"Aw, shucks," he said with a roguish wink. "I'm not half-bad with a brush."
She ran her fingers across the solid expanse of his chest, pausing at the buttons. "Somehow, I have the feeling you couldn't be half-bad at anything you tried." When he made a contrary sound, she scolded him. "Don't give me that humble-cowboy look. You dance like a dream. You're smart and funny, and, at times, you speak like a poet."
He shrugged. "A friend of mine, Hayward Haimes, was the poet. He used to hitch a ride with me once in a while, and he'd read his stuff aloud to pass the time."
"Is he published?"
"Not that I know of. He passed away the summer before last."
Anne held her breath, afraid to ask the cause.
"Train wreck," Will supplied as if reading her mind. "Somewhere in the Southwest." His forehead knit and he looked away. "Strange, isn't it? Hay road bulls for ten years and never even broke his little finger. Then he boards a train to visit his kids back in Tennessee and boom."
Anne could tell Will had been moved by his friend's death. She responded without conscious decision, offering comfort by pressing her body to his. The big metal buckle at his waist rubbed against her belly in a strange but provocative way. She ran her fingers upward into his hair. "I'm sorry." They'd both known losses. Her mother, his friend. Maybe they were meant to comfort each other.
"Nothing to be sorry about. He had a good life. One of his choosing. How many people can say that?" He cut off her reply with a kiss.
And what could she say anyway? Was hotel management the career she would have chosen if she'd known the kind of hours that were required to succeed at the corporate level? Maybe before Zoey was born, but not now. Unfortunately, she was caught in a vortex of her own making and the shore of second chances looked too far away to reach without drowning.
But Will was offering her a lifeline. Was she brave enough to reach out and take it? Not without making certain they were on the same page about what this meant. One night. Nothing more.
What if I’m in love?
She refused to think about that. Love was not an option.
"You'd better lock the door.”
He walked to the desk and opened the middle drawer. "I know it's in here somewhere."
While he poked about in search of the key, Anne focused on the framed photograph on the desk, one she'd looked at a dozen times since she started working in A.J.'s office. Esther and A.J.'s anniversary two years earlier. They'd traveled to New York to see Anne. As usual, her work had interfered. She barely made it to the restaurant in time for Esther's toast.
"I'll never forget the day I took the biggest gamble of my life. I called a stranger," her mother had begun. "By the time we hung up, I knew he was the man I was going to marry."
Anne had heard various renditions of her mother's story over the years. She'd always marveled at her mother's bravery, her ability to trust her gut.
"Having a change of heart?" Will asked, watching her from the distance of the desk.
"Not at all. We have the perfect window of opportunity. I don't want to look back someday and think, ‘I wish I would have...’ ”
He put one hand on the calendar blotter and leaned across the distance to kiss her. "How could someone who was quiet as a mouse in high school learn to talk so much?" he asked, his tone laced with humor. "Me lock door. You go sofa."
Anne rolled her eyes at his caveman talk, but complied, using the time to watch him move across the room. She'd already decided Will epitomized the ideal behind in a pair of Wranglers, but that was before she saw the way his tailored slacks defined his derriere. He'd tossed his coat on a chair, and his white shirt--slightly rumpled and partially untucked--begged to be removed.
When he joined her on the couch a moment later, her hands flew to work unbuttoning his shirt.
Will wasn't particularly shy. He was used to dressing in locker rooms. He’d once split his pants in front of a packed house and still managed a bow. But his panic level rose when Anne started to push his shirt over his shoulders.
Would she be turned off by his scars? The matching pair above his pecs was just the beginning. His entire history was spelled out all too clearly on his body's roadmap of scar tissue.
As if sensing his disquiet, she scooted down and tenderly brushed her lips across first the right then the left. "Did it hurt?"
"Not the surgery. I was out cold."
"What about what necessitated the surgery?"
“A bad draw in Columbus, Ohio. Demon Juice. A bull that turned out left when everyone said he'd turn out right.”
Will had gotten hung up and never got his feet under him. He'd felt something tear deep inside his right shoulder and when the bullfighters finally got him free, Will was too stunned to move. The bull stepped on his left shoulder, adding insult to injury.
Will's body tensed as if reliving the moment. "Yeh. That one hurt."
Her hand traveled down his chest, her fingers lingering on an inch-long raised silver line across his ribs. "Only horn gouge I ever took and it wasn't in competition. I was helping a friend move some cows on his place outside of Houston and I got between a mama longhorn and her baby. Not a good idea."
She chuckled softly. "If I point to a mark, can you tell me which bull and how many points you made riding him?"
"Probably not. But some you never forget."
"Like women?"
Will tensed again. She'd been honest with him, but her record was a pittance compared to his. Honor compelled him to say, "In the early years, when I was just starting out, there were a lot of girls. Most never lasted more than a weekend. Once or twice I spent the night with a woman just so I wouldn't have to pay for a motel room."
Instead of repulsion, Will thought he read compassion in her eyes. "That couldn't have been easy."
He didn't deserve her sympathy. "Wasn't so bad. Soft bed, warm arms. Sometimes even a free breakfast."
She pushed back and gave him a stern look--the kind he'd seen her give Zoey. "Don't pull that macho act with me, Will Cavanaugh. You're way too kindhearted to be able to spend the night with a woman you barely know without feeling guilty."
She had him there. He hated feeling like he was using people, and he'd always done his best to make sure the women he slept with understood the rules--no strings, no commitments, no sex without protection. "Well, I don't know about that, but luckily, I started winning. As long as the money was coming in, I could be a little more discriminating."
"Wasn't there ever someone serious?"
He nodded. "A couple, actually. I even brought one home to meet Esther and A.J. Didn't your mother tell you?"
She shook her head. "I'm sure I would have remembered. What was her name?"
Why were they talking about other people when the heat between them was rising? "Does it matter? She was a good person, but our timing sucked. She wanted the white picket fence. I wanted the championship. She's now married and has three kids."
Anne ran her nails up the sides of his ribs, producing an unbearably pleasant shiver. "How come you don't have any kids? You're wonderful with Zoey and Tressa."
"Old fashioned.” He kissed her neck. "Need a wife, first. Wanna get married and have a couple more?"
She laughed. "Quit joking."
"What if I'm serious?" Am I?
She shook her head. "You can't be. Tonight is just a one-shot deal."
Is this what they call karma? "It is?"
Her hands stopped moving. "Isn't it?"
Will couldn't keep from snugging his obviously aroused body into the V provided by her welcoming legs. She was hot, half-dressed and gorgeous. Since when did he need the promise of tomorrow to make love to a woman?
He eased his hands behind her back and reversed their positions so Anne was lying on top of him. He unzipped her dress. As the material fell from her shoulders, he had a clear view of her lovely white breasts cupped by some scrap of lace. He hurt with wanting her, but something made him say, "You don't think making love will ch
ange things between us?"
"I guess I was hoping we'd be mature enough to handle what comes next with aplomb.”
Normally, he liked her vocabulary, her precise way of talking, but just now it pissed him off. He felt his desire start to fade. "If I wanted to take what comes next to a more serious level, you'd say...?"
A look of pure bafflement crossed her face. "What level?"
Did he really have to spell it out for her? "A relationship. You and me. Together."
"For the rest of the summer?"
For the rest of our lives. "Or longer."
"But what we feel for each other won't work beyond this room, Will."
"Come again?"
She blushed as if he’d said something risqué. She hadn't come yet, but he was willing to bet that her face would be flushed with passion if they continued on their present course.
"We can't be lovers on a casual basis, Will. Zoey sleeps in the room right next to mine. I couldn't leave her alone while I went to your cabin and you couldn't stay with me. It's not the right image to give to an impressionable young girl."
Will agreed, and her analysis told him she'd already given this some thought, but her eagerness to accept that no alternative existed made him angry. "So, we'd be careful. We could pretend she's your spouse and you're cheating on him."
"That's not funny, Will. I'm not a sneak-around kind of girl."
"What kind settles for one night of sex?”
She pushed off him and sat up. She reached behind to zip up her dress. "I thought you wanted me, too."
"Jesus, Anne, what do you think I'm upset about? I want you so badly my teeth are aroused."
"Well, I'm sorry, but this is the way it has to be."
"Why?"
She faced him, her color high. "Because at the end of the summer, you're going back to your life and Zoey and I will return to the city. Do you honestly think it's fair to any of us to try to maintain a long-distance relationship? Imagine what that would do to Zoey's perception of love. You'd come for the occasional visit. You'd want to stay with me. 'Don't mind, Will, Zoey, he's my sleep-over friend.’ ”
Will winced. He had to admit she had a valid point. He'd been in that kind of relationship once and it had nearly killed him to say good-bye to the child who was caught in the middle.
Anne moved to the end of the couch and drew her knees to her chest. Only the passionate-pink tips of her toes showed from beneath her dress. "And what do I tell her if you get hurt again? If you're laid-up in a hospital on the other side of the country?" She shook her head. "I tried taking care of my mother that way, Will, and it nearly killed me."
He sat up with care and started buttoning his shirt. "Those are worse-case scenarios, and you're getting ahead of yourself. I just want us to spend time together this summer. You, me, and Zoey. You won't even give us a chance."
She heaved a sigh of defeat. "Why bother, Will? When the summer is over, you're going your way and I'm going mine. Except for A.J., what do we have in common?"
No guts, no glory. "Love?"
She blanched. "You're basing that on a couple of kisses and one near miss of hot sex?"
His anger percolated, but he tried to understand her fear. She was right about the disparity in their goals, but whatever happened to love conquers all? "I based that on how I feel. But it's pretty obvious you're too afraid to let yourself risk that kind of involvement."
Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out.
He stood up. "I'd better turn in. Big day tomorrow. Our first Silver Rose trail ride and picnic. Are you still planning on letting Zoey join us?"
She nodded. "If she feels up to it," she said quietly. He could tell she was just as frustrated as he was.
He walked to the door. He turned the handle then stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry, Anne. This sure as heck isn't how I saw this night turning out."
She gave a soft snicker. "Me neither."
Unable to help himself, he retraced his steps and hauled her up against him and kissed her with everything he felt, with everything he'd hoped to share with her the whole night long. When he lifted his head, Anne's eyes were closed. She felt practically boneless in his arms. He let go carefully, watching as she sank back down. He leaned over and touched his lips to her nose. "See ya' in the morning, partner."
He closed the door with care. He hoped she'd think to lock it, to remove his temptation to go back inside. What the hell was wrong with him? Ten minutes earlier, he'd admitted that he readily slept with women he didn't intend to stay with. So she wanted to keep it simple. A quick roll in the hay. What was wrong with that?
Shaking his head, he snatched his hat off the coat tree and headed for his cabin. What a hell of a time in his life to develop principles.
Zoey woke up so excited she felt as if her body might jump outside her skin and run away. But the echo of warnings from nurses and doctors and her mother cautioned her to take deep belly breaths and move slowly. Well, as slowly as possible. Today was going to be her first ever trail ride. How could a person not get a little breathless over that?
She quickly put on her favorite T-shirt and a long-sleeved shirt for layers and sun protection, along with her boots, jeans and hat. Although, knowing her mother, she'd probably have to wear the dorky riding helmet instead. Her toothbrush touched a couple of teeth and she swallowed the mint-flavored gritty toothpaste to save a step. No need to comb her hair. It was going to get messed up anyway.
As she passed through her mother's room, she paused to look around. Joy's overnight bag was gone and the bed was made, but there was no indication her mother had been back to hang up her dress and change. That was odd. Was she sleeping in?
No way. Her mother never overslept.
She unlocked the door and dashed to the stairs. The smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls filled the air. She was glad she wasn't allergic to cinnamon. It was one of her favorite smells, second only to horse.
She trotted down the steps, pretending she was a high-stepping prancer, like the Tennessee Walkers that Will had pointed out in a book on horse breeds in her grandfather's library. Zoey thought they were too elegant for words, but a bit too prissy to live in the mountains. For pure love of life, she favored Arabians. Like Tulip, the horse she would be riding today.
Giving a whinny, she tossed her pretend mane and galloped toward the kitchen.
"Hi, Will," she cried, delighted to see her favorite cowboy perched on a stool near the phone. "How was the party?"
He'd apparently been searching for something in the phone book, but it must not have been important because he closed the cover and held out his arms. "Good morning, Miss Z," he said, giving her a wonderful squeeze that left her happy and sad at the same time. This whole summer had been like that. It was the best one of her whole life, but it was going to end. She couldn't think about September without her chest hurting, so she asked, "When are we leaving on our trail ride?"
"Right after lunch."
"What?" She jumped back. "But what about our picnic?"
"Sorry, sweetness, we're going to have to postpone it. One of our incoming guests missed his connection and won't be arriving until ten. I need to go to the airport to pick him up. That won't leave us enough time to do both, but we can still take a short ride after lunch."
"Couldn't somebody else get him? What about Mommy?" Zoey looked around, but the only other person in the room was Joy, who was measuring flour into a big bowl. Where was her mother? She was always around at this time of day, pouring coffee, chatting with guests, and making sure everyone was happy.
From the volume of voices in the adjoining room, their guests were enjoying their breakfast, but Zoey had yet to hear her mother's distinctive accent.
Will made a funny face, as if he had a stitch in his side, and stood up. He put the phonebook back under the counter then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, "I haven't seen your mom this morning. We had a late night. Maybe she's still sleeping."
Something wasn't right
. First of all, her mother didn't sleep in. Ever. Second, Will was acting weird. Like maybe he didn't want to see Mom. Oh, no, does that mean they had a fight? She could remember some of her parents' fights. No loud voices to upset her, but cold looks and mean-sounding words.
"Are you mad at her for something?"
His mouth opened and closed twice before he said, "No, sweetheart, I'm just trying to juggle business stuff and I'm used to having your mom here to help. She's good at it. I'm not."
That sounded truthful. Zoey rushed to him and threw her arms around his waist. "Sure you are, Will. You're the best. And don't feel bad about the trail ride. We can try a longer ride another time. Maybe for my birthday."
It never hurt to lay the groundwork for presents too far in advance.
"When is..."
Before he could ask his question, a person stumbled into the kitchen. Zoey had to look twice to make sure it was her mother. Mom wore her usual cotton pajamas, but they were rumpled and one leg was hiked up at the knee. Barefoot, no robe, and hair as messy as some of the big kids' at Zoey's school, she stood frozen, her eyes blinking at the brightness.
"Mommy?"
Mom looked from Zoey to the clock to Will. Her cheeks got red and she turned so fast her heel made a squeaking sound on the floor. "I overslept," she shouted. "I'll be right back down. Don't leave without me. I'm going on that trail ride, too."
"What?" Will and Zoey both squawked in shock.
There was no answer because Mom had disappeared. Joy left the room, returning a few seconds later with a travel mug that she handed to Will. "You'd better hit the road. Sooner you pick up our guest, the sooner you can lead Annie Oakley and the others on their trail ride."
Annie Oakley. Good one. Zoey covered her mouth to hide a snicker. She couldn't wait to tell Tressa. Not that there was any chance Mom actually intended to ride a horse? "Maybe Mommy plans on driving the truck along side us or something.”
The look Will gave her said he was as baffled as anyone. For some reason, that made Zoey nervous all over again.
He took the cup from Joy but stared at it for almost a minute before turning to leave. "Would you please remind Anne that cabins three and six are checking out, and the new people are due in this afternoon by car." Then he left.
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