There was so much he needed to explain. Some of it wouldn’t make sense to her, but he till had to try. And maybe, if he wasn’t too late, she would want to try their marriage deal for real this time.
Hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, he took the turn to Lockhardt without slowing down, causing the car to fishtail. He righted it and jammed the gas pedal against the floorboard.
He had to get there in time.
• • •
Kathleen clasped her mother’s pearls around her neck and studied her reflection. Shadowed eyes, but the crowd gathering downstairs probably wouldn’t notice. Her complexion was good from days spent in the sun. A little bit thinner than she had been three weeks ago. Definitely not pregnant. She swallowed.
The night she had been dreaming of for months would start as soon as she opened her bedroom door. She remained seated before the mirror. This wasn’t what she wanted, or at least it wasn’t all that she wanted.
Monica crashed through the door, chattering about the crowd of well-wishers. Nearly everyone from Lockhardt and most of the notable families in San Antonio would attend her birthday celebration. Several of her competing trainers would be there.
Everyone except Jackson.
She should have gone to New York, made him listen to her. She should have done something besides get on with her life because life as she knew it was over without him.
Monica sat beside her on the small dressing table bench. Hugged her.
“I can’t believe your birthday is here already. Seems like we should be celebrating Cinco de Mayo or something.” She fiddled with the powder brush, sweeping it lightly from temple to jaw.
“I’m glad you made it in. After your call I didn’t think you would.”
“Are you kidding?” Monica clucked. “And miss Lady Vanessa biting her tongue when Grandfather signs the ranch over to you? I love our sister but watching her quietly combust is going to be the highlight of my year.” She finished with the brush and set it aside. “You’ll be the center of attention. Are you ready for it?”
The night before Monica became Kathleen’s confidante. Unable to keep her feelings inside a moment longer and tired of turning to her horses for moral support, she’d collapsed. Told Monica everything including her stupid crush and that wretched proposal on the beach.
She was surprised when Monica hugged her and let her cry it all out. Monica surprised her again when she asked if there was anything she could do to help. Monica, as self-centered as Vanessa prior to this visit, was fast becoming Kathleen’s best friend in addition to being a sister. She even hated her for a second when Monica made her defend Jackson’s choices.
For the first time in her life Kathleen wondered what she had missed by focusing her attention on the horses rather than the people at the ranch. Wondered if things might have been different with Jackson if she’d had more than horses in her life when she ran away to Puerto Vallarta.
She took Monica’s hand now and squeezed. “When did you become the big sister?”
“I like to think I’ve always been the big sister, at least when it comes to the important things like bigger allowances and better hair and the cutest boyfriends.” The women giggled like school girls for a moment. “But no one is going to hold a candle to you tonight. Are you ready to become the center of the horse universe?”
Kathleen took a final look in the mirror and nodded. “As long as my moment in the sun lasts until exactly midnight and tomorrow morning everyone lets me get back to work.” She paused. “Mon, I’ve been crying on your shoulder for twenty-four hours. Isn’t it about time you tell me why you’re only just now home for the summer?”
“Not even close.” She chewed her bottom lip, reminding Kathleen of Nathaniel’s bad habit. Just one more person she should have been paying attention to along the way. Finally, Monica continued. “My problems, such as they are, can wait until after your birthday. This is your night and I’m not going to horn in on the attention.” She executed a stiff curtsy and said mockingly, “We peasants will ensure that your pumpkin is saddled and ready at midnight, Fair Lady.”
Kathleen pushed thoughts of Jackson from her mind, determined to enjoy the evening. If nothing else, the night would be good for business. Knowing that Kathleen was completely in charge of the horse operations now might make some of the more reluctant owners take a second look at what would soon be the Witte Training and Rehabilitation Stables. After showing Jester Six at the Worlds, even more owners, investors, and breeders would look at her stables. She needed to be ready.
She took a deep breath and squeezed Monica’s hand once more. Together they joined the party downstairs.
• • •
Her feet hurt. Kathleen shifted her weight from one of Monica’s to-die-for high heels to the other and wished for the millionth time that she had chosen shoes from her own closet. Sure, the shoes would have been serviceable sandals or boots but at least her feet wouldn’t be in this agony. She tried to alleviate some of the pressure by flexing her toes but that only made the killer heels seem tighter.
She didn’t even know who she was listening to; the man lost her ten minutes before when he started rambling about pirates and the French and Indian War. How the two were related she still had no idea. His name was a distant memory, as were her comfortable, not clenched in agony feet.
Monica wasn’t the good sister. She was the sadistic sister. She was just better at hiding her sadistic streak than Vanessa, who was currently standing in a corner nursing a glass of champagne. She should go and talk to her.
Kathleen excused herself, leaving the older gentleman to regale some other poor sap with his stories of French and Indian War Pirates. She nodded to several neighbors and acquaintances from San Antonio before finally arriving in Vanessa’s corner.
“Come to gloat?” her sister asked. Her hand shook.
Kathleen followed Vanessa’s gaze across the crowded room and saw Paul, Vanessa’s recently exed husband, chatting up a pretty young girl wearing Armani.
“Go ahead,” her voice shook, too. “My life certainly can’t get any worse.”
“I’m not here to gloat, Van. I just wanted to say…that I’m glad you came back for the party.” Kathleen glanced over her shoulder to find Paul staring daggers at Vanessa. She stepped between the two, shielding her sister from him. “Do you need anything?”
Vanessa straightened her shoulders. “Not from you,” she said and turned away from the room. Kathleen was left in the corner, alone.
Get used to the feeling, said the ugly voice in her head. Alone is going to be your calling card from here on out.
The band started up outside but she couldn’t bear the happy sounds and turned away from the window.
And straight into Paul’s chest.
“Leave her alone, Paul, you’ve done enough already.” The words were out before Kathleen could consider why she was defending the sister who would like to see her fall flat on her face. She supposed it was one of those family things that Jackson pretended not to understand.
He jaw clenched and he pushed past her. “I haven’t done nearly enough.” Before she could react to Paul’s anger a strong hand was pulling the angry man away from her and around the corner of the room into the hallway. Kathleen followed, her heart in her throat.
“The next time you touch my wife — ”
Paul threw a punch that caught Jackson’s jaw. “I wasn’t ‘touching’ your wife, friend, I was trying to get to m — ”
“She’s not your anything,” Jackson managed before throwing a punch of his own.
Kathleen could only watch, wide-eyed, as the two men fought over absolutely nothing. Jackson pushed Paul against the wall, knocking a Rembrandt painting to the floor. The noise jolted Kathleen from her inaction. She turned to the overflowing room, relieved to see most of the guests had no clue wha
t was happening in the hall. Thank goodness for the noisy band. A waiter stepped into the hall, made a fast about-face, and hurried into the kitchen in the opposite direction. Fat lot of help the party employees were going to be. Kathleen caught Monica’s attention and waved her over.
Paul escaped Jackson’s hold and swung a hard right hand toward Jackson’s nose.
Jackson dodged at the last minute and the punch whiffed by his face into the air. Monica pushed Kathleen farther into the hall, pulled the pocket doors closed, and pulled the flowers from a vase on the table. She elbowed Kathleen.
“Either hold the flowers or douse the kiddies. Your choice.”
“Douse,” she said without giving herself time to think hard about the decision.
Jackson shoved Paul against the wall as Kathleen aimed the vase filled with water in their direction, lost her grip on the cool clay, and sent the whole thing crashing into the men.
Water splashed against their shins as the vase bounced from Jacksons shoulder to Paul’s elbow and then landed with a crash on the hardwood floor. They each turned to look at her.
“Idiots,” Monica said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Paul’s arm, leading him down the hall in the opposite direction. Jackson eyed Kathleen warily.
“In case you’re wondering I don’t have another vase at the ready so you’re in the clear as far as another dousing.”
“He put his hands on you.”
She nodded. “He’s done that several times.” A thrill of delight stabbed her heart at the murderous look in Jackson’s eyes. “I’ve known Paul since we were about two years old. And I was a bridesmaid when he married Vanessa. And I’m not pregnant so you just got into a fight over two great, big nothings.”
“Oh.” A chagrined expression stole over his face.
“Hmmm. Yeah. He wasn’t manhandling me, he was trying to get past me to Van, but I felt one of those family connections you hate and gave her a little space to escape. I think she needs to think about things a little longer.”
Jackson didn’t reply for a long moment. He ran his right hand through his hair, ending with a squeeze at his neck.
“You can leave now. I’m not pregnant, in case one of Paul’s jabs killed your hearing. You don’t have to worry about making family connections.”
“It’s not that I hate all family connections,” he began. “I’ve just never had any.”
They were still at this stupid impasse? Kathleen’s joy at seeing Jackson and her stupor at watching him fight with Paul evaporated in a haze of anger. How dare he come back here without figuring out any of the issues separating them? What did he want from her? More tears? Another night in bed? She’d told him — twice now — she wasn’t pregnant.
Not that she was innocent but she was dealing with her Keep It Together tendencies and learning to let some things go.
His issues, on the other hand, seemed to be exactly where they were three weeks ago. He’d run off to New York in a haze of I-Don’t-Want-Commitment and now he was back with the same old story? Why had he come back at all?
“That’s partly why I’m here now, Kath-”
“We’ve been over this part before and it hasn’t changed.” She took a breath and held up a hand when he would have interrupted. She wasn’t about to let him sidetrack her into some other conversation. “My family connections aren’t going anywhere and neither will your lack of family connections — until you decide to move on with your life and put the past to rest.’
“This isn’t going well,” he said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.
“Ya think?” Kathleen said sarcastically. What did he want? And why now? Why not three weeks ago? Three days ago? Even three hours ago would have been a better time to have this conversation.
“I’m not here for your birthday or because of that last fight. I wanted to tell you that-”
Just then Mitchum walked into the hallway, and motioned Kathleen back into the drawing room.
“It’s time for the birthday…ah, but I’ll just give you two a few more minutes,” he said when he spotted Jackson at the door. “Good to see you, Jackson, I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
“I wasn’t sure either, Mitchum, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Grandfather had invited Jackson? Kathleen was more confused than ever. Mitchum invited Jackson, who two minutes ago didn’t seem to want to be there but now was saying how he wouldn’t miss it? Kathleen couldn’t keep up with the mixed signals he was sending but she understood one thing: Jackson wasn’t here for good. He was making good on his promise in Puerto Vallarta to be at the ranch for her birthday. She’d gotten it all wrong. Again.
“Don’t worry about it Grandfather. Jackson was just leaving.” She gave Mitchum a bright smile and when he left the hallway said, “Again.”
She turned to Jackson, determined to push him away as he had pushed her, if only to save a little face this time around. “Why are you here, Jackson?” she demanded.
He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “It’s your birthday.”
“I’m aware.”
The clank of silver against glass came from the drawing room. Mitchum’s coffee-smooth voice began talking as the crowd hushed. Jackson shifted from one foot to the other.
“Oh, hell,” he said and took two quick strides across the hallway. He pulled her body to him fiercely and said, “I wanted to give you a present.”
The next instant, his mouth descended on hers, taking her quickly from fire-breathing mad to oh-don’t-stop ecstasy. His mouth devoured hers, as if he’d been starving the past few weeks without her. His hands cupped either side of her head, holding her still before him so that his mouth had easy access. She tasted Dr. Pepper on his tongue and wondered if she would ever be able to disassociate the drink from him. And then all thought stopped as his tongue invaded her mouth, sparring with her own for a long moment. She’d missed this. The passion, the closeness.
The love. She was still, and probably always would be, hopelessly in love with Jackson Taylor. She couldn’t not touch him.
One minute her arms were relaxed at her sides and then they were curving over his shoulders and around his neck to play with the hair at his nape. To press his head more firmly to her, as if she would never let him go. As if, by kiss alone, he might finally realize everything and everyone waiting in Texas for him. For the first time Jackson kissed her back in exactly the same way.
Maybe she didn’t need him to say the words. Maybe she didn’t need a traditional marriage, to live with him day in and day out. Maybe his quick trips to San Antonio would be enough.
“Happy birthday, dear Kathleen,” the last strains of the traditional birthday song finally penetrated her foggy brain and Kathleen jerked away from Jackson. She was doing it again. Letting her imagination run riot over her common sense. That was supposed to be a birthday kiss and she’d overblown it into more than Jackson ever meant.
“We can’t do this. Not here,” she said. What was she doing? Making out with him in the corridor was ridiculous.
“Where would you suggest?” came his wicked reply. Where indeed. Somewhere private with a soft bed and hours upon hours of time to explore one another.
But that was just her dream talking, not reality.
Her hand went to her head and she realized her hair was irreparably damaged. Turning, she saw her reflection in the mirror and sighed. She looked like a woman well and truly kissed. That wouldn’t be so bad if she wasn’t expected to make a birthday speech in about ten seconds to a room filled with people who didn’t know she was dating anyone, much less married. She quickly released the pins holding the once-elegant French twist in place, ran her fingers through her hair, and tried to quickly arrange some semblance of order. It wasn’t the best ‘do she’d ever had but at least her hair looked purposely messed up rather than acciden
tally. Now if she only had a compact and lip stain she’d be set. But neither of those things was available.
Jackson watched her intently in the mirror but his expression was impossible to decipher. Did he regret traveling two thousand miles to deliver a kiss? Or was he hungry for more, just like her?
“Happy birthday, Kathleen,” he said and turned away.
Her heart stuttered. Where was he going now?
“Go have fun with your guests, we have all night to finish unwrapping that gift,” he said, pushing the courtyard door open and disappearing into the side yard. What did that mean?
“Speech, speech!” came several cries from the ballroom and before Kathleen could duck out of the hall to follow Jackson, her father was there pulling her into the crowd of well-wishers.
Chapter Sixteen
The last of the party guests disappeared down the long ranch driveway a little after two in the morning. Exhausted, Kathleen pulled of Monica’s deadly heels and leaned against the wall.
Monica and Vanessa had disappeared a few minutes before. Mitchum retired to his rooms shortly after leading the guests in singing to her and she hadn’t seen her father since the birthday toasts. He had probably gone to the Soddy to be alone, avoiding the temptation of alcohol by avoiding the party in general. For the first time, she didn’t care where her sisters or her father were. She wanted to escape to her room, cry in her pillow, and figure out how to go on without Jackson in her life because hot kiss or not, their attraction to each other didn’t solve a darn thing.
After disappearing as Mitchum called her in to make her birthday speech, she hadn’t seen him. He’d gone, just like before. Without a word. Without an explanation. Just kissed her like she was the only woman in the world and then left. For what?
Eyes scanning the drive she saw only ranch vehicles, Monica’s hybrid SUV, and Vanessa’s low-slung Porsche. Sighing, she dropped Monica’s shoes to the floor and turned toward the staircase, stumbling over an ice bucket in the foyer. Where had he gone? New York? Some perfect tropical island where swimsuit models offered him everything he could ever want? No strings sex and no commitments. Was he back on that sad street in San Antonio?
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