Her Forever Man

by Leanne Banks

  “I didn’t say that,” she said, and wished she hadn’t liked it. She sighed. “I know we’re not suited. You’re so Texan, and I’m so New York, and you’re just so…male,” she said, knowing it sounded lame.

  His lips twitched. “That’s bad?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes for a moment to find her bearings, then opened them. “I’m just not sure an affair with you is a good idea.”

  “Sounds like you know more about what you don’t want than what you do want,” Brock said, lifting his finger to her cheek, then sliding it down her cheek to her throat. “Maybe you should spend a little more time thinking about what you want,” he said, his voice caressing all her secret places.

  His gaze kissed her, consumed her, made love to her, sending apprehension and a wicked temptation that sent her into an emotional tailspin. She wondered how she could stand so still when she felt as if she were going a hundred miles per hour.

  She swallowed. “I may do that,” she said, unable to look away from him.

  “Good,” he said, sliding his finger lower beneath her robe, dangerously close to her nipple.

  Felicity held her breath, and he circled the tender swollen bead with his finger. When he pulled away, she bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

  He lifted the same finger to his mouth and kissed it. “Sweet dreams, darlin’.”

  He left her then, alone and so hot she was sure her feet would burn holes in the floor. Rushing to the window, she threw it open and drank in the cool night air. Overwhelmed by her arousal, she shook her head. She wondered what Brock would think and do if he knew that for all her proposals, or perhaps partly because of them, she’d never made love with a man. Would he laugh or be angry?

  She perched in the window seat and stared up at the big Texas sky. He’d made an important point, though. If she wasn’t going to get married, and the convent was out because she was on fire for a Texas rancher, she did need to make some decisions about how she was going to handle her romantic life. She also needed to decide if she had the nerve to have an affair with Brock.

  The following week, Brock spent most of Monday night working with a first-time mama who seemed bent on delivering her calf in a stream. She successfully delivered the calf on dry ground, but took her time doing the job. By Tuesday afternoon, he was beat, so he decided to catch a few winks.

  As soon as he walked in the front door, Addie greeted him. “The word is out,” she said ominously. “You’ve received three invitations to bring your guest from New York with you to dinner.”

  Brock bit back an oath and swiped his hand over his face. “Did you tell them I’m too busy?”

  “They all said they would be happy to entertain your guest if you’re otherwise occupied.” Addie lowered her voice. “They also asked if you and Felicity are romantically involved.”

  Suspicion settled in his gut. “Who were they?”

  “The Fosters, McClanahans and Parkers. All have sons of marriageable age.”

  “With an eye to adding to the family nest egg,” Brock said in disgust. “I knew this would happen. It’s exactly what I wanted to avoid. Soon the whole damn county will be pounding on my door trying to get at—”

  The sharp screech of brakes drew his attention out the window. He glanced at one of the ranch trucks and noticed his brother in the passenger seat. He lifted his hand to wave, when he saw who sat in the driver seat. His blood pressure flew through the roof. “Felicity,” he muttered, and stalked through the door.

  The truck lurched forward, then stopped again.

  Brock reached the truck and counted to ten. He didn’t know who to kill first.

  “I’m giving Felicity her first truck-driving lesson,” Tyler said with a smile.

  Brock noticed Felicity didn’t look at him. “I can see that. Did you leave your brains on a gurney at the hospital?” he demanded.

  “No. She asked me if I would teach her to drive a truck. Driving is something everybody ought to know how to do, so I couldn’t turn her down.” He tossed Felicity a flirting smile.

  Brock clenched his fists. “I’d like to talk with you for a moment.”

  “Sure,” Tyler said easily. “We’ll be finished in—”

  “Now,” Brock said.

  Tyler must have read the tone of his voice accurately, because his brother sighed and looked at Felicity apologetically. “Give me a couple of minutes, but don’t take off for Mexico.”

  Brock ground his teeth. Tyler followed him to the porch. “I don’t want you teaching her to drive.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s leaving, going back to the city. She doesn’t need to learn how to drive. I don’t want to encourage her to stay here.”

  Tyler cocked his head to one side consideringly and scratched his chin. “That’s a little cold, even for you, considering what she’s done for the kids.”

  “Ty, we just got three invitations inviting her to dinner. Word about her is out.”

  “I wonder who blabbed,” he said.

  “Ray probably did after I fired his sorry self.”

  Tyler did a double take. “You fired Ray?”

  “He took her into town after I told him not to, then he pushed himself on her at the bar.”

  Tyler gave a low whistle. “She really wants to learn to drive. I could tell her I won’t do it, but I’m sure she’ll be able to find someone else who will.”

  Brock’s blood boiled. “I knew she was gonna be trouble.”

  Tyler tossed him a conspiratorial grin. “Maybe you should teach her to drive.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t leave your brains on a gurney?”

  “Unless you want me to do it. The lady’s made a legitimate request.”

  Brock swore.

  Tyler grinned. “A beer sounds good to me right now,” he said. “See ya later. The lady’s waiting.”

  Brock swore again.

  How had this happened? he wondered as he stalked to the truck and opened the door. How in hell had he gotten himself in this position? He was in the mood to tie a crowbar in a knot, not teach a New Yorker to drive a truck.

  He finally looked at Felicity. She was dressed in soft pink; pink jeans and a matching pink silk blouse. Her blond hair hung in a shiny curtain over her shoulders. Except for the wary, but defiant look in her green eyes, she looked like a sweet, pretty lady who wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone drive a Logan to drink. “I told you what I thought about this,” he said.

  “Yes, and I followed your instructions,” she said, lifting her chin.

  He wondered how her convoluted brain had come up with that line of thinking. “How?”

  “You told me to find another man, another time,” she said in a voice far too sexy and smoky for her sweet pink attire. “So that’s what I did.”

  Seven

  The subtle scent of her perfume must have drugged his senses during the first part of the lesson because thirty minutes later, Brock had a stiff neck, a sore back and a headache the size of his beloved Lone Star State. He might as well have been riding a bronco. He endured Felicity’s jarring ride until she improved in at least one area—steering. She still jerked when she turned, but not as much as she had at the beginning. Or maybe he was just becoming numb.

  When she slammed on the brakes one last time in front of the house, Brock breathed a sigh of relief and planned to grab headache medication as soon as he entered the door.

  Felicity looked at him with a forlorn expression on her face, as if she were braced for disapproving words from him. “I’m a rotten driver,” she said, sounding so defeated that he couldn’t bring himself to agree. It would have been like kicking a puppy.

  “It’s your first time. You didn’t have an accident,” he pointed out.

  “I almost hit the fence a couple of times,” she countered glumly.

  “But you didn’t,” he said.

  “This was the worst ride you’ve had in your life,” Felicity said.

  “I’ve had worse,” he said withou
t batting an eye, and he had—on unbroken horses and broncs. He remembered a memorable ride in the back of a truck filled with manure.

  “But I’m the worst new driver you’ve ever ridden with,” she continued.

  Brock didn’t like seeing her beat up on herself. “I ran into a tree when I was first learning to drive.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did?”

  He nodded. “See, I did worse than you did.”

  She studied him silently for a long moment, then smiled and leaned closer to him. Her sweet scent swam around his nostrils, and he stared at her lips. She had the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen, mobile, full and pink. He would love to see her mouth caressing his body, lingering, licking. He grew warm.

  “You’re lying, and I really appreciate it. It makes me think you might like me a little bit,” she said, brushing her sweet, sinful mouth against his. “Just a little bit.”

  She gave him a little taste, but Brock was past the time when a little bit of Felicity was enough. He lifted his hand to her chin and gently kneaded her jaw, urging her to open more to him. He plunged his tongue into her silken mouth and something inside him crackled and burned.

  She clung to his shoulders and pulled away, dipping her head. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

  “I can help with that,” he murmured, sliding his hand up her rib cage to her breast.

  “Your children are walking up the driveway,” she told him.

  Brock groaned. He couldn’t remember when he’d had a more frustrating day. His head and loins throbbing, he swore under his breath and pulled back from her. “You’re not a secret anymore. You’ve received three invitations to dinner at neighboring ranches.”

  Felicity sighed. “You’ve got to help me give away my money.”

  “You still haven’t told me your plans after you give it away.”

  “I’m going to be a piano tuner,” she deadpanned.

  “Try again,” he said.

  Bree and Jacob walked up beside the driver’s door and Felicity rolled down the window. “Hey, kiddos,” Brock said.

  “Hi, how are the two best second graders in Texas?”

  “Ready to play,” Bree said and smiled at Brock. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “I’m hungry,” Jacob said. “What are you doing?”

  “Your dad gave me a driving lesson.”

  Jacob scrutinized the truck. “You didn’t wreck it, did you?”

  Bree walked around to the passenger window and Brock chuckled as he ruffled her hair.

  “No, but your dad thinks I should get a job.”

  Bree made a face. “If you got a job, then you couldn’t paint my fingernails.”

  “Another skill,” Felicity said. “I can be a manicurist.”

  Brock rolled his eyes.

  “Are they looking for people to work at the ice-cream store? That would be a great job,” Jacob suggested. “You could probably get free ice cream.”

  “That’s three,” she said to Brock. “You already rejected my idea of entering a convent.”

  He slid his gaze over her curves and shook his head. “I still do.” He thought about his Ranger friend’s upcoming trip to South America. “I’d like you to open a bank account in town and give me the number.”

  Felicity wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Why do I—”

  “Dad, can we go for a ride this afternoon?” Jacob asked.

  “After you do your homework,” Brock said, and got out of the truck. He walked around the truck and opened the door for Felicity. “For insurance purposes, I’ll take the keys.”

  “Afraid I’m going to drive your truck into town without the benefit of a driver’s license?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say I’m removing temptation. Addie or I will take you into town soon for you to open your account.”

  “You didn’t say why you wanted me to open an account,” she said, uneasiness dimming the sparkle in her green eyes.

  Brock didn’t want to get her hopes up. “I’ll let you know more about that later.” He turned to Jacob. “Hey, son, did your teacher send anything to me?”

  “A note,” Jacob said, pulling it from his backpack. “She said for me to keep doing whatever I’ve been doing.”

  “Fun with Phonics,” Felicity said, walking with them toward the house.

  “Taking turns reading at night,” Brock said at the same time.

  She looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you’d been reading with him at night.”

  “Yeah, I have. What’s Fun with Phonics?”

  “A cassette program that helps kids learn to read. One of the books I read recommended it.”

  Brock nodded. “I had a conference with his teacher last week and—”

  “You did?” she exclaimed.

  Her surprise irritated him. “Yeah, he’s my kid. If he’s got a problem, I’m gonna help him.”

  “I thought you were too busy.”

  “I may not be able to be there when Jacob gets home in the afternoons, but there are other things I can do. I take care of my own,” he told her, watching the emotions in her eyes shift like facets of a gem. Curiosity, desire, admiration and a shadow of wariness. The combination teased and taunted, and Brock was finding Felicity caused an ache that plagued him twenty-four hours a day. He was going to have to find a way to stop it.

  Felicity could have refused Brock’s instruction to open a bank account in town, or she could have developed selective amnesia. She could have decided to trust Brock or not trust him.

  Despite her experience regarding men and her money, she wanted to believe he was different. He’d given her many reasons to believe he was. She wanted to trust him. She did. And she didn’t.

  She hated her ambivalence, so she fought it. When Addie took Felicity into town, she opened the account, then found herself fiddling with the new account checks and information during the return trip. Stifling a sigh of exasperation, she deliberately folded her hands over her lap and glanced at Addie. “How long have you worked for the Logans?”

  “Oh, my,” Addie said. “I started back when Tyler was born.” She shook her head and smiled in reminiscence. “The house was a very different place back then. Mrs. Logan always loved to give parties. Mr. Logan wasn’t that crazy about the parties, but he was crazy enough about her to put up with them.”

  “What was Brock like as a child?” Felicity asked, curious about him. She’d grown entirely too curious about Brock.

  “He was a noisy little hellion.”

  Felicity shook her head in confusion. “You’re joking! I would have though he was a quiet, solemn child.”

  “No. Before Mrs. Logan died, Brock made enough noise for three kids. After she died, of course, everything changed. So sad,” Addie said. “It’s still sad.”

  “And Brock’s father?”

  Addie sighed. “I think that was the worst thing. Those kids lost both parents when their mom died. Papa Mac grieved himself to death. He hurt so much he couldn’t give anything to the kids, and he was hard on Brock, expected a lot of him.”

  Felicity’s heart twisted at the loss Brock must have felt. “But didn’t things change when Brock got married?”

  Addie rolled her eyes. “Now that was a disaster if I ever saw one. He met his ex-wife at college and asked her to marry him when she showed up pregnant. She hated ranch life and wasn’t maternally inclined, if you know what I mean,” she said with a frown. “You know what that man needs?”

  “What?” Felicity asked.

  “He needs a woman who will love him no matter what. He’s the kind of man who can handle everything life throws at him, but he’ll live longer and better if he has a woman who loves him.”

  Felicity felt an odd tingling sensation, a clutch of her heart, and heard something inside her click into place. He needs a woman who will love him no matter what. Could she be that woman? The thought made her want to jump out of the moving truck.

  Could she be that woman? Felicity shook her head in apprehension. She c
ould not be that woman because she didn’t love Brock, he didn’t love her, she was never going to get married and neither was he.

  Her heart still hammering a mile a minute, she took a couple of deep breaths and told herself she needn’t ask herself that question again. The matter was settled. Besides, she wasn’t even sure she trusted him. Opening the bank account and giving him access to it was a bit like throwing down the gauntlet. If he liquidated her account, she would know she shouldn’t trust him.

  Over the next few days while Felicity struggled with her ambivalence, she avoided Brock. Every morning after he left she casually asked Addie his plans, then stayed out of his way. To keep herself busy, she continued to tune the piano and bring the study back to life. She talked and studied with the children after they arrived home. She ate a light dinner before he arrived home and retired to the guest room to pace and fret.

  Her emotions and doubts seemed to bounce off the walls like a hundred rubber balls. Felicity wondered how Brock was doing. She wondered if he missed her. “Silly,” she whispered. He was probably relieved to have her out from under his feet, she thought. Well, boots, she amended.

  Too restless to stand one more minute in the room, she decided to take a bath. On her way down the hall, she heard Brock’s deep voice coming from Jacob’s room. Slowing outside the door, she heard Brock reading, then Jacob followed in a halting, but determined voice.

  Her throat tightened. For the next few moments, she stood there listening to Brock and Jacob. The devotion they shared was clear. She heard a slight edge of weariness in Brock’s tone, but still he continued. Pieces of her restraint slipped from her grip.

  Unable to resist, she sneaked a peek into the room and drank in the sight of Brock stretched out on the bed with Jacob beside him. Her heart turned over at the sight of the two dark heads bent over the book. She saw the way Brock’s hand encircled Jacob’s shoulder. Encouragement, love, support. She could feel it even as she stood outside the door.

  Living with the Logans had made it abundantly clear that she’d been standing outside her entire life, and she didn’t want to spend the rest of her years doing the same. She stared at Brock, and a myriad of emotions slammed through her. She had missed him, missed seeing his face, hearing his voice, missed the forbidden promise of his touch. She felt a shocking intense longing to be more to him than a troublesome silent partner. She wanted to be more to him and to do more for him.