“What made you become interested in Arizona history?”
“That’s easy. My name, my ancestry.”
“Is that what drew you to Charles Garrison? He’s supposed to be something of an expert on lawmen of the West, and especially your relatives.”
She tossed the remainder of her sandwich out for any interested wildlife and stood up. “Certainly we had that in common.”
“And you? What drew you to Charles? I’ve met him, remember, and I can damned sure tell you it probably wasn’t his personality.”
“Jack, this isn’t the time or the place to talk about my marriage.”
“I think it is,” he said, his voice low and steady. “After seeing that jerk yesterday, I know there’s something going on in your head, something more than mere interest in Lying Jude’s bank loot. You say it’s a challenge to you, yet you just moved into a new town, opened your own business, and took over responsibility for your sister. How many challenges does one woman need? Isn’t that enough?”
At a loss, she held out her hands. “This is different.”
“Why?”
“It’s of historical interest.”
“Bull. There’s something going on here or you wouldn’t have such a knot in your tail about it.”
“Oh, that’s very elegantly put, Jack.” She was beginning to grow angry. Why was he questioning her like this? As if her motives were wrong.
“Just answer me.”
“Which question?”
“What made you become interested in Charles in the first place?” he asked in a patient tone.
“His knowledge,” she retorted. “His sophistication. Oh, Jack, I was eighteen years old and away from home for the first time in my life. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
His eyes were sharp, but he nodded his head as if he understood and accepted that answer. “Okay, then my second question. Why this treasure? There are literally dozens of such legends and mysteries in the West. Why this one? Because Charles said it doesn’t exist?”
Goaded beyond her limit, she snapped out, “That’s right. Because no matter what proof I had, including the journal, he said I was a fool to pursue it. He was the expert, you see, and I was nothing but a research assistant. It didn’t matter that I was also his wife. My opinion didn’t count because it differed from his.”
Her breath was coming hard, pushed by her anger and the sudden burst of words. She paused to get her breath.
Jack’s face had gone hard, his jaw set as firmly as a bear trap.
“So this is all about proving yourself to your ex-husband?”
Stricken, she stared at him. “No, of course not.” How could he think that? She’d been full of understanding about his need to clear his great-grandfather’s name, to have pride in his heritage. Didn’t he know she was doing this for him, as well?
“No, Jack, that’s not true.” She shook her head as she tried to come up with an explanation that would convince him. “If you’ll just listen for a minute—”
“I’ve heard enough, thanks.” He turned and glanced up at the lengthening shadows. “We’d better be getting back. We can try again tomorrow.” He shot her a look that was both chilling and full of challenge. “We don’t want you to go home empty-handed. That’ll never do if you want to show up Charles.”
“Now, Jack, that isn’t fair,” she flared, but he ignored her. Walking over to the horses, he took Garnet’s reins and handed her Turq’s. He swung into the saddle and started back the way they’d come.
Mallory scrambled onto Turq’s back and hurried after Jack, fuming all the while. He was being unfair and he was refusing to listen to her explanation. Sure, she wanted to show up Charles, but there was nothing wrong in that. He had denigrated her ideas and conclusions so often during their years together that she felt perfectly justified in wanting to prove him wrong. However, it wasn’t her only motivation for this hunt. She was concerned about Jack, too, and it peeved her that he believed otherwise.
They were silent on the ride home. Jack led the way back to the cabin, indicating direction to her by pointing. By the time they reached home, it was growing dark, and Mallory felt hurt, edgy and furious.
They brushed the horses down, gave them feed and water, then went into the cabin to prepare their own dinner.
Mallory would rather have been anywhere on earth than in this cabin with the darkness pushing at the windows and the tense atmosphere inside.
The strain between them was as real as the dinner of chicken and baked potatoes they prepared together in the kitchen that seemed to be much smaller than it had the evening before.
They ate in further silence that seemed to have a life of its own, filling the room all the way out to its edges.
Mallory dreaded bedtime. She didn’t want to lie on the same bed with someone who misunderstood her so badly, who thought she was shallow enough to want a form of revenge against Charles. Didn’t Jack understand she’d had that satisfaction yesterday? Proving Charles wrong would be like icing on the cake.
They sat before the fire, both deep in their own thoughts. Mallory couldn’t help stealing glances at Jack, wondering what he was thinking, wishing he would listen if she tried to explain.
He was sitting low in his chair with his long legs stretched out before him. The heel of one boot rested on the toe of the other and he seemed to have nothing else in mind but spending the evening looking at his own feet.
Frustrated, she stood and moved around the room, finally pulling her flannel pajamas from her duffel and heading for the bathroom. She changed into them, then stood before the mirror brushing her long hair out until it crackled and shone as rich as brown silk.
Realizing she’d put it off as long as she could, she reentered the main room. Jack was kneeling before the fireplace, banking the fire for the night. He stood and turned to her as if he had something to say, but then closed his mouth and walked past her.
Mallory swallowed the lump of dismay that formed in her throat, then moved slowly to the bed, lay down, and pulled the covers over her. Hugging her pillow, she tried desperately to think of something to say to him.
Before Mallory could come up with anything lucid, she heard Jack approaching the bed. Her heart stopped and she closed her eyes in misery when she heard him removing his clothes. He climbed into bed and she imagined him presenting his broad back to her.
There had to be some way to make him understand. Mallory decided to try one more time. She rolled over and laid her hand on his bare shoulder. The muscles tensed like steel bands beneath her palm.
“Jack, please listen to me…”
He flipped over in a surge of strength that took her by surprise. Placing his arm across her, he said, “No. I’ve listened enough. I’ve been patient enough. I’ve done every damned thing I can think of to make you forget him, except make love to you to wipe him out of your mind.”
Her heart stuck in her throat. “Jack?”
His hand came up to cup her face, lifting her mouth to his. “I’m not going to be patient anymore, Mallory. I’m not giving you any more understanding, any more space. I’m going to make love to you. If you don’t want it, say so now. It’s your only chance.”
Mallory was too stunned to form an answer. She stared at him, her eyes shadows in the darkness. In the dying firelight, she could see his face, full of determination and something close to pain.
“I want you like I’ve wanted no other woman in my life, Mallory Earp. If you don’t want me just as strongly, tell me no right now.”
Her hand trembled on his shoulder. “Jack, I—”
“Tell me no,” he demanded.
Her mouth went dry and her tongue edged out to moisten her lips. His gaze went from her lips to her eyes, compelling her, showing her the direction her own will wanted to take.
“I…I can’t tell you no, Jack.”
Triumph came and went in his face as swiftly as lightning in a summer storm. With a guttural sound of deep satisfaction, he fitted his mo
uth over hers.
Mallory was transported back to the blissfulness she’d known that morning. Her arms flew around him, locking him as close to her as possible. His hands moved the length of her spine, lifted the hem of her pajama shirt, and kneaded her skin.
Mallory’s breath stopped and she thought her heart had, too, before it started up again at a thunderous pace.
Jack’s hands and his mouth were everywhere, bringing her intense joy, showing her the true meaning of passion.
He drew back once and his eyes glittered down at her with a fierceness that made her shudder.
“Tell me you’re not thinking of him, Mallory.”
He meant Charles, but she wouldn’t speak the name because it would spoil everything.
“No,” she whispered, kissing him. “There’s only you, Jack.”
“Good. That’s the way it’s going to be from now on. I was telling old Charlie the truth. You’re mine now.” He lowered himself to her and Mallory had no more thoughts except of him.
Mallory was awakened the next morning by Jack slipping from the bed. “I’ve got to see to the horses,” he whispered, his voice low and gruff. “Sounds like something’s got them spooked.” He pulled on his clothes and his boots and strode outside.
Mallory heard the animals quiet immediately, though their stamping about and snorting hadn’t awakened her. It wasn’t until she’d felt Jack leave her side that she’d come fully awake.
She turned onto her side, blinking sleepily, and smiled. She felt as if she’d passed some impossible barrier. The circumstances were the same. She and Jack were still in the mountains, in the same cabin. They had spent the night in the same bed, and his arm around her waist and his leg crossed over hers had manacled her to him as securely as if she were bound by chains.
And yet everything had changed. She had made love with him and now she felt bound to him as she never had to her ex-husband. She had never responded to Charles as she had to Jack. In fact, there was no comparison whatsoever between them.
For weeks, Mallory had fought against the inevitable, but it had done no good. She was in love with Jack. It wasn’t at all like the pale infatuation of youth she’d felt for Charles.
She realized now that if Charles hadn’t encouraged her, certainly the most appropriate course since he was her teacher and so much older, her feelings for him would never have progressed beyond respect and admiration.
The love and emotional involvement she felt for Jack were so intense they were all-consuming. She wasn’t sure how to deal with this, especially since she didn’t know if he loved her. He said he wanted her, but that was no guarantee of love.
Mallory stretched, then curled into a ball and pulled the covers up around her head to block out the cool morning air—and thought about the man she loved.
She had never found it easy to read Jack. He could be teasing and serious with equal ease. He had certain strong beliefs about hard work and the importance of family—ones she certainly agreed with.
When he had been abandoned by his parents— one by desertion and one by death—he had made a life for himself. Instead of dwelling on the past, he had created his own future. He worked hard to ensure that future.
Mallory had thought she was working for her future, too, and in a small way, she had been, but she’d let the past hold her back.
Jack had been right to be angry with her the day before. She had spent months, more than two years, in fact, obsessing about finding Lying Jude’s lost treasure and showing her ex-husband how wrong he was. All of his words would be thrown back in his face once she’d found it. Looking at it from Jack’s point of view, though, showing up her ex-husband didn’t really matter very much. It was true that she already had as many challenges as one person could possibly need.
Getting ahead with her life was what mattered, and she very much wanted Jack to be part of her life. How could she convince him of that, though, when she had spent weeks making sure that he knew she was independent and self-sufficient?
Could she convince him of her love for him when she’d demonstrated that she was still emotionally involved with Charles? She only hoped it wasn’t too late. Tears came to her eyes and spilled over at the thought that he might not accept her love.
The sound of the door opening startled her. She threw the covers off her head and raised herself on her elbow, bringing up the sheet to cover herself with one hand and quickly swiping away her tears with the other.
Jack stopped with his hand on the doorknob. His head snapped up at the sudden movement in the bed, and his stricken gaze riveted on her. Emotions ran swiftly across his face—worry, then regretthen his eyes went blank as if he didn’t want her to know what he was thinking.
He stepped inside and shut the door, but he didn’t approach the bed. “Mallory, what’s wrong?”
She tried to smile, but realized her lips were too shaky. “I was thinking about yesterday, about what you said, and about last night…”
He winced. “It’s upset you.”
“Well, yes.”
“I’m sorry, Mallory.”
Frantically trying to read his face, she said, “We’d better talk about it.”
“No.” He turned away. “I said I’m sorry. Get dressed. We’d better head back.”
“You mean back into the mountains?”
“Home.”
Confused, Mallory pulled herself to a sitting position. “Are the horses—”
“They’re fine. Just spooked by a wild animal.” Jack remained in the doorway. “It’s time for us to go home, though.”
Stunned, she gaped at him. Where was this coming from? Why was he apologizing and why was he suddenly so cold and withdrawn?
She couldn’t let things end like this. If they went home, she would lose this chance. “I thought we were staying another day. We still have many places to search, and…”
It was the wrong thing to say. She knew it immediately when his face closed off and his eyes turned cold. “I know it’s important to you, Mallory, but it’ll have to be another time.”
“It isn’t that important to me, Jack.” She started to rise from the bed, then recalled that she had nothing on. It wouldn’t have bothered her if she had been facing the man with whom she had shared such intimacy the night before. But Jack seemed like a stranger now. She’d never seen him look like this, his face hard and distant.
Reaching out with one hand, she grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it up around herself. Her eyes remained fixed on Jack and she saw hurt cross his face, then more coldness.
“I’ll stay outside for a few minutes so you can get dressed.”
Before she could call out to him, he stepped back and closed the door.
Something serious was going on here. Mallory intended to get to the bottom of it as fast as possible. She untangled herself from the various bed covers, scooped up her clothes, and hurried to the bathroom, where she quickly cleaned up and dressed. Unlike yesterday, she was grateful that Jack had made her leave her makeup behind. It meant she could get back to him more quickly. She ran a brush through her hair and hurried out.
He had made coffee and was standing by the counter sipping a cup as he looked out the window and watched the sun’s rays spearing through the pines.
Mallory’s heart plunged sickeningly when he didn’t even turn around and look at her. Telling herself that if she stayed cool and calm, things could be worked out, she poured herself a cup of coffee. The hand holding the cup shook so badly the liquid sloshed to the rim. She supported it with her other hand.
After a fortifying sip, she said, “Jack, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
He set his cup down and turned to her. His face was sober, pale and drawn.
“I’ve got to apologize for last night,” he began, then stopped as if picking over his words.
Mallory blinked. “Last night?”
“Making love to you was a mistake.”
Her mouth dropped open. She knew she was beginni
ng to sound like an echo, but all she could do was repeat what he had said since it didn’t seem to be able to register in her brain. “A mistake?”
His hand sliced the air impatiently. “It doesn’t change anything, help anything.”
“Change? Help?” she repeated, still trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“I thought it would, but I was wrong.” He set his cup down in the sink and ran water into it. “There’s nothing that can be done. Let’s go home.”
Shakily, Mallory set her own cup down. He didn’t love her. She had only been fooling herself into thinking there was a chance he might. Still, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
“A while ago you said you were sorry. Why? And why are you saying that making love to me was a mistake?”
His mouth was drawn into a firm line, his green eyes dark with pain. “Because I thought I could make you love me.”
Now she really stared. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then opened it to blurt, “But I do love you.”
He shifted away from her. “Mallory, don’t say—”
She grabbed his arm so he would have to look at her. “I do love you.”
“But you were crying when I came in this morning.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, I’ve never made a woman cry before.”
“I thought I was going to have a hard time convincing you to love me.” Hope sprang into his eyes and she laughed, a little sound of immense relief. “After yesterday, and what you said, I thought…” She shrugged. “I thought there was no chance that you would ever care about me.”
“I would never have touched you if I didn’t love you. In fact, I think I’ve loved you ever since you walked into that little shack of mine and demanded my attention.”
“Jack,” she said at a loss.
His arms opened and she stepped into them, feeling as if she had come home. His arms closed around her and his mouth found hers in a hard kiss.
“I love you,” she said when he let her up for air. “I was afraid I’d really messed things up by being so obsessed with Lying Jude’s bank money and trying to prove that I was right and Charles was wrong.”
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