Texas Heat (5 page)

She felt better already as she stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the guest bedroom beside Emma's. Family pictures lined the hallway, and Savannah paused, quickly scanning the photos—Jake as a young boy, sitting on a horse as he waved a cowboy hat; Jessica in pigtails with one tooth missing; Jared and another boy the same age, riding bicycles, though she couldn't see the second boy's face.

An old wedding picture caught her attention and she moved closer to that one, trying to read a date in the corner.

“My parents' wedding portrait.”

Savannah jumped at the sound of Jake's voice so close to her ear. She hadn't heard him come up behind her. “They...look very happy.”

“They were.” He stepped closer and stared at the picture, looking at it as if he hadn't seen it for a long time. “He was never the same after she died.”

“My parents died together,” she said quietly. “I'd never really thought about it, but I realize now it would have been harder for the survivor if only one had died.”

“I kept him company with an occasional bottle for a while,” Jake admitted. “But he needed a different kind of company.”

“Myrna?” Savannah asked.

He nodded and it seemed as if he was looking through the picture, instead of at it. “Men make mistakes when they're lonely.”

Savannah detected a note of bitterness in Jake's voice, and something told her he wasn't just talking about his father. She started to turn then, preparing to say good-night, when another picture caught her eye. It was a photograph of a sprawling white two-story mansion. A circular driveway led to a set of double doors. Barely discernible, a man stood in the open doorway, his muscular arms folded as he smiled for the camera. Savannah froze. She'd seen this picture before. She knew this house.

Eyes wide, she turned to Jake. “Where did you get this picture?”

“That's the house my father built for Myrna. Stone Manor, she calls it.” He frowned at Savannah. “Is something wrong?”

She turned back and stared at the photo. “This house—my sister designed it. She has—had—this picture, along with the blueprints, in her portfolio.”

Silence echoed in the hallway. They were both looking at not only a piece of the past, but of the puzzle.

“That explains how they met,” Jake said at last, then gave a dry laugh.

Savannah glanced over her shoulder. “What?”

“Myrna hired the architectural firm and asked for the best. Obviously that was your sister. Wouldn't my stepmother love to know she was the one who brought them together?”

Again they were quiet, each of them caught up in their own memories. “There was never anyone else after she came home,” Savannah murmured. “I'd catch her sometimes, lost in her thoughts, and I knew she was thinking about him. I just never knew who
him
was.”

A soft rasping sound filled the air as Jake's fingers slid over his bristled chin. “Jessica found this picture with some books and papers after J.T. died. It's the only photo we have of him smiling after my mother died.”

Savannah stared at the man in the photograph, knowing that Angela had taken this picture. “She loved him, you know.”

The quiet passion in Savannah's voice pulled Jake from his reflection. He became suddenly, keenly, aware of the smell of peaches drifting from her damp skin and hair. The scent was as sweet as it was seductive, as soft as it was powerful, moving over him, stroking him like invisible silken fingers. Desire, hot and sharp, pumped through his body, heightening his senses. He had a wild crazy need to brush the damp golden hair from her neck and taste her there. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep his hands at his sides.

“Would a woman leave a man she truly loved?” he asked, leaning closer. “And take his child without telling him?”

The heat of Jake's body burned through the thin cotton robe Savannah wore. She felt his breath fan her ear and slide down her neck, and her own breath caught in her suddenly tight throat. “Maybe he sent her away,” she whispered.

Jake shook his head. “The Stone men never let go of what belongs to them.”

It was a completely chauvinistic, utterly arrogant statement. Savannah should have laughed at the absurdity of it, but instead, her heart began to race. Wasn't it what every woman truly wanted? To be loved so deeply, so absolutely, that a man would never let her go? To be possessed by one man, knowing he would die to protect her? Fantasy, she chided herself. Ridiculous.

She pulled her robe tightly around her and turned so she wouldn't brush against Jake. The only problem was, her back was against the wall now. She looked up at him, determined not to react to his closeness. His eyes, dark as blue midnight, skimmed over her throat and rested on her breasts. She couldn't stop the thrill that leapt through her.

She wouldn't let him get to her. She
couldn't.
She needed a clear head and heart when it came to Jake and the rest of the Stone family. They had the power to take away the one thing in the world she loved: Emma. She couldn't let herself forget that for one minute.

“You're living in the Dark Ages, Jake Stone.” She forced a cool smile. “Or should I say the Stone Age? Maybe it was that egotistical attitude that sent my sister packing. It's far from attractive, you know.”

It was his turn to smile now. “Are you cold, Savannah?” he murmured. “You're trembling.”

Her fingers clenched at the knot of her robe's belt. “I'm angry. You're passing judgment about a person and situation you know nothing about.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Maybe you're right,” he finally conceded. “Maybe we both have a few things to learn. Questions to be answered. After all,” he said huskily, “we both want the same thing, don't we?”

Jake's masculine scent assailed Savannah's senses. His voice stroked her like a lover's experienced hand. “And what's that?” she asked, blinking slowly.

He smiled and backed away. “The best for Emma, of course.”

She felt ridiculous, nearly swooning because he'd moved too close. At least she could breathe now. She had to remember to keep her distance, that was all. “That's the only thing I want, Jake. Don't forget it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to say good-night to Jessica and Jared.”

Jake raised one eyebrow. “That might be a little difficult. They left while you were in the shower.”

“Left?” Savannah turned her head toward the living room and realized it had been awfully quiet. “For where?”

“Jessica works in Cactus Flat at the youth center and has a place there. Jared lives in a trailer on his own property.” He looked at her curiously. “Did you think they lived here?”

A sharp tight knot formed in the pit of Savannah's stomach. “Well, I—I sort of assumed...”

Jake's brow furrowed. “Does that frighten you, being here alone with me?”

“No,” she answered too quickly. “It's just that I, well, I hadn't...” She lifted her gaze to his. It was ridiculous to lie. “Yes.”

He took a step back. “I don't want you, or Emma, to ever be afraid of me. You're both safe here, Savannah. I promise you that.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then said good-night and turned toward the living room.

Savannah slowly let out her breath and watched him walk away.
Does that frighten you, being here alone with me?

She wondered what he would say if she told him that it wasn't him she was frightened of, but herself.

H
ands on his hips, Jake stood at the edge of the bog and scowled at the steer. It was stuck in the thick mud clear up to its underside—the fifth one he'd come across today—and by far the worst.

The sky was clear at the moment, but for the past three days it had rained steadily, turning the area into a huge mud hole. Jake had always been careful to keep this section of land fenced off, but somehow the fence had gone down, and several head had managed to gain entrance. It was pure luck that he'd managed to get to them before they'd succumbed to the weather or wolves. More than luck. It was a miracle. With his finances as shaky as they were, even one steer lost might tip the scales irrevocably. One more setback and the bank “wolves” would be moving in on him.

With a weary sigh, Jake walked back to his horse and slipped the rope off the saddle. He'd been in and out of bogs since dawn and was covered with mud, but he'd managed to free all of his unfortunate victims without problems. If his luck held out, he'd have this steer free and be home in time to join Emma and Savannah for lunch.

Four days had passed since that night he and Savannah had stood in the hall and looked at pictures. He'd managed to spend some time with Emma, but other than dinner, he'd kept a polite distance from Savannah. It seemed the safest strategy, considering he couldn't get close to the woman without wanting to argue with her or kiss her. Either one would probably have her packing her bags, so he'd been as cautious as a naked man climbing a barbwire fence.

But he thought about her far too much. Like now, when he was trying to work, and at night—especially at night—after he'd gone to bed. He wondered if she was asleep on the other side of the wall. How her body might fit to his. If she felt as soft as she looked...

The steer bawled at him. Jake swore back at it and tossed the rope around its neck, then tied the other end to the saddle. Now came the good part, he thought irritably, stepping into the muck to make his way to the animal. He worked quickly, moving from the back of the steer to the front, digging away the quicksand from the legs.

“Looks like fun.”

Startled, Jake twisted around at the sound of Savannah's voice behind him. The steer chose that exact moment to lurch sideways, knocking him off-balance. Swearing loudly, Jake went down on his rear end and sank into the soft mud. It oozed through his gloved fingers, then sucked at his hands as he pulled them loose.

Furious, he stood slowly and faced Savannah. She was mounted on Rosemary, a chestnut mare that Jessica rode. “What the
hell
are you doing here?”

Eyes wide, she smothered a laugh as she stared at him, taking in the thick layer of mud that covered him from the waist down. In contrast, her long-sleeved cotton blouse was Sunday-school white, her jeans, department-store blue. Even the hat she wore looked as if it had just been taken out of its box.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I thought you heard me ride up.”

Maybe he would have if he hadn't been so busy wondering what her skin would feel like under his hands. “You thought wrong,” he growled, reaching for the lead line.

“Can I do something for you?” she asked hesitantly, moving her horse closer to the edge of the bog.

If he told her the first answer that came to his mind on
that
question, she definitely wouldn't like the answer, he thought fiercely. “You've done enough for the moment,” he said, instead, swiping a huge glob of mud from his thigh.

Savannah winced as the dark lump of wet earth landed beside her horse. Biting her bottom lip, she looked contritely at Jake. “I really am sorry.”

Jake had to drag his gaze from the sight of her worrying her bottom lip, or he knew he'd end up on his butt in the mud again. “Forget it.” He worked his boots free from the bog. “Where's Emma?”

“Jessica came by and took her into town for lunch and an ice cream. They should be back by dinner.”

He turned away and signaled his horse to back up, tightening the rope. The steer twisted its head, resisting the pull of the line. “Why didn't you go with them?”

“I thought they might like some time to themselves, and besides, it's too nice a day to sit in a car. I used to ride a lot when I was in college and I've missed it. Jessica said you wouldn't mind if I rode Rosemary.”

Jake dug at the mud holding the steer's front legs. “This area is a little out of your way for a leisurely ride.”

Rosemary sidestepped as she swung her head around to bite at a fly. Savannah tugged on the reins to steady the horse. “Since I was going to be out riding, anyway, Jessica pointed me in this direction and asked if I'd tell you that Mr. Williams called.”

Damn! Williams was the loan manager at Midland First Federal, the bank that held the mortgage on the ranch. Despite the fact that Myrna's father held a considerable interest in the bank, the manager had given Jake no leeway at all. Jake had been putting the man off for the past two months, but it was getting more difficult by the day. He'd have to deal with the bank soon, but for the moment, between a bogged steer and a sexy blonde, he more than had his hands full.

Jake glanced up at Savannah as he tossed another glob of mud. She'd tucked up her hair under her hat, and a few stray golden curls swirled around her long slender neck. His throat tightened at the sight.

“Stone Creek is not the local equestrian center, Savannah,” he snapped. “You could have gotten lost wandering around. What would you have done if you'd run into a rattlesnake or a pack of wolves?”

Her lips thinned as she straightened in the saddle. “Jessica gave me specific directions. And I doubt that a rattlesnake or a wolf would be any more irascible than you.”

The steer bawled again, jerking its head as Jake yanked on the rope. “Oh, you'll excuse me,” Jake said between clenched teeth. “I lost my charm in the mud somewhere.”

“I said I was sorry.” Savannah lifted her chin. “It's just a little mud, for heaven's sake. I don't really see what you're making such a fuss abou—”

The steer broke loose unexpectedly, knocking Jake backward into the mud again. The frightened animal then ran straight at Savannah's horse. The chestnut reared. Savannah screamed as she flew from the saddle.

And landed flat on her back in the mud beside Jake.

She was too horrified to move. She stared up at blue sky, felt the wet mud creep between her arms and legs. Jake leaned over her, his deep blue eyes dancing with devilment.

“I forgot to mention runaway steers and bog holes in my list of warnings,” he said, and his broad grin nearly blinded her.

He thought this was funny! Damn him! Savannah tried to rise, but the mud sucked her back down.

Jake rose to his feet, then pulled off a mud-covered glove. “Need a hand?”

Fuming, Savannah brushed his hand away and struggled to free herself. Jake chuckled, then pulled himself from the bog and released the line on the steer. It trotted off, oblivious to the trouble it had caused.

Savannah had managed to pull herself to a sitting position when a pair of strong arms suddenly reached for her. Gasping, she had no choice but to wrap her arms around Jake's neck as he slipped his hands behind her knees and lifted her.

She stared down at her new clothes. “How will I ever get these clean?” She groaned. “How will I ever get
myself
clean?”

“It's just a little mud, for heaven's sake,” Jake mimicked.

Savannah narrowed her eyes. “Put me down.”

“My, my.” Jake clucked his tongue. “I see you've lost your charm, too. Maybe you'd like to go back and look for it.” He held her over the bog.

Savannah shrieked and clung to Jake's neck. “All right, all right. I'm sorry.”

Terrified he'd drop her, Savannah burrowed herself into Jake's chest. The front of his shirt was still relatively clean and she turned her face into the cotton fabric, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She felt the rumble of laughter before she actually heard it, and when it finally burst forth, she lifted her face and glared up at him. “What's so funny?”

“The look—” his words came out between bellows of laughter “—on your face when you landed in the bog....”

She felt the muscles in his chest ripple as he continued to laugh. “I imagine it was something like the look on
your
face when you fell in,” she said, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Sort of like you sat on a porcupine. I declare, I think that cow even felt sorry for you.”

They both laughed then, standing on the edge of the mud hole, his arms around her. The horses watched them, and the steer wandered over to a nearby tuft of grass and dug in.

Jake couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed with a woman. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd held a woman in his arms. He stared into Savannah's meadow green eyes and felt something—something he was unfamiliar with, something he chose not to examine. And then it was gone as quickly as it came and in its place came a need. A need he understood only too well.

He wanted this woman. An ache spread through him as strong as it was urgent. He had to taste her, to feel her lips under his. His laughter died away as he held her gaze, and when he turned his attention to her lips he felt her go still. Her breathing turned shallow.

“Jake,” she said quietly, “you can put me down now.”

“Sure.” He let her body slide down his with agonizing slowness. Her eyes turned smoky green as her breasts moved over his chest. Instinctively his hands cupped her bottom as he lowered her to the ground.
Damn,
but she felt good. So incredibly good. The ache in his body intensified and his heart raced.

This couldn't be happening, Savannah thought dimly. It had to be a dream. It
felt
like a dream. She was floating in a cloud of sensation, aware only of the feel of Jake's solid chest and the tightness of her breasts as her body pressed against his. Her hands slid over his arms and she felt the ripple of hard muscle beneath her fingers. She lifted her gaze to his, and the dark intensity of his eyes nearly took her breath away. He lowered his head, and with a will of their own, her lips parted and her eyes drifted closed.

His mouth was gentle on hers, his lips hot. Pleasure streaked through her, a sharp spiral of emotion that had her mind racing and her body humming. She whimpered softly, pressing herself closer, meeting the velvet thrust of Jake's tongue with her own. Her fingers curled around the fabric where his shirt opened, and she felt his flesh burn against her hands. Control slipped away and in its place came an urgency that consumed her.

Jake slanted his mouth against Savannah's and the kiss grew harder, deeper. She felt the moan that rose up from his throat, and the sensation excited her all the more. She should have been shocked, not only by her reaction to Jake's kiss, but by his arousal pressed so blatantly against the juncture of her thighs. But she wasn't. She was thrilled. Anticipation coiled tightly inside her and she shuddered from the force of it.

Jake felt the shudder move from Savannah's body into his own. Blood pounded in his temples. He wanted her. Now. Here. Desire throbbed through his body, screaming at him to take this woman and ease his pain. His lips moved over hers, hard and demanding, desperately, needing her closer. She welcomed him, meeting the hot thrust of his tongue with her own.

But even as he deepened the kiss he cursed himself. Not only for his timing, but because he knew what she tasted like now. Sweeter than anything he could have imagined. One taste would never satisfy him. It would never be enough.

The sun beat down on the back of his neck. It would be one hell of a sunburn, he thought darkly, but it would be worth it. If she was any other woman, he wouldn't even think twice.

But she wasn't any other woman. She was Emma's aunt. And after the physical satisfaction there was nowhere for this to go. There was no place for a woman like Savannah in his life. There was no place for
any
woman in his life beyond a night's pleasure. Or in this case, he thought in extreme frustration, an afternoon's pleasure.

Reluctantly he tore his mouth from hers and let her slide to the ground. The movement was sheer torture for him, and he held back the groan deep in his throat. He looked down at Savannah. Her passion-glazed eyes opened slowly, and her lips, still wet and parted, nearly had him reaching for her again. Sweat beaded on his brow as he stepped away.

Confusion filled Savannah's eyes. She stared at him, then blinked several times. He stood rigid, watching as awareness slowly returned to her face. Her cheeks flamed red.

A hawk shrieked overhead. Waves of heat shimmered off the hard flat ground. The rich earthy smell of the land permeated the air.

“You lost your hat,” she said quietly.

He nodded slowly. “So did you.”

They locked gazes for a long moment without speaking, then turned away from each other, both of them realizing they'd lost a great deal more than their hats.

* * *

“Jake, you're not being reasonable.”

With his back to his stepmother, Jake stared out his living room window. Clouds framed the distant mountains, and he hoped like hell it wasn't going to rain again. He'd had enough mud today to last him a lifetime. He turned his head at the sound of the shower shutting off. Savannah had insisted on using the bathroom after him. He thought of her in there now, her skin glistening as she rubbed the towel over her—

“Jake, are you listening to me?”

Sighing inwardly, Jake turned and faced Myrna. Now that she'd hired someone to drive her around, God only knew how often she'd drop in unannounced. Legs crossed, she sat stiffly in the worn leather armchair that had been J.T.'s favorite. Dust spotted the front of her navy blue pants and she brushed it delicately away.

“There's nothing to listen to,” he said dryly. “I have no intention of selling this ranch. Not to you or anyone else.”