At least the bed was a double, he noticed with relief. Not that he'd turn her down if it wasn't, but he'd rather his feet not hang off the end of the mattress.
“I've been meaning to redecorate,” she said, glancing around as she bit her lip. “You must think it odd that I use this room now.”
Sensing her discomfort, John put a leash on his hunger and drew her into his arms. “Don't apologize. Getting used to the loss of a parent takes time. In a sense, you've lost them both.”
“The other bedroom, the one Gil and Iâ” She swallowed. “I use it for storage.”
He felt her drifting away from him. All afternoon and into the evening he'd been watching her, the shy way she looked at him and then away, the soft curve to her mouth when she smiled, the patience she'd shown to her mother. Her grin when she licked salsa from her fingers at dinner, and her unfettered laughter at the movie. So many things about her, the complexity, the gentleness, the quiet strength, attracted him. The way she moved, her scent, her shape, the challenge in her gaze and the way she thrust out her chinâall fired his blood. He'd tasted her and he wanted more. He'd held her and he intended to hold her even closer. He'd felt her softness and he wanted to feel that softness surround him as he sank into her.
“Leah?”
The sound of his voice brought her back from the brink of memories she had no desire to deal with, not tonight. His touch, when he reached for her, reminded her of the way he'd held her downstairs. Her body's reaction was swift and strong. She wanted.
She wasn't sure what to do next, so she loosened the belt to her bathrobe. Watching his eyes darken, she let the robe slide down her arms as if it were made of silk, instead of flannel, and fall to the floor at her feet. Wordlessly, John stood before her, but when she started pulling up her nightgown, he reached out a detaining hand.
“Let me.”
Fighting the sudden shyness, she nodded. What would he think when he saw her? Her breasts were too small, her legs too thin. He was so big and strong, so masculine that he made her mouth go dry. When he ran his hands down her bare arms, it was hard to think. When he leaned forward to nibble a trail of damp heat across her shoulder and trace the low neckline of her nightgown, she gasped. Her nipples, already sensitized, peaked and tingled. She swayed.
John took her hands and placed them on his chest. When her gaze flew to his face, he smiled his encouragement. One by one, she freed the snaps on his shirt. Under it, his chest was gloriously bare except for a sprinkling of soft hair. As he tugged the shirttail free, she pressed her palms to his satiny skin.
He was so hot that she nearly snatched them away, but he tipped back his head, his lips drawn into a grimace that was nearly feral, and groaned low in his throat. Daringly, she explored the muscles of his wide chest. Her finger grazed his nipple and he shuddered.
“I'm sorry,” she gasped. Before she could yank away the offending hand, he'd covered it with his, guiding her back to the hard male nub. Carefully, she touched it and he sighed, eyes closed. Skimming her hand across his chest, she found the other nipple and rubbed it tentatively. His quickening breath urged her on. Experimenting, she circled the puckered flesh, pinching lightly. His grip tightened on her waist. Watching his face, she opened his shirt wider. He let her go long enough to shrug out of it. For a moment, she admired the width of his shoulders and the strength of his arms. His eyes blazed down at her and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
Daringly, she leaned forward and caressed him with her tongue, like a cat licking cream. He shuddered. Then, with a growl, he scooped her into his arms and crossed the room. Depositing her on the bed, he followed her down before she could move.
Propped up on one elbow, he kissed her, mouth hot and greedy, while he skimmed his free hand up her leg beneath the red nightie. By the time he'd reached her hip, she was melting like candle wax on a hot stove. As he feasted on her mouth, his fingers roamed down her stomach. His touch left a trail of fire. Then, as she opened for him, he lifted his head, took her nipple into his mouth through the thin nylon covering it and touched her intimately at the same time.
Her nerves exploded. Her back arched as sensation overcame her inhibitions. Her fingers dug into his shoulder and she cried out.
“Oh, please,” she gasped, mind a blur, need beating at her in waves. Something coiled inside her, tighter and tighter.
John's touch changed, stroking slowly as his voice soothed her, brought her gradually back to earth. When she was relaxed again, lying limply on the bed, he rose and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Then he gently pulled the nightgown over her head. “Easy, honey,” he murmured, voice thick and deep. “I'll take care of you.”
She was so delightfully responsive when he stretched out beside her that his control nearly splintered. Suspecting that her experience was minimal and that her husband might not have been as considerate as he should have, John was determined to show her everything she'd been missing.
Holding off was a hell of a lot harder than he'd thought, but he managed to delay taking her until her body arched with each stroke of his fingers. Until she pleaded.
Her hands shifted restlessly on the sheets beneath her. The sweet urgency of her voice shattered what little control he had left. He bent his head, tasting her sweet mouth, and then he covered her body with his. The sense of rightness that settled over him as he claimed her went beyond physical passion, beyond temporary fulfillment. He felt it to the bone, to the heart and into his soul.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow as her fingers bit into his arms. A hard shudder went through John. He gave in to his body's urging and thrust deeply. For a moment, everything in him went still.
When he could stand it no longer, he began to move. She was with him every step of the way. Attuned to her as he was, he felt the tremors when they overtook her. With a joyful shout, he joined her in the completion of their wild ride into oblivion.
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A ringing phone dragged Leah back from the most delightful dream. Waking up, taking in the familiar surroundings of her bedroom, she suddenly became aware of a muscular arm anchoring her to the mattress. The phone rang again and reality came flooding back as John shifted, letting her go.
“What is it?” he muttered, sitting up beside her.
Calls in the middle of the night always made her nervous, even though it was probably a wrong number.
“It's the phone in the living room,” she replied. “I'll be right back.” Turning on the bedside lamp, she grabbed her robe as she slid self-consciously from beneath the covers and hurried to the stairs.
Breathlessly, she shrugged into the robe and picked up the receiver. She'd barely answered when a voice she recognized immediately said, “Honey, I thought you'd want to know that your mother is sick. We've called the doctor. He's on his way and he'll be here shortly.”
As Leah's fingers tightened on the receiver, she felt John's hand on her shoulder. She turned. He'd pulled on his jeans, but he was bare-chested and his hair was sticking out in every direction. His face was lined with concern.
“What's wrong?” he asked.
“It's my mother,” she whispered with her hand over the receiver. “What's the matter with her?” she asked Irene.
“She's been having some pain in her chest. At first she was just feeling off color, but now it seems to have gotten worse. You don't have to come in to town, but we thought you'd want to know what's going on.”
“Of course I'll come, just as quick as I can,” Leah replied. “Thanks for calling.”
“Is it bad?” John asked when she replaced the receiver.
She explained quickly as he followed her back up the stairs. “I want to talk to Doc Hershaw,” she said as she stopped in the bedroom doorway and looked around, trying to focus. What to do first?
“I'll go with you,” John said, sitting on the bed to pull on his socks. “Just on the odd chance it's something serious.”
She wouldn't have asked him, but relief flooded through her at his offer. The sisters must be really concerned to call out the doctor in the middle of the night. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I appreciate it.”
“Get dressed,” he urged her as he slipped on his shirt. His expression was compassionate, bearing no trace of his earlier hunger. “And you might want to comb your hair.”
All she could think about was her mother as she went through the motions of gathering up some things to put on. She didn't pay much attention to what. When she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, John was waiting for her. She looked at him and her vision blurred with tears.
Instantly, he hauled her against him, arms circling her protectively.
“It will be okay,” he said. “They're probably just being overcautious. You'll see.”
She latched onto the platitude like a lifeline as the knot of worry in her stomach eased ever so slightly. No doubt he was right. Better safe than sorry, Irene always said. She and Rosemary would take no chances, and of course Leah preferred it that way.
John studied her for a moment, gave a satisfied grunt and handed her the purse she'd left on the table. “Ready?” he asked.
She grabbed her keys off the hook in the kitchen. “Thank youâ” she began.
Before she could continue, he curled an arm around her shoulder and gave a squeeze that was almost brotherly except for the way his lips lingered against her cheek. “No need. Let's get going.”
When he saw that her hands were shaking so badly she could barely get the key in the ignition, he insisted on driving. Of course he didn't have a valid license, at least not with him, but she didn't have the strength to argue. If they got stopped, she'd deal with it then.
The trip to town seemed to take forever. Had it only been hours before that they had come home down the same road? The atmosphere in the truck had been so different then, the air between them charged with expectation. How quickly things could change.
If this was something serious, did Mama even have the will to fight for her life, or would she be happy to join Leah's father without a struggle? Leah felt selfish dwelling for even a moment on herself and what she wanted. It was her mother who was in need of her prayers and good wishes now.
As he drove through the night, John made conversation about inconsequential things, but she barely heard him. All she could do was will the speeding truck to go faster on the deserted road, and when they finally reached the outskirts of Caulder Springs, she had no idea what he'd said to her or if she'd answered him.
The streets of the town were empty, the sidewalks deserted and the buildings dark and silent as she gave him directions. At last, when they turned onto the quiet side street where her mother lived, Leah uncurled her fingers and breathed a sigh of relief.
Then she saw the aid car parked in front of the house behind the doctor's car, its lights still on and its doors gaping.
Chapter Nine
L
eash pressed a hand to her mouth, but not in time to block a sob of fright. Please, God, not her mother, too.
John jumped down from the pickup and reached his hand out to her. “Come on,” he said. “Let's find out what's going on.”
Before they reached the steps, the front door flew open and Doc Hershaw appeared on the porch.
“Leah,” he exclaimed, his smile familiar and reassuring, “I'm glad you're here.”
Glancing past her at John, he took both her hands in a comforting gesture. “Your mother's had some chest pain,” he said quickly. “We've run an EKG and she's stable, but it wasn't conclusive and we're taking her to the hospital in Sterling for more tests.”
“I want to see her first,” Leah said, struggling to absorb the information he'd given her.
“The paramedics are bringing her out now,” he replied.
She felt John's steadying hand on her shoulder and the panic threatening to engulf her lessened slightly.
The doctor looked at him again. “Are you the new man Leah hired?” he asked.
Apparently her life was an open book. Did they know that she'd slept with him, too? she wondered. Quickly she introduced John to the doctor, and then two attendants came through the door with her mother on a gurney. Her eyes were wide with fear.
“I don't want to go,” she protested in a fretful voice as she turned her head from side to side. “I feel much better now and I want to stay here with my friends.” She tried to look behind her. “Where's Irene? Don't let them take me.”
Blinking back tears, Leah clasped her mother's hand. “It's me, Mama,” she soothed through the emotions clawing at her throat. “Everything will be okay. You know the doctor. He's taking you to Sterling for some tests, but I'll be right there with you. Everyone wants to make sure you're really all right.”
Her mother clung to her, mouth trembling as she stared up at Leah. Finally a little of the fear ebbed from her eyes. “You'll be there?” she echoed.
“I'll drive her,” John said as he leaned over the gurney. “We'll meet you at the hospital.”
“That's fine,” the doctor said, and signaled the attendant. “Let's get her transported. I'll see you in Sterling.” With a last reassuring smile at Leah, he hurried out to the dark sedan at the curb.
The attendants loaded the gurney and their equipment into the waiting aid car. One climbed in back and the other got behind the wheel.
Irene and Rosemary had been standing on the porch steps. They both gave Leah a hug and then Irene shook her finger at John.
“Are you going to watch out for her, young man?” she demanded.
“Yes, ma'am. I won't leave her side, I promise.”
She gave a satisfied nod. “You call us,” she told Leah, “the minute you find out anything.”
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“Honey, wake up.”
Someone was shaking her. Frowning, Leah opened her eyes and stared up at the bright fluorescent lighting overhead. Where had that come from?
Slowly she sat up. She had been curled up on a vinyl-covered love seat. Her neck ached and her mouth tasted of stale coffee. She looked up at John, who was peering anxiously at her, and reality came flooding back. They were in the hallway of the Sterling Medical Center. She couldn't believe she'd actually fallen asleep after Doc Hershaw had left.
“You okay?” John asked. His hair was mussed and he looked tired, but his smile was reassuring.
“I'm all right.” She licked her dry lips and then she noticed a man in a white coat hovering expectantly. He had receding gray hair, a friendly smile and a stethoscope sticking out of his pocket. Leah swallowed and pushed back her tangled hair.
“Mrs. Randall is doing fine,” he said after he introduced himself as Dr. Hecht. “Her preliminary blood work looks fine, no indication of a heart attack. We did another EKG and we suspect that she may have a blockage. We'll know more after we get back further results from her blood work, but she's resting comfortably for now.”
“When can she go home?” Leah asked.
“Maybe in a day or two. We'll see.”
“And if there's a blockage?” Leah persisted.
“If it's a minor one, we may be able to treat it with medication. Let's deal with things one step at a time.” His tone was so soothing she could have screamed. “You'd better go home for now and get some rest. You can call in later on. They'll be taking her for another round of tests in a while.”
“Can I see her?” Leah asked. There was a big clock on the wall. She and John had been waiting for a couple of hours now. She hadn't slept long, but outside the window the sky was growing light as the endless night finally drew to a close. She felt as though she'd been dragged through the brush at the end of some trail hand's rope.
“Your mother is sleeping,” the doctor said, pursing his lips. “But I'm sure a peek won't hurt. Just be careful not to wake her. She needs her rest.”
Leah agreed, and he took them down the hall. Before he left, he shook her hand and then John's. “I'll be around later this afternoon if you have any questions when you come back,” he said before he excused himself and headed for the nurses' station.
With John's hand firmly in hers, Leah tiptoed into her mother's room. She was tucked into the pristine hospital bed, her eyes shut and her face relaxed. Despite the equipment surrounding her and the IV in her arm, she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Leah was about to brush her hair off her forehead when she heard a soft gasp from John.
She glanced up, but he merely shook his head and put a finger to his lips. He looked pale and his face was drawn. The poor man had to be exhausted.
He pointed to himself and then the door. Perhaps hospitals made him uncomfortable, although he hadn't complained once while he waited with her.
Leah nodded and turned her attention back to her mother, reassured by the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. Watching her face in the glow from the monitor keeping track of her vital signs, Leah sent up a silent prayer for her swift and complete recovery.
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Outside the room, John managed to make it to a chair before his shaking legs collapsed beneath him. When he'd seen Mrs. Randall in that bed, the curtain across his memory had been ripped away without warning, allowing him to picture in painful detail his own mother in a nearly identical situation.
With absolute certainty, he knew she'd been dying at the time. The promise she had extracted from him before she slipped away was as clear now as the taste of the bad coffee he'd had an hour ago, and so was the secret she'd finally revealed right before she closed her eyes for the last time.
In addition, he knew his name. His real name. He'd been half-right, he realized with a bitter smile. His name
was
John.
John Buchanan Burns.
Even while he struggled to accept the idea that he bore the name Leah despised, all the rest of itâeverything he had forgotten or shut out, he wasn't sure whichâcame pouring back, tumbling him over and over like a tsunami, whose rushing water destroyed everything in its path.
With a groan of absolute dismay, John buried his head in his hands and fought down the bile threatening to choke him.
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“You must be exhausted,” Leah said as the two of them drove back to the ranch. “I can't thank you enough for going with me.” An image of them tangled together on her bed rose up in her mind, flooding her cheeks with embarrassment. He had good reason to be tired. Had it been a lifetime ago that she'd lain in his arms? With everything that had happened since, it certainly seemed so.
She'd insisted on driving home, and now, when John didn't reply, she sneaked a glance at him. He was staring straight ahead as thought he hadn't heard her. Ever since she'd come out of her mother's room to find him at the window that looked out on the parking lot, his shoulders hunched and his hands jammed into his pockets, he'd scarcely spoken a word.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned for him. While they had waited for news about her mother, he'd been a rock. Now that her condition was stable, Leah longed to discuss what she and John had shared back at the ranch and find out what his feelings about it were.
Had he enjoyed it? Did he regret making love with her? The idea was so painful she had to press her lips together to suppress a moan.
When he finally turned his head, his expression was grim. “I'm fine,” he said hoarsely, looking anything but. He looked like hell. His eyes seemed to have sunk into their sockets and the skin across his cheekbones was drawn as tight as the covering on a drum.
What could be wrong? Leah was too exhausted to wrestle with the question. She was running on sheer adrenaline and her day was far from over.
“When we get home, the animals will need to be fed and the horses turned out,” she said, mentally ticking items off the list in her head. She had already talked to Rosemary from the hospital. “I'll let Miss MacPherson know what's going on. I need a shower and a change of clothes. On the way back to the hospital this afternoon, I'll stop by Mama's to pick up a bag for her. Will you hold down the fort in case I get held up in Sterling?”
He seemed to be having trouble concentrating. “Of course I will,” he said finally, rubbing a hand over his face. “I'll do whatever you need. You'd better grab a nap, though, or you'll fall asleep over the wheel.”
“I'll be fine,” she replied, wondering again what was wrong with him. His preoccupation seemed to go way beyond mere exhaustion. Had he decided she came with too much baggage? Was he wishing he'd never gotten involved? Perhaps he was actually thinking about leaving.
Right now she didn't have the courage to ask. If he wanted to bolt, he could darned well wait until this crisis was behind her. Her hands tightened on the wheel. She set her jaw and ignored the ache in her heart. The last thing she had time to deal with today was a disillusioned lover.
Through a haze of shock, John watched the expressions flit across her face. She must be worried, but his ability to comfort her had been swept away like flotsam by his own recent discovery. She hated the Buchanans. How would she react when she found out she'd been bedded by one of them?
First chance he got, John had to call Steve Jenkins back in Seattle, his partner in B and J Construction. When John left, they'd been waiting for some permits hung up in bureaucratic red tape. John had planned to be gone a couple of weeks or more, so Steve probably wouldn't be too concerned by his silence. Calling Steve was the easy part; telling Leah what he'd remembered and talking to Taylor Buchanan were the tough ones.
When the long day was finally over and Leah was back once again from Sterling, John lay on his bunk in the tack room, his hands behind his head, and stared into the darkness, willing the familiar smells and sounds of the barn to comfort him. He knew she must have expected him to stay with her. When he'd bid her good-night, he'd seen the look on her face before she'd managed to hide it. He didn't kid himself that it was because of his skills as a lover; she was feeling alone and vulnerable. She wanted the comfort of a warm body beside her, comfort he had no right to give until he straightened out this mess that was his life.
Before he could fulfill the promise he'd made to his mother, he had to tell Leah who he was. He didn't want her hearing it from anyone else. However, until her mother was out of the hospital, he couldn't say a damn thing to anyone except his buddy back in Seattle.
And then there was Buchanan to deal with. How would he take the news that he had a half brother he knew nothing about? Would he even listen to John's fantastic story? John had no proof. The birth certificate he'd brought with him had disappeared along with his car. God only knew where either of them was after all this time.
He shifted on the narrow cot as images filled his head. Remembering was like losing his mother all over again. The ring he wore was a gift from herâMavis Burns. For a moment he longed to return to the blessed oblivion of amnesia, and then common sense came flooding back. He was no coward. If he got through this without losing Leah, he could handle whatever else life threw at him.
John expected to toss and turn half the night, too keyed up to sleep, but he'd underestimated the toll to his body and his mind. His eyes were gritty with fatigue, his brain a pot of mush and his body an aching mass, as if he'd taken a physical beating. He longed to have Leah in his armsâjust so he could hold herâbut that would have to wait.
Before he could even begin to figure out how to tell her his memory had returned, his thought processes started shutting down like falling dominoes. His struggle to remain awake grew more feeble and he felt as though he were falling, falling through the darkness into a bottomless void.
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