The Manning Sisters

by Debbie Macomber

  “And now?”

  “And now,” she repeated in a whisper, frowning.

  She was saved from having to answer by Mary, who brought two platters to their table. Each was heaped high with steaming hash browns, scrambled eggs, sausage and toast.

  Their conversation ceased as they both picked up their forks. Neither spoke for several minutes.

  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Christy said, reaching for the small container of jam. She peeled back the cover and scooped out the preserves with her knife.

  “Where’s Mandy?” Cody asked, remembering Russ’s teenage sister, who lived with Russ and Taylor, for the first time that day.

  “She’s with a friend. Russ phoned from the hospital and told her about Eric. She had lots of questions and was sorry she missed all the excitement.”

  Cody pushed his empty plate aside. Mary stopped by the table to refill their coffee mugs and take away Cody’s plate.

  “You might as well take mine, too,” Christy said, leaning back in the booth. She placed her hands over her flat stomach and sighed. “I can’t believe I ate all that.”

  “Can I get you anything else?” Mary asked.

  “Nothing, thanks,” Cody answered for them.

  Mary set the bill on the table and walked away with a quick backward wave.

  They left the restaurant a few minutes later. Cody opened the door for Christy, insisting on the courtesy because he enjoyed doing something, however small, for her.

  She seemed preoccupied and anxious on the ride to the Lazy P. He started to ask her how long she planned to stay, but even before he’d finished the question, he knew she wasn’t listening.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked, glancing at him.

  “It wasn’t important.” He pulled off the main road and headed down the long, dusty driveway. This time of year the road was filled with ruts deep enough to send them both bouncing around the interior of his Cherokee if he wasn’t careful to watch where he was driving. In several spots he slowed down to ten or so miles an hour. Then he was forced to ask himself if it was his car he was concerned about—or the fact that the sooner he arrived at the ranch, the sooner he’d have to leave Christy.

  Once he reached the ranch yard, he turned off the engine and climbed out of the cab. Christy had opened the car door, offering him just the excuse he needed to touch her. His hands slid around her slim waist and he lifted her down.

  She hadn’t been expecting his help and, caught off guard, she fell forward. She made a small sound as her hands came into contact with his chest.

  Neither moved. Cody couldn’t believe how good it felt to have her in his arms again.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “I’m not.” Cody had never been one to beat around the bush, as the saying went. “Not in the least,” he added.

  Her hands were against his chest, and he wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating, wondered if she had even an inkling of what he was feeling.

  “Thanks for breakfast and the ride home,” she murmured, but made no effort to move away from him.

  Heat radiated from where her hands were touching him, warming him in ways he couldn’t understand but didn’t question. She tensed her fingers as if to pull away, but if that was her intention, she didn’t follow through.

  Cody raised his hand to the side of her neck. His fingers stroked the kitten-soft skin there, and he watched, fascinated, as she slowly closed her eyes.

  Once more his gaze sought her mouth. Her lush, vulnerable mouth. Never had it looked more inviting than it did at that moment.

  It seemed only natural to kiss her. Hell, he’d been thinking about doing exactly that for hours, but now that the opportunity presented itself, he hesitated. It was as if an inborn defense mechanism flashed a warning through his system. Kiss Christy Manning and you’ll never be the same again, it seemed to be saying.

  But the words of caution counted for nothing. Cody couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to. Whatever came after, whatever life held for him, whatever the cost, he was going to kiss this woman.

  Unhurriedly, deliberately, he pressed his lips over hers. She murmured something, Cody didn’t know what, and he felt the movement against his mouth.

  Her lips were everything Cody had dreamed they would be. Warm. Moist. Devastating. With a whimper she responded immediately. It was as if he’d never kissed a woman before this moment.

  Her arms made their way around his neck as she leaned into him. Her softness melded into his hardness, and white-hot sensation seemed to explode inside him. Cody kissed her again and again, his hands in her hair, cradling the back of her head. He kissed her until his breathing became labored. Until he heard her moan, and then realized it was his own sigh of longing that echoed in his ears. Still he didn’t release her. He held her against him, never wanting to let her go.

  Only when Christy stiffened did Cody slacken his hold. Slowly he opened his eyes to discover her looking up at him, her beautiful eyes bright with tears. He frowned because he didn’t understand. Then, in a heartbeat, he did. The kissing had affected her as profoundly as it had him.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered, lifting her chin with his finger, dropping his mouth to hers, unable to resist.

  “You don’t,” she said. “You couldn’t possibly know.”

  “But I do,” he countered. “You’re thinking this is the craziest thing that’s ever happened to you. I know because that’s exactly what I’m thinking. We just met this morning, and yet I feel I’ve known you all my life.”

  Her eyes widened as if his words had hit their mark.

  “All of this is because of Taylor and Russ,” she told him. “Their happiness, their excitement must be rubbing off on us. Don’t you see how foolish this is?”

  “No.” He didn’t mean to be blunt or obtuse. He was nearly thirty-five years old and long past the age of playing games. Christy was younger, but she knew, the same way he did. She might choose to deny it, but he wouldn’t.

  “Are you saying you didn’t want me to kiss you?” he asked, trusting her to be honest, because he didn’t believe she could be anything else.

  It took her a minute to answer him, and when she did her voice was raspy. “That’s the problem…. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  Three

  Christy woke early the next morning after a restless night’s sleep. She’d tossed and turned so frequently that the sheets had been pulled loose from the bed and the bedspread had slipped onto the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, Christy slowly expelled her breath while mulling over the events of the day before.

  So much had happened.

  Taylor’s son had been born, and Christy had been introduced to the newly elected sheriff of Custer County.

  However, Christy had more than met Cody Franklin. He’d taken her to breakfast late in the afternoon, and when he dropped her off at the ranch, he’d kissed her—and she’d let him. More than let him; she’d encouraged him. What she’d told him was true. She’d never wanted anyone’s kiss more.

  Admitting as much certainly wasn’t one of her more intelligent moves, but then it hadn’t been her mind doing the talking. It had been her heart.

  Once again she tried to focus her thoughts on James. He’d been so sweet the evening he’d given her the engagement ring. They’d gone out for dinner, sitting at the table with candlelight flickering and soft music playing in the background. Christy had noticed that he’d barely touched his meal. He seemed nervous, then started talking nonstop. Normally James was a calm, quiet man, not easily agitated. He’d been rambling for about fifteen minutes, and Christy couldn’t figure out where the discussion was leading. She’d told him so. Then James had gotten flustered.

  Before Christy could react, James pulled a ring box from the inside of his suit pocket. He’d been so endearing, so wonderfully sweet as he held out the diamond, letting the ring speak for him.

  By then Christy
had become so flustered herself that all she could do was stare at the lovely solitary diamond glittering up at her. James had withdrawn it from its velvet bed, and without a word she’d given him her hand.

  The entire thing hadn’t taken more than a few seconds. She’d promised to become his wife, promised to pledge her life to him without a word of love spoken between them. James cared for her, Christy felt assured of it. He wouldn’t have offered her the ring if he didn’t. By the same token, she loved him. Otherwise she wouldn’t have accepted his proposal.

  Afterward, James had been ecstatic as he’d hugged and kissed her. The ring was too large and had nearly slipped off her finger as she’d shown it to her parents that same night. Both Eric and Elizabeth Manning had been thrilled with the news of Christy’s engagement to the up-and-coming attorney.

  It wasn’t until two days later, just before she left for Montana, that the first of the doubts had come. She loved James, she reminded herself, repeating it again and again on the endless drive across three states.

  James was a good man. He’d been a friend long before they’d become romantically involved, and judging by everything she’d read, friends made the best husbands.

  Perhaps the most convincing argument for this marriage was how comfortable Christy felt with him. Her parents thought the world of James; in fact, they seemed more excited than she was about the prospect of his joining the family. Her father talked of little else, promising Christy the wedding of the year.

  But if she’d been experiencing a few niggling doubts before she left Seattle, they’d multiplied a hundredfold since she’d arrived in Montana and met Cody Franklin.

  Cody.

  For more reasons than she dared explore, she struggled to push every thought of the sheriff from her mind.

  With a determination born of pride and a sense of fairness and truth that had been ingrained in her from birth, Christy decided to tell Russ, tell someone, anyone, about her engagement. She climbed out of bed and got dressed, then went in seach of her brother-in-law.

  Russ, however, had already left the house. A note was propped against the sugar bowl, explaining he’d be with his men that morning, and she shouldn’t look for him before noon. He also wrote that he wouldn’t be able to visit Taylor and the baby until that evening. He signed his name, adding that Christy should make herself at home.

  Defeat settled over Christy. She couldn’t keep quiet about herself and James much longer and still hold her head high.

  It took only an hour to straighten up the house. She cooked herself some eggs, then realized she wasn’t hungry. Russ, on the other hand, had apparently fixed himself a breakfast large enough to feed five men. He’d made a minimal effort to clean the kitchen; clearly, he’d been in a rush.

  With time to spare, Christy wandered outside, wanting to investigate what she could of the grounds. Since Russ was visiting Taylor that evening, she’d drive to the hospital in the afternoon.

  One hand leading a chestnut horse paused and stared at her when she appeared.

  “Good morning,” Christy said cheerfully.

  “Howdy.” The lanky cowboy straightened and touched the rim of his hat. He looped the reins around a fencepost, then walked toward her. A fistful of cigars with pale blue bands was sticking out of his shirt pocket, evidence of Russ’s eagerness to spread the news of his son’s birth.

  “You must be part of Mrs. Palmer’s family.”

  “Christy Manning,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Taylor’s sister.”

  The middle-aged man took pains to remove his thick leather glove and clasped her soft palm in his callused one. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Russ is out this morning, but I s’pect he’ll be back soon. Most folks call me Billy Joe.”

  “Good to meet you, Billy Joe,” Christy said, looking toward the barn. Several horses stuck their sleek heads over the stall doors, glancing at her with open curiosity.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Billy Joe said, backing away from her. His horse was saddled and waiting, prancing in place. “This gelding’s anxious to be on his way.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

  “No problem.” He mounted the gelding in a single smooth motion. Pulling back on the reins, Billy Joe nodded at her once more, then galloped out of the yard.

  Left to her own devices, Christy wandered toward the barn, stopping in front of the first stall. The name Shadow was burned into a wood plaque above the door.

  “Howdy, Shadow,” Christy said. “You look like a friendly horse.” Friendly enough, at any rate, for her to venture petting his nose. She stroked it a few times while the gelding took pride in revealing his teeth and nickered his approval.

  Seeing a large barrel of grain near the middle of the barn, Christy stepped over to it, intending to reach for a handful of oats. She didn’t know much about horses, but figured a handful of oats would win approval.

  “I thought I might find you in here,” a deep male voice said from the barn door.

  Christy’s heart shot to her throat. Cody. She turned to see him silhouetted against the morning sunlight. Tall, lean and dark. He wore jeans and a western shirt with a string tie and was so strikingly handsome that for a moment all she could do was stare.

  “Hello,” she said, returning to her task, her hands trembling. It wasn’t fair that he should have this effect on her. But then, she was learning that little in life was fair.

  Her hand loaded with grain, she walked back to Shadow’s stall.

  “Be sure to feed that to him with your palm flat, otherwise he might inadvertently bite you,” Cody warned, moving toward her.

  Christy was grateful for the advice and did as he suggested. Shadow ate the oats quickly, and when he’d finished, Christy wiped her hand on her jeans. Her heart was hammering so hard, she was certain Cody could hear it.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “No,” she answered honestly. Her back was to him, but that didn’t help. She felt warm and dizzy just knowing he was there.

  “I couldn’t, either.” His voice was soft and raspy. Sensual. “I only had a couple of hours of sleep the night before, so I should’ve nodded off the minute my head touched the pillow. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

  Christy found a strange comfort in knowing his sleep had been as unsettled as her own. “I…tossed and turned most of the night, then finally drifted off toward morning.”

  “Me, too.”

  When he’d left her the night before, she’d stood inside the house and watched him drive away, feeling restless and uneasy. That disquiet hadn’t dissipated until the moment he’d stepped into the barn. Cody spoke, and instantly the emptiness had started to leave her, as if a sense of order had been restored to her life.

  Except that it wasn’t right. Everything was very, very wrong.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. She’d meant to tell Russ about James, knowing her brother-in-law would mention the fact to Cody. But this was better. She could tell Cody herself. Explain before either of them got hurt. Before things went too far.

  Honesty really was the best policy. She’d grown up believing that. Practicing it.

  Christy was searching for just the right words, irritated with herself for not having thought this out beforehand. There should be an easy way to say it. The truth shouldn’t be this difficult.

  Then Cody was behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands settled over her shoulders, his touch light and warm and reassuring. Slowly he turned her around so she faced him.

  Their eyes locked, and Christy’s throat went tight. His were beautiful, as dark and rich as the finest coffee. They were the eyes of a man who’d only recently learned to dream. Wistful eyes. Pensive eyes.

  “Every time I’d try to sleep, all I could think about was you.” His tone said that he’d struggled long and hard against allowing her to dominate his thoughts.

  “It was the same with m
e.” She shouldn’t have told him that. Shouldn’t admit his effect on her in one breath and then tell him about James in the next. “But I—”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt in my arms.”

  She knew exactly what he was saying because she’d experienced the same thing herself. He felt good to her, too, the kind of good that made everything feel right even when it was wrong. The kind of good that never diminished, never ceased.

  “You felt it, didn’t you?” He seemed to need confirmation from her.

  She gave it reluctantly, breathlessly, lowering her eyes. “Yes.”

  They lapsed into silence then, as though neither of them knew what else to say. There didn’t seem to be any need for words. Christy understood what Cody was thinking and feeling as clearly as if he’d spoken.

  I need to kiss you again and discover if last night was real. He asked her with his eyes.

  No, her heart cried. She couldn’t allow it. If Cody kissed her again, she’d be forced to confront issues she dared not face. Cody Franklin was a stranger. James was her fiancé. Her friend.

  I’ve frightened you.

  No, came the cry from the farthest corner of her heart. Yes, she countered immediately. Cody stirred emotions she didn’t know she was capable of feeling. Emotions she’d never experienced with any man. Each time they were together, her awareness of him became more intense. This shouldn’t be happening to her. Not now. Not ever. She was engaged to another man.

  Frowning, Cody took one step toward her. Christy’s heart surged.

  Don’t, please, don’t, she pleaded silently. I can’t refuse you. I can’t refuse myself.

  But Cody had apparently given up listening to the cries of her heart. When she looked at him, he was both watchful and silent.

  Before another second could pass, he reached for her, and whatever resistance she’d been able to muster burst like the white filaments of a dandelion in the wind. His mouth found hers, smooth and firm against her softness. She moaned in protest, but her small cry soon became a sigh of welcome, of need, of pleasure.