Joshua and the Cowgirl

by Sherryl Woods

  Joshua stayed silent, rationing out sugar cubes, while Garrett continued to curry the horse. When both were calmer, he said, “I’m not trying to tame you, Garrett.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Of course not. Your spirit is what makes you who you are.”

  “You know nothing about my spirit, Joshua. You know next to nothing about me.”

  “I know that your skin feels like satin.” His voice dropped seductively. He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I know that your eyes turn midnight blue when I make love to you. I know that your hair is the color of sunlight, that you can beat the daylights out of me at poker, that you have a hearty appetite…” His eyes locked on hers as he added, “For everything.”

  An unmistakable shudder swept through her and she closed her eyes to hide the fiery sparks that had turned them the rarest shade of sapphire. When she blinked them open an instant later, the heat in their depths had chilled. “That’s only a part of me.”

  “A part you’ve ignored for far too long.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little presumptuous?”

  “Maybe,” he replied noncommittally, bunching his hands into fists at the possibility he might be wrong. “But I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, let’s say for the moment that you’re right. Let’s say that I’m some love-starved cowgirl, stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. What makes you think I want anything more from you than a quick roll in the hay?” Flashing eyes echoed the challenge in her voice.

  Joshua flinched at the crude statement. “If all you wanted was temporary gratification of your sexual urges, you could have turned to Red or any of the other men who no doubt lust after you all the time.”

  “But you’re so much more convenient. You’ll be leaving. There won’t be any messy sentiment, no lingering complications involved.”

  “Just love,” he said softly.

  Her voice climbed. “You do not love me!”

  Bright Lightning whinnied nervously.

  “I’ll prove it, if you’ll let me.”

  Only a man as determined and intuitive as Joshua would have caught the wistfulness that swept over her face for no longer than a heartbeat. “No,” she said firmly.

  “Coward.”

  She whirled on him then. “I will not be some damned experiment for you, Joshua Ames. You can’t goad me back into your arms.”

  “I will do anything I have to to get you back in my arms.” He stepped closer and again lifted her chin with his finger. His voice dropped. “Consider it fair warning, Garrett. I will do anything.”

  He could feel her trembling, could tell that she was torn between fury and longing. As he anticipated, she went with the anger, aiming her open hand straight at his cheek. He caught it in mid-swing. Keeping his gaze on hers, he kissed the palm of her hand, swirling his tongue over the faintly callused flesh until he could hear her breathing quicken in the hushed air.

  “Remember this, too,” he warned. “There’s nothing I like more than a good fight.”

  * * *

  The sneaky, low-down devil! The minute Joshua left her alone, Garrett turned the barnyard air blue with her opinion of him. Most of the obscenities ranked him somewhat lower than a snake’s belly or took a stab at defining his parentage. She was pleased with the increasing range of her expletives, until she heard his laughter ringing out on the winter wind. The creep had heard every word. Worse, he found her outburst amusing. The patronizing son-of-a…

  “Mom!”

  She swallowed the rest of her diatribe. “In here, Casey.”

  Dressed in jeans that were frayed at the knees and a jacket that was exactly like Garrett’s, Casey looked like an active, happy teenager. Garrett studied the glow on her cheeks and the sparks in her eyes and reminded herself that this was what her entire life had been about. All she wanted was for Casey to grow up surrounded by love and fresh air and an appreciation for hard work. She wanted Casey to take for granted the independence that her mother had had to fight so hard to attain. She wanted her to be strong enough to withstand whatever knocks came her way.

  Casey swung herself up onto a saddle that was sitting astride a sawhorse. “How come you were using all those words you won’t let me say? Are you mad at Joshua?”

  “Yes,” she said, knowing it would be useless to deny what Casey had already heard with her own ears.

  “How come? I think he really likes you, Mom.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “But he told me…” she began, then choked off the rest of the sentence.

  Garrett’s gaze shot to her flustered daughter. “Told you what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Casey, don’t lie to me.”

  “But I promised, Mom. You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word, would you?”

  Actually she would, but she knew she couldn’t ask it. “No,” she said wearily. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

  “Pizza,” Casey said at once. “You’ve been promising and promising. Will you make it tonight?”

  “How about you making it? We have all the ingredients.”

  “Sure. Is it okay if I ask Joshua?”

  “No!”

  Expecting Casey to protest the terse response, Garrett was startled to see that she was grinning. “I guess you’re really mad at him, huh?”

  “Look, sweetheart, I don’t expect you to understand, but this is between Joshua and me.”

  “Grown-up stuff, huh?” Her grin broadened. “Great!”

  “Great?”

  “Yeah. He must be making progress.”

  “Progress?” Garrett repeated weakly.

  Casey dismounted and ran for the door. “Gotta go, Mom. I’ll have the pizza ready in a half hour. Don’t be late.”

  “Hey, who’s the mother here?”

  “Sometimes I think it’d be better if I were,” Casey said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Then you’d listen to my advice.”

  Garrett chuckled. “When I want your advice, short stuff, I’ll ask for it.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t hold my breath.”

  “Probably not. Now go. I’m starved.”

  Dead tired and fueled by irritation, Garrett finally got back to the house an hour later. “Sorry I’m late,” she called out as she dropped her coat over the back of a chair and headed toward the kitchen. The inviting scent of garlic filled the air, along with Casey’s laughter. Since her daughter had become addicted to the telephone and boys almost simultaneously with her thirteenth birthday, she thought nothing of it. She tugged off her boots and padded toward the kitchen in her stockinged feet.

  She had one foot through the doorway when she realized that Casey was sitting at the table and the phone was in its cradle. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” Joshua said cheerfully. “We saved you some pizza.”

  Garrett turned furious eyes on her daughter, but Casey ignored the glare. With a wink at Joshua, she stood up and headed for the door.

  “See you guys later,” the little traitor announced. “I have homework.”

  “You didn’t even have school today,” Garrett said, desperate to keep her from leaving. “Stay and have a soda with us.”

  Casey and Joshua exchanged a glance that was all too knowing.

  “It’s a report,” Casey said. “It’s due next week. I think it’s going to take a lot of time, way more than I thought.”

  “Thanks for keeping me company, kiddo,” Joshua said. “The pizza was great.”

  “Thanks. See you later.”

  Then she was gone and there was no place for Garrett to hide.

  Chapter Eight

  “What are you doing here?” Garrett demanded, her fingers clenching the back of a chair. Deep inside she was aware of a brief flash of jealousy. Joshua and Casey were so comfortable together. An instantaneous bond had sprung up between them that somehow made her feel left out. She wanted to be a part of that easy camaraderie, e
ven as she distrusted it.

  Furious at the contradictory feelings raging inside her and blaming Joshua, she glared at him as she waited for an answer he seemed in no hurry to give. The kitchen, normally cozy and warm, suddenly felt stifling. With Casey’s departure, she felt abandoned, left to face the danger of Joshua alone. The charged atmosphere pulsed with tension. She wanted to sit down, but knew that the minute she did she’d be giving him an edge, admitting to her nervousness.

  “I just came calling, ma’am.” One of his most beguiling smiles spread across his face.

  Garrett’s heart thundered. Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t try some aw shucks routine on me. Didn’t you hear a word I said to you earlier?”

  His irritating grin broadened. “Quite a few words, as a matter of fact. Be thankful it wasn’t Mrs. Mac who heard you. She’d be washing your mouth out with soap.”

  Garrett’s lips twitched with impossible-to-contain mirth. “She probably would,” she admitted ruefully, then stiffened as she recognized how close the conversation was to veering off into something perfectly civil. She had no intention of being polite to a man who’d invaded her privacy, who’d plunked himself in the middle of her home when he knew very well that she didn’t want him there.

  “Let’s stick to the point,” she said. “You and I both know that Mrs. Mac has nothing to do with this.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Oh, really,” he said softly, his eyes gently accusing her of the lie.

  Garrett’s gaze slid away, evading. “Damn it, Joshua, don’t you take anything seriously?”

  “I take you very seriously.”

  “Don’t start with that again. Just tell me how you finagled your way in here.”

  “I knocked.”

  “Simple as that, huh?”

  “Casey has very good manners.”

  “I don’t suppose she invited you in the first place.”

  “Why? Did you tell her not to?”

  Garrett flushed.

  “I see that you did,” he said wryly. “Oh, well, I won’t take it personally.”

  “You should.” Her expression sobered. “I don’t want you here, Joshua. Not in my home.”

  “Because I represent a threat.”

  “Yes.”

  “To what?”

  “To my life-style, my peace of mind.”

  His brows rose a fraction. “Just by stopping in to bring you a bouquet of flowers.”

  “Flowers?” she said blankly as he gestured toward the kitchen counter. An old-fashioned cranberry glass pitcher was filled with a huge, colorful assortment of fragile spring blossoms. Deeply touched and unwilling to admit it, Garrett’s breath clogged her throat. She blinked against the damnable sting of tears. She wanted to touch them, to get close enough to smell the sweet aroma. Because Joshua was in her way, she didn’t. She held her distance.

  “Where on earth did you find them?” she inquired, carefully tempering her enthusiasm.

  “I didn’t go out and pick them, if that’s what you were wondering.”

  Garrett couldn’t take her eyes off of the blooms. No one except Casey had ever given her flowers and that was hardly the same. Casey’s ragged bouquets of smushed wildflowers had been presented by grubby little hands. This array looked as if Joshua had plundered a vivid spring garden. No florist in Cheyenne could have come up with this spectacular, unseasonal arrangement. She lifted her gaze to his. “Where?” she repeated.

  “I had them flown in.”

  “Flown in?”

  He shrugged. “Even though you seem to think it’s a crime, being rich does have some advantages.”

  Garrett’s pleasure dimmed perceptibly. The casual explanation robbed the gesture of something that a moment before had seemed so special. The flowers, the extra effort, meant nothing to a man like Joshua. He could have imported the entire orchid population of Hawaii, if he’d been so inclined. It was probably part of his regular seduction timetable, listed on some computer index along with his appointments and handled by an efficient secretary. In her case, the romantic gesture had come after the fact, but he struck her as a man who would veer only so far from his routine.

  “They’re very nice,” she said flatly.

  She saw the faint puzzlement creep into Joshua’s eyes, the quick flare of anger. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. They’re lovely. Thank you.”

  “Enough of the polite good manners. What the hell’s wrong now? Two minutes ago you looked as if I’d presented you with diamonds. All of a sudden it’s as if they’ve turned into garden worms or something. Is it what I said about being rich?”

  Before she could form a denial, he shook his head. “That’s it, isn’t it? What the hell is wrong with having money?”

  “Stop cursing.”

  “Why? I’m not using any words you haven’t flung about today.”

  “Lower your voice. Casey will hear you.”

  “Don’t you want her to know what a stubborn, pigheaded woman she’s got for a mother?”

  Garrett sighed regretfully. “I’m sure she’s already aware of that.”

  “Well, it can’t be my language. She’s sure as hell heard worse.”

  “Joshua!”

  He leaned forward intently. “Talk to me, Garrett. Tell me what’s wrong with having money.”

  She dragged her fingers through her hair, tugging strands loose. He was pushing her back to that other time again, forcing memories she didn’t want to face. “It’s not the money exactly.”

  Joshua refused to settle for the weak evasion. “Then what? It’s legal. I don’t pedal drugs or export arms to the enemy, so what’s the problem? Talk to me, Garrett. We need to get past this.”

  “We don’t need to do anything. I’m sure you earn your money perfectly legitimately. I’m sure you’re wallowing in it. I just don’t want any part of it.”

  He leaned toward her until his hot, angry breath whispered across her cheek. “Why, Garrett?”

  Something finally snapped in her. “It’s what you do with it, okay? What all men with money do.”

  His eyes turned suddenly cold. “Let’s leave other men out of this for the moment,” he suggested, his tone frosty. “What precisely do I do with my money that you find so offensive?”

  Memories flooded in, crowding out the image of the man across from her and replacing it with the man she hated, the man she despised. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she accused him, “You use it to control people, to buy and sell them, to get your own way no matter the cost.”

  As if it came from far away, she heard Joshua’s sharp, furious intake of breath. Dragging herself back to the present, to this moment and this man, she watched with a sinking sense of dismay as his shoulders tensed and a dull red color crept into his cheeks.

  “When did you come up with this particular insight into my personality?” he said tensely. “Was it the flowers? Forget the damned flowers.”

  With one violent sweep of his arm, he reached back and knocked them off the counter, sending them crashing to the floor. Pink and apricot tulips and bright yellow daffodils mixed with shards of cranberry glass and water. Holding back a gasp, Garrett had to resist the desire to reach out and rescue the precious, broken blossoms.

  “Maybe it was earlier,” he accused. “Maybe it was the minute I arrived here eighteen months ago.”

  Garrett winced in guilt.

  He sighed sorrowfully. “I’m right, then. You made up your mind about me way back then and nothing—not even making love with me—nothing that’s happened since has done anything to change it. Do you know how pathetic that is? Are you going to spend the rest of your life shutting people out based on some crazy first impression of how they squander their bank account?”

  “No. Yes.” Her own fury kicked in then, renewed by his derision. “Yes, I am. If that’s what it takes to keep us safe, that is exactly what I’m going to do.”

  “Safe?�
� Joshua asked, his expression suddenly troubled. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m no threat to you.”

  She shook her head wearily. “Yes, you are.”

  “I think you’d better explain.”

  “I can’t.” She looked up, wiping furiously at her tears. “I just can’t.”

  She heard his sigh of defeat, knew precisely when he got to his feet. Her breath held, her heart aching, she waited for him to leave. Finally, to her astonishment, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

  “You may be stubborn and pigheaded, Traci Maureen Garrett, but so am I,” he said softly. “So am I.”

  * * *

  The walk back to the house cooled some of Joshua’s anger. For a full minute in that kitchen he’d wanted to shake Garrett until her teeth rattled for making such horrible judgments about him. The tears had held him back, shaken him in fact. With a sudden flash of insight he’d known with absolute certainty that her response was based on the past, not the present. Her own past. It had nothing to do with him at all. If he was going to understand her, he had to find out what had happened to her years ago to rob her of her ability to trust. Unless he could do that, he might as well return to Florida and forget all about her.

  He went back into the main house through the kitchen and found Elena polishing the silver.

  She looked up at his entrance and smiled. “Se;atnor Ames. You missed dinner. Are you hungry? I could make you something. There are enchiladas.”

  “Thanks, Elena, but I ate with Casey.”

  “Ah,” she said, beaming. “And Garrett, si?”

  “Afraid not.”

  “She was still working? It is too late. She works too hard, that one.”

  “Yes, she does.” Picking up a rag and a beautiful silver coffee carafe, he began to polish. The mindless task soothed him, giving him pleasure as he watched the soft sheen replace the tarnish. Was that what it would take with Garrett, a gentle touch to wipe away years of built-up hurt?

  “Were you here when she first came, Elena?”

  The housekeeper gave him a sharp look. “Si, I was here. The ni;atna was just a baby. They came here from the hospital.”