“Let’s eat in the kitchen,” he said. “It’s quicker, and we’re both tired.”
They moved into the brightly lit kitchen and sat down to a vegetable curry, the last of the frozen food that could be safely consumed. The atmosphere grew strained, charged with unspoken thoughts. They had left the wine in the living room, but neither of them suggested that they return to fetch the bottle and the glasses.
The conversation consisted of awkward snatches that didn’t join up.
Jed seemed distant, withdrawn.
Maybe all he wanted was a kiss, Rachel told herself.
Or maybe he wanted you, but you did a good job of scaring him away.
* * * *
Rachel sat up in bed, reading. She glanced at her watch on the nightstand. It was nearly two in the morning. Around midnight, she’d tiptoed downstairs to pick up a book. The steamy romance she’d chosen made her burn inside at the thought of doing all those things with the lean, dark man asleep in the next room.
The soft tap on the door startled her.
“Rachel?” Jed’s voice came through. “Are you awake?”
“Yes.” She lowered the book.
The door slid open and Jed stepped through. He wore nothing but sweatpants riding low on his hips. On his bare chest, a dark triangle of hair tapered into a line that disappeared into his waistband.
“It’s a cold night,” he told her. “The chimney heats the bedrooms. I went downstairs to add more wood into the fireplace.’ He eased closer, crossing his arms over his chest and propping one shoulder against the wall. “I saw you had the light on.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been reading.” She indicated the book beside her.
“It’s not like you think,” he said abruptly.
Puzzled, Rachel leaned back against the headboard. “What’s not like I think?”
“That day at the lake,” Jed said. “When I came across those fashion people, I didn’t chase them off because they offended my moral standards. I didn’t see the camera crew. I came out of the forest, and the only thing I saw was a girl in a bathing suit grappling with two men. One was holding her around the waist from behind. The other was standing in front of her, his arms extended, as if he planned to strip her naked. I thought they were going to rape her. I yelled out a warning and lifted the gun. Before I had time to order those two men to take their hands off her, the photographer crashed out from the trees and started shouting that I was spoiling his scene.”
Speechless, she stared at him.
Jed uncrossed his arms and picked up a pine cone from a clay dish on top of the chest of drawers. “My heart was going like a sledgehammer, adrenalin pumping through my veins. I thought I’d been about to rescue a girl in trouble. Instead, I’d disrupted a photo shoot. I felt like an idiot.”
“Dear God.” Rachel blew out a sigh. “I’ve seen the pictures in La Diva. I can see how you got the impression she was about to be molested. Why didn’t you explain what you’d seen, why you reacted the way you did?”
“Yeah, well.” Jed shifted his shoulders. “I knew they’d laugh at me, and it seemed easier to let them think that I resented them being there.” He dropped the pine cone back in the dish and pushed away from the chest. The muscles on his chest flexed with the motion. “Then those fashion models started wondering up the hill, all flirty and seductive and predatory. I felt they were poking fun at me. I guess I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I don’t like being an object of ridicule, and I reacted by turning nasty.”
“Why did you think they were making fun of you?”
“Maybe they weren’t.” Jed turned to leave. “But they would have, had I taken them up on what they were offering. They would have laughed at my clumsiness and inexpert fumbling.” He paused at the doorway, not turning to look back at her. “The truth is, I’m thirty-four, and I’ve never made love to a woman.”
The door closed with a soft clunk, and he was gone.
* * * *
For the rest of the night, Rachel tossed and turned, thinking of Jed and the startling confession he’d made. Now she understood the mental battles she’d sensed inside him. Not a man struggling to keep the moral high ground, but a man torn between his desire for intimacy and the fear of being found lacking. She longed to find a way of encouraging him without appearing too forward, or hurting his prickly male pride.
In the morning, a cold draft blew in through the gap at the bottom of the door, making Rachel shiver as she hurried to dress in her borrowed clothes. When she drew the curtains, a pale winter sun sparkled over the forest landscape that had been covered in a fresh layer of snow.
Downstairs, she found the kitchen tidy, a set of breakfast dishes draining in the rack. She touched her hand to the coffee pot. Barely lukewarm. Jed must have gone out hours ago, at the first glimmer of dawn.
A note stood in the middle of the checked tablecloth, where she couldn’t miss it.
Take any food you need. Make sure the fire is banked before you leave.
Her heart swelled, and yet irritation mixed with the empathy that made her eyes mist with tears. Jed seemed to think she’d simply run off. Abandon him, just like his mother had abandoned him when he was a child.
She could not do it. Not for his sake, or her own.
Instead of walking out, she would try to ease Jed’s burden by doing his accounts. As Rachel settled in the den and sorted through the paperwork that littered the desk, her thoughts drifted back to the office and Hank. The life she’d longed to return to seemed distant now, the memories faded, almost like old photographs that had ceased to be important.
By the time the steady thud of a horse’s hooves on the snow alerted Rachel to Jed’s return, darkness had already fallen. She ran her eyes over the ledger again, shaking her head. Neatly sorted stacks of invoices and delivery notes and bills of sale covered the desk, all arranged in date order.
Fifteen minutes later, the front door slammed.
Jed had to be aware that she hadn’t left. The lights were on. A fire roared in the stone chimney. Her padded parka hung on a hook by the front door. She waited, until she heard the inner door open and close, and the sound of footsteps crossing the floor.
“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she called out, not leaving the den.
“You’re still here.” Jed appeared in the doorway, hatless and coatless, the thick dark locks in disarray.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked in a casual tone.
“Why are you still here?”
“I’m doing your books. Remember? I have a bet to pay. The tale of your mother was worse than that of my father.”
He came into the room and sank in the chair opposite the desk. “There’s no need.”
Frustration flared inside Rachel. “There’s every need.” She pointed at the stacks of paper with the end of her pencil. “This is a mess.”
Jed’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “I told you. I’m not a businessman.”
“I can see that. I’ve sorted through the records of your sales, and expenses for feed, and vet bills and payments to Martha and her sons, and invoices for equipment repairs.” She looked up at him and frowned. “There are no records of personal drawings. If you don’t pay yourself a salary, how do you account for items for personal use?”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t account for personal expenses? That’s impossible.” Rachel made a sweeping gesture across the table. “I’ve gone over everything and the balance matches the bank statement dated at the end of October.”
“I meant that I don’t buy things for personal use.”
The doubt that had risen in her mind during the day hardened into certainty. Pity welled inside her at the life Jed must lead, the long hard days, the lonely nights, the grief of sometimes losing an animal, and the constant worry over the precarious state of his financial affairs.
“This is everything?’ she asked, pointing at the receipts, just to make sure. ‘You don’t go out. You don’t buy new clot
hes. You don’t have vacations or spend money on leisure interests, apart from the subscriptions to the wildlife magazines?”
His only reply was a slow nod.
“It could be a profitable business.” She lowered her head to study the ledger. “But you owe far too much money. Eighty percent of your profits go to loan repayments. I thought the ranch was established generations ago. Why do you owe so much money?”
Jed’s mouth tightened. “We had a problem when I was in my last year at high school. Some idiot flew a helicopter low over the pasture and spooked the herd. There was a stampede, just where the river drops into the canyon. Half the animals died or had to be slaughtered.” A bitter look flickered across his face. “Martha’s husband got injured. He died before we got him to the hospital. Two weeks later, my father had a fatal heart attack. The loan was to rebuild the herd and to pay the lawyer’s fees. We tried to sue, but couldn’t get compensation. The helicopter had been stolen and the pilot had no insurance. He was a war veteran. He’d been drinking. I knew my father wouldn’t have wanted to land him in jail, so I dropped the case and borrowed even more money to set Martha up with a pension.”
“Oh, Jed,” Rachel said. “How old were you?”
“I was nineteen. I had planned to study veterinary science, but to keep the ranch going I had to bury those plans and stay.” He paused, shifted in the chair. “I had a girlfriend in those days. We’d been old fashioned, waiting to have sex until we were ready to make a commitment. She went off to college swearing fidelity. As the year wore on, her phone calls got less and less frequent. When she came back for the holidays, she told me it was over.”
Rachel’s fingers curled tight around the pencil. An image of Jed filled her mind, the way he’d been last night, his body rigid as he stood in the doorway, leaving her to stare at his naked back while he laid his vulnerabilities bare before her.
“And there hasn’t been anyone else since then?” she asked.
“That summer, when she came back and broke it off, I got this—” Jed touched the scars on his cheek. “I was busy with the ranch and felt self-conscious about my damaged face. Money was tight. I couldn’t afford to ask girls out on dates, but for a couple of seasons I worked part time doing maintenance in a hotel in Jackson. I met girls there who’d come out for the skiing. I almost married one of them.”
“Why didn’t you?” Rachel asked.
“Lucky escape, really.” His lips twisted with scorn. “I was standing on a ladder, repairing a leaking gutter. I heard her through an open window, talking to a friend. The other girl was asking why she wanted to marry me, considering I was morose and dull and lacked a sense of humor. The girl I thought I was in love with replied, ‘He is too naive to realize that I’m knocked up, and too honorable to throw me out when he does. I’ll probably just have the kid and leave it with him. He’ll bring it up. It will be no different from those cows he rears. I might even be able to squeeze some money out of him.” Jed paused, studied a heeling cut on the side of his thumb. “The next day, I ended it. I told her it was too much to ask her to adapt to life on a ranch. I haven’t had a date since.”
“I’m sorry,” Rachel said softly.
“I’m not.” Jed propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Marrying her would have ruined my life. Too many echoes of my parents—husband waiting at home for an unfaithful wife to return. Even the thought of it makes me shudder.”
Warmth surged inside Rachel as she watched him. She saw Jed as a teenager, his dreams torn apart, responsibility for the ranch thrust upon him. She saw him growing lonely and bitter with life, wanting more.
Needing more.
Deserving more.
She rose, circled the desk and came to a halt by his chair. “I lied when I said I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not sorry at all. I hate the sound of that woman and what she could have done to you. In fact, if I’m honest, I dislike the idea of any other woman with you.”
Jed jerked to his feet. The mask of reserve broke, revealing the hunger and longing beneath. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked, his voice muffled into her hair. “Will you teach me how to be a good lover, like you offered to teach me how to dance the waltz?”
“Yes, Jed,” she replied. “I’ll stay with you.”
With a groan of triumph and relief, he bent his head and lowered his mouth to hers. Gentle at first, he tasted her. His lips roamed over hers, surprisingly soft for a man who appeared so hard and unyielding. Then he deepened the kiss, letting his need show. Rachel molded against him, offering him access. Hesitantly, he swept his tongue inside her mouth. She responded with a low moan.
His arms tightened around her, crushing her to his chest. As he pushed her back a step, and then another, she came flush with the edge of the desk. A stack of papers scattered to the ground. Rachel didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but the heat that was building up inside her, and the thud of Jed’s heart that she could feel where their bodies pressed together.
Then, as he arched her spine over the desk and started to lower her down to the solid surface, a sharp rumble from his stomach mingled with their panting breaths. He froze. The pressure of his mouth on hers eased.
“Sorry,” he whispered, his lips grazing hers. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
A chuckle slipped from her throat. “As much as I like what you’re doing, I don’t want to be your dinner.” Gently, she pushed with the flat of her palms against his broad chest. “I’ll fix you something to eat.”
He pulled away. The dark flush that covered his cheeks made the pale scars stand out more than usual. The collar of his shirt rose and fell with the force of his heaving lungs. “I’ll need a shower,” he said in a husky voice. His midnight eyes roamed her face. In their expression she could read the words he’d left unsaid.
I want to shower before I take you to bed.
Chapter Six
Rachel suspected she might have seasoned the omelet with sugar instead of salt but it hardly mattered. She doubted Jed would have noticed. His hands didn’t seem quite steady, and instead of looking at his plate while he ate, his gaze slid over her in a searing look that felt like a flame on her skin.
“Jedediah.” She lingered over the word. “I saw your full name on the paperwork,” she explained when his brows inched up. “I’ve never heard the name before.”
“It’s from Victorian times. I was named after my great-grandfather. He’s the one who established the ranch.”
“Je-de-di-ah.” Her voice was low. “I like it.”
“I like hearing you say it.” He lifted the heavy stoneware mug and took a sip of coffee, studying her over the rim. “You’ve hardly eaten anything.” He nodded toward her untouched meal.
“I seem to have lost my appetite.”
Jed lowered his mug and rose. Rachel watched him circle the table. All her thoughts scattered. Her eyes skimmed over him, from the thick coal-black hair, damp at the tips, to the freshly shaven jaw, and the fierce dark eyes that trapped her to that single spot, leaving her powerless to think or move or speak.
“Have you changed your mind?” he asked.
“No.” She struggled to speak, even whisper, merely forming the word on her lips. The flicker of relief in his eyes told her he’d understood.
“Good,” Jed said. “Because it would have destroyed me if you had.” He offered his hand to her, palm up, in a gesture of invitation.
Rachel got to her feet. She slipped her hand into Jed’s. His fingers curled around hers, strong and warm. The feel of his calloused skin against the softness of hers reminded her of the different worlds they belonged in.
It can work between us, she told herself as she followed him upstairs. It can work, if both of us want it enough and are willing to make sacrifices.
His bedroom had no rug on the floor, no curtains hanging from the windows. Her eyes flickered from the solid oak bed to the blackness of the forest outside.
“There’s no one there to watch us,” Jed assured her as he pulled her into his arms. “Only the sky and the moon and the stars and wild animals, and for them mating is as natural as breathing or eating.”
She pulled free from his embrace.
A shadow crossed his face. Rachel tried to show with her actions that she was beyond kissing, beyond waiting. Her hands went to the front of his shirt and started to release the buttons from their tiny holes. As soon as she had the top three open, she slipped her palm inside and stroked the ridged muscles, feeling with her fingertips the gentle abrasion of the hairs that covered his chest.
The thought of rubbing her breasts against him made her shiver.
“My turn,” Jed murmured. He caught her wrists, brought her hands down to her sides, and tugged at the hem of her sweater until he could pull the garment over her head, together with the thermal undershirt she wore beneath.
Her hair fell in a tangle around her naked shoulders. She stood still, letting him look, enjoying the feminine power that his hungry gaze sent soaring inside her.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jed said. Taking a step back, he paused to admire her. Then he bent down to scoop her up and lowered her on top of the patchwork quilt on the bed.
She helped him with the zipper on the front of her jeans and wriggled her hips to slide the denim down her legs, catching the waist of her panties to keep them on, preferring to take small steps, so she could enjoy every one of them.
“Silk and lace.” He ran one fingertip along the edge of her bra. “I’ll always want to see you in silk and lace, not practical cotton.” His gaze flicked up to hers. “Will you promise me that? That when you go away, you’ll wear silk, so I can imagine what you look like every night when you get ready for bed?”
She gave him the promise in a wordless nod and shifted on the bed, rising to her knees, so she could finish taking off his shirt. Jed pushed her back down.
“Let me watch you while I undress,” he said.
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