by Diana Palmer
In the space of a heartbeat, everything had changed. Her world, while not perfect, had been comfortable and familiar. Now she couldn’t look around at the lush pastures and grazing cattle without another image superimposing itself on the scene. An image of a man’s face. Dylan.
She’d actually reached the point where she could go weeks without thinking about him. When he’d first left, she’d barely been able to take a breath without recalling him. Then she’d been able to forget him for minutes at a time. Going an entire day without wondering about him had happened after a year or so. Gradually, though, time had healed…or so she’d thought. Apparently the scar wasn’t more than a superficial covering. One look into his brown eyes and she’d felt herself ripped open again.
She put the notebook away, pulled back on her glove, then walked to the next fence post and kicked at it. As she tugged on the wire, she felt a twinge in her left arm. Neat stitches held skin together. The swelling had finally started to go down, but she was going to carry a bruise for a few weeks. In addition to giving her time to think, riding the fence lines also gave her time to heal. She would rather take light duty than use a sick day. Sick days implied a weakness she didn’t dare show around the ranch.
Sierra sighed softly. It was time to move on. She knew that now. She’d proved herself in a man’s world and she was tired of it. Tired of having to be smarter, faster and better than everyone else, simply because she was a woman. She was tired of the teasing, the not-so-subtle joking, the occasional resentment. She wanted more.
Dylan had offered her a job as foreman. If anyone else had dangled that carrot in front of her, she would have snatched it up in a heartbeat. She had the skills and the experience. But working for him wasn’t an option. So where did that leave her? The rodeo circuit had lost its appeal. She didn’t want to travel anymore, she wanted roots. A place to call home. Someone to love.
Love. She pulled her borrowed hat off her head and turned it over in her hands. Except for Dylan, the emotion had always eluded her. There had been a few men she’d cared about. Good men, strong and caring. She’d tried to fall in love with them, to feel the same bone-stirring heat, the same fluttering breathlessness, the same passion. It hadn’t happened. Love didn’t occur on demand. A voice deep inside whispered it might be because she was a one-man-woman. And Dylan was that man.
What if he was the only one she could love? Where did that leave her? She grimaced. She was so damn tough on the outside, but so scared on the inside.
A faint sound caught her attention. As she recognized the rumble of a truck engine, she glanced at her horse to make sure the animal was secure. She settled her hat back on her head and wondered what her boss wanted with her that couldn’t wait until she returned to the barn. And then she knew. With a sureness that defied explanation, she knew the man driving to see her was Dylan.
The fence line was set at the top of a small rise. She wasn’t that far from her horse. She could easily mount up and be halfway across the field before he cleared the hill. But instead of running, she stood her ground, telling herself that eventually seeing him would get easier. It would have to. It sure as hell couldn’t get harder.
He was in the same four-wheel-drive truck he’d had a couple of days ago. As he stepped from the driver’s side, she tried not to notice how his jeans emphasized his long legs. The denim was soft and worn, settling around his lower half with easy familiarity. A navy down vest hung open, exposing the gray-and-cream plaid flannel shirt below. All he needed was a hat and he could pass for a cowboy. At least on the outside.
“Hello, Sierra.”
His voice was low and raked against her skin like fine sand. She shivered involuntarily. Her mouth went dry. “What do you want?” she asked, knowing she sounded rude and not caring.
One dark eyebrow raised slightly. “You haven’t called Rory. Did you change your mind about giving him riding lessons?”
She turned her attention to the fence post she’d already checked. Moving deliberately, she squatted down and examined the base. “I’ve been busy. But I haven’t forgotten. I’ll call tonight.”
“He’s really looking forward to it. If you’d rather not—”
She raised her head to glare at him. “I said I would teach him and I will. I don’t break my word.”
He didn’t even have the courtesy to flinch at her not-so-subtle accusation. “Good. He’s had enough disappointment recently.”
“I won’t add to that.” She slowly rose to her feet. A thousand questions circled through her mind. But more important than any of them was the idea that if she thought she could leave without looking as if she were running away, she would be on her horse in a hot second.
“He likes you,” Dylan told her, and took a step closer.
Sierra had to consciously not back up an equal amount. “He seems like a good kid.” She paused. “Are you and Claire really divorced?” She hated herself for asking, but she had to know.
He nodded.
Why? What had happened? But she only thought the questions.
He read her mind. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
She shrugged, trying to convince both of them she didn’t care. Dylan obviously took that as permission to speak.
“Claire and I never cared enough about each other,” he said and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I was willing to try and make the marriage work, but she got tired of me being in love with someone else.”
Sierra’s stomach convulsed once as the words sank in. The still-broken pieces of her heart quivered and she had to force herself to relax. It would be so easy to believe him, but she’d already been lied to once. “Not very original,” she said. “I would have thought you’d have a better line.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Lawyers are supposed to be more polished with their words. If you really want to make it in politics, you’d better get yourself a good speechwriter.”
The second the words left her lips, she knew she’d made a mistake. Dylan’s expression was triumphant. “You’ve been checking up on me,” he said.
“Don’t be stupid. We might all live on ranches around here, but at heart, this is a small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business.” She damned her fair skin and hoped her tan was dark enough to prevent him from noticing the blush stealing up her cheeks. She hadn’t been asking—exactly. She’d been listening. There was a difference. “You’ve always been an object of interest.”
His mouth straightened. “How much did they talk when I ran off with Claire?”
Sierra swallowed. She didn’t want to recall that time. The whispered comments, the pitying stares, the endless days with nothing to do but get through the pain. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember,” she lied. If only she’d been able to forget. If only she could forget now.
She turned to leave. It no longer mattered if he thought she was running away. Better to run and be whole than stay and risk more hurt.
“Sierra, wait.”
She hurried to her horse, but he caught up with her before she reached the animal. He grabbed her right arm in a grip that neither bruised nor offered any chance of escape.
“Did you think about my job offer?” he asked. “I was serious. I want you to be the foreman on my ranch.”
She lost herself in his face. In the handsome lines that had been etched into her brain. She noticed new lines fanning out by his dark eyes and the first few hints of gray at his temples. He’d grown up some, but she would have known him anywhere. This was the face she’d thought she would wake up to for the rest of her life. The face that had haunted her for ten years. There was no going back and the only way to go forward was to go on without him.
“I don’t want your job,” she told him. “I’m not interested in working for you.”
“We’ve always been good together. We could help each other.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do. There’s a lot you need and I’m jus
t the man to provide it.”
She shook her head. Talk about arrogance. “I learned my lesson a long time ago. You’re an unfaithful bastard, Dylan McLaine, and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“You’re wrong about that, too.”
If she’d known what he was going to do, she would have fought harder. Or maybe she would have acquiesced more quickly. As it was, there wasn’t time. One minute he was holding her arm, the next he tugged her toward him. The unexpected action made her momentarily lose her balance. She stumbled, nearly falling into him. He took advantage of the situation and pulled her hard against him. When they touched from shoulder to thigh, he knocked her hat to the ground, then lowered his head and kissed her.
It was like being inside a firecracker. She heard a faint sizzling sound buzzing in her brain. Everything went dark for a second, before the world exploded into a thousand blinding lights. Nerve endings fired up as messages were flashed to her brain. She didn’t know what to feel—what to notice—first.
His body was hard. Taut male planes pressed against her curves. His thighs like rock, his chest broad, his arms unyielding. But his lips were soft. Warm and firm, yet so gentle she wanted to weep.
He brushed his mouth back and forth against hers. The slow, teasing motion eased the tension from her body. Her hands, trapped between their bodies, slowly relaxed and her fingers uncurled. She wished she wasn’t wearing gloves so she could feel the heat of him.
The tip of his tongue touched her bottom lip. Instinctively she parted for him. He hesitated long enough for her to silently beg him to enter, then he did, moving with the confidence of a lover who remembers.
She remembered, too. All of it. His sweet, sweet taste, the instant fire that ignited everywhere he stroked. The dance that had been theirs alone. She pressed the tip of her tongue against him and her breasts swelled. He circled her intimately and her thighs began to ache. So much pleasure. She’d forgotten what it was like to feel alive…to see the world in perfect color. To be a part of something that had always been greater than either of them could be alone.
Without wanting to, knowing that she would pay the price later, and not finding it in herself to care, she raised her arms until she could hug him close. She tugged off her gloves and let them fall to the ground, then touched the cool silk of his dark hair. With her other hand, she traced the line of his shoulders and moved down his back. Thick muscles bunched and released under her ministration.
The combination of sensations, his mouth against hers, his tongue, his body so close, left her breathless. When he traced a line down her spine and cupped her rear, she didn’t need any urging to arch against him. As her belly nestled against his groin, she felt the hard ridge of his desire. Answering need fluttered inside of her. They had been young and inexperienced. Together they’d learned about the magic and mysteries of love. Despite that inexperience, or perhaps because of it, no one had made her feel what Dylan had. No one had been able to touch her soul with just a kiss.
He raised his hands and cupped her face. With a groan of pure pleasure, he pulled away from her mouth and trailed his mouth along her jaw to the sensitive spot behind her right ear. She caught her breath as he licked the skin, then bit gently on her lobe.
She had to hold on to his shoulders to maintain her balance. At some point, the world had started to spin. Every cell in her body remembered what it had been like to make love with him, and they cried out in a single voice. She wanted him. She needed him. Despite everything, nothing had changed.
He drew back and gazed into her face. “Sweet Sierra.”
“Damn you, Dylan.” She didn’t want to feel this. She didn’t want to feel anything. Going through the motions of life instead of participating was so much easier.
“I’ve already been in hell,” he said. “You can’t make it worse by sending me back.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to risk seeing the truth. Better to believe it was all a lie. Safer…at least for her.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said. “Say the words and I’ll go away.”
“I don’t want you.”
He laughed softly. “Liar. Even your mouth betrays you. It quivers right here.” He touched a corner. She sucked in a breath. “Yeah. I know what you’re feeling. You think I don’t feel it, too?”
He traced her lower lip with his finger. Without wanting to, she touched him with the tip of her tongue and tasted his skin. He groaned low in his throat.
“I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you,” he said. “That hasn’t changed.”
The burning in her eyes warned her that tears weren’t far behind. She who never cried. She cleared her throat and stared at him. “Everything has changed.”
“Not this.”
He kissed her again. This time there was no subtlety. He invaded like a conqueror. She met him, planning to do battle, but surrender was so sweet. When his hands settled on her waist, she couldn’t find it in herself to protest. Even as strong fingers moved higher, she kissed him back, stealing into his mouth for a small victory of her own.
When his hands touched her breasts, she again saw all the colors in the universe. Fire shot through her as her skin absorbed ecstasy and her nipples tightened until they ached. He brushed his thumbs against the taut peaks and she surged against him, wrapping her arms around him, knowing if she could get close enough to crawl inside, then everything would be all right.
She wanted him. She needed him. Everything else was just an illusion. Second best. It was as if the ten years apart had never existed.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her shoulder. Through her shirt and bra, she felt the warm puff of his breath. “If you knew how many times I’d imagined this,” he said.
“Me, too,” she breathed, and tensed in anticipation.
Her horse nickered in the distance. Sierra tried to ignore the sound, but somehow it couldn’t be pushed away. Slowly, not wanting to, she became conscious of the fact that they were standing in the middle of a field. There was no one else around; she wasn’t worried about being seen. But the familiar trees and solid ground reminded her that ten years had passed. This was a different time, and she was a different person.
His mouth closed on her nipple. Perfect pleasure shot through her. She squeezed his shoulders, then roughly pushed him away.
“No!” she commanded. “No more.”
He stared at her, his chest rising and falling in time with his rapid breathing. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kick him and beat him until he felt what she’d endured with him gone. She wanted to tear off her clothes and make love with him.
“Don’t make me do this,” she told him. “Not again.”
Chapter Four
Dylan watched the shifting emotions in Sierra’s hazel eyes. Passion was the strongest, but anger was a close second. Anger and maybe a little confusion. He couldn’t blame her for feeling the latter—he was a little lost himself. Obviously the physical connection between them was as strong as ever. Maybe stronger. He’d remembered wanting her, but he didn’t remember craving her the way his lungs craved air.
“I’ll never make you do anything,” he told her.
Her mouth twisted. “Yeah, right. You probably think it’s going to be a lot easier than that. A couple of kisses and I’ll be ready to fall into your bed.”
“Aren’t you?”
She raised her head slightly and squared her shoulders. “No.”
She’d never been a good liar. But right now he wasn’t as much concerned with her lack of skill as her motivation. Why was she denying the obvious? “Whatever we had before is still very much alive,” he told her. “I want you, Sierra. I want you in every way a man can want a woman. You make me feel alive. I’d forgotten what that was like.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t go all nostalgic on me. This was a one shot deal. You caught me off guard, that’s all. It’s not going to happen again.”
He reached
out to touch her. She flinched, but didn’t move back, so he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. As usual, she wore her long hair in a neat braid. She’d done the same in high school. When they were alone, she allowed him to take off the rubber band and comb his fingers through the rippling waves. He’d always loved her hair.
“What isn’t going to happen?” he asked.
“All of it.” She made a sweeping gesture with one hand, then tucked her fingers back under her arm.
“Talking?”
“Whatever.”
“Kissing?”
She scowled. “Damn it, Dylan, what do you want from me?”
That was easy. He didn’t even have to think about his answer. “A second chance,” he said promptly. “There’s still something wonderful between us and I don’t want to waste another ten years until we find each other again.”
“There is no us. There’s you and there’s me. We’re separate and we’re going to stay that way. As for what we had—” Her eyes flashed with fire as the anger burned off the last of her passion. “I loved you and you betrayed me. You lied to me about your relationship with Claire and then you left me. It’s taken me a long time to forget you, but I finally have. I don’t want to remember again.”
He noticed she said forget, but not forgive. She hadn’t forgiven him and he couldn’t blame her. But where to start? After all this time, would she even believe him?
“It’s not what you think,” he began.
“I know exactly what it is and what it was. You wanted to be successful. Well, glory be, you are. Congratulations, Dylan. You’re a hotshot attorney. I hope the money keeps you warm at night because I’m not going to.”
“It’s not about the money. It never was.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “It sure wasn’t about love, or keeping promises. At least not the ones you made to me.”
Her sharp words were like a knife wound directly to his heart. He held her gaze without flinching—after all he deserved what she was saying.
