She reached for the door handle. He knew he should stop her, but he let her tear off instead, rush from his truck and run into the lodge.
Realizing he'd put the burden on her, Bobby dropped his head in his hands and cursed the coward he'd become.
* * *
Julianne fumbled with the card-key and then burst into tears. Shifting her purse, her jacket and the white rose, she entered her room.
She'd embarrassed herself, inviting Bobby to her bed, putting him in a position to spurn her advances.
So he'd given her a birthday gift, flirted with her, messed around a little in the car. That didn't mean he wanted to sleep with her.
She paced the empty room for a minute, unsure of what to do, of how to combat her shame.
Finally she unbuttoned her dress and dropped the garment to the floor. Standing in front of the minor, she studied her appearance. The sheer bustier, the thigh-high hose, the wispy panties.
Suddenly she felt foolish. And ugly. So very ugly. A forty-year-old pretending to be sexy.
She removed her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. No wonder Bobby had turned her down. She didn't have what it took to seduce a tall, stunning cowboy. He probably had younger, prettier women falling at his feet.
A knock sounded at the door and Julianne jumped up and grabbed her robe. It must be her cousins, coming by to comfort her. No doubt they'd heard her crying.
She dried her tears and belted the robe. Mern and Kay had seen her in the bustier when she'd purchased it, but she didn't want them to know how ridiculous she looked in it now.
She opened the door and froze. Bobby stood on the other side, but from the expression on his face, she knew he hadn't changed his mind.
He'd come to apologize, she thought. To make excuses, to tell her, as kindly as possible, that she was bound to find the right lover someday. That she wouldn't be alone forever. Somehow, that was even more embarrassing.
"May I come in?" he asked.
She tightened her robe and stepped away from the door. She had no choice but to let him say his piece. If she sent him away, she would seem like an even bigger fool.
He walked in and glanced at her dress, which still lay on the floor in front of the mirror.
Mortified, Julianne grabbed it and tossed it on the bed. "Would you like to sit down?"
He shook his head and they stood for a moment, silence stretching between them. Julianne fidgeted with the bracelet he'd given her and then realized what she was doing.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I understand, Bobby. You don't have to explain."
"Yes, I do."
He smoothed a hand through the front of his hair. A few strands had come loose from the braid. Although she could see the gray at his temples, he didn't look old. He looked dark and masculine and much too handsome.
"This isn't your fault, Julianne."
"Yes, it is. I'm the one who asked you to be with me."
"And I'm flattered, more than you can know. But I don't have affairs." He paused, smoothed his hair again. "I haven't made love in over three years."
She glanced at the ring on his ringer. "Since your wife died?"
He nodded and she couldn't help but wonder about the woman he'd married, who she was, how he'd met her. "I haven't been with anyone since the divorce. It's been two years for me."
"I know. I mean, that's what I figured. You already told me you haven't dated." He jammed his hands into his pockets, blew out an audible breath. "But my situation is different from yours. Spontaneous sex, or sex in general, I suppose, is awkward for me."
"It's awkward for me, too. I married Joe when I was eighteen, fresh out of high school. He's the only lover I've ever had." And their sex life hadn't been all that great, especially at the end.
"Maybe so, but it's still not the same. I'm an amputee, Julianne. Most of my left leg is gone, and what remains of it isn't a very pretty sight."
She tried not to stare, to seem as shocked as she was. Suddenly she didn't know where to look, what to say, how to react. She'd never known anyone with a disability.
"I wear a prosthesis," he said.
Julianne nodded. Just recently she'd seen a picture in a magazine, an ad for running shoes, with a Paralympics contender wearing a metallic limb. Is that what Bobby had? Or was his prosthesis covered with some sort of plastic or simulated skin?
"I don't need adaptive equipment in my truck because I can use my right leg to brake and accelerate, the way anyone driving an automatic would do," he explained. "But I've had to make some adjustments on horseback."
"Like mounting on the opposite side?" she asked, realizing it was the first question she'd managed since he'd told her. The first words she'd spoken.
He removed his hands from his pockets. "Yeah."
"It doesn't matter," she said.
When he frowned, she wanted to kick herself. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out the way I meant it."
He shrugged. "You don't have to apologize. I know it makes people uncomfortable."
Yes, she thought. She was uncomfortable. But only because she wasn't sure if she should tell him that she still thought he was one of the most attractive men she'd ever met.
"When did it happen?" she asked.
"Three years ago. In a car accident."
Julianne closed her eyes, opened them. "Is that how your wife died?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Bobby." She started to move toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her.
"Don't do that. Don't pity me."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's not pity. It's compassion."
"I didn't come here looking for compassion. And I certainly don't want to talk about my wife." He glanced at her bed. "You have the right to know why I turned you down. And that's why I'm telling you all of this."
"So you really wanted to be with me?" she asked, moving a little closer.
He shifted his gaze, allowed his eyes to meet hers. "Yes."
She took a breath, drawing courage with it. "Then be with me. Don't let tonight end without us making love."
He made a frustrated expression. "Don't you get it? I'm not comfortable taking my clothes off in front of you, Julianne."
She stood her ground. "Then don't remove them. Don't undress all the way."
He came forward, but he didn't stop until they were nearly face-to-face. "What am I supposed to do? Just shove you against the wall and unzip my pants?"
She knew he was being sarcastic, but it didn't matter. She didn't want to lose him. "You don't have to shove me anywhere. I'll go willingly."
He took her hand, pushed it against his fly. "Are you going to unzip my pants, too?"
Her fingers scraped his zipper. "If you want me to."
He made a rough, tortured sound. A masculine groan. And then he kissed her. So hard he took her breath away.
Their teeth scraped, their tongues dived. She gripped his shoulders; he cupped her bottom and rubbed her against the front of his jeans.
When he stepped back, his eyes were dark and intense. "I want to see what you have on under your robe."
Suddenly her insecurity surfaced, her fear of not being pretty enough, of trying to appear sexy. "It's the same thing I had on under my dress. The black lace."
"Show me."
"Can I dim the lights?"
"No."
"Bobby, don't be that way."
"Why not? You started this."
Fine, she thought. Fine. She lifted her chin and dropped her robe. "See? Black lace."
He grinned and she wanted to throw her temper at him. But she didn't. Because his grin was too damn boyish. Too damn cute for a man his age.
"I've had fantasies about that skimpy little outfit."
"You have not."
"Oh, yes, I have. Ever since it got caught under my boot." He stopped grinning. "You look incredible. More beautiful than I'd imagined."
"Really?"
Instead of responding he grabbed her and pulled her into his
arms. Before she could take a breath, he attacked her bustier, tugging at the padded cups, freeing her breasts, sliding his hands down her legs, unhooking the garters.
Julianne grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted it from his pants. She bared his chest and scraped a finger down his stomach. He had a sprinkling of hair leading to his zipper.
Together, they undid his jeans. He was hard and thick and generously aroused. She stroked him, making moisture seep at the tip.
He backed her against the dresser and lifted her onto it. She opened her legs and watched him slip his hand down the front of her panties.
He rubbed her, slowly, steadily, until she pressed against his fingers and sucked his tongue into her mouth.
They both went a little crazy, kissing and licking, nibbling and biting. But Julianne didn't care. All she wanted was this moment.
This man.
When he pulled her panties down, she recalled the condoms she'd stuffed in the top drawer. But she decided not to say anything, not to bother with a hindrance that didn't matter anymore. Bobby hadn't been sexually active in years and neither had she. They didn't need protection, not even from conception.
He adjusted his jeans, pushing them down, just enough to make penetration easier. She raised her hips and as he thrust into her, they both cried out.
From the longing.
From the hunger.
From the hard, hot, mind-numbing motion.
He withdrew and entered her again, heightening the feeling, the fast, driving rhythm. She bit down on her lip and he kissed her, his tongue mimicking their lovemaking.
Desperate sex, a craving to mate. Two people who barely knew each other, taking pleasure in the forbidden. In a one-night stand. In bumping and grinding and moaning in each other's arms.
Wetter. Harder. Deeper.
Something exploded in front of Julianne's eyes. Stars. Fireworks. A sensation so intense, she went over the edge, digging her nails into his skin.
He kept kissing her, kept thrusting deeper, pushing toward his own climax. And when it happened, he spilled into her, leaving her dizzy and breathless.
A minute passed. Then another.
They looked at each other, neither quite knowing what to say.
He stepped back and fiddled with his jeans, zipping himself back into them.
While he buttoned his shirt, she spotted her robe on the floor and reached for it. She couldn't invite him to stay, to climb into the shower with her, to cuddle until dawn.
He wouldn't strip in front of her, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to. Not now, not during this awkward lull. She wasn't ready to view his amputated leg and he wasn't ready to show her.
Nor would he ever be. After tonight, they would never see each other again.
"Are you all packed?" he asked.
She nodded. "Pretty much."
"The green suitcase?"
She managed a smile. Her lucky suitcase. "It hasn't failed me yet."
He smiled, too. "If you say so."
When he came forward, she knew he was going to kiss her. A gentle kiss. A goodbye.
Suddenly she wanted to cry. His lips touched hers, as magical as moonlight, as tender as the rose he'd given her. She would never forget him.
"Be good," he told her.
"You, too."
He didn't offer to stop by in the morning to see her off, but she hadn't expected him to.
He reached for her hair, let it slip through his fingers. "You better get some sleep."
"I will."
She wanted to release his hair from the braid, but somehow that seemed an invasive thing to do, so she curled her fingers into his shirt instead. If only he would ask for her phone number, offer to keep in touch, make some sort of promise.
A second later he kissed her again.
And then left her room, and her life, without another word.
* * *
Chapter 5
«^»
A month later Julianne paced her apartment in Clearville, Pennsylvania. She'd been fighting a debilitating illness for nearly a week. Only now she knew it wasn't a virus or bacterial infection that had been upsetting her stomach every day.
It was a baby.
Julianne McKenzie, the woman who couldn't conceive a child, was pregnant.
"Is the doctor sure?" Kay asked.
Julianne stopped pacing to acknowledge her cousin. Kay sat on the printed sofa, wearing a pair of jeans and an oversize T-shirt. Her dark hair was clipped in a rooster-style ponytail, making her look younger than her thirty-two years.
"Yes, the doctor is sure." She'd seen him two days ago and she'd argued with him then, insisting his diagnosis was wrong, that the nurse must have mixed up her urine sample with someone else's. But a blood test indicated the same results.
She was pregnant.
Kay picked up her soda. "Has Bobby called you back?"
"No." Julianne glanced out the window. The weather was hot and muggy, stifling. "But I didn't leave urgent messages." All she'd done was give her name and phone number to the receptionist at the lodge. Twice.
"Urgent or not, he should still give you the courtesy of returning your calls."
But he hadn't, which meant he wasn't interested in talking to her. Yet she couldn't let it go. She was carrying his child and she had to tell him.
She sat next to her cousin. "I hope he doesn't think I tricked him. He is a wealthy man and I'm—" Nervous, she thought. Worried about his reaction. She couldn't bear for Bobby to think that she'd gotten pregnant on purpose, that she was trying to manipulate some money out of him.
Kay reached for hand. "Don't do this. Don't blame yourself."
"But I told him I couldn't have kids."
"You didn't lie, Jul. That's what you believed at the time."
"What if he never returns my calls? What am I supposed to do then? Fly to Texas and confront him?"
"Sounds like a plan to me."
Julianne fought the tears gathering in her eyes. "I've always wanted a baby. But why did it happen now? And why with Bobby?" A man she barely knew. A man who still wore the wedding band his dead wife had given him.
Kay squeezed her hand. "I don't know. But just think of it as God's plan. As something that was meant to be."
Would Bobby accept that reasoning? Or would he see this as Julianne's trick? Would he be angry with her? Or infuriated with himself for sleeping with her? "I should have mentioned the condoms. I should have said something."
"So you made a mistake. A judgment in error. It happens."
"But the condoms were right there. Just a few feet away." She'd even had a foil packet in her purse.
"And you considered them. Rationalized why you didn't need them."
Maybe, but that didn't alleviate her stress. Or the stress Bobby would endure. "How long should I wait for him to call me back before I head to Texas? A few days? A few weeks?"
"I'd leave another message, then opt for a few days. A few weeks are too long, Jul. You've got to get this settled before then. Besides, I know you haven't quit thinking about him."
That was true. Even before she'd discovered she was pregnant, she'd lain awake each night, recalling every moment she'd spent with him. His voice. His smile. His touch.
"I'm so scared, Kay."
"About having a baby? Or about telling Bobby?"
"Both." After all, she was a forty-year-old who'd conceived a child out of wedlock. A child with a man who haunted her dreams.
A man who hadn't even bothered to return her phone calls.
* * *
Bobby checked his watch. As usual, his nephew was late. They'd scheduled a meeting at the barn, but Bobby had gotten tired of waiting, so he'd stepped outside to watch the horses in pasture.
A man couldn't have too much money or too many horses, he thought, admiring a young gelding he'd recently purchased.
Bobby had grown up dirt poor, first shoveling manure on other people's ranches and then breaking and training other people's horses, scrimp
ing and saving for enough money to follow his dream. To chase the rodeo from town to town, to kick ass on the professional circuit, the way his older brother had done.
Cameron Elk, his dead brother.
Michael's wayward father.
Bobby glanced at his watch again, and when he heard footsteps, he looked up, ready to give his rebellious nephew hell for being late. The boy was too damn much like Cam.
But it wasn't Michael heading down the path that led to the barn.
It was a woman.
Her watery outline didn't spark familiarity, but even in the distance her hair looked like a fire-tinged halo, blazing in the July sun.
He knew instantly it was Julianne.
His stomach knotted with nerves, with a sexual pull he'd been trying to forget.
He started toward her, meeting her halfway.
They stopped beneath a flowering tree and stared at each other. She didn't look well. Her skin was pale and her eyes lacked their usual luster.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
She adjusted the strap on her handbag, and he noticed the bracelet he'd given her, glinting on her wrist.
"You never returned my phone calls, Bobby."
So she came all the way to Texas? Arrived on his doorstep unannounced? "I've been busy." And avoiding her purposely. They hadn't agreed to keep in touch, to catch up on each other's lives, to pretend they would remain life-long friends. For Bobby, it was easier to lock her away in his memory.
She pushed a strand of her vibrant hair away from her ashen face. "I have something really important to discuss with you."
"Okay. I'm listening."
"Can we go someplace cooler? It's so hot out here."
He supposed it was hot, even in the shade. But he'd gotten used to being outdoors. He preferred working in the sun to being cooped up indoors.
"We can go to the barn. To the office."
"That's fine." She glanced down at the ground, released a shaky-sounding breath.
"Are you sick, Julianne?"
She lifted her gaze. "Sort of."
Once they were inside, he offered her a seat. The office he shared with Michael presented two sturdy desks, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a grouping of custom-crafted chairs. Bobby's desk was spotless and Michael's was a mess, cluttered with Lord knew what.
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