Desire flashed in his brown eyes before his head dropped and his face hovered so close to hers that she could see the pores in his skin, the tiny lines marking his lips.
“Everything,” he murmured. “Yes. That’s what I want, too.”
His soft breath caressed her cheeks and lips and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of sensations rippling over her skin.
She whispered his name but that was all she could manage to say before his lips settled perfectly over hers.
The contact was instant combustion and as his mouth created a firestorm upon her lips, flames spread throughout her body, scorching every spot, every cell it touched.
Beyond the incredible heat washing through her, she was aware of the hard band of his arms tightening around her, drawing her ever closer to the hard wall of his body. Yet it was his kiss that continued to monopolize her senses.
She wanted more. And as his tongue prodded at the opening between her teeth, she realized he felt the same. She opened her mouth to welcome him inside and he immediately began a slow search of the ribbed roof and sharp edges of her teeth. The erotic exploration was more than enough to set off an ache deep between her thighs and, with a needy groan, she wrapped her arms around him and allowed herself to become lost in the total domination of his kiss.
Somehow, her swirling senses managed to register the loud thump of her heartbeat, the humming of the refrigerator and the faint tick of the clock hanging on the wall near the table. Outside the window, the branches of an ash tree scraped against the glass. Strange that she could be aware of all these things and yet not know how much time had marched by since he’d taken her into his arms.
She didn’t have a clue as to whether the embrace had gone on for short seconds or several long minutes. Nor did she recognize how the kiss had grown into something far deeper, until his hands latched on to the sides of her hips and pulled them tightly against his. The bulge of his erection straining against his jeans was evidence that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
She was wrapping her arms around his neck and trying to press herself even closer when he suddenly tore his mouth from hers and stepped back. The unexpected break was so abrupt, Emily-Ann very nearly staggered backward and into the wall of cabinets.
Darting a confused glance at him, she could see he was breathing hard and staring at her with dark, narrowed eyes.
“Tag, what’s wrong?” Fearing he was about to bolt from the kitchen, she latched a hand over his forearm. “If you try to tell me that you don’t want me, I’ll know you’re lying. Because you do. Just as much as I want you.”
A look of torment came over his face and then he rested his forehead against hers. Emily-Ann couldn’t resist slipping her arms around his waist.
“I’m sorry, Emily-Ann. I realize I probably look like an ass to you—or something far worse. But this isn’t how I want things for us. I want our time together to be right—special. Not acted out on a hurried whim.”
Our time together. The words rolled around in her head, but she dared not take them to heart.
“And how are you going to feel tomorrow, or the next day?” she asked. “Are you going to change your mind again about me—us?”
As she waited for him to answer, she could only think how she didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to lead him to her bedroom, shut the door and not let him out until the morning sun was shining through the window.
A wry smile touched his lips. “It wouldn’t make any difference if I did. I can’t stay away from you. Tonight proves it.”
God only knew how very much she wanted to believe him, but so far he’d not done much to help her build any kind of trust.
The doubts circling her thoughts must have shown on her face because he frowned and shook his head.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
A sudden feeling of hopelessness washed over her and it cooled the last remnants of the hot desire she’d felt only moments ago. “It’s hard to trust you, Tag, when one minute you’re hot and the next you’re cold. You tell me you want to stay away from me and then you tell me you lied.”
She slowly turned away from him and walked over to the table where the last of the leftovers of their meal remained. As she plucked up the bread and a basket of potato chips, he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. His warm body lightly touched hers and she did her best to keep the traitorous stirring in her body far away from the region of her heart.
“Emily-Ann, I don’t want to be like the other men who’ve let you down. I’m trying to be honest,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair. “But we’ve not known each other all that long and it would be wrong of me to start making promises that I can’t keep.”
Some things happened in my life that changed everything for me.
What could have happened? If it was affecting him that much, why didn’t he want to share it with her? She wanted to question him, to demand that he explain. But something told her that now was the wrong time to try to peel away the curtain where he’d hidden his past. Besides, if he ever did truly start to care for her, she wouldn’t have to push him to share those things inside him. He’d tell her all on his own.
I know it will happen for you if you just let it.
Camille’s advice joined Emily-Ann’s tumbling thoughts and suddenly she realized what her dear friend had been trying to tell her. If she ever expected to find love, she was going to have to open her heart and take a chance.
Smiling softly, she turned and looked up at him. “I understand, Tag. Really.”
Surprise widened his eyes. “You do?”
Nodding, she reached up and smoothed a finger over the day-old whiskers on his face. “I do. Because I—I’m a little mixed-up. Part of me wants you with a vengeance, while the other part wants to run until I put miles and miles between us.”
His sigh was a sound of relief. “That sort of describes what’s been going on with me.” His hands wrapped gently over her shoulders. “We can figure this out, Emily-Ann. We just need time—together.”
“I like the sound of that,” she told him.
He bent his head and placed a soft, swift kiss on her lips. “It’s not polite to eat and run. But it’s getting late and I have a long drive back to Three Rivers.” Lifting a hand, he traced fingertips along her cheekbone. “And if I continue to stay I might not be able to leave.”
With a clever smile, she looped her arm through his. “And I might not let you leave. So I’ll walk you to the door.”
Out in the living room, he let himself out and Emily-Ann stood in the open doorway and watched as he crossed the small porch.
When he reached the bottom of the steps, he turned and lifted a hand in farewell. “I’ll call you soon,” he promised.
She laughed softly. “This from a man who dislikes phones?”
“If it gives me a chance to hear your voice I can deal with it for a few minutes.” He shot her a smile, then disappeared into the shadows shrouding the driveway. After a moment, his truck fired to life and then he was driving away.
Emily-Ann watched until she could no longer see his taillights in the distance, then walked thoughtfully through the house until she reached the kitchen. And as she finished cleaning up the remnants of their meal, she prayed that Taggart wasn’t going to make a mess of her heart.
Chapter Seven
With his back propped against a desert willow, Taggart stared into the low flames of the campfire and listened to the distant sound of a ranch hand singing along to the rhythmic twangs of a guitar. The last calf had been turned loose at the branding fire two hours ago. The horses had been fed, watered and confined in a simple rope corral the cowboys had erected next to the wall of a rock bluff. The long day’s work had finally ended.
The cowboy’s song trailed away, but plenty of sounds remained to fill the silence of the night. A hoot owl jo
ined the crackle of the flames, while in the far distance coyotes yipped and howled.
I’ve heard that coyotes mate for life.
Even when Emily-Ann had been talking about the wild animals, he’d caught a dreamy, romantic note in her voice. She wanted to think and believe that there was such a thing as true love that lasted forever. But he figured her past held her back from truly believing she’d ever be a part of such a union. Just like his past was throwing up a thick wall every time he tried to picture a long-term future with her.
There were some people that weren’t ever meant to live a happily-ever-after, he decided, as he closed his eyes and rubbed fingertips against the weary lids. He didn’t know if Emily-Ann was one of those misfortunate few, but he definitely figured he was. Why else would Becca and the baby have been taken away from him so cruelly and suddenly?
He’d been sitting there for several long minutes, his thoughts drifting, when a familiar voice sounded nearby.
“Tag, are you asleep?”
Roused by the question, Taggart opened his eyes to see Chandler standing a few feet away. Since the veterinarian hadn’t worked roundup today, he was surprised that the man had driven several miles from the ranch house to join them here at camp tonight.
“I wasn’t asleep. Just resting my eyes. I think the hot sun has burned holes in both of them.” Taggart slowly pushed himself away from the tree. “What are you doing here? Blake told me you had a heavy day scheduled at the clinic.”
“I had a hell of a whopper day at the clinic,” he told him. “But it all went well. I came out tonight because Holt and Blake wanted to talk. While Mom isn’t here,” he added pointedly.
Since they’d started the roundup five days ago, this was the first and only night that Maureen hadn’t remained in camp. This evening a couple of hours before dark, she’d ridden back to the ranch to deal with some paperwork that Flo couldn’t put off any longer.
“Is anything wrong?” Taggart asked.
Chandler grimaced. “Nothing is wrong. We just rather her not know that her sons are putting their heads together—behind her back, that is.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I thought Maureen knew everything about the ranch.”
“She does. But this isn’t about the ranch. It’s about Dad.”
“Oh.” Taggart reached for his hat lying near his thigh and levered it back onto his head. As he rose from his seat on the ground, he asked, “Is there something you need for me to do?”
“Yes, there is. We want you to join us. We all figure that you’re a part of this family now and it wouldn’t be good if you didn’t know and understand what’s going on.”
Glancing around, Taggart noticed that sometime during his drowsy musings, the last of the men had slipped away from the fire to hit their waiting bedrolls.
“Damn, Doc, I’m just the foreman. I don’t have any right to sit in on a family meeting.”
Chandler frowned at him. “If you had known Dad you would’ve loved him and he would’ve felt the same about you. And don’t ever let any of us hear you say you’re just the foreman. That’s not the way we are here on Three Rivers. We’re family.”
Seeing that Chandler was completely sincere, Taggart felt humbled. “All right. Since you put it that way, I’d be honored to sit in.”
At the opposite end of the night camp, a chuck wagon and a large tent sat near a huge mesquite tree. A paint horse was tied to a nearby picket line and Taggart recognized it as the late Joel Hollister’s personal horse. The one he’d been on when he’d met his death.
“That’s Major Bob. How did he get here?” Taggart questioned him about the horse, while thinking Chandler had surely driven one of the four-wheel drive vehicles from the ranch yard.
“I rode him over. Major Bob loves spring roundup and since he’s getting a bit of age on him, we don’t want to use him hard every day. I’m going to leave him for Mom to ride tomorrow and I’ll ride one of the extra mounts back to the ranch tonight. That will make her and Major Bob happy.”
And one of the first things Taggart had learned since he’d arrived at Three Rivers Ranch was that one of the main priorities of the Hollister brothers was making their mother happy.
Chandler motioned for Taggart to follow him into the tent and once they were inside, he saw that Blake, Holt and Joseph were sitting in folding chairs along the east wall of the tent, while opposite from them, Gil had taken a seat on the edge of a sleeping cot.
“You guys look like you’re getting ready for a poker game where gambling isn’t allowed,” Chandler attempted to joke as he handed Taggart a folding chair.
“I wish,” Joseph said with a grunt, then glanced at Taggart. “Welcome, Tag, glad you’re here.”
While Taggart gave the youngest Hollister a grateful nod, Chandler said, “None of you need bother telling Tag to keep his mouth shut about this. He already understands Mom isn’t to know.”
“Good,” Holt said, then shot a meaningful glance at his uncle. “Then we all agree that what’s said here stays among us?”
The older man leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Just from looking at him, Taggart doubted any man in this tent would want to tangle with him physically, or for that matter, try to match wits with the man. He had a tough, sharp image that reminded Taggart of a drill sergeant he used to know back in Texas.
“Maureen isn’t going to hear anything from me that might cause her sadness or worry,” Gil said. “You men can rest assured of that.”
Holt nodded, then gestured to Joseph. “You’re the head investigator, Joe, so you need to be the one to do the talking.”
“Don’t you think you should key Tag in on the main points?” Chandler spoke up. “He’s walked into the middle of this thing without knowing much.”
“Right,” Joseph said, then glanced at Blake. “You fill him in on what we know and I’ll get the evidence.”
As soon as the word was spoken, Taggart saw Gil’s brows shoot up with sudden interest, but he didn’t interrupt with questions. Instead he waited patiently while Blake recounted all they knew about their father’s death. Including the horrific way they’d found him hanging from the stirrup of the saddle.
Once Blake finished, Holt said, “You see, Tag, ever since Dad died, we brothers have searched and dug to find the truth of what happened. At first Mother was all for it. And then all of a sudden, she made a complete turn around and ordered us to leave it alone. She didn’t want to hear about it or think about it. Basically, she wanted to put the tragedy behind her.”
“She has her reasons for that,” Gil spoke up.
All five men turned stunned looks on the retired detective.
Blake was the first to speak. “You know what those reasons are?”
“I do,” Gil answered. “But I want to see this evidence you have before I say anything.”
Taggart got the impression that Holt wanted to press the man for answers, but then he shrugged and said, “Show him, Joe.”
The deputy reached behind his chair and retrieved a small cedar box. The sort that women used to store jewelry or other personal trinkets.
“It’s not much, Uncle Gil. But it’s more than nothing. We’ve all been thinking that since you’ve come home to Three Rivers, you’d be willing to help us find Dad’s killer. You do think Dad was murdered, don’t you?”
Grim-faced, the man said, “I’ve never thought anything else. None of it made sense. He was too good of a horseman to lose his seat in the saddle. And there was no sensible explanation as to why he rode off by himself that day. The ranch was extremely busy and the way I remember it, he was scheduled to meet with a cattle buyer that afternoon.”
“That’s right,” Joseph agreed, then opened the box and handed it to Gil. “We found the spur rowel first. We know it belonged on Dad’s spurs because it’s unique and very expensive. Mom gave them to hi
m as a special gift.”
Gil placed the rusty rowel in the palm of his hand and studied it as though the piece of metal could give him the answers they all needed. After a moment he returned the rowel to the box and pulled out two tiny pieces of tattered fabric. Taggart could see that it had once been blue plaid, but sun and outdoor elements had faded it.
“That was the shirt Dad was wearing that day,” Chandler said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
Joseph explained they’d found the items in two different arroyos on the far side of the ranch property, not far from water well pump number nine.
“But that’s not all,” Holt said, then turned a questioning look on Joseph. “I thought we agreed we were going to show him the rest?”
“We are,” Blake muttered.
“Yeah, the rest.” Grim-faced, Joseph fished a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I found this not long ago when I was going through Ray’s private notes about Dad’s case.”
“Ray?” Gil questioned. “You mean the late Sheriff Maddox?”
Joseph nodded and Taggart quickly tried to remember where he’d heard that name. But before it could come to his mind, Blake provided the answer.
“In case you don’t know, Tag, Ray Maddox was also an old family friend of ours, who happened to be the sheriff of Yavapai County for many years. He was also Tessa’s father.”
Taggart looked at Joseph, who was holding on to the square of paper as though it was a snake that could strike any moment.
“So your father-in-law was the late Sheriff Maddox,” Taggart said thoughtfully. “Did he inspire you to become a lawman?”
“Partly. He and Uncle Gil inspired me. And I actually worked under Ray for a short time before he became so sick he had to retire. He eventually passed away from a lung disease. That was before Tessa and I married. And before anyone knew he was actually Tessa’s father. But that’s a long story in itself.”
“Yeah,” Holt interjected. “Long and twisted. And we don’t want to be here all night.”
Joseph glanced once again at Taggart. “You can hear the sheriff’s story later. But to explain this—” He tapped a finger against the paper in his hand. “Tessa and I live on the Bar X. The ranch was an inheritance from her father and we live in the same house where he always lived. Over time we’ve discovered lots of notes and papers he left behind. Many of them about Dad’s case.”
The Texan Tries Again Page 10
