Long, Tall Texans: Stanton ; Long, Tall Texans: Garon

by Diana Palmer

  He smiled. “If today is an example, she’s really helping you a lot.”

  Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “It wasn’t that.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Then what was it?”

  “You had your shirt off while you were watching TV,” she replied, her eyes on his broad chest. “You shameless man. I really can’t resist you when you’re half naked.”

  “I feel exactly the same way about you,” he agreed, and kissed her again.

  She glanced at the baby monitor. Its light was on, but she only heard soft breathing. “I’m glad we got that,” she pointed to it. “Otherwise, I’d never sleep.”

  “Neither would I.” He brushed back her hair. “Are you happy?”

  She smiled. “I could die of it.”

  He kissed her eyelids tenderly, remembering how he’d done that just before they wheeled her into surgery. “When Tory is old enough to go to school, I want you to come to work for me.”

  “Doing what?”

  “As a translator,” he said. “You might not realize it, but Arabic is one language not a lot of agents can speak. You’d be an asset.”

  She pursed her lips and grinned at him. “I might do that.”

  He rolled over onto his back and yawned. “I have to go to court tomorrow and testify against those bank robbers we caught. I’ll probably be home late.”

  She kissed his shoulder. “I’ll make a late supper.”

  He smiled, sliding his arm around her. “You’re the nicest wife on earth. It’s no wonder I love you.”

  Her heart skipped. It was the first time he’d said the words. “Do you, really?”

  His dark eyes emphasized the feeling in the words. “With all my heart. For all my life. And I hope we have a very long time together.”

  She curled up against him, enveloped in happiness. All the lonely, painful years had led her down a path that ended in love and passion and a child born of that love. We earn our happiness, her grandfather had once told her, with pain and tears. She smiled drowsily, ignoring the faint twinge of her incision, and pressed a soft kiss against her husband’s strong, warm shoulder.

  “We’re going to have years and years,” she promised. “And I’ll love you more with every one that passes.”

  He drew her closer, careful not to hurt her chest. “I’ll love you the same way.”

  “And we can both talk to the rose bushes,” she mused.

  “As long as nobody hears us,” he agreed. “I work for the FBI,” he reminded her. “I can’t be overheard talking to plants.”

  She kissed his shoulder again, still wrapped in the warm aftermath of belonging. “And they say that federal agents have no sense of humor,” she scoffed.

  He gave her a squinty look. “Listen, this businesslike expression is the reason I just got promoted to ASAC in San Antonio. Now I can give orders and go to luncheons with famous politicians. I’ll even take you with me, if you promise not to wear that blue dress.”

  The dress was a standing joke. She’d hung it in her closet. She brought it out when she wanted to irritate him. That wasn’t often, since her surgery. He’d been the most wonderful caretaker she’d ever imagined a man could be.

  “I’ll promise,” she agreed.

  “Did Barbara tell you that Jaqui left town?” he murmured.

  “She did? How wonderful!”

  “Stop that,” he said drowsily. “She was never any competition for you. She’ll go to some big city and become a tycoon.”

  “Like me?” she teased.

  He glanced at her. “You can only be a tycoon if you don’t have to travel ten months out of the year promoting your project. I don’t even like having you away for a day. I have insecurities. You have to reassure me that I’m valued.”

  “I do?” She moved up a little and nibbled his mouth again. “How’s this?”

  He grinned. “Nice. Don’t stop.”

  She kissed him again, with more fervor. “Better?”

  His arms reached out for her. “Addictive,” he whispered. “I want years and years of this.”

  She smiled against his hard mouth, tangling her fingers in his thick hair. “Me, too.”

  There was a sudden wail from the monitor.

  * * *

  THEY BOTH GOT UP at the same time, moving hastily into the next room, where their son was screaming. His tiny face was red as fire.

  Garon took a whiff and swallowed hard.

  Grace pursed her lips. She recognized that smell, too.

  “We could draw straws,” Garon suggested.

  She punched him in the ribs. “Somebody who can lift him has to do this, and I can’t yet.”

  He still hesitated.

  “Listen, tough guy, you were a hostage rescuer. You were even on the SWAT team….”

  “It’s in the rule book that FBI agents do not have to change diapers,” he informed her haughtily. “Paragraph 211, section three, chapter 10.”

  “There’s no such rule,” she scoffed.

  “Yes, there is. I’ll go right now and look it up, while you change him. You don’t have to lift him,” he added hopefully. “It’s a very high bed.”

  He sounded very desperate. She had to force herself not to burst out laughing. He’d never told her himself, but she knew from Miss Turner that when he was faced with his first really dirty diaper, during her recuperation, he threw up before he could change it.

  He handed her the wipes and a new disposable diaper, and his eyes spoke volumes.

  She gave him a wry look.

  He shrugged. “You wipe, I’ll tape?”

  She did laugh then. Shaking her head, she did her half of the dirty work and left him to put the fresh diaper in place.

  He lifted the tiny boy to his bare chest and held him there, kissing the top of his small, soft little head.

  She watched him, her eyes brimming with quick tears, at the picture it made.

  He glanced down and saw the look. “What?” he asked.

  She leaned against him, her fingers tracing the baby’s soft cheek. “I was just counting my blessings,” she said huskily. “It’s impossible. I have too many.”

  He bent and kissed her forehead with breathless tenderness. “As many as grains of sand in the ocean,” he said huskily, with profound feeling, his dark eyes glittery with it. “I’ll cherish you all my life. All the way down into the dark. And the last picture I have in my mind will be your face, smiling at me.”

  Tears rained down her cheeks. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” he whispered tenderly, kissing away her tears as the baby went to sleep in his arms. “I’ll never stop!”

  And he never did.

  * * * * *

  Lone Texas Ranger John Ruiz finds unexpected passion with Nurse Sunny Wesley, but will a looming threat destroy their chance at happiness?

  Read on for a sneak preview of UNBRIDLED, the next book in the Long, Tall Texans series from New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was two weeks until Christmas. Suna Wesley, whom her coworkers called Sunny, was standing by herself at the edge of the makeshift dance floor in the boardroom at the San Antonio Hal Marshall Memorial Children’s Hospital, watching as her colleagues in the hospital laughed and performed to the music on the loudspeakers. A disc jockey from a local radio station, related to one of the nurses, had been persuaded to provide commentary. There was plenty of punch and refreshments. Doctors and nurses, orderlies and dieticians, mingled around the buffet table. It was a holiday-themed party, the Saturday after Thanksgiving. One of the favorite staff doctors had taken a job back east, so it was mostly a going-away party.

  Christmas decorations were draped around the room, marking the start of the holiday season. Holly and mistletoe and golden bells mingled with red bows. It made the holidays come to life in the red and green decor. But the whole holiday season was sad for Sunny. It brought back haunting memories of the season with her father and mother and little brother. T
hose days were long gone.

  As she watched a nurse flirt with one of the interns, Sunny wished it was over. She’d been persuaded to stay after her shift and join in the fun. But it was the same as always. She was alone, because she was too shy to push herself into one of the many small groups and engage in conversation. She lived alone, stayed alone, was resigned to being alone for the rest of her life.

  She pushed back her long, platinum blond hair and wished she were beautiful. Her hair was her one good quality. It was straight and pretty when she left it long, and it fell to her waist in back. She had big brown eyes that reflected her loneliness when she was alone and didn’t have to hide it from others.

  It was sad that she had no partner. Her mother and father had loved to dance. Her father had taught her all the exotic Latin dances that at least three couples were mutilating on the dance floor. Her feet itched to try it. But she avoided men. It was useless to become involved with anyone, considering her limitations. No, better to stand all alone with a glass of punch that she hadn’t even touched and feel sorry for herself, decked out in a floral nurse’s tunic and droopy slacks, not a smidgeon of lipstick or powder on her soft features. Her brown eyes were dull with memories that hurt. Holidays were the worst…

  “Hey, Ruiz, you going to show us how to do that samba?” somebody called to a tall man in a shepherd’s coat and wide-brimmed creamy felt hat with a feather decoration. It reminded Sunny that even in San Antonio, autumn was cold.

  Her eyes went to the newcomer. Her heart skipped a beat just at the sight of him. He was gorgeous! Tall, olive-complexioned, elegant, with powerful long legs and a face that would have graced a magazine cover. He had a very masculine face, with a chiseled, sensuous mouth. Black eyes danced under a rakishly tilted cream-colored Stetson, white teeth flashed at the questioner.

  “Hey, do I look like I got time to give you pilgrims dance lessons?” he called back in a deep voice just faintly accented. “I’m a working stiff!”

  “Lies!” the physician called back. “Get over here and have some fun. You’re too serious!”

  “If I wasn’t serious, you guys would have to pay people to let you operate on them,” he scoffed.

  “One dance,” the physician dared. “Come on, you spineless coward!”

  “Ah, now, that’s fighting words.” He chuckled, looking around for a victim. His eyes fell on Sunny’s long, beautiful hair and narrowed on her exquisite complexion.

  No, she thought. Oh, no, no…!

  While she was thinking it, he took her drink, put it on the table, caught her around the waist and riveted her to his tall, powerful body as he drew her onto the dance floor. He was very strong, and he looked taller in the shepherd’s coat he was wearing with jeans and boots. He even smelled nice.

  “Hey, rubia,” he teased, using the Spanish word for a blonde female. “You dance with me, okay?”

  “I…can’t…” she faltered and blushed.

  “Not true. Everybody can dance. Some people just do it with more natural rhythm and grace than others!” He chuckled and pulled her closer as he made quick turns. He was incredible on the dance floor. But she was afraid of the effect he had on her, and it was a very public sort of dance. Everyone was looking at them and smiling, and she was painfully shy.

  The contact was electric. She tingled all over from being so close to his long-legged, powerful body, so close and warm against her flowered top and pants, warming her body, making her feel things she’d never felt. She’d never been so close to a man in her adult life, and it shocked her, how much she liked it.

  But she knew that she had no hope of sustaining a relationship with a man, and she was too honest to start something she couldn’t finish. The stranger appealed to her in every single way there was. She couldn’t afford to indulge this weakness. She froze, embarrassed at the physical ache that welled up in her so suddenly. She caught her breath, biting her lower lip. “Please,” she faltered, looking up at him with tragic dark brown eyes. “I don’t…dance well…” She tugged against his arms, frightened of sensations she’d never felt in her life as she was held far too close to a man she didn’t even know. She could barely force her eyes up to his handsome face as the contact made her stammer. He was the stuff of dreams, but not for a shy, innocent woman with too many secrets.

  Something flashed in his black eyes, but the smile only faded a little. He let her go abruptly. “Forgive me,” he said softly, giving her a mock bow. “Obviously you prefer a paler dance partner, yes?”

  He turned and walked off, throwing up a hand at the doctor. “Okay, I danced, now I’m going to work, you slacker!”

  There was a gale of laughter, following him out the door.

  Sunny went back to her place on the sidelines, embarrassed at being made conspicuous. She was even more embarrassed at the opinion he seemed to have formed, that she didn’t want to dance with him because he was Latino. She could have told him that was a misconception. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life, and when he’d put his arms around her, something inside her woke up and wept at the sense of loss she felt. Because she could never encourage a man, be intimate with a man. Not ever.

  She drew in a long breath, ignored the glass of punch that he’d taken away from her and left it sitting on the table. She went toward the elevator, in a fog.

  “You aren’t leaving already?” Merrie York exclaimed. “Sunny, the party is just starting!”

  They worked together on the pediatric ward, on the night shift. Merrie was a wonderful nurse, patient and kind. She and her brother lived south of San Antonio on a huge ranch. They were absolutely loaded, but Stuart and Merrie both still worked.

  “I have to go,” Sunny said, forcing a smile. “You know I’m no party animal, I’ll just put a damper on things.”

  “You were dancing with Ruiz,” Merrie said with a wicked grin. “Isn’t he beautiful? You should have cut loose, girl. You can outdance anybody else here.”

  “He’s so gorgeous,” she confessed. “It shocked me, a man like that wanting to dance with somebody as plain as me.”

  Merrie grinned. “He is handsome, isn’t he? You wouldn’t believe the women who chase him. He just walks right by them. You should have kept dancing, Sunny,” she added.

  “I don’t like dancing in front of people,” she faltered.

  “I can’t remember the last time I saw Ruiz look twice at a woman, much less ask her to dance,” Merrie began.

  “I feel terrible,” Sunny said huskily. “He thought I didn’t want to dance with him, because he was Hispanic. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t believe someone like him, who could have had any woman in the room, would even want to dance with me. It…shocked me.”

  “You undervalue yourself,” Merrie said softly. “You aren’t plain, Sunny. You’re unique, in so many ways.”

  She smiled at the compliment. “Thanks.” She hesitated. “Merrie, that man I danced with…who is he?” Sunny asked helplessly, hungry for more information about the man who’d chosen her from a roomful of beautiful nurses to dance with.

  “He’s… Oh, darn, I have to go, Motts is waving frantically. I promised him a dance, and he’s being stalked by Sylvia,” she said with mock horror. “She’s so nice. He’s afraid of her, so I’m his security blanket.”

  “He’s afraid of her?” she asked, diverted.

  “Sylvia wants to get married and have kids, and Motts wants to sample at least one woman of every name in the baby book,” Merrie said with a chuckle. “And no, he hasn’t sampled me. My brother would have him for lunch, and my sister-in-law would help put catsup on him.”

  “You and your family,” Sunny laughed. “Your brother is really good-looking,” she added, because she’d seen Stuart York on rare occasions when he came to hospital functions with his wife, Ivy. Merrie and Stuart were rich beyond imagining, owning thousands of acres of ranch land in three states. They ran purebred cattle. Neither of them had to work for a living, but Merrie loved nursing and could
n’t contend with a life of leisure, any more than Stuart could sit at a desk.

  Merrie looked very much like her only sibling; she had long, jet-black hair and pale, steely blue eyes. She didn’t really date anyone seriously, although she’d had a crush on a divorced doctor who’d just gone back to his wife. Like Sunny, Merrie didn’t really move with the times. She wasn’t into multiple relationships.

  “My sister-in-law would totally agree, that my brother is gorgeous,” came the amused reply.

  “Are they ever going to have kids?” Sunny wondered.

  “I keep hoping. So far, they’re making the rounds of all the historic places on earth. I think they’re down to the last thousand now.” She grimaced as she glanced toward the refreshment table. “Got to run. Motts is turning purple. Don’t go,” she pleaded. “You stay too much by yourself.”

  “I like my own company,” she said gently. “But thanks. See you. I’m off until Monday!”

  “Lucky devil. I wish I was. Be careful going home.”

  “I always am,” Sunny said, and shivered inwardly. She usually took cabs that she couldn’t afford, even though her apartment was only two blocks away. She was too afraid to walk through neighborhoods with gang activity. But sometimes money was really tight, and she had to make the perilous journey.

  She’d lived in the neighborhood since she was thirteen. She’d shared it with her mother and little brother until the tragedy that left her alone. Now she hated the very sight of the gang that had taken over the once peaceful block of apartments, who were called Los Diablos Lobitos—the Little Devil Wolves. They ranged in age from early teens to early twenties and they terrified everyone, but especially Sunny. She had more reason than most to hate and fear them.

  The cab driver let her out at her front door. She paid him and he flashed her a smile as he drove off. She walked inside, unlocked her door and looked around her meager surroundings.

  It was a ground-floor, one-bedroom apartment. No frills, no luxuries. There was a small stove that she used for cooking and a fridge that had some age on it but still functioned. Her twin bed had a bedspread that her mother had painstakingly crocheted, and of which Sunny was very fond. It was multicolored, beautiful. It brightened the dull room.