Marrying an Older Man

by Arlene James

  Rye's grip tightened, then fell away. "Kara's right then. She said something was going on with you and Caroline even before we saw that sweater."

  Jesse made himself stand a little straighter, speak a little lighter. "Caroline's just a girl," he said. "She has a crush. She'll get over it."

  "A crush," Rye echoed. "Caroline doesn't seem the type for that to me. She's too mature for it."

  "Mature!" Jesse exclaimed, scoffing. "She's just twenty-one, and I mean just as of last month!"

  "Age doesn't always relate to maturity," Rye said carefully, "and I think it's more mutual than you want me to believe it is."

  Jesse laughed, or tried to. It was a pretty miserable attempt. "She's too young," he said harshly, but Rye shook his head. -. "I don't think so."

  Jesse stared at his brother in the half-light. He couldn't believe his ears. Rye might as well have said that he approved of Jesse and Caroline as a couple. "Love has turned your brain to mush, little brother," he said flatly, and Rye laughed.

  "Probably. God knows I love Kara. I never knew what it meant, Jess, to love someone like this."

  ;•• And you think I do. Dismayed, Jesse threw an arm around his brother's shoulder. It was both the shame and the tragedy of his life that he didn't know what it meant to love as Rye did, never had—and never would. But that was his personal cross to bear.

  "I'm glad for you, Rye," he said huskily, "and this new

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  baby's a huge blessing, no matter when conception took place. Don't you worry if it comes a little early, just love your family with all your heart, and everything will be fine."

  Rye actually seemed relieved. He relaxed a little: His smile grew a little wider, He threw his own arm up over Jesse's shoulder, and together they went back down to the celebration, arm in arm. Jesse hoped that Rye would never know how very much he envied him, how empty and pointless his own life seemed by comparison. He hoped no one ever knew, for he didn't deserve the pity such knowledge would bring. He didn't deserve what Rye had, and no one knew it better than him.

  Chapter Ten

  Oo the problem is that he thinks you're too young," Kara said, shaking her head. "Well, these Wagner men are nothing if not hardheaded, but take it from me, there's hope for them."

  "I can see that," Caroline said. "Rye adores you."

  "It's mutual," Kara replied, dropping down into the rocker. "But it always was, and it still took him some time to come around, which goes right to my point. Give Jesse some time. The feeling's there, I'd bet on it. He just has to work his way around to it. It's funny, though, because these brothers are so different."

  "How so?" Caroline asked, sitting down on the side of the bed.

  Kara took some time to marshal her thoughts. "Rye's a complicated sort, real emotional and not very comfortable with it— but growing more so as time goes by. He internalizes everything, just swallows it down and buries it deep. Jesse's more easygoing, more open. And then there's the difference in the first marriages, too. Rye was hurt real bad. Truth is, I guess they hurt each other real bad. From what I can tell, the marriage was a disappointment to them both. She saw him as her ticket off the reservation. He

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  cared for her, his best friend's cousin, but it wasn't what it should've been. Frankly, he said that it—sex—was like making love to his sister. I can imagine how that made her feel. Anyway, she started sleeping around. The whole thing was just a terrible mistake, and Di'wana's illness forced them both to face up to it, make a kind of peace with it. But Jesse's story is just the opposite."

  "Someone once told me that he was still in love with his late wife," Caroline said, her head bowed.

  Kara rocked back and forth thoughtfully. ''Maybe. But it's been nearly ten years since Kay died. Looks like he'd be ready to get on with his life by now, even given the tragic circumstances."

  "What do you mean? How did she die? You seem to know."

  Kara nodded. "Rye told me. She and Jesse were out to dinner at some romantic little place up in die mountains. It was springtime, and a storm came up, a real bad one, apparently. It knocked out the electricity. Anyway, what they didn't know was that it had blown down a power pole in the parking area. I guess there were mud puddles everywhere, and so she took off her shoes. She stepped into a puddle with a live wire lying in it."

  "Dear God," Caroline whispered. Kara nodded understanding of her feelings.

  "Apparently they were holding hands," Kara went on. "Jesse was wearing rubber soled boots, but the jolt knocked him off his feet, anyway, and their hands were like burned together or something. The ambulance attendant told Rye that he had to pry diem apart."

  Caroline sucked in a deep breath, arms folded across her middle. No wonder it had taken Jesse such a long time to get over her death. It must have been horrible for him to lose her like that. "Poor Jesse," she whispered.

  "Caroline, it was a long time ago," Kara pointed out. "And I've seen the way he looks at you when he doesn't think anyone is watching. It must be just this age thing."

  Caroline slumped in mock defeat. She hoped dial was the only problem, not that it solved anything. "I still don't know what to do about it," she said. Looking down at herself, she tugged

  dispiritedly at the baggy white sweater that she wore over a black turtleneck and die familiar old matching leggings: "Maybe I should be dressing more maturely."

  "I don't know," Kara quipped. "Maybe you should do the opposite. My mother says that nothing ages a woman more than dressing too young."

  Caroline sighed. "She's probably right. Think footed jammies would make die point in my case?" she quipped wryly.

  Kara laughed at the idea. "I'm not sure I'd go that far." Suddenly she narrowed her eyes at Caroline. "Maybe we shouldn't be coming at this from the direction of age at all. It's not something I could pull off myself, but on you a plunging neckline and a short skirt might make the impression you're after."

  Unbidden, memories came to Caroline. Suddenly she was see-i ing Jesse and the way he had looked at her the day she'd worn tile too-small flannel shirt. She felt his hand at her breast and between her legs, pressing against her, his moudi meeting hers hungrily. She shivered with remembered sensation so delicious that her tongue darted out to taste him on her lips. That little action jolted her back to die moment, and she glanced selfconsciously at Kara, who seemed to have noticed nothing untoward. Caroline lifted an eyebrow in consideration. It couldn't hurt to kind of "showcase the equipment," as her modier would say. Could it? She supposed she could always try it die other way. Anklets and petticoats, maybe? She shook her head. Ridiculous was not die effect she was after. Decided now, she looked at Kara. "Irene would be proud," she muttered drily.

  Kara shook her head. "You'll have to explain that."

  Caroline smiled. "My mother is die queen of provocative dressing, and I'm about to put to die test everydiing she ever taught me by example."

  Grinning, Kara slid to the edge of her seat. "Well, let's see what you've learned."

  Laughing, Caroline went to throw open the doors of die wardrobe. Soon they were rummaging through her dresser drawers, too, happily planning a wardrobe to make Jesse Wagner sweat bullets.

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  "Man, I'm almost sorry I even brought it up," Rye muttered.

  Jesse pulled his gaze away from Caroline long enough to glance at his brother. "What?"

  "I said, I'm almost sorry I even brought up the clinic now."

  "Uh-hiih."

  "They haven't stopped arguing about it for days."

  "Okay."

  "But I have to say, I don't know why he won't go with her. Do you?"

  "Do I?"

  The sudden sharpness of his brother's elbow aimed at his ribs made Jesse jump and yowl. "Ow! What'd you do that for?"

  Rye rolled his eyes. "You haven't heard a word anybody's said for days now. What's wrong with you? Mom and Dad are making a rare public display over there, and all you can do
is stare in a kind of trance at Caroline's butt!"

  Suddenly the temper that seemed to be simmering just below the surface all the time now erupted hotly. "Watch your mouth!"

  Rye held up a hand defensively, the action belied by the knowing little smile that crooked up one side of his mustache. "Calm down. I don't have any interest in Caroline's butt, not that she doesn't look pretty hot in that skirt, mind you."

  Automatically Jesse's gaze went across the living room, where Caroline continued to bend over the coffee table, plucking up crumpled paper napkins and brushing away crumbs with her fingertips. The long, slender length of her legs was exposed right up to the hip, almost, by that indecently short red skirt that she wore, if skirt was an apt description for a swatch of fabric that barely covered her shapely rear end. Their impromptu New Year's party had been her idea, and as always she'd filled their plates with delicious food and their glasses with festive drink. He noticed Tiger staring at the expanse of her chest displayed by the scooped neck of her tight spangled sweater and felt his hands curl into fists. He wanted to pound Tiger right into the ground, and he wasn't even angry with him.

  As unobtrusively as possible, he took several deep breaths through his mouth, calming himself. Finally he swallowed and

  said, "Somebody ought to take her in hand, dressing like a little tart, flaunting herself. If I was her father I'd paddle that sweet butt until she couldn't sit down for a week!"

  Rye laughed, rocking back on his heels. "But you're not her father. And don't even try to tell me that you're feeling fatherly right now."

  Jesse felt his face heat. What he was feeling was so far from fatherly that it shamed him. "What does she hope to accomplish with this?" he hissed. "She's been dressing like a tramp for days now, skirts the size of postage stamps, jeans so tight she can barely move, blouses cut down to here!" He poked himself just below the breastbone with a jabbing forefinger.

  Rye nodded, in complete and gleeful agreement. "And she's been all over you like stink on a hog. Hmm, now, what could that signify, I wonder? You don't suppose she's trying to get somebody's attention, do you?"

  Jesse glowered a warning at Rye. "This is embarrassing enough without you making jokes about it!" Rye turned his face away, struggling with a smile, but Jesse was already staring at Caroline again. "What does she think this is going to accomplish?"

  Rye cleared his throat, saying in a strangled voice, "I can't imagine."

  Jesse didn't even hear him, neither did he hear the raised volume of his parents' voices across the room. He barely even noticed when Rye muttered that he'd better get over there and see if he couldn't change the subject. Somehow Jesse just couldn't see or think of anything or anyone but Caroline anymore, and bis thoughts alone were driving him stark raving mad.

  Finally she finished rearranging the coffee table to her satisfaction and straightened, one hand smoothing her "skirt," the ether holding the small paper bag in which she had deposited the isfuse. Briskly, she strode out of the room on heels so high that Jesse fluctuated between marveling at her dexterity and fearing she'd break her fool neck. For maybe a full minute his blood pressure returned to something near normal, and then she reappeared, carrying a full bowl of champagne punch in anticipation of the New Year. With every careful, wobbling step the sparkling

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  drink sloshed to the very rim of the bowl—and just feet in front of her lay the throw rug, one forward corner thrown back on itself by some careless passerby.

  Murmuring words best left unsaid aloud, Jesse launched into action, hurrying forward from his place by the window to kick down the corner of the rug and relieve Caroline of her burden. Champagne and fruit juice sloshed over his left hand as he roughly palmed the huge bowl.

  "Careful!" she exclaimed, as if splashing himself with champagne was the height of disaster.

  "Me?" Jesse scoffed. "You'll be lucky if you survive the night in those ridiculous shoes." Turning away, he carried the bowl in two long strides to the side table against the living room wall where Caroline had laid out her feast, depositing it inelegantly on top of some,greenery. Caroline elbowed him out of the way, arranging the bowl perfectly in the center of the ring of greenery and fruit that she'd fashioned as decoration.

  "Don't be silly," she said mildly. "Women everywhere wear these shoes every day. Besides, they make my legs look good, don't you think?" This last she said while pointing her toe and looking down and around until her gaze reached the shoe itself.

  Jesse couldn't stop his eyes from following hers and taking in the smooth, graceful length of that leg. The sheer black stocking literally beckoned his hand, and he just barely restrained it, fingers curling in on themselves. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, Blondie."

  She gave him a look of such smug innocence that he wanted to shake her. "Jesse, I've told you before, I'm not playing any kind of game, and by now you ought to understand that" She pivoted on one of those ridiculously high heels and swayed away. He felt like screaming and tearing his hair in frustration. Instead, he dipped himself a paper cup full of potent champagne punch and drained it, crumpling the cup so he couldn't down another in short order. God knew that if he needed anything right now, he needed a clear head.

  He picked a corner and guarded it, watching the room and taking silent inventory of its occupants. Champ had been carried up to bed some time ago. Kara sat in an armchair, speaking an-,

  imatedly with two couples. George Marshal and his fiancee, Wanda, were friends of Rye's from his rodeo days and shared the chair at Kara's side. Wesley Randal and his wife sat next to each other on the sofa, arms entwined. Like George, Wesley had ridden fte trail drive with Rye and Kara, the last leg of it, anyway. He'd brought his wife down from Sky Creek, Colorado, to get to know them. Insurance agent or not, Wes was one hell of a cowboy in Rye's estimation, and that was good enough for Jesse, j)ut he couldn't seem to make conversation with anyone tonight.

  The fact was that he felt apart from the group gathered here in his own living room. Hell, he felt apart from the whole damned world these days. It seemed he no longer knew himself or anyone else, not even his own parents, and he couldn't figure out how mat had happened. They'd been bickering a lot lately, ever since Rye had brought up the residential treatment program at the Denver arthritis clinic that his own father had mentioned long ago. Haney was perfectly willing to drive Sarah all the way to Denver for a single appointment or two, but now that the family doctor had recommended the weeks-long residential program of tests, treatment and therapy, Haney had dug in his heels. Sarah could -go but without him. Jesse couldn't figure out why that was so. Actually, he couldn't seem to grasp the problem at all. He couldn't do anything but lust after Caroline Moncton, who was sixteen years his junior. Sixteen years! God in heaven, what had happened to his brain?

  He put a hand to bis head, feeling every second of his thirty-seven years. Lord, where had his life gone? One day he'd been Caroline's age, and the next he was lost somewhere near forty, alone and losing what little sense he'd had to begin with. /Suddenly, the New Year was upon them. Caroline began pass-teg out cups of punch. Rye turned up the radio so they could hear die countdown to midnight, then walked over to sit on the arm .of Kara's chak. She laid her head on his chest and tilted her face upward, smiling. Wanda wrapped her arms around George's neck in blatant anticipation. Wesley Randal draped his arm around his Wife's shoulders. Sarah reached for Haney's hand. Tiger moved to stand next to Shoes, both clearly spectators. Jesse told Jpinself to join them, throw a comradely arm around each and

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  enjoy the show, but even before he turned his head and saw Caroline moving purposefully toward him, two cups in hand, he knew he wasn't going to do that. Instead he stayed right where he wi lounging back against the corner as if he had not a care in the world. When she stopped right before him and set aside the cupss: he knew what was going to happen, and he could have pushed past her and g
otten himself out of harm's way then, but something held him. It was just a kiss, after all, a traditional way to welcome the new year. He never dreamed she'd take it as far she did, though.

  Even before the countdown reached three, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. At two, she leaned into him, At one, she lifted upward while sliding her body against his, tilted her head, and fitted her mouth to his. It was the hottest public kiss he'd ever received. It scorched his lungs, sizzled against his lips, rammed a hot rod into the pit of his belly, and still he managed to keep his hands to himself until something—4ie would never know what—told him that this very hot kiss had become the spectator sport of choice for everyone else in the room. It was then that he put his hands to her waist and literally set her back, sweeping a look around the room. Sure enough, every pair of eyes but his own were trained squarely on him and Caroline.