by Sharon Sala
“Now that we’ve got salad and dessert out of the way, what kind of meat do you like?”
“Not wieners.”
Boone threw back his head and laughed. And when he did, for a moment, Rachel saw Dakota’s face slide between them. He, too, seemed to be laughing aloud, and she could almost hear a soft, indistinct giggle, as if Mercy were sharing his mirth.
“Oh, God,” Rachel said, and grabbed the cart for support.
“Just when I think you’re gone...you come back.”
She didn’t realize until she’d spoken that Boone could misinterpret what she said. But when the laughter died, she knew what had happened. Back came the old, angry Boone. The one with no smile and cold eyes.
“Wait,” Rachel said, and took him by the arm as he turned. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Yeah, right,” Boone said, and made a big pretense of looking around, although they both knew there was no one else in sight.
“You don’t understand,” Rachel said.
“Then make me,” he said quietly. When she didn’t answer, he walked away.
Rachel hurt too much to cry. What have I done? But there were no answers for her, and she’d suddenly lost her appetite for everything, including shopping.
Long, empty minutes passed while she stared at the oranges like a woman in mourning. When a lady with two noisy children headed her way, she reacted by pushing her near-empty cart to a checkout stand, then waiting with dull, lifeless eyes while the clerk rang up her groceries. She hadn’t bought much as such things normally went—one small pint of strawberries, a long, smooth cucumber, the green, leafy celery and a single orange, slightly squeezed.
“Will that be all, Rachel?” the clerk asked.
She nodded, then dug out her money as the young boy who sacked groceries for the store began to bag her purchases.
“Wait! That’s not mine,” she said, as the boy dangled a large plastic bottle of lilac-scented bubble bath above the sack.
“Oh, yes, ma’am, it is,” the kid said. “A man paid for it a few minutes ago and then left. He said you would be along to pick it up.”
Bubble bath?
Weight lifted from the region of her heart. All might not be forgiven, but it would seem he was willing to give her another try at explaining...as well as washing his back.
Chapter 11
Evening came, and with it anxiety about the night that lay ahead. After the way Boone had walked out of the store, Rachel was scared to death he might not come back. The only thing giving her courage was the bottle of bubble bath he’d left at the checkout stand.
The strawberries had long ago been cleaned and bagged, and now they were chilling in the refrigerator. The celery and cucumber had gone into a salad. T-bone steaks were in the refrigerator, still thawing after having been removed from the freezer a few hours ago. The bottle of lilac-scented bubble bath was sitting on the side of the tub. The orange was on hold until breakfast.
She kept telling herself that she had to eat, whether he came or not, and that she’d been taking baths alone for a good many years. She didn’t need the appearance of some modern-day desperado to make her wash behind her ears. She was perfectly capable of feeding and bathing herself. All she’d done was plan ahead. Just in case.
Rachel walked through the house one last time, checking to see if there was something she’d forgotten. Pale blue throw pillows were neatly arranged on her floral-print sofa; magazines were in place. Dark green easy chairs were turned at just the right angle for conversation, and there was a minibouquet of bright orange marigolds on the cherrywood coffee table in the center of the room. The table was laid, but not with good china. Something told her that Boone wasn’t the kind of man to sit easy at a table with too much fuss.
There was nothing left to do but wait. Rachel passed the hall mirror, then stopped and went back for a last-minute check. Her slacks were old but neat, charcoal gray. Her sweater was a soft rose pink, matching the color on her cheeks. Her hair was down, but pulled back from the sides and fastened at the crown of her head. A cascade of long, loose curls tumbled from the clip holding it in place. Reluctantly she met her own gaze, comparing what she saw with the way her heart ached. Her eyes seemed to be a perfect match to her mood; dark and blue.
She turned away and walked out the back door as a heartfelt sigh escaped her lips. Glancing toward the sunset spreading across the western sky, she thought to herself that Mother Nature was rather fanciful tonight. Only a western sky in evening would dare wear such bold slashes of orange, or such vivid shades of hot pink coupled with the dark, somber hue of deep purple.
But not even the glorious sunset could hold her attention. Not tonight. Rachel’s gaze turned toward the forest beyond her backyard. The shade it was casting was already turning from blue to darker gray. Before long, it would be impossible to tell where the trees started and shadow ended.
Please let him come, she prayed. She stood with her hands folded in front of her like a penitent child, but there was a tense, expectant tilt to her stance.
The sunset came and went.
Out on the road beyond her house, she heard the gears of a pickup truck shifting as the driver started up the steep, winding blacktop. That wouldn’t be Boone. He would come when she was least expecting it. She never asked why he chose to appear and disappear in such secrecy, because she was afraid of what he might say. She was falling in love with a man who couldn’t give her a future, yet she was willing to accept what he could give. If love was all he had to offer, then she would take it.
She stood without moving until the chill wind that came up began to seep through her clothes. When her teeth began to chatter and her eyes began to tear, she told herself it was because of the wind and not from disappointment. With a tilt of her chin, she turned to enter the house.
Her hand was on the doorknob when the skin on the back of her neck began to crawl. Her heart missed a beat as she turned around. She walked off the porch and then farther, moving past the glow of the security light, then past the old rope swing dancing in the brisk night wind.
With nothing but instinct to guide her, she kept moving toward the forest with swift, certain strides. And then she saw him coming out of the trees in a long, easy lope.
Joy surged. She went from a walk to a run, and seconds later found herself in his arms, her feet dangling from the ground as he enfolded her within his embrace.
Laughter mixed with tears as she pressed cold welcoming kisses all over his face. He smelled of pine, and of soap and a musk-scented cologne that made her senses swirl.
“You’re here! You’re here! I was afraid you wouldn’t come!”
Boone could think of nothing but the feel of her breasts against his chest, the tiny span of her waist as he’d lifted her up, and the gentle swell of her hips beneath the palms of his hands as he held her close. She was everything he’d ever wanted, and he was the last thing that should have happened to her.
If the good people of Razor Bend knew she was consorting with a man like him, her reputation would be on the rocks. He couldn’t live without her, but the least he could do was keep his distance until dark.
“Darlin’, wild horses couldn’t have kept me away,” he whispered, and feathered a kiss near the bottom of her ear, then laughed when she shuddered-and moaned.
“Oh, Boone, Boone...” Her voice was soft, and her words were broken.
She met his kiss in the dark, felt his hands in her hair, and accepted the fact that he made her complete. Desperation tinged her every thought, her every motion, until she was shaking with need. With her heart in her eyes, she took him by the hand and led him toward the house.
Boone went willingly, stunned by the way she’d run into his arms. He didn’t know a thing about what made her tick, but he knew how to detonate the woman in her. He wondered if she felt as off balance in the face of the passion that hung between them as he did. It scared him to think how much she meant to him, and with that thought came the knowledge that h
e might be putting her in danger simply by associating with her. His stride slowed, and as they neared the old swing, he stopped.
Puzzled, Rachel turned. “What’s wrong?”
“Slow down, darlin’,” he said softly. “We’re moving too fast.”
His meaning was all too clear, and she knew it had nothing to do with the speed of their walk.
The smile on her face dimmed, and Boone felt it go out like a light in the dark.
“Have mercy, Rachel. Don’t look at me that way.” He took her hand and led her to the swing. “I’ve got eight hours to get this right, okay?”
She smiled but didn’t really mean it. She’d been so happy to see him. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he’d come to tell her it was over?
“I’m so stupid,” she muttered, and was starting to turn away when she heard him curse beneath his breath, then grab her by the hand. She had nowhere to look but at him.
“No! You’re not stupid, but you’re damn sure missing the point. I didn’t say what I did to hurt you.”
“Then why are you hesitating?” she asked, and hated the tremor in her voice. “Are you sorry for what we did last night? Because if you are, I can promise you I won’t hold you to a—”
“Being with me could get you hurt.”
She froze. Now it was out in the open. She could no longer ignore his life-style, because he’d thrown it in her face. Yet hearing it from his own lips couldn’t change what she felt. She loved him.
She reached out, cupping the side of his face with the palm of her hand. A day-old growth of whiskers tickled her fingers as she traced the shape of his mouth. A muscle jerked at the side of his jaw as she brushed her thumb across his lower lip.
“Did you ever think of changing?” she whispered.
He groaned and dropped down to the swing, then pulled her onto his lap. Rachel tried to face him, but he stopped her, so she sat with her back to his front as he held her hard against him.
Boone buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet, clean scent of Rachel’s shampoo, as well as the woman herself. Dear God, what had he done? Part of him needed to tell her the truth... at least as much as he could.
“They say a nurse found me in a cardboard box on the doorstep of a hospital when I was less than a day old. It was snowing. I’d been wrapped in two army blankets, both old, both dirty. They also told me I was howling at the top of my lungs. When she took me inside and dug me out of the box, the only thing I had on was an adult-size T-shirt with a note pinned to it. There was a name. They had no way of knowing if it was my first name or my last, so the nurse improvised.”
Rachel’s heart began to break for the little boy he’d been and for the hurt she still heard in the man.
“Oh, Boone, I’m so sorry.” She leaned against him, giving him her warmth and her strength.
He swallowed the knot in his throat and then hugged her tight. “I didn’t tell you that for sympathy, but you’ve got to understand, I didn’t grow up like you did. I didn’t have anyone who gave a damn whether I lived or died...or cared if I stayed in school, or whether I got in trouble. It’s not an excuse...but it’s an explanation. Right or wrong, that’s who I am.”
“Surely you had friends while you were growing up?”
She felt him shrug.
“You don’t make many friends when you’re constantly being moved within the system.”
The image of a little boy with big eyes and no smile hurt her heart. Rachel slid from his lap and turned. “I’ll be your friend.”
Before he could think to react, she’d run behind him as he sat in the swing.
“Rachel, wait,” Boone said quickly, embarrassed, when she started to push.
“Pick up your feet,” she chided. “Good grief, a body would think you’d never been in a swing before.”
He did as he’d been told.
“Now hold on,” she said, as his momentum began to build. “You’re going to love this. Once you get going real good, it almost feels as if you could fly.”
And there in the Kiamichis, on a dark September night, they fell the rest of the way into love. Boone MacDonald had taught Rachel Brant how to love; now she was teaching him how to play.
For a while time stood still as she pushed and he sailed high off the ground. The muted sounds of laughter drifted into the quiet as the rope yielded to Boone’s weight, squeaking and rasping on the massive limb over which it was tied. Leaves rustled overhead as he dipped and swayed, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Rachel quit pushing and stepped back to watch.
There were tears in her eyes, but the delight on his face was there to see. At that moment Rachel made herself a vow. His childhood might not have been worth remembering, but if he would let her, from this day forward she would give him a life he would never forget.
“I love you, Boone.”
Right in the middle of an arc leading up toward the sky, Boone heard her. When he came down, he bailed out and walked into her arms. All he could do was hold her tight and pray that what he’d done wouldn’t ruin them both.
“Love? God, Rachel, do you know what you’re saying?”
“Only what I feel.”
He took her hand and held it over his heart. “Feel that?” he asked.
Her eyes widened as the thunder reverberated beneath her palm.
“Yes... oh, yes.”
“I don’t have the words to explain what you mean to me, but I can honestly say that I would lie down and die for you and not ask why.”
Dakota’s face began to drift between them.
Don’t let them hang me. Don’t let them hang me.
Rachel choked on a cry of dismay and threw her arms around Boone’s neck.
“No, no,” she muttered, and hid her face against his chest as she held on tight. “Don’t ever say that! Never, ever say die!”
Something inside him began to ache. He’d never felt a pain such as this before, but he was pretty sure it was regret. Their whole relationship was built on a lie. What scared him most was wondering, if she learned the truth, would she still feel the same?
He smiled, then hugged her close.
“Come on, darlin’, you feel cold. I think it’s time we went inside.”
Rachel shuddered. She was chilled, all right, but only on the inside, and from fear, not the cold.
Rachel lay on her side, watching Boone as he slept. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a little-boy look. But that was as far as it went. There was nothing childish about Boone MacDonald, including the way he made love. She inhaled softly, and even in sleep, Boone seemed attuned to her every move. He reached out, pulling her closer against him, relaxing only when her head was beneath his chin and her cheek pillowed on his chest. Rachel let herself be snuggled. Tonight had been a long night of firsts.
Lesson number one: Real men can smell like lilacs and still drive a woman out of her mind.
Just thinking of the bubble bath they’d shared made her grin. Her bathtub was old and deep, but not nearly big enough to accommodate a man with legs as long as Boone’s, especially with Rachel sitting between them.
They’d made hats with the bubbles, fake smiles with the bubbles, transparent bras with the bubbles, even large, bulbous noses with the bubbles, and they’d laughed so hard they accidentally swallowed some bubbles. When the water got cold and the bubbles began to go flat, there was nothmg left to hide the circumstance they were in. Wet, naked, and yearning to belong to each other, Boone drained the water out of the tub and took her to bed with minuscule bubbles still clinging to her skin.
“I’m all wet,” she cried as he pulled back the bedspread and laid her on the blue patchwork quilt beneath.
His smile was wicked, and his eyes were dark and dancing, as he slid between her legs and into her body like a welloiled machine.
“That just makes it better,” he whispered.
Rachel laughed. He’d deliberately misunderstood what she meant, but she didn’t care. This pla
yful side of him was an unexpected joy.
Lesson number two: Making love naked on patchwork quilts is highly erotic. Making love on the floor is plain cold.
Now Boone slept while Rachel gazed her fill, and sometime during her musing, her own eyes closed and she slept. And, God help her, she started to dream.
“You promised you’d love me forever, but you cheated...you lied. You never said forever would be over so fast.”
Boone sat up in bed, wide awake and staring about in sudden confusion. He could have sworn he’d heard a woman’s voice.
Rachel twisted and turned beneath the covers, reaching out to someone who wasn’t there. But it wasn’t her behavior that made Boone start to shake. Rachel was talking, but in a different voice. It was higher-pitched and had a different inflection.
“Oh, man,” Boone muttered and reached out to her.
“No...don’t go...don’t go!” Rachel cried, and threw back the covers, unintentionally shoving his hand aside as she did.
Before Boone could think, Rachel was out of the room and running down the hall, moving through the darkened rooms as if they were swathed in full light. He reached for his jeans and pulled them on in a panic, grabbing a blanket as he followed her out of the house.
The front door was ajar. He stood on the porch, searching the night to see which way she’d gone. Already out of range of her security light, it was a flash of pale flesh in the distance that caught his eye. She was heading for the forest. He bolted off the porch in a flat-out run. If he didn’t reach her before she got to the trees, he would lose her for sure.
Ignoring the pricking of the rough ground on his bare feet, he ran as he’d never run before, catching up with her just outside the boundary of the forest.
But when he tried to put the blanket over her chilled, naked body, she fought him like a woman possessed.
“Rachel, don’t!” he begged.
When he was at the point of wrestling her to the ground, Rachel suddenly stilled, and the blanket he’d just put on her slid off her shoulders, pooling around her bare feet. Boone stared as she dropped to her knees, then cried out and fell facedown upon the ground.