Letter to a Lonesome Cowboy

by Jackie Merritt

  Sighing, she let her thoughts go where they may. Mack, Rand, her financial dilemma and what she’d learned of the Kincaid family today went around and around in her mind.

  The ranch was plowed out now—even the long driveway to the road. Rand had put a couple of men to work shoveling out the vehicles on the ranch, so everyone was mobile again. Mack had gone to bed unhappy, because Rand had told him the school bus went by the ranch at 6:20 in the morning and he was to be out at the road in time to wave it down. “Unless you’d like me or your sister to drive you to town and enroll you in school,” Rand had said firmly. “It’s your choice.”

  Mack had chosen to go by himself. Suzanne knew his pride would not permit him to be enrolled as though he were a child. Her heart had gone out to Mack, as it always did when he was truly downcast. However surly he could get at times, however sassy-mouthed or downright rude, she loved him and never failed to feel any emotional pain he felt.

  But the bottom line was that Mack listened to Rand, a small miracle if she’d ever witnessed one. She knew her brother would not have agreed to going to school at all if it had been her telling him to catch that early bus. Not only did Mack want to stay and work on the ranch bad enough to do something he abhorred, he respected Rand.

  Well, so did she, Suzanne thought. She not only respected him, she was in love with him. “Damn,” she mumbled with an agonized groan. She never should have made love with Rand. What had come over her to do such a thing? And why had it seemed logical at the time and totally illogical now? She had never acted so heedlessly before, and she knew in her soul that she was going to pay for that rash, impulsive behavior for a long, long time.

  Rand, too, was finding sleep elusive. As tired as his body was from a long day of hard work, his mind would not shut down. For one thing, he couldn’t stop thinking of Suzanne in bed just next door to his own room. Maybe what bothered him most were the powerful feelings he was developing for her. He shied from the word love because of all the heartache he’d suffered over Sherry. He didn’t think he could live through something like that again, and he was not going to put himself in that position with a woman ever again.

  Of course, Suzanne and Sherry were miles apart in personality. Suzanne automatically put others before herself, proof of which was in her concerns for her brother. With Sherry it had been me, me, me, and to hell with everyone else. Rand knew that now, and deep down he was glad that Sherry had dumped him. But the pain of those agonizing weeks was easily recallable, and he knew it would influence him for the rest of his life.

  Still, he was lonely, and he knew that only a wife, a helpmate, a partner in all things, was what he wanted. Not a girlfriend for a night or even a month—they were easy enough to find—but a woman to stand by his side through thick and thin, someone to talk to without reservation, and to plan the future with. Someone to laugh with, to make love with, to be happy with.

  Suzanne fit the bill perfectly. She was brighter than most, as pretty as any man could hope for, considerate, even-tempered and sexy as sin in bed. And she was fun. He could kid around and laugh with her. Why couldn’t she admit that she felt the same about him? He knew she liked him, he sensed her liking, and she’d proved her physical attraction to him in her very own bed. What was stopping her from taking that final step and agreeing to marry him?

  Lying there in the darkness of his room, he wondered if she was sleeping. Who knew if there would be an opportunity for them to talk tomorrow? They had talked today, mostly about the Kincaids, but once the plows came, the whole place had exploded into a beehive of activity and there’d been no further chance of private conversation.

  That was all he wanted, he told himself, a few minutes alone with her, one more chance to plead his case. Although he wouldn’t like hearing it, even a sound explanation as to why she thought marriage was wrong for them would be better than he had now.

  His heart beat faster at the thought of going to her room. Of sitting on the edge of her bed and the two of them talking in the dark. She might object, she might refuse to talk, she might get angry, but what if she did none of those things? What if she was still awake, as he was, and thinking thoughts similar to his own? Worrying about doing the right thing, worrying about her and Mack’s future?

  I want to be a part of her and Mack’s future, dammit! And there has to be a way to make her understand what it would mean to all three of us.

  Throwing back the covers, Rand got up and pulled on his jeans. Barefoot and shirtless, he quietly opened his door, just as quietly closed it behind him and tiptoed the short distance to Suzanne’s. Cocking his head to listen, he rapped lightly.

  Suzanne heard the soft brushing of knuckles on her door and instantly knew who was out there. Her heart leapt into her throat. She hugged the covers tighter to her chest. If she let Rand in, no telling what would happen. If she didn’t, he would probably come in anyway, and no telling what would happen. He was nothing if not persistent, and maybe it was exciting to be pursued so diligently. Certainly no other man had ever wanted her as much as Rand seemed to.

  And yet, any further intimacy between them would only intensify the feelings she already had for him. She should not open herself to more heartache by being nice to him when they should both be sleeping.

  She slipped out of bed and found the doorknob in the dark, which she turned and then pulled the door open. Her voice was not particularly friendly. “What do you want, Rand?”

  Because of the night-light in the hall, he could see her quite clearly. She was wearing baggy pajamas, her hair was disarrayed and she looked as young as her kid brother.

  “Can we talk?” Rand asked.

  “At this hour? No, I don’t think so. Good night.” She tried to close the door, but he pushed on it harder than she did and it opened wider.

  “Suz, please. Talk is all I want, I swear it.”

  “That’s well and good, but it’s late.”

  “It’s not that late. You couldn’t have been asleep or you wouldn’t have heard my knock. Let me come in, please?”

  “What do you want to talk about?” The fact that he was pretty much dressed, other than his feet, was a point in his favor, although she still didn’t want him in her room, since she didn’t trust either of them not to misbehave.

  “Don’t ask me that while I’m standing in the hall.”

  He sounded so plaintively desperate, very much like Mack did when the boy was pining for some unattainable thing, and Suzanne’s innate kindness kicked in. She sighed hopelessly, fearing that she was on the verge of digging herself a deeper hole.

  Still, she must at least attempt to maintain the upper hand. “If I let you come in, will you keep your distance? Can you promise that?”

  “I can and I do.”

  “Come in, then. Pull the chair over to the bed, if you want. I’m getting under the covers again. I’m cold.”

  Darting to the bed, she jumped back under the blankets. Rand shut the door, which also shut out the hall light.

  “I can’t see anything,” he said. “Is it okay if I turn on the light?”

  “I don’t want the light on. Just wait a minute. Your eyes will adjust.” Now why wouldn’t she let him turn on the light? Suzanne frowned about it. Wasn’t it safer talking in bright light than in the dark?

  But maybe they would be both more honest if they couldn’t see each other’s faces, and it could be honesty that she needed from Rand. Not that she thought him a liar. For a fact, he seemed to be one of the most straightforward, aboveboard people she’d ever met. But she still didn’t know why he had felt the need to advertise for a wife, did she? Not his deep down private reason, she didn’t. Yes, she knew it had something to do with a relationship gone sour, but why would one bad experience turn a man off love for the rest of his days? Her own experience was worse than his—at least he hadn’t been married and then tossed aside like an old shoe—and she’d fallen in love again. Against her better judgment, of course, but it had still happened.

 
She heard him fumbling around in the dark for the chair, and then a bump and a “Dammit!”

  “What’s wrong?” She sat up.

  “I ran into the dresser.”

  “Oh, turn on the damned light,” she said with some disgust, and lay down again.

  “No, we’re going to do this your way,” he said, bending over to rub his barked shin. “Did you move the chair? I thought it was next to the bathroom door.”

  “Never touched it. Where are you?”

  He was feeling around again, and felt the foot of the bed against his legs. “Guess I’m by the bed.”

  “Well, the chair’s not over here. Go in the other direction.”

  Rand was getting tired of this silly game. She didn’t want the light on? Fine, but he wasn’t going to play blindman’s buff any longer. He followed the configuration of the bed with his hands until he stubbed his toe on the nightstand.

  “Ouch! This whole room is a damned booby trap.”

  “You’re right next to me! Rand, go and get that chair.”

  “I’m going to sit on the edge of the bed. If you don’t want me touching you, move over.”

  Annoyed, Suzanne left her nice warm spot and slid over to the middle of the bed. It jiggled from Rand’s weight when he sat down, but finally they were both settled.

  After several moments of silence she said, “You’re not talking.”

  “I’m figuring out the best way to start.”

  “Let me start. I heard you saying something to the men about George during dinner. Did you talk to him today?”

  “I called him, yes.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Sounded like it. He’s taking therapy treatments for his back.”

  “Did you tell him I was doing some of his work?”

  “Sure did.”

  “And how did he take it? I mean, did it upset him?”

  “Heck, no. Why would it? He’d been worrying about the payroll and was glad to hear you’d taken care of it. He said to call him if you had any questions about the books.”

  Suzanne sighed softly. “I knew he was a nice man. You told him I’m only helping out temporarily, of course.”

  “I…don’t remember. Probably did.”

  “I hope you did. I wouldn’t want him worrying about my taking his job.”

  “I’m sure it never entered his mind. His doctor wants him to stay in town after he’s released from the hospital, so he can continue treatment. I told him to stay for as long as it takes. You know, I wouldn’t have been able to be that generous if you weren’t here, and I’m sure George knows it.”

  “Well, you certainly couldn’t have told him to come back to work with a bad back and a broken leg!”

  “You’re right, but your being here and seeing to the record-keeping made it easy to be generous.”

  “Did you talk to Handy, too?”

  “I don’t know how to reach Handy. He left here in such a rush, he never gave me a phone number or the address of where he’d be staying in Seattle.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know.”

  “It’s possible, but I think what’s more likely is that he didn’t think about it. Handy’s sort of excitable, and he drove out of here like a bat out of hell.” Rand’s bare feet were getting icy. “Would you mind if I put my feet under the covers? I’m not wearing any socks or shoes.”

  “You’re cold?”

  “It’s not exactly warm in here. Guess I could go turn up the furnace.”

  Suzanne took a quiet breath. Again he’d spoken with that little-boy quality in his voice, and she was definitely susceptible to it.

  “But then everyone sleeping upstairs would get too warm,” she said. “Put your feet under the blankets.” Put all of you under the blankets! She’d been participating in casual, completely impersonal conversation, but there was nothing casual or impersonal about the feelings he was arousing within her, just because he was sitting on her bed.

  She suddenly felt like bawling. Her own body was betraying her, and it wasn’t fair!

  The bed quivered and shook as he maneuvered his feet off the floor and under the blankets. “There, that’s a lot better,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “Do…do you think the men upstairs can hear when this bed moves?” she asked.

  “Can you hear their beds? I’m sure they turn over at night. It’s bound to make some noise. Ever hear it?”

  “No,” she said in an uneven little whisper. “It’s just that I wouldn’t want them thinking…”

  “Thinking what, Suzanne?”

  “You know.”

  “That you and I are making love?”

  “Must you say it?”

  “Must you pretend we don’t want each other right now?” Rand returned, speaking low.

  “You didn’t come in here to talk at all, did you?”

  Rand changed positions so fast, Suzanne didn’t know where he was until she felt him leaning over her. “Listen to me. I did come in here to talk, but you affect me so much my mind seems to go blank when I’m alone with you. And you know something else, I think I do the same thing to you. Am I wrong?”

  She gulped and whispered, “No.”

  “Thank you for that. I do admire honesty.”

  “So do I, Rand.”

  “We’re a lot alike, Suz.” Slowly he lowered himself on top of her. The blankets were between them, but the feel of her under him, warm and alive, and the scent of her, had him moving his mouth over her face. “I want you in my life, Suz.”

  “I know you want me, but—”

  “In my life,” he repeated, emphasizing each syllable. He was too cautious to add as my wife, though he was thinking it. But he felt that he was making some real progress and he didn’t want her doing another turnabout and kicking him out of her room, which he knew could happen if he started talking about marriage again. “Oh, Suz,” he groaned, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

  “Some” was all she got out before his lips covered hers. A sob welled in her throat. Had she let him in for this? Had he known this would happen when she’d agreed to “talk”? Achingly sweet desire held her prisoner. She felt both hot and cold—how could that be? He entered her mouth, and she heard a moan of pleasure deep in his throat and felt his body tense.

  His tongue tasted of toothpaste, and it moved over her teeth and mated with hers. The heat of his arousal seared her through the blankets. His breathing was erratic and loud.

  But so was her own. She could hold back or pretend no longer.

  “Get undressed,” she whispered hoarsely. Her hands slid down his back and impatiently plucked at his undershirt.

  Rand shifted away from her and yanked the undershirt over his head. It took about three seconds to shed his jeans and briefs, and when he crawled under the covers he discovered that she had torn off her pajamas in the same brief span of time.

  He wrapped himself around her and absorbed the heat of her skin. Nothing had ever felt so delicious to him. She was satin and silk, everything beautiful in the world, and he touched her with awe, with wonder, with…could it be love?

  He quickly buried the word deep in his psyche. He didn’t even want to think it, and he would never say it aloud, not to anyone. It meant nothing. The only things that had meaning between a man and woman were an overwhelming need for each other at night and a genuine liking for each other during the day. They had both. They were a perfect match. He would convince Suzanne of that, he was certain of it.

  But not now. Right now all he wanted to do was hold her, kiss her creamy throat, her full sultry lips and her small perfect breasts. All he could concentrate on was caressing her incredible body, making love to her until she was moaning and completely his, and then taking her all the way to the finish line.

  This is sheer madness, Suzanne thought, but knowing she was playing with fire only seemed to triple her excitement. Rand’s body was hard, lean, muscular, sinewy and totally male. She couldn’t touch it enough, explore it enough. His kisses were
magical, chasing common sense and sensibility clear out of the room. Beneath the covers, the temperature was getting steamy. She was lost, she finally admitted weakly, totally and completely lost, and it was the most incredible sensation she had ever felt.

  Hungrily she sought his mouth again. It was so dark she couldn’t make out his features, but she knew his face as well as her own. Within the devouring kiss her fingertips traced the contours of strong chin and high cheekbones, and finally twined into his hair.

  Rand’s hand skimmed down her body. She knew where it was going and parted her legs in throbbing anticipation. His touch was gentle but knowledgeable and it was only seconds before she couldn’t lie still. Tearing her mouth from his to suck in a badly needed breath of air, she gasped his name.

  “Rand, oh, Rand.”

  It was the plea he’d been waiting to hear; he needn’t hold himself in check any longer. Rising up, he fit his hips between her thighs. When he slid into her, her long, moaning sigh confirmed her readiness.

  “Suz,” he whispered raggedly as he began moving within her. Her hips rose and fell with his. His mind clouded over as pleasure saturated his system. Gentle thrusts gradually evolved to a hard, driving rhythm, and each time he plunged into her, she cried out, softly at first, then louder and louder.

  He felt her fingernails dig into his back. Her head moved back and forth on the pillow. He recognized the signs, she was getting very close to the end. His chest swelled with self-satisfaction. He had never taken his own pleasure without first seeing to his lady’s. Any man that did robbed himself of the greatest pleasure of all and was a damned fool.

  He would never be a fool with Suzanne, not in bed, not out of it. She was one very special woman, and he would always treat her with the highest regard.

  He kissed her with all the emotion he was feeling, and Suzanne, as far gone as she was, recognized the difference between this kiss and the others they had exchanged. She had no time to think about it, however, for she was nearly to the peak of the mountain and about to go over.