by Leanne Banks
"I'm sorry," Maddie said, reaching her hand toward his arm. "I bet it was difficult."
He looked away for a moment, thinking what a sad time that had been in his life. "Yeah, it was." He sighed, ready to move on to another thought. "But there were a couple of other wild chances. I won my stud in a poker game."
"You?"
Joshua didn't know what to think of her disbelief. For some reason it chafed at him a little. "Yep. It was late. We'd had a little too much to drink, and this guy was determined to win. He didn't care about the money or the stakes. He just wanted the win. He liked high stakes, so he threw in his stud for the last turn of the cards. Everyone said he was nuts."
He chuckled over the hand of fate. "The cards were in my favor, and I've built my business on that win. The only other wild chance was buying this place. It was a mess, but that was more of a calculated risk. It had more to do with working long hours after the sun went down."
She shook her head, still smiling. "I don't know what to say. You just seem so solid, so dependable."
He nodded and turned his hand over. "Yep. You wanna finish reading my palm, Gypsy? You remind me of a gypsy."
"Me?" Maddie laughed. "Okay. I'll do it no charge this time, but don't expect it again." Skimming her fingertips over his palm, she told him, "You're careful."
His gaze was caught by the gentle, rhythmic motion of her hand. It didn't make a damn bit of sense, but her fingers soothed something inside him at the same time they excited him.
How long had it been, he wondered, since a woman had touched him this way? He wondered how her fingers would feel on the rest of him, seeking and pleasuring. He wondered how her naked skin would feel beneath his hands. He wondered what kind of sounds she would make. He wondered…
"Determined. You're one to make things happen," she said. "And you're not the kind of man to spend a lot of time dreaming."
Joshua felt the punch of her assessment in his gut. Not the kind of man to spend a lot of time dreaming. He hadn't missed dreaming, he reminded himself. It had suited him just fine. He pulled his hand back and rubbed it against his thigh. "Right again. I'm not a dreamer."
* * *
Five
« ^ »
Maddie wondered why he'd pulled back so quickly. "I didn't mean no dreams at all," she told him. "That would be a little extreme."
"Not really," he said in a mild voice, but he seemed remote.
Puzzled, she frowned for a moment, then gave a half laugh to herself. "Maybe I should leave you one of my earrings tonight."
Joshua looked at her as if she had a screw loose. "Your earring?"
"Yeah, it's a miniature dream catcher. Good dreams pass through the center, and bad dreams are trapped in the web until they disappear."
"All that in an earring," he said wryly.
Maddie pulled her earring loose and dangled it toward him. "Need a little help with your dreams?"
"No."
His response was a shade too fast, she thought. Was it possible that Joshua had a weak spot? She studied him again. Not a pretty face, he had a tough jawline and mouth, and eyes that narrowed in doubt. The tough-looking mouth was deceptive, she remembered with a trace of discomfort. Nothing fanciful about this guy. On the outside he was all strength and hard angles. She'd thought he would be the same on the inside, but she was learning Joshua was far more complex.
"What were you like when you were a kid?"
He shrugged. "Like most kids."
She rolled her eyes. "Stingy answer," she muttered, and sighed. "I'll be more specific. What did you want to be when you grew up? What was your favorite penny candy? What was your favorite toy?"
He hesitated. "I wanted to be a professional baseball player. A pitcher. I played through high school and would have played in college, but Patrick came along and I took a different road. My favorite penny candy was fireballs, and," he said, nostalgic amusement gentling his rough features for just a second, "I had this plastic Godzilla monster that roared."
Ah, she thought, so he had dreamed. Maddie smiled. "We would have never gotten along as kids," she told, him and decided to "forget" her earring on the table. "I hated baseball. I wanted to be a rock star. I hid in my closet after I watched horror movies, and I would have fought you for the fireballs."
He cracked a grin. "So you were a troublemaker even as a child?"
Maddie shook her head and looked down her nose at him in a mock serious glance. "No. I've just always had unfortunate timing with authority figures."
"Uh-huh."
The sound of disbelief was sexy in an uncalculated way, and the thought of Joshua with dreams tugged hard at her heart. She understood about dreams that didn't come true.
Feeling a soft spot inside her form, she abruptly cut off her thoughts.
"I get caught," she told him and stood, flexing her resolve, and adding her next statement as much for herself as for him. "But not all the time." She was not going to get caught by any silly feelings for Joshua Blackwell.
* * *
That night Joshua avoided getting stuck in the rain staring after Maddie as she left. If he were a superstitious man, he'd think she brought the rain with her, because every time the woman came around it rained. Tonight, though, he didn't get wet, didn't change any tires, or find any pacifiers.
He didn't get kissed, either. That was okay, he told himself. He'd lived without Maddie's kisses for thirty-three years and he'd managed just fine.
He was pretty pleased with himself until he saw her earring on the kitchen table. Staring at it a moment, he picked it up and rubbed it between his fingers. The light reflected off the shiny silver, and he remembered the way the earring had bounced with each movement of her head.
She wanted to think of him as a dried-up old codger with no interest in the opposite sex. No interest in sex. That didn't sit well with Joshua. He shouldn't care, but he did. He was having a tough time resisting the urge to show her just how interested he could be.
He was having a tough time not putting his hands and mouth on her and learning what it took to change her perspective. She was a sensual woman, a feminine feast after a long fast. It was as if he'd forgotten to eat lunch, and it hadn't bothered him until Maddie called it to his attention.
She made him feel dissatisfied.
He pushed the sensation away, but the next morning when Joshua awoke, he immediately knew he hadn't dreamed. He felt oddly cheated.
* * *
"You did what?" Joshua demanded. The woman had gone way too far this time.
Maddie's eyes widened, and she held out her hands to Patrick for David. "I volunteered you to chaperon a dance at the community center."
"Why in hell did you—"
Maddie covered the baby's ears and frowned at Joshua. "Could you help me with something in the kitchen please?"
In a rotten mood, he tore off his raincoat. "I don't see why—"
"Ple-e-ease."
He inhaled deeply, his patience stretched. "Okay, but if you're concerned about me singeing your baby's ears, you might want to leave him with Patrick."
Maddie glanced at Patrick. "Do you mind?"
"Nuh-uh," he said, his expression one of relief that he didn't have to face his father.
"Thanks," she murmured, giving him a reassuring smile.
A premature reassuring smile, Joshua thought darkly, and led the way into the kitchen. He ignored the inviting aroma of beef stew and leaned against the counter. "Well?"
"While you were outside, Mrs. Quackenbush came to the door with her daughter and was selling tickets for the dance at the community center." She lowered her voice. "Have you seen Mrs. Quackenbush's daughter, Amy? She's very cute. She was looking at Patrick, and he was gawking at her, but was too shy to say anything, so…"
"So?" he said in a voice that sounded belligerent to his own ears.
Unfazed, she continued. "So, when Mrs. Quackenbush said they still needed some chaperons, I thought if you went it would give Patrick an opportunity to talk with Amy."<
br />
"It's a lousy idea."
She looked affronted. "It is not. It will only require a few hours of your time."
"How do you know I'm not busy that night?"
"I asked Patrick."
"I'm sure I've got something I need to do." If he didn't, he'd sure as hell find something.
"Oh, right," she said sarcastically. "You could always stay home, read the paper and watch the grass grow. This won't kill you."
"That's debatable," he muttered, his stomach growling along with his disposition.
Her eyes darkened with temper. "You know," she said, "the way you're acting, I'd almost think you're scared."
She was all dare, and he felt the kick of her challenge all the way down to his stomach. He resisted, barely, the urge to shut her tempting, impertinent mouth with a kiss. "I don't like other people making decisions about my schedule."
That took a little of the huff and puff out of her, he noted. She hesitated, then moved to the pot of stew and poured a bowl for him. "Well, you don't exactly have to go alone."
"Is that so?"
She was nervous for approximately thirty seconds before she grew impatient with herself.
Watching her toss the ladle into the pot, Joshua smothered a grin.
"Yes, it is," she said, and met his gaze with brown eyes that said "Don't mess with me."
"I told Mrs. Quackenbush I would come with you."
* * *
Maddie considered herself a fairly tolerant individual. She knew she had a temper, but she tried to live by the philosophy that there was room for everyone and most everything if everyone made a little room.
Room for everything … except country music when it was performed by a group of musicians who hadn't quite mastered the concept of "picking up the rhythm."
She could accept its current broad-based appeal, but Maddie was a rock 'n' roll baby from way back. When she'd volunteered to help chaperon with Joshua, she'd had no idea she would be trapped listening to hours of country music and watching line dancing. It was cute and fun for the first thirty minutes. After that it began to wear.
The band started another twangy song with a tempo appropriate for the dead, and she longed for Bruce Springsteen as she and Joshua held up the back wall of the community center.
"You're twitching again," he said, next to her ear.
"I'm not twitching," she retorted, rolling her shoulder at the rush down her nerve endings. "It's my body's natural response to a too-slow rhythm."
"Told you this was a lousy idea."
"We're almost halfway through."
"One-third of the way," he corrected. "These things last at least three hours."
Maddie did twitch then. "Does the band ever take a break?"
"Maybe somebody will break some strings or something."
She glanced at him and chuckled. "It's like pulling teeth to get you to have a little fun, isn't it?"
He looked at her in mild disbelief. "Is that what we're supposed to be doing?"
"You know, Joshua, you look pretty good tonight, but you have a terrible attitude."
"I told you I don't like my schedule being decided for me."
"It wasn't decided. It just got a little assistance." He paused a half beat, then glanced at the dance floor. "How good?"
Maddie blinked. When realization dawned, she couldn't keep from smiling. "You look very good," she told him. His Western-style white shirt showed the contrast of his dark complexion and drew the eye, particularly the female eye, to his broad shoulders. Add that to the way his black jeans emphasized his height and very nice backside, and Maddie suspected half the women in the room were secretly drooling.
"In fact, there are a couple of women on the other side of the room who haven't been able to take their eyes off you. Have you thought about asking someone to dance?"
"I don't think I need to up my torture quotient tonight."
Maddie sighed. "I'm curious. How long have you been so…" She searched for a nice term and couldn't find one. "Crabby?"
He looked momentarily disconcerted, then his face cleared and he glanced at his watch. "About an hour and fifteen minutes."
"No, no, no," she said, shaking her head. "I was thinking more in terms of years. And I wondered," she continued, "if it's related to a physical problem. You know like women have PMS?"
He wore that you-must-have-a-screw-loose expression on his face again and said, "PMS?"
"I've heard men experience something similar, but it doesn't necessarily have to be a monthly thing." She lowered her voice. "Prostate problems. I understand a backup can cause irritability."
He looked stunned. "And you think I have a backup?"
"Well, Joshua," she said, and she truly wasn't trying to insult him. "You probably don't realize this, but you're cranky. When Mrs. Quackenbush brought the tickets, I thought it might be good for both you and Patrick. You, to get out among people instead of horses, and Patrick needs to get some exposure to girls in a social setting."
With a sinking sensation, she realized by his dark expression, he wasn't receiving her suggestion with an open mind. Oops. In over her head again. "But this backup thing is just a theory, and you might not—"
"Excuse me," a man said, interrupting her massive backpedaling effort. "Would you like to dance?"
Maddie smiled with relief. Saved by the bell, or in this case, a slightly older man who wanted to two-step. "Thank you. That sounds very nice. I'll be back in a few," she told Joshua, feeling his gaze on her as she accepted the other man's arm and moved to the dance floor.
Joshua stared at the red-haired madwoman as she chatted up Henry Krause and danced to the dragging tune played by the band.
Backup.
In his prostate, for God's sake.
He swore under his breath. If there wasn't a grain of truth to it, he'd be laughing himself silly right now. But he'd been thinking about Maddie a lot lately. In the barn, at the dinner table, in his bed. He still hadn't dreamed again, but he'd envisioned her in his bed, her arms wrapped around him, her body bare and susceptible, her mouth responsive. His thoughts had left him hot and hard, restless and wanting.
Joshua felt his crotch swell and swore again.
She wasn't beautiful, he tried to tell himself. She wasn't the most seductive woman on the face of the earth. She wasn't— Something inside him protested. She might not be the most beautiful or seductive woman, but she was the most interesting, vibrant, sexy-without-trying woman he'd met in his life. He wanted her. He knew he shouldn't do a damn thing about it.
He shouldn't, he reminded himself as the band finally took a break. Somebody didn't waste any time changing the tempo. John Cougar Mellencamp burst out loud and strong, singing "Hurts So Good." Joshua was still telling himself he shouldn't, when he watched in shock as his son asked Maddie to dance.
She nodded and laughed, swirling, twirling and singing along. The little skirt of her dress fluttered and flirted above her knees, grabbing his gaze, making him wish it would fly a little higher so he could see her thighs. Her hair bounced, swooping over her cheek, hiding one eye. Her shoulders shimmied making her breasts sway. She was just having fun, he told himself, but her abandon made him burn.
The song ended, and Joshua took a breath, expecting Maddie to return. But someone cranked up another rock 'n' roll number, and he watched a high school stud convince her to dance with him. Three songs later he was starting to feel impatient, restless … possessive. He snorted at the thought.
When a Tracy Chapman song oozed through the speakers, though, Joshua pushed away from the wall. It wasn't rational but he had given up on being rational at least for the moment. Making a path through the crowd, he caught her gaze, and she stared back at him.
"My turn," he told the hopeful high school kid, then turned to Maddie. "Dance with me." He took her hand in his, then put his other hand at her back and drew her closer.
"I didn't know you could," she said in a husky voice. "I thought it was against your policy to hav
e fun."
He inhaled and drew in her spicy sweet scent. Her hair was soft under his chin. Her body was warm, and she moved in rhythm with him. "Maybe I need a little help."
"Having fun?"
Joshua kept his laughter to himself. His arousal, however, was another matter. "That'll do for a start."
Maddie shot him a questioning glance. "It'll do for a start?" Someone bumped against her, rubbing her body closer to his.
Joshua groaned.
Maddie was suddenly, completely aware of what kind of fun Joshua was referring to. After dancing with high school kids, it felt unbelievably good to be held by Joshua. His thighs brushed against hers, and with each movement she was conscious of his masculinity.
He was focused intently on her. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he held her. His fingers laced through hers, while his other hand at her back kept her just close enough to mess up her breathing. A seductive trap. She deliberately took a deep breath. "So what tripped your trigger? Mellencamp or Prince?"
"Neither," he said, and rubbed his fingertips over her spine.
Maddie felt her breasts swell. She fought her response. "Joshua," she managed to say, "did you know you're looking at me like Sylvester looks at Tweety?"
A slow, predatory smile tilted his lips. "You make me hungry, Maddie."
His lower body slid against hers again, and she felt herself go warm and liquid inside. The man pulled her to both ends of the spectrum. He was so solid and dependable that she was lulled into believing she could relax with him, but at the same time he played havoc with her respiratory system.
She swallowed. "Hungry," she repeated. "That's why I bring you meals once a week." Lame, she heard in the back of her mind. Lame, lame, lame.
"Oh, lady." He rubbed his mouth over her bangs in a sweet, hot caress. "I'm not talking about food."
* * *
Six
« ^ »
"It's not me," Maddie whispered desperately, her heart pounding double time. "You've just been cut off from normal society so long that exposure to any woman would—" She swallowed. "Affect you."
He dipped his head. "Do you really think I'd react this way to Mrs. Quackenbush?" He asked the impertinent question in the same intimate voice that made her knees lose their stiffness.