The Cowboy She Never Forgot

by Cheryl Biggs

  Kate felt a flush heat her face, then invade her entire being, but she didn’t look away, because she wanted to know, to see and remember, everything about him.

  His shoulders were broad, each spiraling curve of muscle like a small mountain of strength, while his arms were well-honed lengths of sinew that she knew could be either coils of iron-hard power or an enclosing embrace of tenderness.

  There was a small scar she hadn’t noticed before on the curve of his jaw, just below and before his ear, and a much larger one that ran in an ugly, jagged line down the side of his right thigh. Her gaze moved appreciatively over the long, lean line of his legs, then she reached out and touched the slightly raised scar tissue with the tip of her finger, and followed its jagged line from one end to the other.

  “Phoenix,” he said softly, seeing the question in her eyes. “I zigged left, Double Danger zagged right.”

  Kate swallowed hard and drew her hand away, not wanting to think about the pain he’d endured when that horn had ripped into his flesh...and she hadn’t been there for him.

  Her gaze traveled upward again. His chest rippled with hard-packed muscle beneath a light sprinkling of dark hairs, then narrowed dramatically as it dropped toward his waist. Kate’s eyes boldly followed that line past the taut surface of his stomach and spread into a small, dense forest of near blackness as it surrounded the evidence of his need for her.

  “Kate?” Shane said, his deep voice wrapping around her like the sultry warmth of a summer night. Even as he tried to fight it, to ignore it, deny it, hesitation filled him. He could stop now, using every ounce of self-control he possessed, he could force himself to stop now—but not if he pulled her into his arms again—not if he felt her naked body pressed up to his length again.

  His gaze searched her face, as if trying to delve into her thoughts.

  Kate watched the play of emotions that crossed his features, each tugging at her heart, making her love him more, want him more, and reminding her that when he went, she would miss him more. Maybe more than she could bear. In spite of knowing that, she held her arms out to him. “Make love to me, Shane,” she implored softly. “Make love to me.”

  A groan of mingled relief and desire escaped his throat, as Shane slid down on the bed and pulled her into his arms. His limbs entwined about hers, holding her to him, as his lips descended over her mouth, claiming, capturing, ravishing both their senses, taking everything she had to offer him, and seeking more.

  Nothing mattered anymore but that the woman he loved was back in his arms, and the magic that flared to life between them when they were together continue forever.

  Shivers of pleasure rippled over Kate, and a swelling wave of hunger began to build within her, an ache of desire she knew only Shane could assuage. Tomorrow he would leave her, but tonight he was hers, she thought suddenly, then just as swiftly the thought was gone as his body filled hers and her very consciousness fragmented.

  They moved together, each seducing, yielding, conquering, surrendering.

  Her body pleasured in its surrender to his, her heart felt whole for the first time in longer than she could remember, and her soul sang. An incredible sense of completeness filled her as she yielded to the raw need that had been building within her since the moment he’d walked into Hodges’s trailer and her gaze had met his.

  Suddenly an intense rending seized her body, turning the teasing waves of pleasure to violent, shattering slashes of euphoria. Like the catastrophic, fiery eruption of a volcano, waves of rapture exploded from the depths of her being and flowed through her limbs.

  Tears filled her eyes, and she clung to him, whispering his name over and over.

  Long moments later Shane lay contentedly next to Kate, and held her cradled in his arms. Not until then did he remember her injuries. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said softly, against the silky strands of her hair.

  Kate stiffened, then rose slightly and looked into his eyes. “What?”

  “You’re hurt.” He reached up and gently touched the small bandage the doctor had placed over the gash on her temple. “Your ribs...your ankle.”

  Kate smiled. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

  He saw a devilish gleam spark to life in her eyes.

  “But I’d like you to do it again.”

  Before he had time to respond, her lips found his, and he felt his body instantly begin to harden in response.

  Shane stared at the star-sprinkled night sky beyond the glass French doors. Beside him Kate lay sleeping, her breath softly caressing his chest, her head cradled within the crook of his arm, the warm length of her body snuggled up to his.

  A long, slow sigh slid quietly past his lips as a jumble of emotions crowded his mind and heart, and he tried not to think about any of them. He had dreamed about this night for three long, lonely years. At first, after he’d left her, he had waited and hoped. Then he’d called himself a fool for believing she’d loved him at all. He’d acted out his frustrations and pain then, and nearly destroyed himself. Finally, he had tried to just forget and go on with his life. But he never had forgotten her, or how good he’d always felt when they were together. Now at least one of the dreams he’d continued to harbor without realizing it had turned to reality, but along with the joy it brought him, came a mind-numbing fear.

  Shane turned his head slightly and looked down at Kate. What if this was it? What if, with the light of dawn, he woke to find this had been nothing more than another dream? Or worse...what if this was all she’d wanted from him...this one night together? What if she truly didn’t love him...never had loved him?

  He would die inside. Again. His lungs would keep on pulling in and pushing out breath, his heart would continue beating...but he would be a dead man, as he’d been for the past three years. If he was certain of nothing else, he was certain of that.

  The morning sun flowing through the French doors woke Shane several hours later. He glanced at his watch, which was on the nightstand. The day had barely started. But that was when he normally woke up. It had been that way for nineteen years, ever since that day.

  What had brought that thought on? He turned toward the windows and looked out at the new day. He’d done the same thing that morning. He’d just turned twelve, and had been recovering from a bout with the flu. He still hadn’t felt very good, but it was the first day of tryouts for the baseball team, and he wanted desperately to make it. His mother had kissed him tenderly, called him a stubborn little cuss, then sent him on his way.

  It had been just a little after noon and he’d been in the schoolyard with some of his friends, celebrating making the team, when a teacher’s aide found him and said the principal wanted him in his office. The moment Shane walked into Mr. Dean’s office the sight of his father sitting there told him instantly that something was wrong. A few minutes later his world was shattered, and more guilt and shame than he’d ever been aware a person could feel had crashed down onto his young shoulders.

  Shane pushed the unhappy memories away and looked at Kate, who still lay snuggled up against him, one of her arms draped across his bare stomach, her long dark hair spread like a silky veil across one creamy shoulder. A smile touched his lips and his heart. He’d hoped, but never really expected, that this day would come, and now that it had, he didn’t want it ever to end. Desire stirred deep within him, the thought of making love to her again almost overwhelming. He considered kissing her awake, then noticed the hint of dark shadow that colored the skin just beneath her eyes, mute testimony to the fact she needed to sleep and rest.

  He suddenly felt contrite at having made love to her while she was injured, but it couldn’t compete with the joy filling every molecule in his body, the happiness in his heart. The smile that pulled at his lips widened, and his body hardened further, warning him that if he didn’t leave the bed right now, remove himself from beside her delectable naked body, control would be the last thing available to him. She needed to rest, he reminded himself a
gain. Resigning himself to that, he slipped slowly away from her, trying not to wake her. Once on his feet, he pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and drew the drapes over the French doors, plunging the room into near-darkness. Ignoring his very powerful desire to get back in the bed and make love to Kate until he collapsed of exhaustion, Shane grabbed the briefs he’d kicked to the floor hours earlier, and the cordless phone from her dresser, so that if it rang it wouldn’t wake her, and closed the door behind him as he stepped into the hallway.

  Flapjack instantly appeared and curled his body around one of Shane’s legs

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” Shane said, nearly tripping over the cat.

  Flapjack greeted him with a croaking meow and pranced toward the kitchen.

  Shane showered in the guest bathroom, finding everything he needed there in the way of making himself presentable, but since both the guest bedroom and bath had once belonged to Kate’s grandparents, all the old lotions and soaps he found in the cabinet didn’t surprise him. Kate was a sentimental pack rat who saved everything and threw nothing away. Except me. He pushed the thought aside. The past was past, but the future looked brighter than he could have ever hoped. He dressed and walked into the kitchen.

  The cat was sitting in front of the refrigerator, and intently staring at it.

  “I take it this means you want breakfast,” Shane said.

  He was treated to another croaking meow. “Okay.” He chuckled. “Me, too.”

  Within minutes he had the cat fed, coffee made, vegetables chopped and eggs and milk mixed for an omelette, strips of bacon laid out in a pan, and bread propped in the toaster. He glanced toward Kate’s door, wanting to wake her, to pull her into his arms again, to feel her lips on his. Instead, he turned to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. He would wait for her to wake up on her own before fixing breakfast.

  Flapjack meowed at the French doors, so Shane slid one open and let him out. Inhaling deeply of the fresh morning air, and feeling as if it was the first morning of his life, he walked out onto the patio and picked a handful of wildflowers from the array growing at the edge, for the table. The phone began to ring just as he reentered the house.

  Shane hesitated, but before he could decide whether to answer the call or not, an answering machine he hadn’t noticed sitting at the far end of the counter clicked on and Kate’s voice filled the room.

  “Hi, this is Kate Morgan. I can’t come to the phone right now, so just leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

  “Morgan, this is Captain Aames. You there?”

  Every nerve in Shane’s body froze as he stared at the machine, his brow drawn into a deep frown.

  Silence followed the gruff voice.

  He shook himself. It was only one of her old superiors from the police force who’d most likely heard she’d been hurt and just wanted to know how she was. Silently reprimanding himself and shaking his head, he carried the wildflowers to the sink.

  “Okay, maybe you’re sleeping or something, Morgan, but we gotta talk.”

  Shane started and jerked around to stare at the machine. He’d thought the man had hung up.

  “Hodges called and told me what happened, that you were hurt. He figures it for an accident, but I’m wondering if you just became a victim of our perpetrator.”

  Shane’s world suddenly tilted and threatened to careen from its axis. Perpetrator?

  “He said your gear was in your stall with your horse,” Aames continued, “so I’ve sent a man down there to pick it up and take it to the lab. Have our boys look it over and make sure it wasn’t tampered with.”

  She was still a cop.

  “Call me,” Aames ordered. “I need to know what kind of leads you’ve gotten on the case so far. Hodges said you had a couple of suspects.”

  A click was followed by the answering machine turning itself off.

  Shane’s mind reeled. Everything she’d said, everything she’d led him to believe, was a lie. She was still a cop. Fury, disappointment, despair, and a host of other emotions violently ripped through him, as an empty sense of loneliness hovered nearby.

  He threw the wildflowers into the sink, spun on his heel, and stalked back outside, needing fresh air, needing to move, needing to think. Blindly he strode across the patio and stomped down the hill behind her house. She lied. The words repeated harshly within his mind. She lied. The soft earth of the hill gave way beneath his boot, and Shane slid several feet downhill before stopping. He stared out at the valley far below, at the ranches that dotted it, and the city of Reno in the distance.

  His gaze moved over it all, but he saw nothing as his thoughts kept his mind’s eye occupied elsewhere: toward a past that held both happy memories and pain, at a present that had only momentarily offered him hope, and a future that now offered him nothing.

  Shane cursed softly. He had spent a goodly portion of his life needing no one, depending on only himself, and keeping himself apart from everyone except Cody and Dee. Then he’d met Kate and the barriers had crumbled. That had been his mistake; letting her into his world, into his heart. He shook his head, wondering at himself, at how much of a fool he’d turned out to be. The pain sliced through him, more intense this time than he remembered it ever being before.

  He had tried to forget it all...the way her laugh always warmed his heart, the way the mere touch of her hand to his flesh could melt his every thought and reason. He had tried to forget the way the sun turned her hair to waves of flame, that her eyes reminded him of mountain rivers and lush meadows, and how the touch of her lips to his never failed to rob him of breath and leave him exhilarated. He’d tried to forget how much he’d needed her, wanted her, and most of all, how much he’d loved her, and he had almost succeeded.

  He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But most of all he wanted to rip out his heart so he could rid himself of the pain that he knew now was never going to go away. Not this time.

  If he could change so that it would work between them, he would, but he knew he couldn’t. It would only be a lie.

  “It wasn’t your, fault,” John Larrabee said.

  The agony of guilt and loss swelled in Shane, gnawing at him mercilessly. He looked up at his father. “Yes, it was. If I had stayed home like she wanted me to, she wouldn’t have gone out.” Tears, hot and stinging, filled his eyes, then ran down over his cheeks. “She wouldn’t have gone to meet anyone. She wouldn’t have gone to that alley and gotten killed, ” Shane screamed.

  His father reached out to draw him into his arms. “It wasn’t your fault, Shane,” he said again, his voice soft, his own eyes filling with tears.

  Shane twisted away. “Yes, it was,” he snapped. “Mom would be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

  “No, Shane, it was her job,” John Larrabee said. “She was an investigative reporter, she was just doing her job, following a lead and it...” His voice broke. “That’s what got her killed, Shane. Her job, not you. It was her job that got her killed.”

  Shane glared at his father and pushed his hand away as he reached out toward him again. “Then why did you let her do that job?” he demanded, his tone dripping with accusation. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

  Shane sighed heavily as the memories of that long-ago day filled his mind. Not quite a year after his mother had been killed, his father had quietly committed suicide. Everyone said he just hadn’t been able to face going on with his life without Dora, but Shane knew it had really been because of the guilt.

  If he’d made her quit that job, she wouldn’t have been trying to solve her brother’s violent and unexplained death, and she wouldn’t have been murdered. John Larrabee wouldn’t have found himself eaten up by loneliness, grief and guilt. He wouldn’t have taken his own life, and the Larrabee children wouldn’t have been sent to live with their aunt and uncle.

  Lost for the first time in years in the childhood memories and anger that he usually kept at bay, Shane sat on the hillside and let them consume him. By the tim
e he finally rose and trudged back up to the house, the sun was a lot higher in the sky, and the air was bordering on stifling.

  He paused in the middle of the living room. The house was still silent, and there was no evidence that Kate had risen. The time on the hillside had not lessened the fury he’d felt at her treachery. Rather, as old hurts had melded with newer ones, it had merely stoked it into an inferno he was barely able to control. He turned toward the front door and jerked it open, intending to leave, then just as quickly released it, spun around, and walked purposefully down the hallway toward her bedroom door. Lies, his mind screamed. She’d told him nothing but lies. He pushed the door open. Anger, pain, and humiliation churned inside of him, hot and seething, while at the same time the cold eternity of lost hope chilled his blood and heart.

  Shane stood in the doorway, a mass of raw emotion, wanting her, hating her, needing her, resenting her. For a long moment he merely watched her, still asleep on the bed.

  Sunlight struggled to pierce the curtains he’d earlier drawn over the room’s French doors and windows, and only barely managed the job, so that the room remained draped in inky shadows.

  Lies, his mind screamed again. But now it was time for the truth. He strode across the room and jerked open the curtains, then turned back to glare down at Kate.

  She stirred slightly, but didn’t wake.

  He swallowed hard and struggled against the urge to grab her, drag her from the bed and demand she explain... to pull her into his arms and make love to her until there wasn’t a breath left in either one of them with which to lie, accuse, or cry.

  Furious with her, and with himself for still loving her, still wanting her beyond all reason, Shane threw himself into an overstuffed plaid chair near the fireplace, half facing the bed. He slouched down into the soft cushions, slung a booted foot onto the opposite knee, and stared at Kate, willing her to wake up.

  He knew he should just leave, go back to the rodeo, finish it out, and put Reno and everything that went with it behind him forever. But he couldn’t do that. He had to hear her say she was still a cop. Had to hear her say that she’d lied to him.