MADELINE KNEW Austin was an incredible lover, but over the next week, he went above and beyond anything she’d ever imagined. It wasn’t just the way he touched her—his hands so strong and sure and stirring—but the way he made her feel when he touched her.
Feminine. Sexy. Beautiful. Special.
Not that she had any delusions about the last one. Austin had always been popular with the ladies for a reason, and now she knew why firsthand.
She leaned up on her elbow and watched him as he moved about the darkened bedroom. His bedroom. A beige-and-navy-blue plaid comforter covered the king-size bed. The walls were paneled a dark, rich oak. A hand-carved dresser sat against the far wall, a matching nightstand just to her right. It looked like him. Simple. Masculine. Powerful.
And it smelled like him.
She drew in a deep breath and let the scent of warm, aroused male fill her nostrils.
For privacy’s sake, he’d brought her here after the honey episode in Cheryl Louise’s kitchen. She’d barely recovered from another monumental orgasm when Uncle Spur had knocked on the door. Rather than sneak out the back door like a teenager caught after curfew, Austin had slipped his T-shirt over her head, picked her up and carried her out to his truck, much to Uncle Spur’s surprise.
She’d been embarrassed, but the feeling had quickly passed when Austin had driven out of the driveway and pulled her up next to him. With only the T-shirt covering her bare body, she’d felt self-conscious, embarrassed and aroused, all at the same time.
That’s what he did to her. Truthfully, he did stir all of the old feelings she’d felt as a naive seventeen-year-old, but there was more. Because she wasn’t seventeen. She was a grown woman and she responded like one.
They’d spent all the spare time they could together over the past seven days, in between Austin tending to his cattle and Maddie tending to the dogs and plants. She’d never felt more like a woman in her whole life.
“You’re awake.” His deep voice drew her from her thoughts and she smiled as he sank down onto the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.
“It’s early.”
“Early to bed, early to rise.”
“We didn’t go to bed early. We never got out of bed.”
He grinned and leaned over to plant a long, lingering kiss on her already passion-swollen lips. He leaned back and stood up to fasten the button on his jeans. “I won’t be able to make it back to the house for lunch. I’ve got two hundred head being delivered today. I’ll be lucky to make it back in time for dinner.”
“We’ll just have to make up for lunchtime tonight then.”
He pulled a T-shirt from the drawer. “Speaking of which, I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“I can meet you back here. You’ll be tired, so you shouldn’t have to drive.”
“You’re on the way, sugar.”
“On the way where?”
“The VFW Hall. Tonight’s Miss Marshalyn’s going-away party.”
The enormity of what he was saying sent a burst of joy through her.
Joy?
She forced the silly, naive emotion aside and shook her head. “I’ve got a lot of packing to do. I can’t make it.”
He eyed her. “Let me get this straight. You can make time to have sex with me, but you can’t find time to go to a party with me.”
Not just any party. The party because she was the woman. His serious-relationship prospect.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her clothes.
“I’m missing something here.”
“If I go to the party, then everyone will think there’s something going on between us.”
He caught her arm and forced her around to face him. “There is something going on between us.”
“Great sex.”
“That and something more.”
“There is no more. I’m not your type.”
“You’re exactly my type.”
“Once, a long time ago, but not now. You’ve sworn off women like me, remember? You said so yourself. You want a good girl, and I no longer qualify.”
“You’re not a bad girl.” At her pointed look, he added, “You have your moments, darlin’, I won’t deny that. But who you are—” he tapped her chest just above the steady thud of her heart “—in here, is as far from a bad girl as a woman can get. You’re not just out for a good time. It’s not in your nature. Women like you want more from a man.”
“Women like me? For your information, I don’t want more from any man. What we have is just fine by me.”
“So you’re saying you’re only attracted to me on a physical level? There’s nothing more? No feelings involved? I still remember all that white-knight stuff you wrote in that letter you were too embarrassed to admit to.”
“I grew up. I changed.”
“You made muffins.”
“Uncle Spur was desperate. But I hated every minute of it.” Of course, seeing the look of pure ecstasy on Uncle Spur’s face when he’d bitten into one had been worth the hour spent slaving away in the hot kitchen. Almost, she reminded herself. But then she’d had to clean up.
“You still blush when I touch you.”
“I have overactive skin pigmentation. It’s a medical condition.”
“You still tremble, for Chrissake.”
She shrugged. “I have low blood pressure. I tremble all the time.” She gave a loud burrr. “In fact, I’m cold right now.”
“You’re scared.”
“I am not scared.”
“You’re scared that if you go to the party with me tonight, you’ll find out that you’re a lot more like the girl you used to be than you want to admit. That you actually like it here. That you haven’t outgrown this place, despite your big-city ties. That you still fit.”
“I do not fit.”
“You fit, all right. You haven’t changed, not one bit.”
“I have, too.”
“Have not. You’re still afraid to show your feelings. Afraid for people to see inside you. You haven’t changed. You’re still running from your feelings now, just like you were back then.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re running from your feelings for Sharon the way you ran from your feelings for me. You won’t talk about her or look at pictures or even think about her because you’re afraid it will hurt. Just like you wouldn’t own up to that love letter. You were afraid to get hurt.”
“You’re wrong.”
“And you’re afraid, all right. You’re afraid that you might fall for me all over again if you give yourself a chance.”
“And you’re afraid not to fall for me.”
“How’s that?”
“While I’ve changed—and I have changed—I’ll admit that a lot of people in this town don’t think so. In fact, most of the people in this town still think I’m little Maddie, Miss Marshalyn included.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“That you want to keep your promise, and in order to do that, you have to show up with a serious prospect tonight. While I’m far from the right person for the job, as far as this town goes, I’m just what the doctor ordered. I’m your ticket to success,” she said, now fully dressed.
“Is that what you really think? That I would use you to get Miss Marshalyn’s land because people still perceive you as the same nice, wholesome small-town girl who left here twelve years ago?” He sounded so hurt that her chest tightened.
“I think that we have great sex and you’re using that as a basis for a real relationship because you need one to keep from losing the closest thing to a real home that you’ve ever had.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I don’t blame you,” she went on. “People get married for a lot less these days. In fact, most would be completely happy to find a great sex match. But the physical connection is as much a false perception as I am. It’s the lotion stirring your senses, m
aking you so hot and turned-on that you can’t see straight.”
“You’re wrong.”
She shook her head, grabbed her purse and walked away before she did something really stupid, like throw herself into his arms and kiss him until the hurt faded from his expression.
That would imply that Madeline Hale cared about more than sex with Austin Jericho. That she actually cared about him. That she truly had fallen for him all over again, and fallen hard.
But she wouldn’t.
Not ever again.
13
MADELINE WAS NOT RUNNING from anything.
She was running to something, she told herself later that day as she packed up the last of her work paraphernalia and headed upstairs to pack her personal belongings.
She had a blossoming career and a great big fat promotion waiting for her back in Houston, along with her condo and her furniture and the life she’d built for herself.
Running, of all the crazy, ridiculous things…
The thought faded into a familiar wave of panic as she started to pass Sharon’s room. She quickened her steps and fixed her gaze straight ahead, and that’s when reality hit her.
Running.
She came to a dead stop and simply stood there for a long moment, her heart pounding, panic so real and palpable that she could taste it in her mouth.
Afraid.
As she stood there staring at the closed door, she realized that Austin was right. She was running from the past, avoiding any and all mention of Sharon, terrified of any reminders of her dear, sweet friend because they also brought back the pain she’d felt.
Pain she’d left behind twelve years ago as she’d rolled out of town in her little Pinto.
But it was still there. Still stalking her. She felt it every time she thought of home. Every time she saw a flower-print dress or drank an ice-cream soda or watched a rerun of Laverne and Shirley. It had followed her to Dallas, and it had followed her back here.
But it wasn’t merely dogging her. It lived and breathed inside of her.
The fear controlled her.
“No,” she murmured, reaching for the doorknob before she lost her nerve.
Her heart stalled as the door creaked open. She flipped on the light switch and forced herself inside.
The walls were still painted the same shade of lipstick-pink that had always been Sharon’s favorite. A Van Halen poster graced one wall, next to Madonna in her early days. In the midst of the pop icons stood a very young looking George Strait playing his guitar.
The furniture was white, the bed sporting a matching lipstick-pink canopy. A makeup vanity sat just to the right, covered with various tubes and bottles just the way it had been so long ago.
Maddie had been inside here so many times with Sharon, sprawled across the bed on a rainy Saturday afternoon, or sitting Indian-style in the middle of the furry pink rug with her homework in her lap.
This room was familiar, not frightening. That’s what Madeline told herself as she walked its perimeter. She touched Sharon’s things, from stuffed animals to science trophies to a pair of daisy-print flip-flops that still sat in the far corner of the room, and she let the memories come.
They played through her mind and made her smile until she reached Sharon’s nightstand and she saw a silver-framed picture.
A graduation picture taken the day of the accident.
They’d been on their way back from the photographer’s in Sharon’s new graduation present. Sarah was supposed to be with them, but she’d gotten grounded for missing her curfew the night before and so it had just been Sharon and Madeline. Madeline had begged to drive. She’d never been behind the wheel of an automatic. Just her old, clunky standard Pinto and she’d been in awe of the brand-new car.
Sharon had agreed and they’d climbed over each other to switch seats. They’d gone riding then and Madeline had fallen even more in love with the car. They’d burned a tank of gas by the time the sun had set and they’d finally started home.
She closed her eyes and remembered the cool wind rushing at her face as she’d pressed the gas and headed down the back road toward town. She’d been going too fast, but it had been so easy. The car rode so smoothly she hadn’t even realized the speed until it had been too late.
The deer had appeared right in the middle of the road and she’d swerved to avoid hitting the animal. She’d hit the shoulder and a great big pothole instead. The car had skidded toward the ditch and she’d yanked on the steering wheel. The car kept skidding before rolling onto its side with a bone-jarring force that had made her teeth ache.
But that’s all she’d felt. Just the pain of being tossed around and ramming to a halt. No permanent injuries, but when she’d looked over at her friend…
Maddie’s eyes popped open, trading the memory in favor of the picture that sat on the nightstand. Guilt rushed through her, making her heart pound and her chest tighten, but she didn’t run away.
Not this time.
She forced her hand out and picked up the picture. Settling on the edge of the bed, she stared into her friend’s face. But she didn’t see the smiling girl in the blue cap and gown, she saw the blood and the pain and the desperate blue eyes of the girl trapped in the passenger’s seat. The dashboard had caved in, crushing Sharon’s legs and pinning her in place.
Thanks to the steering wheel, Maddie had been unharmed. She’d stumbled from the car and flagged down the first car that came down the road, and then she’d climbed back into the car to wait for help with Sharon. She’d talked and told her friend to hold on, but it hadn’t been enough. Sharon had died before the ambulance had rolled up. And Maddie had lived.
But while she’d lived, she hadn’t lived up to the promise she’d made to Sharon as she’d sat crushed in the car. No regrets. Because Maddie still nursed the biggest regret of all.
“It should have been me,” she whispered.
But it hadn’t been. As much as she’d hated that fact, she’d been thankful, too. She’d been young and terrified of death.
Survival had come at its own cost, however. She’d felt not only the loss of her closest and dearest friend, but guilt, as well.
And so she’d run away, racing out of town under the pretense of following her dreams. She’d been determined to leave behind the scared girl who’d sat in the demolished car and tried to comfort Sharon during those last few moments.
But that girl hadn’t stayed behind in Cadillac. She’d followed, burying herself deep inside the confident woman who’d gone out to seek her fortune, hiding along with the nearly overwhelming guilt and grief and fear.
No more.
Maddie clutched the picture to her chest, closed her eyes and let the image of that night come to her. For the first time since she’d held the dying girl in her arms, she cried.
And with each tear that rolled down her cheeks, the pain in her chest started to ease.
“I LIKE HER.” Miss Marshalyn’s voice drew Austin around to see the woman who’d come up beside him. She was staring across the dance floor at the petite redhead who was serving punch.
Debbie the kindergarten teacher.
He’d finally narrowed down his handful of choices and picked the first one on the list—the only respectable woman Austin Jericho had had more than two dates with in the past few years.
Three, to be exact, including this one.
The other two had come before Maddie Hale had walked back into his life.
“I really like her.”
“I don’t.” He turned toward the older woman who’d been like a mother to him for most of his hell-raising life. She’d never passed judgment, never condemned him. She’d merely stated her opinion and given him a choice. A chance.
Tonight was another chance, but one he couldn’t take.
“I mean, I do like her. She’s nice. Sweet. She loves kids. She’ll make someone a great wife. But not me.” He shook his head. “I just brought her tonight because I knew you would like her.”
; “So you’re saying that you broke your promise.”
“I’m saying that I want your land, but I won’t take it by being dishonest. To you or myself. And that’s what I would be if I let you think there could possibly be a future between me and Debbie. She’s not my type.”
He’d accused Maddie of running from the past, but he was just as guilty. He was running from his own past, from the old Austin Jericho who’d had nothing to call his own. No home.
He was afraid of losing Miss Marshalyn’s land, but at the same time, he was more afraid of losing Maddie Hale. The thought of her rolling out of town still believing that he wasn’t genuinely attracted to her made him feel sick inside.
“Maybe Houston will show up and make you proud.”
“You make me proud, Austin Jericho. You always have. You can have the land. I didn’t mean to force you into something you didn’t want to do. I just think you need to find the right woman and settle down.”
“Sometimes it’s not that simple. Sometimes the right woman is also a damned stubborn one.”
“Amen to that.” Spur’s voice sounded behind them and they both turned to see the old man, hat in one hand and a bouquet of wildflowers in the other.
Miss Marshalyn frowned. “Are you calling me stubborn, Spur Tucker?”
“I sure as hell am, and I’m also calling you the right woman. My woman.” He shrugged. “I know I don’t always say the right things. Hell, I don’t know what’s right or wrong half the time. But I can promise I’ll always speak the truth and honesty’s got to count for something. The fact that I like you more than my horse, Miss Daisy, has to count for something, too. Otherwise I give up on this courting business ’cause it ain’t worth a hog’s ass—”
“I like you, too.”
“—and I might as well stick to my solitude—you what?”
“I like you, too.” She smiled and took the flowers. “Most of the time, that is, but nobody’s perfect.”
“Damn straight. You’re about as blind as an old bat.”
“I really don’t like you right now.”
“A situation easily fixed,” Austin reminded her. “The doc wants to do surgery.”
The Sex Solution Page 17