by Arlene James
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said lightly. "We'd better get up. I've got a busy day. We're haying the mountain fringe where the snow is deepest today, and we'll have to do it horseback. That takes a lot of preparation, especially in the condition I'm in." As he spoke, he slipped away from her, sitting up on the side of the bed with his feet on the floor, the covers across
Ms lap.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes, looking deliciously rumpled and thoroughly loved. The delicate skin of her chin, neck and cheek had been lightly abraded by his beard. He knew he ought to feel bad about that, but he couldn't quite manage it. Those were his marks on her. Last night and just now she was his and his alone. He wouldn't think about later, about some other man claiming her one day.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"A little sore is alL You?"
She sat up and drew her knees to her chest beneath the cover. "I'm wonderful," she said dreamily, wrapping her arms around
her legs.
He couldn't help smiling. At least he'd improved in some areas. "Good. I'm glad. Think you could rustle me up a bite of breakfast?"
She grinned. "Well, I have this little problem?"
"Yeah?"
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She lay back, stretching luxuriously. "I don't seem to have any clothing."
Laughing, he got up and went to the closet, snagging a pair of jeans for himself and a shirt for her. He tugged on the jeans where he stood, his back to her, and found to his chagrin that this would not be an easy day in the saddle. Resisting the urge to stay and watch her get into it, he tossed her the shirt and moved on into the bathroom. Memory flashed a picture before his mind's eye: Caroline, naked and incredibly tempting, intentionally so. He leaned his hands against the sink and tried to catch his breath. In mat moment when he'd first seen her, he'd known that what happened last night was inevitable. Later he'd told his father, himself and her that he wouldn't let it happen, but he'd known, deep down, that it would. Once. He'd given himself one night with her. And now it was over.
He managed to shave, brush his teeth and comb his hair without ever looking himself in the eye. While he was doing so, she put on his shirt and left his room, presumably to dress and start his breakfast. He dressed with care, layering his clothes for warmth and comfort. K would be a long, difficult day, but that was just as well. Perhaps he wouldn't have time to think, to remember. First, though, he had to get through breakfast. He had to say his piece, stick to his guns, and get out with enough sense intact to go about his business. He was very much afraid he wouldn't make it, afraid she'd look at him with those hurt, worshipful eyes, and he'd cave like the rickety character he was. He steeled himself with a mental picture of Kay after she had stepped into that puddle of electricity. A moment later he reluctantly went down to face the music.
She was humming to herself while she fried his eggs, wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of once-fuzzy house slippers. The urge to go to her, to slip his arm around her waist and squeeze, to kiss the soft flesh of her neck, was almost overwhelming. He pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sat down. She tossed him a smile and slipped a plate of bacon and toast from the warming oven with one hand, while scooping up the eggs with the other. She tilted the spatula over the plate and the eggs slid into place. Delivering the plate with a flourish, she turned
away to pour him a cup of coffee, then turned to lean a hip against the counter, watching him with a sparkle in her eyes, her long, bare legs crossed at the ankle.
He gulped coffee and began cutting up his eggs with fork and knife. They were cooked to perfection, the whites firm and solid, the yellows warm and liquid. He couldn't bear the thought of putting them in his mouth. Carefully, resignedly, he balanced the fork and knife on the rim of the plate and reached for his coffee cup again, motioning her over to the table. "Sit down. We need to talk."
His tone put her on notice. Her smile faded somewhat, but she gamely pulled out a chair and perched. "You can't tell me you regret what happened last night."
He shook his head, his gaze on his plate, "No, I can't." "But it was too much too soon," she said gently. Relief flooded through him. She had just given him a small escape, a way perhaps to briefly put off the inevitable. "Something like that."
"I knew that's what you were thinking," she said, rubbing a fingertip across the tabletop, "so I have a proposition for you." A proposition? He was almost afraid to ask, but he couldn't help smiling at the possibilities. "And what would that be?" "We'll back up, start over, go at a normal speed." "And what would that mean?" "A date."
He laughed. He couldn't help it. He'd just spent the most intimately, erotically satisfying night of his life with this woman, and now she was asking him out on a date. Talk about getting the cart before the horse! Still, a so-called date was a heck of a lot safer for her than another night hi his bed. In the meantime, he'd find some way to make her understand that they could have no future together—for her sake. "Okay," he said. "What'd you have in mind?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm feeling a touch of cabin fever, though, so I definitely want to get out of here." "Maybe mere's a movie in town you want to see." She shook her head. "Something a little more...interactive, I think. How about dancing?"
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He lifted an eyebrow at that. "I doubt you'd care much for my brand of dancing."
She stared at him. "Are you kidding? A little Texas two-step, a couple of line dances, I can handle anything you want to throw at me, Wagner."
He chuckled at that. "In that case, I know a place we can go, but I'm warning you, I'm barely acceptable as a dancer."
"We'll see," she said, getting up. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so say about 9 p.m.?"
"All right."
She grinned at him. "Now that that's settled, eat your breakfast while I pack you a hearty lunch. I assume you won't be coming in for it as usual."
"You assume correctly," he said, picking up his knife and fork again. "Don't forget Tiger and Handsome."
"As if I would."
He grinned as he forked up eggs. She was nothing if not efficient, mat woman. The eggs were a little cold and congealed now, but he hardly noticed, his appetite returning in force. By the time he had shoveled down his breakfast and sucked up a second cup of coffee, she had packed a crate full of hot soups, coffee, thick sandwiches and steaming chocolate pudding. Dinner would be beans with ham hock, honey corn bread and a green salad, she informed him. He kissed her goodbye before he even stopped to think and strode out into a cold, snowy day armed with hearty food and a heartier smile. Life was good, better than it had been in some long while, and if it was to be temporary, all the more reason to enjoy it while he could. He had the rest of his life to pull cold comfort from doing the right thing. For now, for a little space in time, he would be cautiously happy and shamelessly thankful.
Caroline listened to the door close behind him and sagged against the counter in relief. That had been close, terribly so. She wasn't surprised that he was having second thoughts. He had done so from the beginning, but she had almost let her disappointment wreck it. Thank God she had found sense enough to back off and regroup. She had hoped that last night would be all he required
to put his doubts to rest, but she knew that he doubted himself, not her, and last night had been merely the first step in teaching him how wrong he was to pronounce himself a failure at marriage when he had so obviously married the wrong woman. He needed a chance to get used to the idea of being one half of a couple, this time with the right woman.
He would never think of her as a sister. She had made dead certain of that. Now all she had to do was convince him that he could think of her as a wife and a lover. Might as well discover life on Saturn while she was at it. But she wouldn't quit. He had to understand that, eventually. She wouldn't quit, and she wouldn't let him quit. Ever. So tonight she'd keep her distance, and tomorrow they'd dance, and after that she'd take every step as if her ver
y life depended on it, because it did. When she came right down to it, it did.
He had made a mistake, no doubt about it. Correction. He had
made another mistake. This date thing wasn't a reprieve, it was
torture, pure and simple. He'd had some vague idea about show-
, ing her how ill-suited they were, and instead he found himself
part of an official couple. The most shocking aspect of it was that
everyone else seemed so accepting of them! He wondered if he
; really publicly came off like the sort of selfish lowlife who went
after the just-barely-beyond-jailbait set. He knew without doubt
by the way some of them were looking at Caroline that a few of
that ilk were numbered among his own friends, and it didn't do
f his blood pressure any good to see it. Not that he could blame
; mem for looking.
; She wore tight black jeans, chained half boots and a narrow
I belt studded with silver conchos around an impossibly narrow
!• waist. A black leather, fringed vest over a simple little white
' T-shirt that looked like it belonged on a third-grader and a red-
• and-white bandanna, rolled and tied like a headband to hold back
'• her hair, completed her outfit She looked good enough to eat.
That narrow band of pale, taut skin between the hem of her
T-shirt and the waistband of her jeans was driving him crazy.
Every time his fingertips grazed mat skinny patch of bare skin
desire shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Blond lightning.
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That's just what she felt like in his arms. He couldn't help thinking about having her naked beneath him. He couldn't bear watching her dance with someone else.
His feet ached, he'd danced so muclrthis night. His jaw felt frozen in a permanent clinch because he'd smiled through gritted teeth so often. Through it all, though, he managed to maintain the fiction of a happy-go-lucky night out in the midst of a fierce winter. If one more moron pounded him on the back as if in congratulations, however, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. He desperately wanted a second beer, but as he was driving, he wouldn't indulge. Caroline, to her credit, had been nursing her third for hours now. He half hoped that when she was finished with it, she would want to go—and he half dreaded the possibility. If being here surrounded by grinning idiots was agony, being alone in the house with her was sheer hell. He'd lain awake the entire past night, talking himself out of slipping up the stairs to her room, praying she wouldn't slip down them to his.
The door at the end of the bar opened, and Jesse turned that way instinctively, groaning when Handsome stepped through with a pretty brunette on his arm, Tiger at his back. Caroline followed his line of sight; Chuckling, she said, "Be nice. You're the one who told them where we were going."
"Yeah, but I didn't expect them to trail us." "You said yourself that this was the best club in the area." He grumbled imprecations beneath his breath, watching through slitted eyes as the unwelcome trio made a beeline across the room toward their table. Handsome was the first to reach them, dragging his brunette by the arm.
"Hey, Boss, Caroline. How's the band tonight?"
"Pretty good," Caroline said. "Their steel guitar got snowed
in, but I can't say its loss is noticeable. They're on a break now."
"I noticed." Without waiting for an invitation, Handsome
pulled out a chair and waved his date down into it, then turned
one around for himself. Tiger snagged an extra from a nearby
table and sat down between Jesse and the brunette, who turned
out to be Helena. "Helena, this here is my boss, Jess Wagner,
and bis gal, Caroline," Handsome said. Jesse gritted his teeth and
nodded a greeting.
Caroline lifted a hand across the table, and Helena curled red-tipped fingers around it, giving it a limp shake. Jesse gave the other woman a cursory once-over. Her makeup was too heavy. Her hair had one of those ultratrendy cuts that made it look like a bunch of limp feathers. Her jeans and cut-out blouse were unremarkable. He wasn't impressed by the glimpse of red boots that he'd caught as she'd moved across the floor toward them. She was pretty enough, he supposed, with her big brown eyes, but not up to Handsome's usual standards, in his book, anyway, certainly not up to Caroline's.
The band wandered back to the stage, tuned up and launched
into a popular C&W tune.
"That's our cue," Handsome said. Popping up, he spun his
date out onto the floor. Tiger looked between Jesse and Caroline,
then awkwardly climbed to his feet. "Want to dance, Caroline?"
She shook her head and leaned into Jesse. "No, thanks, Tiger.
I'm about danced out."
Tiger looked at Jesse in surprise. "Oh. You, too, huh, Boss?" "Me, too," Jesse said, mentally ordering his arm to stay balanced across the top of Caroline's chair. It ignored him and dropped down to loosely encircle her, his fingertips coming to ; rest over that little strip of bare skin at her waist. She draped her forearm across his thighs and laid her head back against his shoulder.
"Well," Tiger said, looking around the room for likely prospects. He spotted one and moved off hi her direction.
Not a word was said at the table until the dance ended and Tiger moved back to his chair, his partner claimed by another cowboy. Handsome and Helena stayed on the floor. The music started up again, and Tiger tapped his toe in time to it. He turned once more to Caroline. "Want to take a turn now?"
Caroline smiled. "Actually," she said, "Jesse has exhausted me." She leaned forward and confided conspiratorially. "Don't ever let him tell you that he isn't a good dancer." Tiger grinned and nodded. "I figured." Caroline leaned back again, sighing. "To tell you the truth, I'm about ready to call it a night." , Jesse leaped to his feet, practically yanking her chair out from
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under her. "See you Monday morning, Tiger. Enjoy the weekend. Tell Handsome and the bru—uh, Helena so long for us. 'Bye."
Caroline chortled as he propelled her through the maze of tables and out the door, trailing their coats. He paused in the cold night air long enough to throw her coat on her back and shrug into his own. "What's so funny?" he groused.
She turned a perfectly innocent face up to him. "Nothing. I just had a good time, that's all."
He muttered the requisite reply. A good time. Yeah, right up there with having your fingernails yanked and your skin groomed with a wire bristle brush. He handed her up into the truck and trudged around to the driver's side, buckling himself in with sharp, brusque movements. Thank God it was over. Sort of. Now all he had to do was figure out how to make it to his bed alone and actually sleep there. If she pressed the issue... He gulped, remembering the feel of her bare skin beneath his fingertips. Lord help him.
She- hummed all the way home, her pale hair flowing over her shoulders and arms. Once there, she let herself out of the truck before he could get around to help her, then marched off up the walk through a dusting of fresh snow as if she had enough energy left to hike around the world. Jesse followed her into the house with growing trepidation. Shouldn't she be more tired? Surely she didn't have the energy to... No, he wouldn't even think about it.
He took off his coat and hung it on the peg, then hung his hat next to it. She had already shed her coat and put it on a hanger next to one of his mother's garments in the tiny closet for mat purpose. Now she turned and strolled down the hall toward him. He steeled himself. She slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. "I had a wonderful time, Jesse. Thank you," she whispered huskily.
He cleared his throat, his hands hovering dangerously around her shoulders. "My pleasure," he lied—only somehow it was true, despite ev
erything.
She lifted up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Good night," she whispered, lowering herself again and turning away.
He felt as though his boots had been welded to the floor as he
watched her sweep around the corner. His heart seemed permanently lodged in his throat. He listened as her footsteps softly receded, then he slumped against the wall and moaned.
Sweet heaven! What was he going to do? He wasn't sure how long he could hold out. If his parents didn't come home soon, he couldn't be certain what he'd do. He had to make some space for himself. He needed breathing room. He would just have to take the bull by the horns tomorrow morning and put it to her bluntly. No more dates. No more nights of passion.
