"I thought you were asleep when I talked about that!"
Paco shook his head. "Are there really passages under New York City?" He was looking wide-eyed and eager, ready for a story.
Luke grunted. He'd said enough on the tape about the time he and Keith had sneaked down beneath the campus of CCNY and did a bit of underground exploring while they were there shooting a movie. He didn't suppose Paco would be going to New York any time soon, but he didn't think Linda would thank him for giving the kid ideas about that, either.
"Enough," he said. "Go get your sleeping bag and I'll tie it on."
Paco went, grumbling. "You're just tryin' to get rid of me," he said when he came back.
"Yep." Luke lashed the sleeping bag onto the back of the saddle, then nodded at Paco, waiting for him to get on.
Paco stalled. "Don'tcha get lonely up here?"
"No."
"Never?"
"Never," he lied. "Come on. Get on and get moving. You'll be down at Jimmy's before dark. He'll run you into town. Ask him to mail the tapes to Jill while he's there, okay?"
Paco looked doubtful.
"Just do it," Luke said, giving the boy an impatient look that finally had Paco scrambling up into the saddle.
"If you say so."
"I say so." Luke dug in the pocket of his vest. "Here." He handed Paco two small figures he'd carved. A man and a boy, each on horseback. Paco's eyes lit up as he examined them. Then he lifted his gaze to meet Luke's.
Luke shrugged. "It's you and Keith."
Paco looked at them more closely. He shook his head. "Nope. It's me and you."
He didn't wait to watch Paco head down the hill. As soon as the boy started, Luke turned on his heel and strode toward the cabin. He went in and shut the door.
He was alone.
He sank down onto his bunk and sucked in the silence. This was what he wanted—space, quiet, solitude. He didn't need Paco. He didn't need anyone. It was far better like this, to be accountable to no one, beholden to no one. Alone.
He lay down on his bunk and stared at the wooden ceiling over his head, then turned his head and looked at the stripped-down bunk where Paco had slept the past three nights. It looked unusually bare.
"Better this way," Luke said aloud.
The kid was gone. The debt was paid.
He breathed deeply and let the air out slowly. He was free.
He got up off the bed and started to make himself some dinner, trying to get back to normal, to think about tomorrow, about the cattle, about what needed to be done.
He wondered what Jill would think when she heard he tapes. He wondered especially what she would think of the last few minutes. He'd debated a long time about them. Finally he'd decided that he owed her.
He hadn't been able to forget the way she'd looked at him when they'd talked about why he'd kissed her. He'd tried to put it out of his mind. He couldn't. He could still see the pain and bewilderment in those wide gray eyes. He'd already caused her more than enough pain. That little bit, at least, he could erase.
He knew he wouldn't have had the guts to say it even then if Jill were anywhere around. But she was safely back in New York.
So last night, after Paco was asleep, Luke had taken the final tape back outside. He'd sat on the steps in the dark and turned the recorder on. It whirred almost imperceptibly in the silence for several moments before he began.
"That's pretty much it," he'd said finally. "That's Keith the way I remember him. The way I want to remember him, at least." He paused and stared out into the darkness. "There will never be another like him. I owe him the best years of my life."
Hank came and laid her head on his knee. He scratched her behind her ears, swallowed and went on, wishing his voice didn't sound quite so ragged. "I'm sorry that things turned out the way they did. Believe me, nobody can possibly be sorrier than I am." Another pause. Longer than the first Say it, damn it. You owe her."And I'm sorry I treated you the way I did, too."' This time he jammed his finger on the pause button.
Damn, this was difficult. He took a deep breath. And another. Then he turned the recorder on again. "It wasn't because I didn't like you," he said. His fingers tightened in Hank's soft fur. "It was because I did."
He stopped and considered erasing that, then let it alone He owed her that much honesty.
"That's why I kissed you, too. I just wanted you to know." He stopped then. There, that was enough Wasn't it? No, it wasn't, and he knew it. He didn't just owe her for the kiss. He owed her for what he'd said to her the last time he'd seen her, too.
He cleared his throat, then paid his debt in full. "What I said to you the other day, it was a lie. I didn't want just any woman I wanted you."
Four
He had the sun in the morning and the moon at night— and sixteen-hundred head of cattle, give or take a few, to look after every hour in between.
It was what he wanted, Luke reminded himself. Work, and lots of it. And no human beings depending on him.
He threw himself into it with renewed determination.
Any cowboy worthy of the name knew that the better part of moving cattle where you wanted them to go was letting them think the destination was their own idea. A buckaroo with brains just sat back and let them go, ambling along behind them, hedging up alongside only when they begin to drift He damn sure didn't push them.
Luke did He didn't seem to be able to leave well enough alone He didn't seem to be able not to make work out of what should've been as natural as breathing.
It was because he didn't have Paco there, plaguing him with an incessant barrage of questions It was because just loafing along gave him too damn much time to think.
He didn't want to think.
So he made work. He moved cattle. He checked gates, He rode fence. He cut quakies and dragged them back to the wrangle pasture so he could replace some of the rotted rails in his corral fence.
He liked to tell himself that it helped. It didn't. No really. Not much.
He was grateful—and he was damned sure the cow were—when he actually did have some real work the kept him on his toes. He never thought he'd be glad to see one of his better bulls develop a stifle injury, but bringing the ill-tempered beast down to the corral when he could give him cortisone and then keep an eye on him was at least a challenge.
And once he got the bull in the corral, it took every bit of his concentration to get the animal more or less immobilized by roping him and tying him between two trees so he could dismount and try to get close enough to give him the shot.
The bull twisted and kicked, catching one of Luke's shins right above the boot with a well-aimed hoof.
"Sheee—!"
"Are you all right?"
The question came out of nowhere. Luke's head snapped around.
Jill was climbing over the aspen fence and coming toward him.
He hopped up and down, clutching his leg, furious at the sight of her. "What in the sam hill are you doin' here? You're supposed to be in New York!"
"No."
"You said you were going back to New York!" Outrage mixed with pain.
"I never said that, you just said I could."
Which was true, he realized. Damn it all. "Get out of here!" he snapped. "What're you coming in here for?"
"He hurt you."
"He doesn't like people on foot."
"Then why were you?"
"Because I had to doctor him, and the damned horse has too much sense to get close enough." He rubbed his shin once more, then turned away and swung up into the saddle, ignoring her once he saw that she had climbed back over the fence.
He tried to pretend he was consumed with untying the bull. He could've gotten killed for all the attention he was paying.
God in heaven, what was she doing here?
Had she listened to the tapes?
Of course she'd listened to the tapes. She'd heard it all—including what he'd never have said unless he'd been certain she was two-thirds of the way across
the country!
And now she'd come to...come to what?
With jerky, angry movements, he set the bull free, opened the gate and rode out of the pasture. "Shut the gate," he said tersely.
She did.
"I sent the tapes down. You got what you wanted," he said gruffly.
"Yes. Thank you." She walked over to the sorrel that she'd tied to a tree. She undid the reins and climbed into the saddle, then rode up next to Luke and sat there quietly, watching. Waiting.
She'd wait a hell of a long time before she heard him say anything as foolish as he'd said on that tape!
"Then you got what you came for. So why aren't you gone?"
"Because I like it here?" she ventured, giving him a smile that made his insides clench.
Deliberately he turned away from her and touched his heels to the sides of his buckskin, heading down the mountainside toward the cabin at a fast walk.
Jill followed.
He ignored her all the way down. He unsaddled his horse and turned him out, then limped toward the house, still without speaking. Jill kept right on coming.
When he got to the door he turned around. "Go home."
"No."
He ground his teeth. "What are you trying to do to me?"
"Talk to you. Get you to talk to me."
"I did my talking on the tape." And a damned fool he'd been to do it, too.
"You liked me." She said the words softly, wonder-ingly almost.
He scowled. "So?"
She smiled again. "I never guessed."
"You weren't supposed to."
"Why not?"
Was she dim, for heaven's sake? "Because, damn it, you were Keith's girl!"
"You...wanted me...all along?" She said that won-deringly, too, flushing after she said it, her eyes only connecting with his for a fleeting instant before looking away.
"Apparently," he said bitterly. "A man isn't answerable for his hormones."
"Is that all it was?"
"What do you want? A testimonial to your undying charms?" he snarled. "You want me to say I took one look and you knocked me on my ass? Fine. You did."
Her eyes widened then as if he'd shocked her. He hoped to God he had.
"Lust," he said succinctly. "I was horny, just like you said."
"But—"
"For you, okay? Not just any woman. I admit it. But it was wrong. And once it got the better of me, and I kissed you, and that was wrong, too!"
"Was it?"
Luke felt as if he could have heard a nickel drop in New York City. He swallowed, nonplussed, dazed, as if he'd just taken an unexpected uppercut to the jaw.
"Of course it was," he snapped when his wits returned. "We both know that."
She sighed. "Yes."
But she didn't say it firmly. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her closely. "What're you playin' at, Jil-lian?"
"Nothing. You're right. It was a mistake. And...thank you for telling me."
"Well, I didn't want you thinkin' I thought you were just a piece of..." He stopped, unable to even finish the sentence without offending her. And himself.
He jammed his fists into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on the heels of his boots.
She nodded slightly. "Thank you," she said again.
"You're welcome." Now, go, he urged her silently. Get on your horse and go!
She didn't. She ran her tongue over her lips, chewed briefly on the bottom one as she stared down at her boots. Then she lifted her gaze again. "I have a confes-sion to make, too."
He just looked at her. He couldn't imagine that it was anything he wanted to hear, but he knew she wouldn't damned well leave until she'd said it.
He didn't reply at all, just waited. Far overhead he could hear the faint roar of a jet on its way to Denver. Close by he could hear a magpie in one of the trees, scolding.
"I liked it."
His mind went blank.
"I liked your kiss," she said when he didn't respond. Her voice was low, but firm. Her eyes met his, frank and guileless.
His teeth came together with a snap. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
She took a step back. "Obviously, whether it was intended to or not, it doesn't."
"Smart lady."
"Am I?" she said almost bemusedly. "If I was, I don't think I'd be up here now."
"So why are you?"
"Because I admired your honesty. Because I felt I owed a similar honesty to you."
"Yeah, well, you've paid up, thanks very much, so you can go away now."
She didn't. She stayed right where she was and tilted her head as she looked at him. "So...was this honesty of yours a one-time deal, then?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're acting like you hate me. Again."
He shrugged irritably. "Force of habit?" he offered finally, reluctantly, embarrassed.
She laughed. "See if you can break it."
He shook his head quickly.
"Scared?" She gave him a mocking look.
He felt a muscle tick in his jaw. "What do you want, Jill?"
She hesitated, then shrugged and gave him a faint, almost-wistful smile. "I want you to kiss me."
He stared at her, certain he hadn't heard correctly. But she was just standing there, waiting, and then he was certain that he had.
"God Almighty, woman, how can you want that? I killed your fiance!"
Jill said something rude and succinct and wholly out of character. He looked at her, shocked, and she stuck out her jaw as if defying him to make something of it. "I mean it, Lucas. And you know it, too. Keith died, but you're the one who's not living. You've shut yourself off completely up here like a hermit."
"I'm fine."
"You deserve more."
"I have what I want."
"How do you know?"
He yanked his hat off and rubbed a hand through his hair. "I know."
"Then why won't you kiss me? Are you afraid you might like it?"
"I know damned well I'd like it!"
"Well, then..."
"I can't!" Not and be certain that he could stop, that he could control the need that had been building in him practically since the moment he'd laid eyes on Jillian Crane. Not and be sure he wouldn't betray Keith even further.
"You can't?" The look she gave him would have undermined the resolution of a hundred stalwart men.
Luke steeled himself against it, against her. "No."
"Well, then—" she gave a tiny shrug and a shake of her head "—I guess I'll just have to kiss you."
"Don't! Jill, you can't—!" He took a step back, then another.
It was no use. She kissed him.
Luke was not unaccustomed to having women take the initiative. There was a certain breed of women who preyed on men who did dangerous stuff for a living, especially lean, good-looking ones with heavenly blue eyes and a devilish smile. He'd met his fair share during the years he'd spent cowboying, but they were a mere handful compared to the legions he met once he started doubling for Keith.
Being kissed was nothing new to Lucas Tanner. He'd always been able to handle it. He'd always been able to handle them. He never, ever, felt out of control.
There was always a first time.
This was it.
The moment Jill's lips touched his, the instant he felt her hands slid up the thin cotton sleeves of his shirt, felt her fingers grip the muscles of his upper arms, the second the fullness of her breasts brushed against the wall of his chest, he lost it. Totally.
Willpower? He acted like he'd never heard of it.
Common sense? An entirely foreign term.
He only had one thought: Jill.
She consumed him the way a fire consumes a forest. If their first kiss had kindled his desire, this one sent him down in flames. All the best intentions in the world seemed powerless against it. Against her.
Maybe it was because he'd been resisting so hard. Maybe it was because he had wanted her for so long. There
was no way he could even think about it rationally. He could only feel.
And what he felt was good.
It felt good the way her lips touched, then tasted his. It felt good to respond, to let his tongue tangle with hers, to make her, in turn, respond to him.
It felt good. It was good; but it wasn't good enough.
Luke needed more than her mouth on his. He needed his hands beneath the soft cotton of her blouse, sliding up on the petal-soft warmth of her back. He needed his knee nudging between hers, so that his thigh pressed into the juncture of her legs. He needed to feel the soft pressure of her leg against the arousal that strained against the denim of his jeans.
He needed Jill.
He didn't know which of them moved first. He didn't know who took the lead up the steps into the cabin, who opened the door, who kicked it closed after them. He didn't know whose fumbling fingers worked loose the buttons most quickly or whose fevered hands were fastest at skinning off the jeans they wore.
He'd never in his life felt this sense of desperation, of urgency. He didn't even stop to shed his boots. His jeans tangled in them and tripped him when he tried to bear her back onto the bed.
Gravity came to his rescue, and they ended up there anyway, their arms locked around each other, their mouths still nipping, seeking, tasting. But even the nips and the tastes and the delicious friction of flesh on flesh weren't enough. The hunger was unquenchable.
Luke had seen Jill in a bathing suit countless time. He remembered well the gentle curve of her hips as she walked down the beach. He recalled the swell of he breasts as she lay flat on the lounge and tanned. He'd spent more hours than he wanted to think about fanta-sizing just how those curves and swells would look in the bathing suit wasn't there.
And now he knew. He saw. He touched. With trembling fingers he traced the shape of her breasts, he teased them to peaks of arousal and felt her writhe between his legs.
"Luke! Oh!" And then she touched him, too. She brushed her hands down across the soft dark whorls of hair on his chest, then let them follow the trail that arrowed down his abdomen to his groin. She touched him there.
He groaned. Her name was a plea on his lips. He moved aside the vee of her legs and touched the center of her. She shut her eyes and arched her back. Her breathing became quick and shallow, as quick and shallow as his. The need surged inside him, thrummed through his blood, rushing, clamoring. He couldn't wait any longer. He'd been waiting years.
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