Cowboy Daddy (12 page)

Hot skin seared hot skin. The slightly sweaty contact sent excitement rippling through her body. The waves of need alerted all her senses, then settled low in her belly. She fought the urge to fold her arms over her chest. She didn’t want him to know he got to her.

She cleared her throat. “So tell me, is Paradise what you expected?” she asked, more to distract herself than because she wanted to start a conversation.

“Not exactly. You said the town was small, but I was expecting—”

“A little more life?”

“Yeah.”

His voice sounded friendly. She wanted to know if he was smiling at her, but she was afraid to turn her head and look at him. What if he was smiling? How would she control the impulses that flooded her? Worse, what if he wasn’t? She would rather die than make a fool of herself in front of Jake Masters. He already had her at a disadvantage.

“It’s not a bad place,” he said, stopping beside a large rock the size of a dining room table. When she would have followed him close to the boulder, he held her back with a raised arm. “Wait a minute.” He walked around the rock, then kicked at a small burrow. “Okay, you can come closer.”

“What were you doing?”

“Checking for rattlers. I’m wearing boots, you’re not.”

She knew the desert snakes thrived around Paradise, but she was surprised Jake had thought of it.

“I might have grown up in Dallas,” he said, as if he could read her mind, “but I’ve always been a country boy at heart.”

“I never thought of you as a boy at all,” she blurted out, then could have cheerfully thrown herself off a cliff. Unfortunately there weren’t any around for hundreds of miles. She settled for sitting on the rock and staring at the stars. At least it was dark and he couldn’t see her blushing.

“I like your cousin,” he said as he sat next to her. They weren’t touching, but she could feel the heat from the rock, and the heat from the man. The temperatures were about the same, but her reactions were very different. She was hy-peraware of her body. Of the dampness of her skin and the way her breasts swelled uncomfortably against her cotton bra. Her nipples puckered. Between her thighs the ache grew. She could feel her damp panties. He hadn’t even touched her, but she was ready.

“Becky Sue is very sweet,” she said, hoping the conversation would distract her. “She’s only ever wanted to get married and have kids.”

“Then she sure got what she wanted.”

Tm not going to apologize for her,” Anne said sharply.

“No one’s asking you to. I meant what I said. I like her. She’s very straightforward.”

“Sorry.” She sighed and folded her hands on her lap. “I guess I’m a little tense about being back. There are so many memories.” She studied the familiar stars. “My mother and I used to sit out on our porch at night and look at the sky. We’d wait for the moon to rise and talk about the future. She had so many dreams for me. She used to tell me that I’d leave Paradise and find something better.”

“And you did.”

“Sometimes it feels like I never lived here at all.”

He leaned back on the rock and supported himself on his elbows. “I’ll admit I have trouble reconciling you with the girl who grew up here.”

“Oh, I was here.” She half turned until she was facing him. She tucked one leg under her and smoothed down her light cotton skirt. “I graduated top of my class and seven months pregnant. Imagine what everyone thought of that.”

“Tell me about Bobby.”

She laughed. “He was the hottest thing around. Bobby was going to be a champion bull rider. That’s all he aspired to in life.” Her smile faded. “I thought he was perfect. I didn’t even care that we were doing it in the back of a pickup. My mother didn’t like him, but she wasn’t angry when I found out I was pregnant. She just held me and told me she wasn’t going to let Bobby interfere with our plans for my future.”

“Did you want to marry him?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “In a way, I think I did. But I’d always known I was going to college, and by the time I was willing to admit to myself I was pregnant, he’d left me for another woman. Guess who?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“A barrel racer. They met on the circuit.”

Jake chuckled. His low laugh seemed to find its way into her belly and curl up into a soothing glow. She wanted to capture the sound and hold it close to her heart. She turned away and faced the horizon.

“Did he know about the baby?” he asked.

“Yes, but he didn’t care. A friend of my mother’s, an attorney, arranged for a private adoption. I never knew the name of the couple.” She paused. “I never knew your name, but he promised you were nice and that you’d take care of my child. So I gave her up. It wasn’t too horrible,” she said, wondering if he heard the lie. Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to go on. “I had a full scholarship to Vassar. The baby was due in the middle of August, and I wasn’t showing that much. Everybody knew, but no one said anything. After Laurel was born, I went off to college, acting like nothing ever happened.”

But something had. And she’d carried around that hole in her heart for thirteen years.

“You’ve done very well for yourself,” he said. “Your mother must be very proud.”

“She was.” She thought of how her mother had sat listening each summer break. She’d made Anne tell her everything she could remember about her year at college. “She died my last semester. She never saw me graduate, but at least she knew I was going to make it.” She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to sound cheerful. “So, where did you say you grew up?”

“Dallas.”

She felt him shifting on the rock beside her, but she didn’t look. If he said something nice to her, she would break down completely. All the memories were hard to resist. She could hear her mother’s gentle voice telling her that a baby would only get in the way. In her head, she knew her mother was right. It was only now that she realized her heart had never been convinced.

“My father was in construction,” he continued. “He was very successful.”

“Let me guess. A big white house with a swimming pool.”

“And horses.”

She looked around. The moon had risen. In the distance she could see the lights from the mobile homes. Some laundry hung limply in the warm night. A dog barked.

“That’s a lifetime from here,” she said.

“About as far from Paradise as you are now. You’ve come a long way yourself.”

“That I have.” But what was the price? Giving up her child had been so logical. Her mother had always told her she didn’t have to pay for that one mistake for the rest of her life. But was getting pregnant the only mistake she’d made? “You moved away, as well. Why Colorado?”

He shifted on the rock until he was sitting up next to her. His long legs swung back and forth. She heard the
thunk
as his boots hit the rock.

“My grandfather had a ranch there that he left to me. I always wanted to try to make it successful, but I was expected to go into my father’s business. I never thought about trying to make a living with horses. I told myself it was a dream.”

“You’re doing it now.”

“Yeah, and it’s a lot more hard work than I’d realized.”

He grinned. The flash of white made her own lips curl up. In the faint light of the moon, the details of his face blurred until she could forget he was good-looking enough to make her nervous. She could forget why they were here, and the distrust and awkwardness between them. Maybe this was their chance to become friends.

“You love it,” she said, hazarding a guess.

“That I do. I should have done it years ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She felt him stiffen. She wanted to grab his arm and keep him with her, but she didn’t. He had to make the decision on his own. He stared straight ahead into the darkness of the desert. The stars twinkled overhead. At last he exhaled and relaxed.

“Ellen and I were best friends in school. Both our families encouraged us to marry. There I was with a wife and a child. Chasing dreams wasn’t an option. I had responsibilities.”

“Do you always do the responsible thing?”

“Don’t you?” Jake asked, and wondered when he’d stopped hating her. Maybe it was the night, or seeing how she’d grown up. But sometime in the last couple of hours, Anne Baker had ceased to be the enemy.

“I try to do what’s right,” she said.

“Is that why you send Becky Sue money?”

She shrugged. The movement brought her shoulder in contact with his arm. The faint brush, gone almost before he registered the sensation, made him want to haul her close to him and press his hard body against her soft one. Being next to her, smelling the scent of her perfume, knowing that if he could just bury himself inside her he could get rid of this damn need, made him half crazed. He wanted to touch her and taste her. He wanted to forget himself inside her— he wanted to forget she ever existed.

“She’s my family. I want to help her. I do as much as I can.”

It was a hell of a lot more than his family had done for him. Or Ellen’s father. He pushed away the thoughts of Michael. “It shows.”

She turned toward him. “I think that’s the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”

“What have I said that hasn’t been nice?”

She laughed. “How much time do you have?”

“Okay, maybe I’ve been a little difficult.”

“A little? Oh, please. You’ve practically accused me of harboring all seven deadly sins.”

She was teasing, but her statement made him uncomfortable. He stared out into the desert. “I protect what’s mine.”

“Don’t ever stop doing that.”

He looked at her in surprise. “I would have thought you’d get all huffy and accuse me of being a male chauvinist or at least a barbarian.”

“No. There were a lot of times I wished for someone to protect me. Mama tried, but she was gone so much. She worked two jobs to support us.”

The moonlight reflected in her eyes turning the light blue irises to the color of sapphires. Her skin glowed as if lit by candles. He couldn’t see the freckles
anymore. Her hair brushed against her shoulders with each turn of her head. Would the strawberry-colored waves be soft against his fingers? He had to ball his hands up into fists to keep from finding out.

He forced himself to think of other things. Of a young girl waiting alone in a trailer for her mother to get home from work. Of the studying it must have taken to get a full scholarship at a prestigious school.

“You didn’t fit in here, did you?” he asked.

“No.”

“And at Vassar?”

She laughed, but it sounded hollow and sad. “I was a country hick with homemade clothes. I sounded just like Becky Sue,” she said, falling back into the accent. “‘Hi, ya’ll, I’m Annie Jo Baker, from Texas.’ You can imagine how well that went over.” She stopped talking and swallowed. He watched the movement of her throat and wondered if she fought against tears. “The farthest I’d ever been from home was to the county hospital to give birth to my illegitimate child. I’d seen exactly five movies, I’d never eaten in a restaurant that had tablecloths. I’d never owned a hardback book.”

For the second time in as many minutes he wanted to touch her. But this time the urge was about comforting rather than sex. Still he kept his hands on his lap.

“How many do you own now?” he asked.

“A lot.” She smiled. “I have a whole bookcase of them in my bedroom at home.”

“So you made it.”

“I did. At work I’ve finally found a place to fit in. I’m successful and I know where I’m going.”

She pulled up her knees close to her chest. Her full skirt reached down to her ankles so she was completely covered, but there was something provocative about the pose. And something painfully young. She might have made it financially, but in her heart she was still that young girl from Paradise.

“It must be hard for you to come back here,” he said.

She looked at him. “I wanted Laurel to see where I grew up. I don’t want her to have any fantasies about me. I want her to care about me. I want to be a part of her life, but she’s too young for regrets.”

“What about your regrets?”

“Do I get to have them?”

“I don’t know. Do you?” he asked.

“Don’t you hate me too much to care about my regrets?”

“I don’t
hate
you.”

She sighed. “You don’t like me much. I suppose that’s an improvement over being hated, but not one I can get excited about.”

The night allowed them to speak freely. Perhaps he would regret telling the truth, but she deserved to hear it. “I don’t trust you. There’s a difference.”

“Not a big one.” She rested her head on her knees. “The trick is,” she said, her voice slightly muffled, “that you never get to know what could have been. How would my life have been different if I hadn’t gone to Vassar? What would have happened if I’d given up the scholarship and kept the baby?”

He didn’t want to think about that, but she forced him to examine the alternatives. “I wouldn’t have been Laurel’s father.” Or stayed married to Ellen.