She gave a strange sort of sigh but never opened her eyes until the truck stopped.
Still groggy she rose up. "Where are we?"
"I brought you home," Mike replied quietly as he pulled her into his arms again and carried her into the house. Her legs had been so wobbly she could barely stand.
Dixie slumped against him like a limp rag doll. He carried her directly to the bathroom and, after he set her down, he ran water in the tub. "Now, take that suit off, and get in the tub."
She didn't react much at first.
"Or I'll take it off for you."
***
She must have lain in the tub thirty minutes or longer, because the water was chilly by the time Mike called through the door to her.
"You all right in there?"
"I'm fine. I was just about to get out."
"Well, don't take too long, I've got hot coffee and sandwiches made," Mike informed her.
Dixie stretched, and yawned, then got out and wrapped herself in a big, thick, baby blue robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She glanced around but didn't see Mike. Deciding he must have left, she headed for her bedroom.
And there he sat, two trays, one on the floor, one in his lap, and a big grin on his face as he spotted her. God, just looking at him curled her toes. "'Bout time you got out of there. You ought to be completely water-logged."
"Yes, I think I am. Look at this—" She held out her wrinkled fingers.
He touched them.
"How long was I in the bath?"
"Oh, about thirty minutes or so. I thought it might relax you a little. Now, come on, get into bed and have your snack," he insisted, directing her to the bed, he placed the tray in her lap. "Coffee isn't the greatest thing in the world when you're going to sleep, but you were out of milk and tea. I hope it doesn't keep you awake."
"You really shouldn't have bothered. I'm not at all a dependent person. Not any more at least. You can't survive in New York and be dependent. But still, I'm glad you did. I'm starved."
"No bother. I was hungry too." He shot her a quick appraisal and added, "Besides, a smart woman knows when to be dependent on others."
When she looked doubtful he added, "I've been sitting at that judging booth for hours with nothing more than Kool-Aid. Great for kids, but there's nothing like a strong cup of coffee once and a while. Why they made me a judge, I'll never understand. I think all women are beautiful."
"Why not? You're probably the most eligible bachelor in town." She cast him a slight smile. "It was nice of you to go to the trouble, and I do appreciate it, but don't you think you better be getting back to the fairgrounds? Amanda is probably missing you. And Janet."
"No need now, the contest is over, and I'm in no hurry to get back. Your brothers are looking after Mandy. She'll have more fun with them than me. In fact, I was thinking of going home, myself. I've got a full day tomorrow."
"Tom and Will, will see that Mandy enjoys herself, I'm sure. They kind of think of her as a little sister, I think. She's a doll. You're very lucky, Mike." She smiled and his gaze engulfed her. "So, who won?"
He bit into his sandwich, a frown lining his face. "Janet."
"I thought she might," Dixie said as she watched the instant play of emotions cross his handsome face.
His glance swept over her like warm butter melting over toast as he smiled. "Why did you think that?"
Dixie gave a hoarse laugh. "Her boyfriend was the judge. Haven't you heard?"
"No, but it sounds like you have."
"You did bring her didn't you?"
"What gave you that idea?"
"W…what—" she stammered. Had she stuck her foot in her mouth? Had she been guilty of listening to gossips, too? "I thought you came together, when I saw you earlier."
Tawny gold eyes veiled quickly. "Actually, she came with her mother. And she'll go home with her mother. Now, enough about Janet. How do you feel?"
"Not too bad really." She cleared her throat. "I'm tired and my throat hurts a little."
"Then take a big swig of your coffee, and you'll start feeling better. I think you really need to stay away from water for a while."
She eyed him suspiciously, then gulped it too quickly and was stunned by the after effect it left "What did you put in this?" Her eyes widened with surprise.
"A little Jack Daniel's that Emily happens to keep under the kitchen sink."
She tried to laugh, but her voice forced her into silence.
"Dear Mom. But, a little goes a long way for me. I never learned to handle this stuff. I tried several times, intentionally, you know, as part of growing up—but two drinks and I'm under the table."
"That's in your favor. Hey, that voice sounds like it's suffering more than you are. Suppose, you just lay there and eat and drink, and I'll do the talking."
She nodded, and smiled before biting into her sandwich.
"You should do that more often."
"What?"
"Smile." His gaze poured over her lazily. "Before that whiskey puts you under, tell me what happened. I thought you were a good swimmer."
"I'm a little out of practice. I got a cramp in my leg." She barely made the words audible.
He nodded. "A cramp will do it. I should know." Getting to his feet, he put the tray down and came to her side. "Which leg?"
"Oh, it's all right now, just sore," she explained. She raised her knees to her chest and covered them with the sheet.
Mike pushed her legs down, and uncovered her legs. His look was more clinical than sexy. "Which one?"
His terrific bedside manner made her trust him. Although, deep down, she suspected that she trusted him from the first day they'd met, thirteen years ago. "Mike really—" she protested, setting her tray aside.
"Stop over-reacting and tell me which one." he insisted.
Crossing her arms over her chest she huffed, "The right one. Are you always so pushy, or is it just me?"
"It's just you. Now, relax and lay back. I'm really very good at this. You'll see. I learned from a pro several years ago. When I was playing football, I'd get a lot of cramps, and we had a masseur that could make anyone feel better. He was so good, in fact, that one day I asked him to show me how he did it. He thought I was kidding but I insisted, and told him that maybe I could help him out when he couldn't make the games. I got pretty good at it." Mike took her leg into his hands and began to work a special magic from knee to foot. His big fingers kneaded the obvious knots in her leg until it began to relax.
He had no idea what he was doing to her inside. His touch sent a silent message. While his back was to her, she studied him. A big man, with gentle hands and a kind heart. God, it'd be hard not to fall in love with a man like this. She knew her mind was beginning to wander into dangerous territory. Since she'd been home, Mike had been her knight in shining amour.
A wave of relief rushed through her. She became aware that something earth shattering was happening to her. It must be the whiskey, she thought. "Oh, you are good, Mike."
He must have worked on her leg a full ten minutes before he finally stopped and covered it again. No gawking at her, no flirting, he just covered her leg and sat down again.
She was the one reading too much into his actions.
"So, did you like playing ball?" she asked as he sat down in the chair and continued to finish his sandwich.
"Hmm, loved it." He bit into his sandwich again and chewed for a moment before continuing. "Most of the guys do, at first. Being good at something you like is exhilarating. It's an ego trip, really. You have the best of life, or think you do. Trouble is, you can only get so broken up and still play. So, I retired early." His expression changed as he spoke. Dixie thought she read regret in his features.
"Just how broken up did you get?" she asked, ignoring the fluctuation of her hoarse voice.
"Oh the usual. A few ribs, fractured a few bones, but when I knocked my knee out the third time, the docs gave up trying to fix it. I knew I was through then. It took me a little while
to admit it, but it was inevitable. That's the price you pay for making the big money, and having things your way."
"I never noticed you limping or walking with difficulty. Was it that bad?"
"Bad enough not to play ball anymore. I took therapy for a couple of years afterwards. It acts up now and then when it rains." He winked.
Her heart fluttered madly, as his magnetism drew her in. "That's about the time your wife died, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"What was she like, Mike?"
"Beautiful, smart, most men's dream."
"I'm so sorry for you and Mandy." When he didn't elaborate any further, she asked, "Why didn't you go into commercials or something? I'm told that's what most ball players do. Looks like you could have made a fortune; I mean you were making a name for yourself. I remember reading about you in the papers."
"I made a lot of mistakes back then. I quit school to go into the big leagues. Bad mistake." He shook his head. "I thought I was something. I wasn't; just another jock. I was in the big time though. Finally, the game ceased to mean much when money was the only object."
"Sounds a little like the music business. You go into it thinking how exciting it is to perform, but after a while the people out there don't even look real."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. It stopped being fun when it became a job. When I couldn't play I went through a depression."
"Because of your injuries?"
"No. Connie and I had a good marriage at first, but when I retired things changed. She was used to big money. Her parents were loaded. She wanted me to take a job with her dad's company. I refused. Amanda was born that same year. Things were rough. And then there was the car wreck."
"Was Amanda with you when it happened?"
"No, she was at her grandmother's."
"That's good."
"God, yes." He looked at her and smiled that lopsided kind of smile that makes a woman's heart go thump. "I don't talk about those days much."
"Why not?"
"I didn't want money I hadn't earned. I'm not a performer. I didn't want to endorse things I didn't believe in. It's all a pretty phony racket. I tried it. I just couldn't go through with it. I made enough in football to keep Amanda and me comfortable the rest of our life. I invested well, thanks to a good friend's advice."
"Yeah, I've started investing mine too. Not much, but a little."
He nodded. "My dad was bad by then; someone had to run the place. I had to make a choice. I wasn't about to quit working just because I had enough money to retire. Kevin wasn't interested in farming. By then he was nearly out of college with a degree in political science. Someone had to work the farm—or let it go."
"You don't sound as though you wanted to be a rancher either."
He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't. I wanted to be a vet."
"A vet? Then why …"
"I married Connie my first year in college. She wanted me to try the big leagues—said I was too good for college football. She believed we could have the good life if I played professional. Then, later, Dad was sick for two years before he died, and I had Amanda. I hadn't seen the direction I was going until it was too late. I had already quit school, my dented pride kept me from going back, and then I got banged up, and moved home, took care of dad until he died, and took over the ranch. I didn't have the heart to sell out, like Kevin suggested. Dad worked so hard all his life for our place—I couldn't just get rid of it. It would have been like throwing his life away, you know?"
Dixie nodded with understanding. "Anyway," Mike continued, "I could take care of my own animals. I liked that idea. So, I stayed and ranched. It's been a decent living. I like having a home, knowing all the people, and bringing Amanda up in a small community."
So unlike New York, Dixie thought sadly. "I never knew. You never told me much about yourself, Mike. You and Kevin aren't very close though, are you?"
"We were once."
"What happened?"
"Better left unsaid."
"Oh. I didn't mean to pry. So, why haven't you remarried, Mike? I mean …" She felt herself blush. It was none of her business, but she wanted to know. "You seem so fond of family life. You're a wonderful father to Amanda. She adores you. But it must have been hard all alone. I hear Kevin has a nice family."
"So, now you know about Kevin and his family? I suppose Emily told you. I know it probably hurts, but June is a nice gal, just right for Kevin, if you'll excuse me saying so. You'll see it, when you meet her. But as for me, let's just say I'm still shopping around. Most women don't want a ready-made family. I could ask the same of you, Dixie. Why haven't you married?"
"I guess I just don't have the time. Okay, I'll change the subject." She smiled coyly. "You obviously don't want to talk about it. Anyway, I'm happy for you and Janet."
"Me and Janet?" He slanted her a questioning look as the look in his eyes devoured her.
A man shouldn't look that way at a girl unless he has serious intentions, Dixie decided.
"Janet's a bore, and you and I both know it. She's a leech. I can't get rid of her. Amanda doesn't even like her. Granted, she's easy on the eyes, but everyone around here seems to think I'm going to marry her. That's the one thing about small towns that can be upsetting. They tend to pair people off, whether they're right for each other or not. I tolerate Janet; even indulge her. I have no intention to marry her, though. I like her as a person, but I'd never marry her. And she knows it."
"So, you refuse to do the right thing by her." Feeling the effects of the whiskey, Dixie giggled.
"Why should I? I haven't compromised her."
He hadn't touched her! Dixie was elated at the revelation.
"Now, turn about is fair play," Mike said with a devilish gleam in his eye. "If marrying your boss would be a step up in your career, why haven't you done it? I mean, your career seems to be your number one priority."
"I don't know if it would be a step up or not. It would simply be convenient. He's asked me. But marriage is an important step. I'm not about to leap into anything with my eyes closed."
"So?"
"Politically, it would be a good—" She stopped abruptly when she saw the furious look on Mike's face.
"Politically? I asked you if you love him."
"You didn't ask that. Love's not the main issue. We have a lot in common—our work—"
The fury in Mike's features was becoming even more evident now. Tawny gold eyes darkened, and blazed into hers. "Is that career of yours all you ever think about? Don't you ever . . ." He closed the gap between them suddenly, looked deeply into her eyes and said, "think about this . . ."
And then he did it! He kissed her! Just like that. Right out of the blue. And it wasn't just a peck on the cheek, not just a feather touch of his lips against hers. No, he kissed her. He brought new meaning to the word.
Dixie reeled at his touch. Lips that spoke harshly one minute turned to soft putty, as they mingled, lifted, until she was dizzy with wanting him to explore further into the unknown. He whetted her appetite and made her want more. Maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it wasn't, but the kiss was thorough, and Dixie lost herself in it. She opened her mouth just a fraction and let the taste of him in. A sweet taste. Like chocolate—addictive!
Drained of all energy, the kiss seemed to ignite her whole body, torching every part of her being. Never had a kiss stolen her mind, and heart so completely. It seemed to reach the depths of her soul and pull at her heartstrings.
Mike's passion made her come alive with feelings and emotions she'd squelched long ago. Then, slowly, he raised his head, a smile replacing the anger that was there earlier.
"Don't look at me like that, Dixie." His voice was a breathless whisper. "Like you don't want me to stop. I haven't got much control. I've waited too long to do that. Years too long. No reprimands. What I feel inside right now is one thing, what I think, another. I may not get along with Kevin. I may think you two are wro
ng for each other, but I won't have you until you are sure he's gone from your life. And you haven't found that out yet. It worries me that you've waited so long to find it out. I thought it might be Ed. But that's not it either. But until you do know how you really feel, I won't touch you."
"Mike, I—"
"Hush now," he cajoled, holding her head between his hands and staring down into her flushed face. "Your voice is weak. You're exhausted, whether you know it or not. Save your strength. I'm taking advantage, and I know it. We'll talk again, later. It was only a kiss, one kiss. It won't change things, I know. I don't expect it to."
Didn't change things! How could he say that? No one had ever kissed her so thoroughly, so lovingly. She felt an immediate bonding with this man, like a delicate thread now held them together. A tiny thread, so fragile it might break. Maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn't try to read too much into it. She certainly wasn't an authority on kissing.
Then he was gone, and she fell into the most peaceful sleep she had in years.
***
The next morning brought all sorts of changes.
"Bernie asked me to marry him last night at the bazaar." Her mother was staring at the three of them, focusing mostly on Dixie, as they sat speechless around the breakfast table.
"I'm seriously considering it, but I wanted to talk to the three of you, first. Together, as a family. So, what do you think?" She tried to sound casual about it, but a worry wrinkle gave her away.
Dixie glanced from Tom to Will, a slow smile invading her face as the boys both snickered. They all chimed, "We think it's about time … when?"
Emily grabbed her heart, as though not believing what she heard. "Oh, but this is such a serious step. I wanted you all to think about it for a while before I gave my answer."
Tom smirked. "We've thought about it for a long time, Mom. In fact," he glanced at the others, "we've been thinkin' of as many reasons as we could to get the two of you alone together. Haven't you noticed? Gosh, what more can we say? Will and I are both for havin' another man around the house. We've been out-numbered too long already. Besides, well, we really like Bernie. We know Dad liked him, too. So it's unanimous. The question is—does he like us?"
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