her family couldn’t expect Rick to grieve forever.
“I’ve seen her picture,” Marti said. “She was very beautiful.”
“Yes, she was.”
“Rick loved her very much.”
Lynette stared at her for a long moment. “He still does, you know.”
M
arti’s heart skipped a beat, but she tried not to let Lynette see her uncertainty. “Of course he does. I’m sure he always will.”
Lynette’s smile changed subtly. She looked... satisfied. “They were a perfect couple. Rick hasn’t ever recovered from her death.”
Marti remembered the flash of pain on his face when she’d looked at Jocelyn’s picture, and wondered why she hadn’t realized before how much he still hurt. “No. Of course he hasn’t.”
“That’s why he asked us to come for Christmas,” Lynette said with another challenging glance. “It’s a way for him to keep her memory close and stay a part of the family.”
Marti hadn’t realized Rick had asked Jocelyn’s family to come, but now that she knew she felt foolish. Had she really seen desire in his eyes, or had she only wanted to see it there? Was she so desperate to feel loved and desired that she’d deluded herself?
No. She’d seen the way he looked at her. She hadn’t imagined it. But desire didn’t mean caring. It didn’t mean he loved her.
Physical need. Was that all Rick felt? Marti didn’t want that. Getting involved in a brief but passionate affair would only make her feel worse about herself and her life than she already did.
She stood quickly and picked up her bag. “Will you apologize to Rick for me? I’ve just remembered that I promised to take my dad into Gunnison this afternoon. He’s probably waiting for me right now.”
Lynette lifted both eyebrows in silent question, but she looked almost triumphant.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WITH HIS HEADLIGHTS slicing through the early evening shadows, Rick drove his truck slowly across the bridge toward the Lazy M. Wind buffeted the truck and leaked into the cab. He turned the heater a little higher and swerved to miss a chunk of ice on the side of the road.
He still didn’t understand why Marti had left so quickly before lunch. According to Lynette, they’d been having a pleasant conversation when Marti suddenly grabbed her things, offered a lame excuse and ran out of the house. But that didn’t make sense.
Surely, if Marti really had to take Henry somewhere, she would have mentioned it when they were talking about him outside Greta’s. No doubt, she’d gotten cold feet about facing Cameron. But if she’d seen the disappointment on her son’s face, she’d have realized her mistake.
Well, Rick didn’t intend to let it slide. After he talked to Henry about using his field for the snowmobiles, he’d try to catch Marti alone. And he’d try to make her understand how much running away had upset Cameron.
He slowed the truck outside the Lazy M’s gates, but he didn’t turn in immediately. Ridiculous, he told himself. He had no reason to be nervous about approaching her. Gritting his teeth, he wrenched the wheel and accelerated up the gentle slope.
He parked in front of Marti’s rental car. Hopping from the truck, he walked to the front porch and knocked on the door.
She answered almost immediately. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail and changed into an oversize forest green sweater and knit pants to match. She looked as if she belonged in these mountains—something Jocelyn had never managed to do.
When she saw him standing there, her eyes widened slightly. “Rick? Is something wrong?”
“No. I came to talk to your father about letting us use his field for the snowmobiles.”
Her eyes clouded. “Oh, I don’t...” She stopped, darted another quick glance behind her and tried to work up a smile. “He’s in his office.”
And she obviously didn’t intend to disturb him. She stepped onto the porch and pulled the door nearly closed behind her. When a gust of wind tossed snow against the windows, she shivered but she still made no move to invite him inside.
“All right, then. I’ll talk to you.”
Even in the dusk, he could see the heightened color in her cheeks. “I can’t give permission for you to run the snowmobiles in that field.”
“That’s not what I want to talk about.” He took a step closer. “Can we get inside out of this wind? I’m freezing, and you don’t even have a coat on.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Of course.” She pushed open the door and led him into the huge living room. Immediately, the welcome heat rushed at him. A fire blazed in the broad fireplace and a log popped, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. She turned to him. “Let me take your coat.”
Rick slipped out of his jacket. She hung it in the closet then nodded toward a door at the back of the room. “We can talk in the kitchen.”
He followed her, taking in the open boxes of Christmas decorations against one wall as they walked. An artificial pine wreath lay on the floor beside the couch next to a stack of red velvet bows. A variety of Santas and two brass horns stood in a cluster on the coffee table. He probably should apologize for interrupting her, but he didn’t want to give her a chance to send him away.
Without warning, another thought intruded. Jocelyn. Familiar guilt and regret began to inch its way up his spine, but Rick forced it away. Jocelyn had no part in this conversation.
His step faltered. The thought surprised and even disturbed him, but it unlatched a part of his heart he didn’t remember having, and he felt curiously free. As if Jocelyn had somehow stepped aside to let him get on with his life.
Marti waited to speak again until the kitchen door swung shut behind her. “Is it Cameron?”
“Cameron’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”
She pulled back ever so slightly. “Why?”
“You tell me. Why did you leave the house today?”
“Like I told Lynette—”.
“No,” he interrupted, then made an effort to temper the sharpness of his voice. “If you’d had plans with your father, you would have remembered them up at Greta’s. Something else happened, and I’d like to know what it was.”
She glanced away quickly. Too quickly. “Nothing happened.” Her voice came out little more than a whisper, and any lingering doubts Rick might have had disappeared.
He took her shoulders gently and turned her to face him. “You were afraid to see Cameron.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She shook her head slowly, but she didn’t speak.
He grew suddenly, quickly frustrated. “Lynette is as confused as I am,” he began, but when her shoulders stiffened noticeably beneath his fingers, he stopped speaking and studied her face. “Does this have something to do with Lynette? Did the say something to offend you?”
Marti shook her head again. “No. She didn’t say anything wrong.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything wrong.”
“But she did say something.”
Marti nodded.
“What was it? What were you talking about?”
Marti looked deep into his eyes, as if she needed to find something there before she could answer. When she spoke again, her voice sounded a little stronger. “Jocelyn.”
“Jocelyn?” Rick took a quick step backward and narrowed his eyes. “What about her?”
“She was a beautiful woman, and I know you’re still grieving for her. I don’t want to do anything to get in the way of that.”
“You aren’t.”
She unfolded her hands and touched his arm. “I know you still love her—”
Yes, dammit, he probably always would love her in a way. But Jocelyn wasn’t here. Jocelyn couldn’t touch him, couldn’t listen to him, couldn’t make his heart beat faster. And she’d never been able to understand what went on inside him the way Marti did.
Without taking time to think about it, he reached for Marti again and pulled her into his arms. “Jocelyn’s s gone,” he said. “You’re here.”
He lowered his lips to hers, but she turned and he only managed to graze the side of her mouth with his.
“Please, don’t.” She put both hands on his chest and pushed him away. “I don’t want that.”
“You don’t want what?”
“This.” S
he gestured at the space between them, little as it was. “I don’t want...” She hesitated, as if she didn’t know how to explain.
But Rick needed an explanation. He closed the distance between them again, determined to pull the truth from her one way or another. “Jocelyn’s been gone for two years, Marti. She’s not an issue between us.” That he was able to say it aloud surprised him. That he meant it surprised him even more.
A light flickered in her eyes, but died away quickly. “I think she is. I’ve seen her in your eyes, and I know she’s still in your heart. I don’t want to be a third party in your life.”
Rick clenched his teeth and tried not to show how much her response affected him. “You aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Is that what Lynette said?”
She shook her head, but without conviction. “She didn’t have to. I’ve seen the way your face changes when someone mentions Jocelyn’s name. It’s obvious how much you love her still. Maybe you’re not even aware of it, but I am, and I don’t want to be a substitute for her.”
Rick wanted to argue, but he couldn’t form the words. He wanted to deny the accusation, but doubt kept him from speaking. He could feel Marti watching him, waiting for a response, but the suggestion that he might be looking for someone to take Jocelyn’s place staggered him.
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t want a substitute for Jocelyn,” he managed to say at last.
Sadness darkened her eyes. “You’re not ready for anything else.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe he hadn’t gotten over Jocelyn yet. He still avoided their bedroom, still couldn’t make himself visit her grave, still dreamed about her most nights. If that were true, he had no right to seek comfort in Marti’s arms.
As if his silence gave her an answer, Marti took another step away. “I think you’d better go.”
“Maybe I should.” Rick pivoted and pushed through the swinging door. He could hear her following as he crossed the living room and yanked his coat from the closet. He could feel her watching as he shoved his arms into the sleeves and wrenched open the door.