That Woman in Wyoming

by Sherry Lewis

  Reagan loved the scenery out here. She loved the soft carpet of pine needles that covered the ground, the juxtaposition of forest and meadow, the sprinkling of wildflowers in the tall grass and beneath the canopy of trees. She loved the feeling of solitude, the long moments between passing cars when she could almost believe she and Max were the only two people on earth.

  After they’d turned onto the dirt road that would take them to the ridge, Max glanced across the car at her. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  Reagan sat up quickly. “Sorry. I got caught up in the scenery and forgot to talk. Am I horrible company?”

  “Not at all. I’m just hoping nothing’s wrong.”

  She adjusted her posture a little more. “Nothing. And certainly nothing you’ve done.” She stifled an unexpected yawn and sent him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “Because of Jamie?”

  “Partly. Partly work.” She stopped herself from finishing the list. She’d promised not to tell anyone about Travis, and she’d keep her word. “It’s been quite a week so far.”

  “Am I part of the problem?”

  “Of course not.” She shifted in her seat so she could see him better. “Getting to know you has been wonderful. You’ve given me something to look forward to. But, of course, every day brings us closer to when you have to leave. How much longer will you be here?”

  “I gave myself a week to find what I’m after.”

  Three more days. Reagan looked away and watched the trees through her window as they bounced over a rutted spot in the road, then motioned toward a turnout on the side of the road. “This might be a good place to stop. You should be able to get a good view of the valley from here.”

  Max stopped the car and came around to open her door. She tried to focus on the deep valley below them—a bowl of green nestled into the jagged, snow-covered mountains. Farms dotted the land, and Serenity, nestled squarely in the valley’s center, looked even smaller from this distance.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “It’s an incredible view.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” She sighed softly and brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

  “It’s quiet.”

  Reagan smiled, wondering whether that was a good thing or a bad one in his mind. “I don’t think I ever heard real silence until I came here.”

  “Does it ever bother you?”

  “Never.” She trailed her fingers along the winter-hardened branch of a scrub oak. “Does it bother you so much?”

  “No, but then I haven’t been here long.”

  And he wouldn’t be here long enough to change his mind. She shouldn’t waste even a second wishing things were different. But one look at his hair being tousled by the breeze made Reagan wish she had the right to work her fingers through it. One glimpse of the sunlight in his eyes made her wish…

  His eyes roamed her face, searched her eyes, settled on her mouth. She couldn’t move. She didn’t want to. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again, to connect with him on a level beyond words.

  Responding to her silent invitation, he dipped his head and kissed her. She gave herself fully to his touch. There could be no future for them, but for just a moment she wanted to forget about reality. She wanted nothing more than this feeling. She was drowning in him, and she couldn’t remember ever being happier.

  When he finally released her, he brushed one last kiss to her forehead and stepped away. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s what we both wanted.”

  “Yes, but…”

  Reagan brushed a wayward lock of hair out of his eyes and scowled. “But what?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You can’t hurt me unless I let myself be hurt. I’m tougher than I look. I’ve been through too much to be weak.”

  He looked deep into her eyes, assessing her answer for a moment. “You’re really something, you know that?”

  She grinned up at him. “Yeah, but the question is, what?”

  He laughed, hugged her quickly and followed up with a brief, chaste kiss. “I’m not sure I know the words to describe exactly what you are.”

  “Jamie and Danielle could describe it for you. They’re always telling me how weird I am.”

  “You’re different,” Max whispered hoarsely, “but definitely not weird. I’ve never known a woman who could make me forget all about work just by looking at me.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “What is this job of yours?” She held up one hand before he could answer. “Don’t tell me. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that you’re so mysterious about it, and being married to a cop probably made me more suspicious than most people. Just tell me you’re not doing something illegal.”

  “I’m definitely not doing anything against the law.” He slipped one arm around her waist and drew her close.

  Reagan relaxed against him, surprised that she felt so at home in his arms. “I didn’t mean to sound distrusting, it’s just that with everything that’s been happening lately I’m a little touchy.” She wanted to tell him about Travis, but again she held back. Talking to Max might help, but she couldn’t break her promise to her brother.

  Max watched Reagan’s eyes flicker and change, darken with some emotion he couldn’t read. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her, but he wasn’t made of stone. “If I could have one wish right now, do you know what it would be?”

  “Tell me.”

  “That life wasn’t so damn complicated.”

  “But it is,” Reagan said. “And it seems to get worse all the time.” She sighed wistfully. “Maybe we should just forget complications and problems and who’s going to get hurt, and just enjoy what we have here for as long as it lasts.”

  Max would like nothing more, but it wouldn’t be fair to her. “And when it’s over?”

  “Then we’ll be grateful for every minute we had together.”

  Max’s pulse thrummed steadily. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Positive.”

  “And the girls?”

  “We’ll still have to be mindful,” Reagan said slowly. “At least when we’re in town. But for today, at least, let’s forget about your job, my job, climbing lessons and everything else and just enjoy what we have.”

  “For one day?”

  “Just one.”

  Just one. He should say no, but the look in her eyes was too tempting to resist. And, after all, what could one day hurt?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TEXTBOOKS SPILLED ACROSS the kitchen table, music played softly in the background, and Max would have walked on his knees for a chance at whatever smelled so good on the stove.

  Danielle sat at the table, one ear glued to the telephone, the cord wrapped around herself while she laughed at something her friend said. Jamie had both feet propped on the chair in front of her as she pretended to study, but her eyes kept wandering around the room, taking in the smile on Reagan’s face and the laughter in Max’s eyes. Baby squeezed himself between one set of feet, then another, rubbed up against Danielle’s chair, and favored Max with a long, unblinking stare before he yawned and moved on.

  Max barely resisted the urge to kiss Reagan as he helped himself to a glass of iced tea from the refrigerator. It wouldn’t be fair to the girls to act as if something permanent was on the horizon. “What can I do to help?”

  She shook her head quickly, concentrating on the recipe card in front of her. “Everything’s under control. Just have a seat. I’ll be finished in a few minutes.”

  He carried his tea into the dining area and leaned against the counter to watch the girls, surprised by how soothing he found the controlled chaos that seemed to come with having teenagers—the phone, the music, the constant chatter.

  Jamie glanced up from her homework and let her eyes lock on his, and he could see a faint challenge lurking in their depths. He wondered why. Did she think he was responsible in some way for her mother saying no t
o the climbing lessons she wanted? Or was she unhappy with the way the relationship was going?

  He didn’t have to wonder for long.

  Reagan gave dinner a quick stir and settled a lid on the pan. “Would one of you keep an eye on this while I find the recipe book I need for dessert? Just stir it every few minutes and take it off the heat if the mushrooms start getting too dark. And when the water in the other pot boils, just add the pasta.”

  “I’ll be glad to,” Max said.

  The instant Reagan disappeared, Jamie slipped her feet to the floor and turned to face Max squarely. “Did you and my mom spend the whole day together?”

  Max stiffened slightly, nodded and took a long drink of iced tea. “Most of it.”

  “Doing what?”

  “She took me out to Sunset Ridge and showed me around.”

  Jamie flicked a glance at her sister; Danielle pretended not to see it. “Does Mom know why you’re really here?”

  Max nearly dropped his glass. “Why I’m really here? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “People talk, you know. Mom might not get out much, but we hear everything at school.”

  “Is that right?” Max did his best to look unconcerned as he set his glass on the counter behind him. Had Phyllis Graham broken her vow to keep his secret? Had the chief of police? They were the only two people who knew the truth. “And what have you heard?”

  “The truth.” Jamie leaned a little closer, narrowed her eyes and studied him as if she expected to see a lie printed across his cheeks.

  “Are you sure it’s the truth?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “How about telling me what you’ve heard and giving me the chance to defend myself?”

  Jamie cocked her head to one side. “Why would you need to defend yourself? If I had your job, I probably wouldn’t tell everybody, either. You probably can’t tell, can you?”

  “It depends on the situation.” How much did Jamie know? What had she told her mother? Nothing yet, he thought with a glance at the empty doorway. Reagan didn’t act like a woman who had even a slight suspicion that things might not be what they seemed.

  “But you can tell us, can’t you?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Who you work for.” She leaned a little closer. “I promise I won’t tell anybody else.”

  Max blinked in confusion. “Who I—” He cut himself off, suddenly remembering Phyllis Graham’s plan to spread the rumor that he worked for a Hollywood celebrity. “I guess you’ve heard that I’m working for someone famous.”

  “Well, yeah.” Jamie scowled and nodded toward the kitchen. “Don’t you think you should check dinner before Mom comes back?”

  Max hustled into the kitchen with Jamie only a step or two behind. Thankfully, the mushrooms looked plump and the water was just coming to a boil. He took one pan off the heat and added pasta to the other, hoping the diversion had distracted Jamie.

  “So?” she asked, dashing his hopes immediately. “Can you tell us? If we swear not to tell anyone else?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Megan Rasmussen thinks you work for Brad Pitt.” The challenge in Jamie’s eyes faded, and she looked like any excited teenager. “She’s not right, is she?”

  “She’s not right.” Max had to remember to thank Phyllis Graham. She’d obviously done her job well.

  “Please tell me who it is. I swear I won’t tell anyone else.”

  The look in her eyes made Max wish Phyllis’s story had even an ounce of truth in it. “I can’t, Jamie. I’m sorry.”

  She stuck out her lower lip and pretended to pout. “Thanks a lot. I thought the fact that you’re dating my mom would give me an ‘in.’ But it doesn’t matter, I guess. I’ll just make something up and tell everybody you told me.”

  “And what will you do when the truth comes out?”

  She shrugged. “Then I’ll tell ’em I knew all along, but you made me promise not to tell.”

  “You won’t feel bad about lying to your friends?”

  “Not really. I don’t have that many friends who really like me. The girls think I’m too much of a tomboy cause I don’t like all the stuff they do, and guys don’t like girls who can do guy stuff better than they can.”

  “What kind of guy stuff do you like?”

  “Most anything. I play basketball at school just because there’s nothing else to do.” She lowered her voice and glanced around to be sure her mother hadn’t returned. “But I know this guy who’s taking rock climbing lessons, and I’d love to do that.” She looked so hopeful, Max wished he could help her.

  But he didn’t want to get in the middle of that argument. “What other sports can you play at school?”

  The light in Jamie’s eyes faded. “Soccer. Softball. The usual boring stuff. You know what else I’d love to do? White-water rafting. The place in Jackson that teaches the climbing lessons does rafting, too.”

  Reagan would be thrilled to hear that. “You like extreme stuff, huh?”

  “I love it. Some day I’m going skydiving, and I don’t care what my mom says. I read this magazine article about a girl who gave that to herself for her high school graduation present. I think that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll be eighteen by then, and she won’t be able to stop me.”

  Max wondered if he should warn Reagan how determined Jamie was to have her own way or if telling on the girl would make things worse? He had the strong feeling that no matter how tightly Reagan held on, eventually Jamie would break away. It seemed inevitable, and he wanted to be with Reagan when that happened. The last thing he wanted was to turn his back and drive away in just a few more days.

  MAX STILL HADN’T DECIDED how to handle Jamie’s confession as he walked with Reagan to the door a few hours later. They’d spent the day together, but he couldn’t let himself get too involved in her family life. He reminded himself over and over again of the reasons he shouldn’t get in too deep, but the memory of her lips beneath his, her scent as she moved beside him and the soft light in her eyes knocked huge holes in his resolve. There was no question he wanted her.

  But he still hadn’t told her what he did for a living, and there was a big chance that she’d want nothing more to do with him when he did.

  Call him chicken, but Max didn’t want to take that chance. He had three days left in Serenity, and he wanted to enjoy all seventy-two hours. The idea of watching the affection in Reagan’s eyes die didn’t qualify as a good time in his book.

  At the door, he put his hands on her waist and leaned in for a quick kiss—the only one he’d allow himself. “You’re spoiling me. How am I ever going to be content with restaurant food again?”

  She inched her arms around his neck, blowing his resolve right out of the water. “I’m sure you’ll adjust. Once you’re back in the city and living on fine cuisine, you’ll probably wonder how you ever survived here.”

  “I seriously doubt that.”

  She pressed her lips to his jaw. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How soon I have to leave.”

  “We’re not going to think about that tonight, remember?”

  “It’s pretty hard not to.”

  “I know. It keeps creeping into my thoughts, too.” Her smile faded, but she shook off the frown that threatened to replace it. “We can have this conversation tomorrow,” she insisted. “When I look back on this week, I want some good memories. So far, today’s been perfect. I don’t want to change that now.”

  Max tugged her gently outside, making sure the porch light was off before he shut the door. Darkness enveloped them, and he allowed himself to pull her close once more. He knew which memories he’d like to take back to San Diego with him, but he wasn’t a complete jerk.

  He slipped both arms around her waist and crushed her against him, amazed by how good she felt in his arms, how right it felt to be with her. He ran his hands along her hips and gently cupped her bottom. “I keep telling myself I shouldn’t do this, but it
’s damn hard to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you.”

  “You don’t have to stop on my account,” she murmured. “Although…” She cast a quick glance at the houses across the street. “I wonder what the neighbors would think if they could see me now.”

  Max had a pretty good idea what they’d think. He pulled her toward the far edge of the porch where a thick lilac bush provided a shield from prying eyes. “Better?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She pressed against him, delighting him with her boldness. “Much better.”

  No man could have resisted her. Max gave up trying. He covered her mouth again and kissed her deeply. He put everything he couldn’t say into the kiss, the hopes and dreams he couldn’t articulate, the yearning he couldn’t acknowledge.

  His hands took on a life of their own, moving from her bottom to her waist, trailing up her sides slowly, driving them both to distraction. When he finally let himself move toward her breasts, her breath caught in her throat and her lips parted slightly.

  He circled his thumbs across the tender flesh beneath her T-shirt and she tilted back her head in a gesture of surrender, exposing the long curve of her neck to his lips. She was beautiful, desirable, every inch a woman, and he knew she was as ready as he was to consummate what they felt. But his damn conscience wouldn’t let him love her and leave her.

  Groaning in frustration, Max pulled her closer. He ached for release, but some rational part of his brain still remembered her daughters inside and the neighbors across the street. Everyone in town would know by morning if he spent the night here or took her back to the Wagon Wheel.

  She curved one leg slightly and wrapped it gently around his, and he thought he’d explode. Her hands caressed his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pressed his lips to her throat and a moan of desire escaped her.

  “I want you.”

  The words came so softly, he thought he’d imagined them.

  “Max…Please. Come back inside. Stay with me for a while.”

  How was he supposed to resist that? Even as he tried to convince himself to say no, he felt himself nodding. His conscience screamed at him to stop, but he didn’t listen. She took his hand and pulled him toward the front door, and he knew he’d found heaven. Surely, there had to be some way to work this out. He’d find a way.