by Janet Dailey
With a tired little murmur, she settled close. Sky could feel the strain easing as she relaxed against him. The awareness of her need and her trust raised an ache in his throat. He’d never meant to love this woman—never meant things to go beyond the torrid sex they’d both enjoyed. But she’d crept into his heart and found a home there. He could no longer imagine ever letting her go.
He would never be wealthy, but if she’d have him, he had the means to give them a fine life. He had property, a good job, and enough money in the bank to build a comfortable home. His work for the Tylers could continue while he pursued his dream of raising his own horses on his land—a place where their children could learn to love nature and value honest work.
Was that what Bull Tyler had in mind when he’d bought the parcel and included it in his will? Had the old man been thinking of a way to keep his secret descendants on the land?
A mental slap jolted Sky back to reality. If he proposed to Lauren, he’d be asking her to marry the illegitimate son of a servant who’d worked for her grandparents. How could he explain that to her? And even if she were to say yes, how could he explain it to their children one day?
Maybe it would be better for everyone’s sake if he just walked away.
Lauren had fallen asleep, a little feminine snore mingling with her breath. Sky gazed down at her face, already darkening in the spot where her father had struck her. Letting her go would kill him. But he had to make a decision before things went any further between them.
He couldn’t make that decision until he knew the full story of where he’d come from—and only one man knew enough to tell him that story.
Tomorrow he would have a talk with Jasper.
CHAPTER 15
The ear-shattering wail of a cranky toddler startled Lauren awake. Flinching, she blinked herself to a blurry awareness of where she was and what had happened.
“Welcome back.” Sky was gazing down at her with eyes the color of Texas bluebonnets. Still groggy, Lauren pushed herself upright. They were no longer alone in the waiting room. An elderly man sat in the rocker with an open Bible across his knees. A tired-looking woman with a squirming two-year-old in her arms sat on the far side of the room, watching cartoons on the wall-mounted TV.
Lauren raked back damp tendrils of hair where her head had rested in the warm hollow of Sky’s shoulder. “I can’t believe I just drifted off like that. How long was I out?”
“Not long. A little less than an hour.”
“And no word yet?”
“If there was, we’d both have heard.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. These things can take a while. Want some coffee?”
“Thanks. Cream, no sugar.”
He rose, walked away, and came back with two steaming insulated cups. Lauren took the one he handed her and sipped the hot brew, feeling the welcome jolt of caffeine. “I let Tori show me the Axelrod house today,” she said, deciding to tell him. “It would need some renovation, but it’s not that bad, and the price is a bargain.”
“So you’re really going to make the move?”
“I told you I would. But now it might have to wait. How can I leave my father after something like this?”
Sky’s lips parted. Then he shook his head and took a sip of coffee, as if he’d thought better of what he was about to say.
“Tell me,” she challenged him. “I want to hear what you’re thinking.”
He exhaled slowly. “All right, but you might not like it. Your father’s not above using this episode to control you. If you can’t walk away because you’re afraid he’ll shoot himself again, or overdose on pills and liquor, he’ll have you right where he wants you.”
And what would you do then, Sky?
Lauren stared down into her cup, not daring to voice the question. Would Sky have the patience to wait for her? Would he be supportive, or would he throw up his hands in disgust and turn his back?
Before she could voice a reply, the double doors to the E.R. swung open and the doctor walked toward her. He was tall and bespectacled with a beakish nose, his expression telling her nothing.
“Your father’s out of surgery, Miss Prescott,” he said. “We were able to remove the bullet and close the wound. He should make a full recovery. But for now, with so much alcohol in his system, we’re giving him extra fluids and keeping a close eye on him.”
Lauren stood. “Is he awake? Can I see him?”
The doctor shook his head. “He’ll be sleeping it off tonight. You might as well go home, get some rest, and come back in the morning. He should be alert by then. Meanwhile, don’t worry. He’ll be in good hands.”
“Thank you.” She turned to Sky as the doctor walked away.
“I guess you might as well take me home. Since you’ll need to be working tomorrow, I can drive myself back here. That way I can stay as long as I need to.”
They crossed the parking lot in the twilight. Her fingers crept into his big, comforting palm. She felt his hand close around hers. Had things shifted between them? Could they go forward from here, or was he only being kind in her time of need?
Sky opened the door of the truck so she could climb in. Lauren settled back and fastened her seat belt as he went to the other side.
“Hungry?” He started the engine.
Lauren glanced down at her bloodstained shirt. “I can’t go into a restaurant looking like this. But you must be starved. We could find a drive-through. Or, if you can wait that long, there’s leftover pot roast in the fridge at home.”
“The pot roast sounds good.” He shot her a sidelong glance, and Lauren realized she’d just invited him in. Had he read more into her words than she’d meant? Was there more? Her cheeks warmed in the darkness of the cab. What were the odds they both had the same idea?
The house was dark and silent when they arrived. Sky had driven in the back way, but there’d been no need for it. The news crews had gone. Whether they’d show up again tomorrow was anybody’s guess.
“Don’t worry about playing hostess,” Sky said. “I’m a great hand at rustling up supper with a microwave. You must be anxious to get out of those clothes.”
“Thanks. And yes, I am,” Lauren said, thinking she’d throw out everything but her boots. “While I’m at it, I could use a shower. Don’t wait for me if you’re hungry.”
“Take your time.” He’d opened the fridge and was perusing the shelves. “While I’m thinking about it, where are the keys to those two cars out front? I’ll move them around to the back, in case the sharks start gathering before you’re ready to leave tomorrow.”
“Thanks, they’re—oh.” A groan escaped Lauren’s lips as she remembered. “I left my purse in the den. The keys to the Corvette are in it. And the spare keys to Dad’s Cadillac are in the desk. I’m sorry—such an awful mess in there.”
“Don’t worry about it. For what it’s worth, I have an old high school buddy who runs a cleaning business. He specializes in disasters and he’s smart enough to be discreet.”
“I saw a gangster movie where Harvey Keitel did something like that. Is it that kind of cleaning business?”
His grin flashed. “Go,” he said.
By the time Lauren came back downstairs, Sky had moved the cars and warmed the pot roast. His eyes drank her in as she entered the kitchen, dressed in black leggings and a long, white tee that outlined just enough to let him know she had nothing on underneath. With her damp hair framing her fresh-scrubbed face, she took his breath away.
An aching need uncoiled in the depths of his body. It was all he could do to keep from yanking her into his arms and taking her right there in the kitchen. But she’d been through a hell of a time today, seeing her father almost kill himself before her eyes. He couldn’t assume that an invitation to supper meant anything more than what it was.
“Oh, you set the table,” she said, eyeing the mismatched plates and cutlery he’d managed to find in the cupboard.
“I guessed you might be hungry, too,” he said. “So
rry, I looked around for candles and wine, but no luck there.”
An impish smile lit her coppery eyes. “I don’t know about candles, but I’ll be right back. She darted into the dining room. A light flickered on, and Sky heard the sound of rummaging. A moment later she was back with a dark wine bottle, two goblets, and a corkscrew.
“Someone who wanted a big favor gave this to my father,” she said, handing him the bottle. “You can do the honors.”
Sky glanced at writing on the label. La Romanee Bochard Pere et Fils, 1988. He couldn’t understand a word of French, but he got the general meaning—the wine was very, very expensive.
“Lauren, are you sure—?”
She thrust the corkscrew into his hand. “Go for it. Daddy’s a hard-liquor man. He’d just regift it to somebody else.”
They ate their warmed-over pot roast and vegetables on mismatched plates and drank the vintage French wine from crystal goblets. The wine had a nice earthiness to it, but Sky had to confess that, to him, it didn’t taste much different from the $20 California muscatel they sold at Shop Mart.
Lauren’s laughter was like the forgotten sound of rain. “That’s what I like about you. No pretensions whatsoever.”
“As long as you like me, I guess that’s all that counts.” He leaned back from his empty plate, studying her across the table. “Will you be all right?” he asked her.
“Don’t worry about me. If I survived Mike’s suicide, I can survive this.” She took a sip of wine. “I never told you the story behind that, did I?”
“You only told me he drowned. If you feel like telling me the rest, I’m ready to listen.”
She poured a splash of wine into her glass. “Mike was an only son, from a long line of achievers. His father was a doctor. His uncle was the lieutenant governor of Maryland. His cousins . . .” She shrugged. “All superstars. You can imagine the pressure. It finally got to him. He started drinking, missing his classes. When he flunked out of law school, it was like he’d betrayed his whole family. He couldn’t handle it. I got the call after the police found his body in the river.”
“He had you, and he still drowned himself. That’s a hard one to believe.”
Lauren drained her glass and set it on the table. “I guess that’s one reason it hurt so much. Having me and being loved wasn’t enough to keep him alive. I’d already bought my wedding dress. I donated it to charity and went off the deep end for a while—as you know. But, yes.” A shadow crossed her beautiful face. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be all right.”
“It’s getting late. I know you’re tired.” He rose. “If you want to turn in, I can clear the table and load the dishwasher before I go.” There it was. Sky had laid down his cards. The call was hers to make. When there’d been nothing but sex between them, it would’ve been easy just to reach out and grab her. Now, with feelings involved, everything had become more complicated.
“We needn’t bother,” she said. “Miguel will be here in the morning. He’s used to cleaning up when he comes in, and he’ll enjoy what’s left of the wine.”
“You might want to lock the den so he won’t walk in on a surprise.” Sky turned toward the back door, then turned to look at her. “I’ll talk to my cleaner friend. Is it okay if I give him your number?”
“Yes, of course. . . .” She reached for the wall switch, then turned out the kitchen light.
He sensed her hesitation but knew he mustn’t push her. Not tonight. Steeling himself against the raw burn of desire, he took a step toward the door.
“Sky!”
He turned at the cry of his name. Back-lit from the hall, she stood with one arm reaching out to him. Even from the far side of the room, he could tell she was trembling.
Two long strides carried him across the floor. He caught her in his arms, molding her body against his. Through the thin shirt he could feel every curve of her, the smallness of her bones, the ripe tautness of her little rump, the firm breasts that seemed fashioned to fit his cupped palms.
Bending, he found her mouth. With a whimper she circled his neck with her arms, pulling him down, binding him close, as if she needed to keep him from leaving her.
His need was a bonfire, but he kissed her with a tenderness that astonished even him. Lauren could have died today when she flew across that desk to wrestle her father for the gun. Sky was just beginning to realize what he might have lost and how precious she was.
“Don’t go, Sky,” she murmured. “Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the hall. “Show me the way,” he said.
In her room he shed his clothes and slipped naked into bed beside her. She came to him, nestling like a child in the circle of his arms. Her lips skimmed his nipples as she pressed her face against his chest.
“I should have showered,” he said. “I probably smell like a stable.”
“No,” she whispered. “One thing I love best about you is the way you smell—like sun and wind and, yes, horses. I love having your scent all around me. It makes me feel safe. And tonight safe is how I want to feel.”
He cradled her close, kissing her hair, her closed eyelids, her willing mouth. She’d stripped off her leggings and was deliciously bare below the hem of her shirt. The awareness sent a jolt to his sex, which had sprung to full readiness. But even then, he couldn’t let himself forget what she’d suffered today. “We don’t have to—” he began, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
“Shut up and make love to me, Sky Fletcher,” she muttered.
With a rough laugh, he rolled her onto her back and lost himself in her wild, sensual sweetness.
Afterward Sky lay awake in the dark, his arm curled protectively over her sleeping body. He’d bedded his share of women, but never before had he felt as if he’d just made love. It was an experience he wanted to repeat again and again, and only with Lauren.
But making love to her was one thing—offering himself to her as a suitable husband and a father to her children was something else. The last thing he wanted was for this lovely, well-born woman to be ashamed of the man she’d married. Before he’d let that happen, he would walk away and never look back.
A heavy decision hung over him—one he couldn’t resolve until he’d found Jasper and learned all there was to know about his beginnings.
When Lauren woke the next morning, Sky was gone. She was disappointed but not surprised. Sky had pressing responsibilities on the Rimrock, and he’d missed part of yesterday taking her father to the hospital. She couldn’t expect him to slack off his duties again today.
Reaching for her cell on the nightstand, she called the hospital information desk and asked for the nurses’ station outside her father’s room. Yes, the nurse informed her, the congressman was awake and doing as well as could be expected. He was still on IV fluids and pain medication, but she was welcome to come and see him anytime.
With a sigh of relief, Lauren swung her legs off the bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom. The twinge at the apex of her thighs brought a smile of memory to her face. Last night with Sky had been heaven. But she’d almost had to rope and tie the man to get him to her bed. Tori had been spot on about Sky’s stubborn pride. How could she break down that wall and convince him that she wanted him—wanted to brew his morning coffee, do his laundry, and have his beautiful blue-eyed babies?
Twenty minutes later she was ready for the drive back to Lubbock. Downstairs she could hear Miguel cleaning up in the kitchen. A glance out the front window confirmed that the press hadn’t shown up yet, but she did need to alert the cook to what might happen today.
“Good morning, Miguel.” She strode into the kitchen, glancing around for the car keys, which Sky had left on the counter. She’d already decided to take the big white Cadillac. It was safer and had better air conditioning than her Corvette, which was almost out of gas.
“Good morning, señorita.” Miguel was a quiet, easygoing man of sixty, whose cooking skill
s made up for a general lack of organization. The less he knew, the better, Lauren decided.
“We had an accident yesterday with a gun in the den,” she said. “My father’s in the hospital. He’s going to be all right, but we’ll need you to keep an eye on things here. If a man comes to the back door and says he’s been hired to clean up the room, please let him in. But don’t go out front, and whatever you do, don’t talk to any reporters.”
“Reporters?” He looked puzzled.
“If anybody knocks on the front door or rings the bell, don’t open it. And if the phone rings, and it’s somebody you don’t know, hang up. Entiendes?”
He nodded. “You want coffee, señorita?”
“Not this morning, thanks. But the rest of that wine is for you to take home and share with your wife.”
Leaving him with a smile on his face, she went outside and climbed into her father’s Cadillac, which still reeked of his mysterious girlfriend’s perfume. Maybe she had something to do with the trouble he was in. No woman who smelled like that was fit to be trusted. But try telling that to a man.
For the first few miles of highway, she drove with the windows down to freshen the air. But the sun was up by now, the dry summer heat coming in like the blast from a furnace. It was only a matter of time before Lauren had to close the windows and turn on the air conditioner. At least the darkly tinted glass offered some relief from the blinding sun.
By the time she passed the roadside diner, she was getting hungry. It might not hurt to stop and have a good breakfast, she reasoned. If her father needed her at the hospital, she could be in for a long day. Swinging the car around, she pulled up to the diner and went inside. A trucker at a table was reading an open newspaper.
TEXAS CONGRESSMAN TAKES DRUG MONEY. The blaring headlines on the front page screamed the story of her father’s disgrace. Forcing herself to look the other way, Lauren found an empty booth, where she ordered coffee and a cheese omelet. While she was waiting, her cell phone rang. It was Sky’s friend calling about the cleanup job. By the time the waitress had brought her coffee, she’d given the man directions and agreed on a price. One less worry, at least.
