A Cowboy for Christmas

by Stella Bagwell

  “I wasn’t in that kiss alone and you know it!”

  He was right. There was no use denying that she’d been just as much a part of the kiss as he’d been. But he’d started it, and she wanted to know why.

  “What difference does it make if your mother brought up Jolene’s name? Is it supposed to be a secret that you two were once married?”

  His face was suddenly a stony mask. “No. It isn’t a secret. But all of that was—that’s my private life. It’s not something I share with anyone.”

  He couldn’t have said anything that could have hurt Lucinda more. But then she’d asked for it, she told herself.

  Turning slightly away from him, Lucinda stared with burning eyes at the ornament Chance had made for his mother so many years ago. She was stupid, she realized, to think she could ever mean that much to anyone.

  “Well, I know what you’re trying to say. I don’t normally share my mother’s death or the fact that I was raised in an orphanage with anyone, either. I guess I just had a momentary lapse with you.” Stepping around him, she started out of the room. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my work.”

  As Chance watched her limp away, her head up, her long hair swinging against her back, he hated himself. He’d never meant to hurt her, damn it! But Jolene was—dead, he forced himself to finish. When was he ever going to be able to put her memory to rest?

  “Lucinda, wait!”

  She didn’t stop. Not until his hand came down on her shoulder. She looked up at him then, her expression as cool and distant as she could make it.

  Chance’s features twisted with anguish. “Look, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “Yes. You meant it.”

  He let out a long breath. “Okay. So maybe I did. But I was wrong.”

  Surprised by his admission, she turned around to face him. “No. I was wrong, Chance. I was wrong to think that one little kiss between us gave me any rights to bring up any woman in your past.”

  One little kiss? Is that how she thought of the embrace they’d shared? It had seemed more like instant combustion to Chance.

  “But I expected you to tell me about yourself. And then I—” The frustration of wanting to make her understand made him shake his head. “I’m not used to talking about Jolene with anyone.”

  She shook her hair back away from her face. Chance watched a strand of it slide against the peak of her breast, then finally settle against her arm.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  During those moments Lucinda had been in his arms, Chance had forgotten all about Jolene. His mind had emptied of everything except for the taste of Lucinda’s lips, the feel of her warm curves pressed against him. And he supposed that was the thing that had really angered him. He’d finally met a woman who could make him forget Jolene and he felt very guilty about that.

  Releasing a tired breath, he said, “Because, like you, I don’t want to look at painful memories.”

  She should have never started this conversation, Lucinda realized. Because now she was seeing more than just a cowboy who’d rescued her from a wrecked car. He was a man who’d once loved and lost, a man who wanted to keep his thoughts and his heart to himself. A man she was becoming hopelessly attracted to.

  “You must have cared for her deeply,” she murmured.

  “I did care for her. But that didn’t keep her from dying less than a year after we were married.”

  His words literally stunned the breath from Lucinda. The last thing she’d expected to hear was that Chance had been widowed. He must have been devastated.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Chance was sorry, too, he realized. Sorry that he was afraid to take Lucinda back in his arms and let himself forget the past.

  Shrugging, he said, “Yeah. Well, you wanted to know. Now you do.”

  She didn’t know everything. Especially why he’d kissed her so passionately, but Lucinda wasn’t going to remind him of that. She was going to put the whole thing down to a sudden whim and do her best to forget that she’d ever spent one moment in Chance Delacroix’s arms.

  “So now we’re even. You’ve told me all about you and I’ve told you all about me,” she said. Then forcing a smile on her face, she added, “And now I really am going back to my room. I promised your mother and sister some new clothes and I want to make sure they get them before I leave.”

  Chance watched her limp out of the room and, as he did, it dawned on him that he didn’t want her to go. Not because his mother and sister were gone and the house was quiet. He simply wanted to have her in the same room with him. He wanted to be able to look at her, talk to her. And touch her.

  Damn it, Chance, didn’t you learn anything tonight? he asked himself. Kissing Lucinda hadn’t turned out to be a simple meeting of their lips. It had been the meeting between a man and a woman, a precious glimpse of what could be.

  But Chance knew what love could be. When it filled your heart the whole world was a magical place. Once it was gone, life became a living hell.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning Lucinda rose long before dawn, took a quick shower, then dressed in a pair of winter white corduroy pants and a cowl-necked, emerald green sweater.

  After brushing and tying her towel-dried hair back from her face with a green velvet ribbon, she left the bedroom and headed to the kitchen.

  She found it as dark and quiet as the rest of the house. Obviously the Delacroix family didn’t rise quite this early in the morning, Lucinda decided as she flipped on a light over the kitchen sink.

  Yesterday she’d learned where the coffee makings were so she quickly started a pot dripping, then went to look out the plate glass door leading onto the back porch.

  Cupping her hands around her face and eyes, she could see the sky was clear and twinkling with stars. The white snow covering the ground gave off an eerie illumination, allowing her to see as far out as the barns and feedlots.

  Sarah Jane had told her that in the spring and summer months, hundreds of acres of grain were grown in the nearby area, turning the fields into a sea of green. Right now it was hard to imagine the sight. Just placing her hands against the glass door told Lucinda the temperature outside was probably in the single digits.

  The sound of the coffeepot gurgling its last few drops called her back over to the cabinet area. She filled a mug then poured in a bit of half-and-half cream she’d found in the refrigerator.

  Lucinda drank the first few sips standing beside the cabinet before she carried her cup over to the breakfast counter and sank down onto one of the stools.

  Even though she’d gone to bed early, she felt tired this morning. But that was hardly surprising when she’d spent the better part of the night flopping from one side of the mattress to the other.

  No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t quit thinking about Chance, how distant he’d been because she’d mentioned Jolene and the expression on his face when he’d told her that his wife had died.

  Lucinda could come to only one conclusion. Chance had never stopped loving the woman. Even though she was dead, she was still living in Chance’s heart. It was no wonder he hadn’t kissed anyone in years, she thought. He probably saw it as cheating on Jolene’s memory.

  Well, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him he was living in the past. She had her own problems to think about. She certainly didn’t want to compound them by letting Chance get under her skin. It was bad enough to be running from one man, she didn’t think she could survive two.

  The unwelcome thought of Richard reminded Lucinda that she hadn’t yet called Molly. She glanced at her wristwatch, then at the phone sitting on the bar a few feet down from her.

  Her friend would be up now, getting her husband off to work and her children ready for school. Lucinda still had the kitchen to herself, so she wouldn’t have to be worried about what she could safely say in front of the Delacroix family.

  Before she could cha
nge her mind, she moved to the end of the bar and punched the operator for a collect call.

  A few seconds later, Molly was squealing in her ear. “Lucy! Where in the world are you? I’ve been worried out of my mind!”

  “I’m sorry, Molly. I meant to call you last night, but I— got sidetracked. I thought I’d catch you before you headed out to work this morning.”

  Molly breathed a long sigh of relief. “It’s a good thing you did. I’ve been trying to decide whether to contact the police—”

  “Molly, no! God forbid! You know Richard would be the first one to start looking for me!”

  “I know. I know,” she quickly assured Lucinda. “That’s why I’ve tried to keep patient. So where are you now?”

  “Actually, I’m stranded.”

  “Stranded! Lucy, come to your senses and catch a plane back to Chicago.”

  “Never. I’m not about to go back to that life.” Especially now that she’d met the Delacroix and glimpsed for herself what living within a family really meant. She had to go on to California and hope that someday she’d have a real Christmas tree with ornaments made by her own children. And under the tree, she’d have gifts wrapped with love.

  “Look, I’m fine, Molly. I’m staying with a family southwest of Amarillo. The way things stand right now, my car is wrecked, my ankle is sprained and the highways are covered with ice and snow. It looks like I’ll be here for a few days. Possibly until after Christmas.”

  Molly groaned loudly. “You’re staying with a family you don’t even know? My lord, Lucy, don’t they have motels out there?”

  Lucinda realized the whole thing probably sounded strange to Molly, who considered a ten-mile trip to her mother’s house an adventure. “The way things happened I couldn’t make it to a motel. Besides, the Delacroix are very nice people. Their home is a big ranch called the D Bar D.”

  “You’re on a ranch with real cows and cowboys?”

  Lucinda couldn’t help but laugh. Molly made it sound as though being on a ranch was the next thing to visiting Hollywood.

  “That’s right,” Lucinda told her, then gave her the ranch’s phone number just in case the other woman needed to contact her. “Now I’d better get off the line. I’m running up your bill.”

  “When can I expect to hear from you again?” Molly wanted to know.

  “I’ll call when I leave here. And Molly, if Richard happens to come snooping around, don’t even hint that you know where I am.”

  “You know me better than that,” Molly assured her. “I’ll act like you haven’t even left the city.”

  “Thank you, Molly.”

  “You can thank me by taking care of yourself,” the other woman said.

  “Don’t worry about me. Once I get my car back and head on to California things will all work out.” Footsteps suddenly sounded behind her. Lucinda looked over her shoulder to see Chance entering the room. “Uh, I’ve got to go, Molly. Have a good Christmas.”

  Before Molly could make a reply, she quickly slapped down the receiver and turned to Chance. “Good morning,” she said. “You’re up early.”

  He glanced pointedly at her, then the telephone. “Obviously not as early as you.”

  Before Lucinda could stop it, a flush of heat spread over her face. Damn him! He made her feel like a little girl caught with her finger in the sugar bowl.

  “I guess I should have asked about using the phone first. But I called collect. So I thought—”

  Frowning, he turned toward the coffeepot. “I’m not worried about the cost. I was only wondering who you’d be calling at such an early hour. Since you don’t have family—”

  “That was—my friend, Molly. Well, actually she’s more than a friend. She was my seamstress. I promised to keep in close contact with her until I reached California.”

  “I see.”

  No, he couldn’t really see, Lucinda thought, as she watched him reach for a mug. He didn’t know that Molly was concerned for her safety, any more than he knew what it was like to have someone torture him with threats, to play sick games with his mind until it was impossible for him to eat, sleep or make sense of anything.

  Chance poured the mug full of coffee then carried it over to where she sat at the breakfast counter. “Do you usually get up this early?” he asked.

  She nodded. “During the workweek.”

  She didn’t add that she’d gotten up this morning because it had been useless to remain in bed when she couldn’t sleep. The tired lines on her face had probably already told him she’d spent a restless night.

  “What about you? Is this your regular rising time?”

  “Yeah. I like to have enough time to feed the horses before breakfast.”

  Propping her elbows on the breakfast bar, Lucinda leaned forward to put him out of the line of her vision. Yet her attempt to keep her eyes off him didn’t work. Before she could stop herself, her head was turning to look at him. And blast it all, he still looked as damnably handsome as he had last night.

  He was dressed similarly to yesterday, only this morning his shirt was black denim with pearl snaps. The top two at the throat were undone, giving her a view of his undershirt. Something about the white fabric lying against his darkly tanned throat struck her with the unexplainable urge to lean toward him. More than anything, she wanted to lay her hands upon his chest and slowly open the remaining snaps holding his shirt together. She wanted to push the tough denim aside and feel the soft cotton and warm muscles she knew she’d find beneath it.

  “I have twenty head right now,” he went on, unaware of the direction Lucinda’s thoughts had taken. “All of them what we call ‘using’ horses. It costs like hell to feed that many, but I couldn’t run the ranch without them. The D Bar D covers more than four thousand acres. That equals a lot of ground and cattle to look after. I know many ranchers use four-wheelers now to do some of the things horses do. But I don’t cotton to those things.”

  Clearing her throat, she looked away from him, then pressed her fingers against her eyes. What was the matter with her? She thought she’d learned her lesson last night.

  “You, uh, prefer the traditional ways,” she said as she did her best to collect her thoughts.

  “In the case of horses, I do.”

  And what about women, and marriage, and babies? she wanted to ask him, then gave herself another mental shake. Chance had already been married once, and from the way he’d acted last night he wasn’t about to love, honor and cherish any woman except his dead wife. The idea left a flat feeling inside of her.

  “I’d like to see your horses sometime before I leave the ranch. Would you mind showing them to me?”

  He looked at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m surprised you asked.”

  She frowned at him. “Why? Because I’m a girl from the big city and I only know about fashion and fabric and living out of a scrunched-up little apartment on the tough side of town?”

  He twisted the bar stool so that he was facing her. As Lucinda took in his closeness, the broad width of his shoulders and the sensual curve to his lips, she felt the room shrink around them.

  “No,” he said to her question. “I figure most city people, from either side of the tracks, would like horses if they had the opportunity to be around them. I was talking about last night.”

  Lucinda’s heart gave a couple of hard thuds against her breast then seemed to want to stop completely. “What about last night?” she asked, unaware that her voice had dipped to a cautious murmur.

  His eyes met hers, lingered there, then dropped to her lips. Lucinda suddenly began to ache with the want to touch him, to have him kiss her again. The same way he’d kissed her last night.

  “You were angry with me. I expected you to still be that way this morning.”

  She was surprised by his notion. Mainly because his thinking was so far from the truth. “I wasn’t mad at you. If I recall, it was the other way around.”

  His expression rueful, he glanced down at his coffe
e mug. He didn’t think he’d slept more than two hours last night. All he’d been able to think about was Lucinda and the way she’d looked when he’d told her he didn’t share his private life with anyone. He’d hurt her. It had been all over her face. And though he’d never intended to do it, he couldn’t forget that he’d caused her a moment’s pain.

  “I was a lot more angry with myself than I was with you. Hell, it’s been so long since I’ve been around a woman for any length of time I—well, I guess I’ve gotten pretty rough around the edges.”

  “You live with two women,” she pointed out.

  He grimaced. “They’re kin to me. You’re different.”

  And she was making him different, Chance realized. Two days ago it wouldn’t have mattered to him if he’d hurt Lucinda, or anyone who dared to bring up Jolene around him. He’d figured he had the right to lash out and protect his privacy. Losing Jolene and the baby had given him that right. But that was a crazy way of thinking. He could see that now and the revelation staggered him.

  “I’m different? How do you mean?”

  A wry smile twisted his lips. “I don’t go around kissing my mother or sister—the way I kissed you.”

  Just having him mention the time she’d spent wound tightly in his arms set her heart to thumping. “Forget the kiss,” she said huskily. “I already have.”

  Had she? Chance wondered. Then why didn’t she look him in the eye instead of staring at the wall behind his head?

  “How’s your ankle?”

  Relieved that he’d changed the subject, she stuck her foot out and showed him that her ankle had regained some of its former flexibility. “It’s feeling better. It only pains a little to walk on it now.”

  “Then maybe you’ll feel like walking through the horse barn after lunch. If I get things caught up, I’ll come fetch you.” He slid off the bar stool and carried his cup over to the kitchen sink. “Right now I’d better get to work. See you at breakfast.”

  See you at breakfast. The simple little phrase stayed with her as Chance left the room and she walked over to the plate glass door.