Wyoming Strong

by Diana Palmer

  “My goodness!”

  “So, yes, I have had training in anatomy.”

  Sara swallowed. “Can a woman really get pregnant even if there’s no penetration?”

  Emma cocked her head. “Was there intimate contact?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he excited during it?”

  “Yes.”

  Emma sighed. “Then, yes, a woman can get pregnant from it.” She made notes. “Have you told him?”

  “He told me.”

  “I see.”

  Sara sighed. “I would love to have his child,” she confessed. “But he wasn’t enthusiastic about it. In fact, he was insistent that I tell him the minute I know something.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I can’t have a termination. I just can’t!”

  “Wait until you have to face a situation before you dwell on it,” Emma advised. “Until you know something definite, it’s nothing. It’s air.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Why do you think he wouldn’t want it?”

  “He thinks I’m too young,” she replied.

  “You’re twenty-four, I believe?”

  “Yes, but he’s thirty-seven,” she replied.

  Emma chuckled. “My best friend has a husband who’s seventeen years older than she is,” she said. “They have three children, and she’d die for him. He didn’t think she knew the difference between infatuation and love. Was he in for a shock!”

  Sara laughed, surprised.

  “So ignore him. He’s talking through his hat. Now, about the pregnancy. How do you feel about it?”

  “I’d give anything to be pregnant by him,” Sara said softly. “Anything!”

  Emma pursed her lips. She made more notes.

  * * *

  WOLF WAS LESS forthcoming when Emma spoke to him.

  “She’s too young,” he said, when she’d asked him how he felt about a child. “Too naive. She never really grew up. She was lost in the past, in bad memories. She’s never really dated, gone out with men, learned about relationships. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  “What if she wanted it?”

  “She wouldn’t,” he said firmly. “I pushed her into an intimate relationship that she didn’t really even want. If I hadn’t insisted...”

  “She said that she insisted.”

  “Well, she’s lying,” he bit off. “I pushed her off balance, kept her off balance, used tricks I should be ashamed of to make her give in.” He closed his eyes. “If she didn’t have an imperforate hymen, I’d have taken her. That would have been the ultimate betrayal. She should have the right to choose her first lover. At least I didn’t take that away from her.”

  She wondered how men could cope with anything. They certainly had odd ideas about what women wanted. But it wasn’t her place to tell him how to feel. It was her job to listen and then advise. Which she did.

  * * *

  EMMA HAD TO go back home. She left reluctantly, because these two were going to need ongoing therapy.

  “I wish I could take you both on as patients,” she told them at the front door. “I have serious doubts that you’ll even talk to another psychologist,” she said, frowning.

  Sara bit her lower lip. Wolf grimaced and jammed his hands deep into his slacks pockets.

  Emma sighed. “Listen, do you both have Skype?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison, and then laughed at each other.

  “We can do sessions that way, if you like,” Emma told them. “We’ll set up regular appointments. It will be almost the same as being in my office.”

  “That would be lovely,” Sara exclaimed, relieved.

  “I can manage that,” Wolf agreed.

  Emma smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll be in touch.” She glanced toward the limousine waiting for her. The driver, in a becoming black suit and tie, was standing outside looking very uncomfortable.

  “He looks impatient,” Sara remarked.

  Emma chuckled. “He’s scared to death. I’ve got my baby in a carrier in the backseat with me.”

  “The python,” Wolf said, nodding.

  “Odd, isn’t it, how some people are afraid of snakes?” She sighed then shrugged. “It’s kept me single and dateless for years.”

  “You need to find a nice man who loves reptiles,” Sara advised.

  “Or at least one who doesn’t look hunted in the presence of one,” Wolf agreed.

  Emma just shook her head. “One day,” she mused. “I’ll be in touch.”

  The driver met her halfway, standing well back as he opened the back door for her and quickly shut it.

  “What do you want to bet he double-checks that sliding window between the driver’s compartment and the backseat is closed tightly?” Sara asked gleefully.

  He laughed out loud. “I’ll bet he wishes he had locks on it.”

  They both waved, although they couldn’t see Emma through the tinted windows.

  They went back inside.

  “I need to go home,” Sara told him quietly.

  He drew in a long breath. He didn’t want her to leave. The house was going to be empty. He’d be alone. Again.

  “Tomorrow,” he suggested.

  She hesitated. She didn’t really want to go. “Tomorrow,” she agreed.

  * * *

  HE TOOK HER with him to the henhouse to gather eggs.

  “Watch where you put your feet,” he advised. “Chickens function all over the place around here.”

  She laughed softly. “I grew up with chickens. We had them in Canada, on the ranch where we lived when my father was still alive.”

  “Your father was paramilitary, you said.”

  “Yes,” she replied sadly. “He was the sort of man who couldn’t live without danger.”

  “I know how that feels.”

  She glanced at him with wide, soft eyes and then lowered them when his eyes cut around, so that he couldn’t see the vulnerability. “I suppose you’d find it hard to settle down, too.”

  “Probably,” he had to agree. “I’ve lived here going on four years, but I haven’t been home all the time. I still do jobs as an independent contractor.”

  Her heart went cold. She hadn’t realized that. She should have. He’d said he met Ysera in Africa, and it hadn’t been that long ago.

  “You take chances,” she said.

  “Not many. I’m careful. Usually.” He glanced down at her and winced. “Not careful enough, with you.” He paused, looking down at her bent head. “You may forgive me someday, but I’ll never forgive myself. Never!”

  She looked up into turbulent, pale blue eyes, in a face contorted with regret.

  “It isn’t your fault that I behaved like a two-year-old, at the last,” she said, although she flushed. “You never hurt me.”

  His jaw clenched. “I hurt your pride, just as she hurt mine.”

  She cocked her head, studying him. “Don’t men...say things like that to women, when they make love?” she asked in a hushed, slightly embarrassed tone. “I watched this racy movie once. He said things to her that shocked me.” She lowered her eyes. “Sort of like the things you said. But he wasn’t mad at her, or trying to hurt her...”

  His body reacted to the words in an uncomfortable way. He averted his eyes, and turned just a little, so that his condition wouldn’t be as noticeable. “Men say all sorts of things,” he agreed roughly. “But I meant to hurt you. That’s why it shames me.”

  “I substituted for Ysera, you mean,” she said heavily.

  He drew in a breath. He lifted his head and looked out over the expanse of acres of land to the horizon. “Only...at the last,” he said roughly. “Up until then, until the memories started lancing into me, I’d never had so much pleasure from a woman’s body. Even sex, real sex, was never so good.”

  That took the sting out of the memory. She didn’t say anything. She just looked at him, fascinated.

  “I...I don’t know anything,” she stammered.

  He turned then and looke
d down at her, with quiet, soft eyes. “Maybe that’s why it was so good. I’ve never been the first, with anyone, in my life.”

  “Oh.”

  His chin lifted. He felt impossibly arrogant. “I was your first,” he said.

  She grimaced, and her eyes burned with tears.

  “Sara!” He put the egg basket on the ground and framed her face in his hands, lifting it so that he could look into drenched black eyes. “Being forced doesn’t qualify as experience,” he said softly. “Baby, he wanted to hurt you. He didn’t want to love you.”

  She swallowed.

  He bent and kissed the tears away, tenderly. “I gave you your first taste of pleasure,” he whispered roughly. “I’m sorry I made it an experience you won’t want to remember. I’m so sorry!”

  She bawled. He kissed the tears away. Then he kissed her soft mouth, there in the warm sun, his arms enveloping her tenderly, holding her just close enough, but not too close.

  “It was like...shooting headfirst into the sun,” she whispered into his mouth. “Like bursting inside...”

  His body clenched. “Yes.”

  Her eyes opened into his. “Is it like that, when you go all the way?”

  His face hardened. His arms around her were tense.

  “I shouldn’t have asked,” she said, trying to move back.

  “Stand still,” he said roughly.

  She didn’t understand.

  With a grim smile, he drew her just close enough to let her feel what had happened to him and then moved her back.

  “From...just talking?” she faltered.

  He drew in a heavy breath, and nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  He closed his eyes and shivered. But after a minute, he began to relax. “It’s been too long,” he said in a husky tone. “And you arouse me, quite frankly, more than any woman’s ever been able to.” He smiled at her transfixed stare. “I like it,” he said. “At my age, it’s more a blessing than a curse.”

  “Your age?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  She managed a faint smile. “No. I’m not very worldly.”

  He smoothed her hand against his shirtfront and examined the pretty nails with their clear varnish. “As a man ages, it’s harder to get aroused.”

  “Not for you,” she said and then flushed and lowered her eyes.

  He chuckled wickedly. “Not with you. That doesn’t happen with anybody else.”

  Her eyes shot back up to his, fascinated. “Those beautiful blondes...”

  “Don’t do a thing for me,” he replied. He shrugged.

  “Wow.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Wow?”

  She smiled hesitantly. “I feel almost dangerous.”

  “So do I. So it’s a good thing you’re leaving tomorrow, before I put any more scars on your emotions.”

  “You want to sleep with me.”

  “I do not,” he returned. His face was hard, his eyes glittered. “I want to make love to you. All night, all day, for a week.”

  She went scarlet.

  He laughed and moved away from her. “And that would put both of us in the emergency room,” he added with a wry glance. “That being the case, let’s gather eggs and talk about something less stimulating.”

  She moved beside him. She felt lighter than air. As if she was almost new and young and full of adventure and hope. “I hear they’re developing an acoustic weapon for the defense department,” she commented.

  He burst out laughing. “Not that unstimulating.”

  “Okay. They have a new bra that makes you look twice the size you actually are,” she said wickedly.

  He paused and looked down at her. “Why are you self-conscious?” he asked gently. “Your breasts are beautiful. I ache just looking at them through fabric.”

  “I’m small...”

  He put a soft kiss on her forehead. “Size doesn’t matter. Well, maybe it does, in one sense,” he added, frowning. He looked down at her. “If you ever have that surgery, we may have some issues.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m a little better endowed than most men, Sara,” he said quietly. “I’d have to be very careful.”

  She recalled at the very last that night, when he’d lifted himself up and shown himself to her, and she’d been almost hysterical at the sight.

  “Sorry,” he said shortly. “I shouldn’t have brought back that memory.”

  “I was too upset to notice very much, at the time.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and curious.

  “And men are more potent sometimes than others,” he whispered roughly.

  “They are?”

  He groaned.

  She looked down below his belt and back up again, flushing. “They’ve sent a robot up to the International Space Station to keep the astronauts company,” she blurted out. “And there’s a rumor that that government secret agency is implanting cameras in the latest crop of cantaloupes.”

  The absolute absurdity of her last comment almost doubled him over with laughter and took away his heated reaction to her innocent comments.

  She grinned. “Did that help?”

  “Yes, you little witch, it helped.” He bent and kissed her fiercely, for a few seconds. “Stop doing that to me.”

  She grinned bigger.

  He shook his head. “Going home tomorrow may save you.” His eyes cut around to meet hers. “For now.”

  She felt so exhilarated that she could have walked on air. She followed him into the henhouse, feeling all the bad memories drifting away, like wisps of smoke.

  * * *

  LATER, THEY HAD coffee in the kitchen after a wonderful supper that Barbara had prepared for them.

  “You’re a good cook,” Wolf told her with a smile. “I’m going to miss having somebody else do the hard work in the kitchen.”

  “You cook better than both of us do,” Sara commented.

  “Yes. But it’s a big house. Nice to have company,” he said, and averted his eyes from the women.

  “We can come back anytime you like.” Barbara chuckled. “I like getting out of town.”

  “Me, too,” Sara confessed. “I don’t get out of San Antonio unless Gabriel’s home at the Comanche Wells ranch. And he’s away more than he’s home lately.”

  Wolf didn’t reply. Gabriel was involved in some tricky diplomacy in one of the African states. He didn’t dare tell her that. She worried enough about her brother. The thought led to another, to something he’d been told about Ysera targeting him. She had the money and means. He glanced at Sara. What if she put Sara in the crosshairs?

  His heart went wild. He couldn’t bear the thought of Sara being in danger because of him. His jaw tautened. There was only one thing to do. He had to avoid her for a while, throw Ysera off the track by putting his bachelor status on overdrive, taking out as many women as he could. That would confuse the issue. People might know that Sara had been staying with him, but so had Barbara.

  He could concoct a story and put it out. Barbara was in danger, and her son had asked Wolf to keep her at the ranch, but he couldn’t do that without making gossip so he asked his best friend’s sister to play chaperone. He nodded to himself. That might work.

  “I want you both to do something for me,” he said out of the blue. “Barbara, I want you to put it around that you were in danger because of an arrest Rick made and you came here for security while Rick was out of town. Sara, my best friend’s sister, came to play chaperone. Got that?”

  They both stared at him.

  “I told your men that you were sick when Sara brought you home, and I came to chaperone you,” Barbara said.

  He smiled. “Not bad. But I’m obviously well now, and you’re both still here.” He put down his coffee cup. “I have an enemy. A deadly one. I don’t want either of you in the crosshairs because she thinks I’ve got something going with you.”

  “Oh,” Barbara said. She grinned. “I’m flattered. I think I’m at least f
ive or six years older than you are,” she added, pursing her lips. “Maybe ten.”

  He laughed out loud. “Women don’t start being spinsters these days until they hit fifty, honey,” he teased. “You’re still pretty. And you can cook. You need to have Rick take his captain down to see you. The man has a few issues, but he’s pretty cool-looking. To women, I mean.”

  Barbara cleared her throat. She had her eye on someone else, but she wasn’t telling anyone. Not yet. “Well!”

  Sara felt uneasy. “Okay,” she said. She worried about Wolf. What if Ysera had someone after him? She was far less concerned for herself and Barbara. “You’ve got plenty of people here who can look after you, right?”

  That concern made him feel odd. “Yes. At least two former feds and one who used to work for the mob. Or at least that’s what they say about him.”

  “Fred Baldwin,” Barbara said, with an odd little smile. “He was on the police force, just after he turned state’s evidence and saved Carlie Blair’s life.”

  “He’d still be there, but he didn’t like carrying a gun all the time,” Wolf remarked. “I’m still amazed at how well he fits in here as a foreman. He does the job with real competence.”

  “He’s a sweet man,” Barbara said. “Loves kids.” She smiled sadly. “It’s a shame that he’s all alone.”

  Wolf’s eyes met Sara’s. He saw the same surprise in them.

  “He’s lost a lot of weight,” Wolf said. “But it’s hard to get him to eat healthy things.”

  “I’ll speak to him, the next time he comes to the café,” Barbara said thoughtfully. “He’s there several days a week.”

  Sara’s eyes were sparkling with unholy delight, but she hid her reaction.

  “Yes,” Wolf replied, clearing his throat. “He doesn’t really like the bunkhouse chow. Todd, who cooks for us, can make steak taste like burned coyote.”

  “Your cowboy who came to the door said he cooked great.”

  “That would be Orin.” Wolf shook his head. “Honest to God, the man doesn’t have taste buds. I made beef Wellington, and he thought I’d ruined a good cut of meat.”

  Barbara laughed. “I’ll talk to Fred about his diet,” she promised. Her face lit up.

  Sara and Wolf exchanged amused glances, but they didn’t say anything.