by Lisa Jackson
Ronni cleared her throat as it didn’t want to work. “Vic’s worried about her, of course, and the baby, but she’s hanging in. Between her neighbor and me, she gets a little relief with the twins, but I think she’s still on her feet more than she should be.” She tightened the lid on the oat barrel, trying to regain some of her fast-fleeting composure. “But at least Victor’s working and that’s helped relieve some of the stress.” She glanced past him to the darkness and prayed he couldn’t hear the ridiculous hammering of her heart. “Are you here alone?”
Nodding, he said, “I finally got a packet from the school with information on Bryan’s classes and they’re different from the ones he was taking in Seattle, so he’s doing some catch-up reading—Charles Dickens.” His gray eyes touched hers again and lingered for a second. “Well, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing.”
“So…you decided to take a walk,” she guessed. Dear Lord, were her palms sweating? It was cold as ice out here, yet she felt a warm flush.
His smile was positively wicked as he snapped off the lights and the only illumination was the reflection of moonlight that bounced off the snow to shaft through the small windows and open door. “Actually, I decided to see you,” he admitted with an edge of reluctance to his voice.
“Should I be flattered?” she asked, unable to stop flirting a little even though her heart was beginning to knock crazily in her chest.
“Definitely.” He pulled the door shut behind him and they were suddenly alone. More alone than they had been.
“Why’s that?” she asked, her pulse leaping wildly.
“Because it’s been a long time since I wanted to be with a woman,” he said, walking slowly up to her. “Maybe too long.” Stopping just inches from her, he wound his finger in the long braid that had flipped over her shoulder to curl around her breast. “You know, Ronni, I just don’t know what to do with you.”
“No?” she asked, the barn suddenly seeming to close, the air hard to breathe. “Why not?”
“You’re not like any woman I’ve ever met.”
“Is that bad?”
“Maybe…maybe not.” She licked her lips nervously and a muscle worked his jaw. “I don’t want this,” he said.
“Want what?” But she knew. They both knew. Desire, new and frightening, yet as old as time, hung in the air.
Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered, “I don’t know what it is about you, woman. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something damned irresistible.” His arms circled her waist. “I just can’t fight it,” he said, “though God knows I’ve tried.”
His lips brushed over hers and though she knew she was wading in dangerous waters, she couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t. It had been too long and Travis touched her like no other man. Ronni’s breathing was already shallow, her heartbeat fluttering like the wings of a frightened bird. She gave herself without hesitation, kissing him, holding him, feeling his weight drag them both to the straw-strewn floor.
His lips were warm, the air cool and the quiet nicker of the horses in counterpoint to the soft hoot of an owl. Ronni closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of him, the way his lips touched the shell of her ear, the pressure of his hands as his fingers found the zipper of her jacket. She sensed the cold whisper of air caress her skin as he lifted her sweater over her head, and then, with weak moonlight filtering through the windows, unhooked her bra, letting her breasts spill into the night.
He kissed the deep cleft, breathed fire across the goose bumps that raised on her skin and touched a nipple that puckered and strained until his tongue encircled the taut point.
Writhing in sweet agony, she arched upward, her blood on fire, a dark need unfolding deep within. His hands reached behind her, pressing intimately on the naked small of her back, tracing the long depression of her spine as his lips surrounded one nipple and he began to suckle, creating a whirlpool of desire deep in the most feminine part of her.
“Travis,” she cried when he delved beneath her jeans, his fingers grazing her buttocks, his hands hot and ready. The buttons of her fly opened in a sharp series of pops and soon, still making love to her breasts with his mouth, he skimmed the jeans down her legs, discarded her shoes and socks and she was suddenly naked in the dark barn. Burning and anxious and naked.
When he lifted his head, she cried out, but then he moved lower, his tongue tracing a path along the center of her abdomen. She bucked, her hips rising off the floor with the want of him and he whispered, “Slow down, honey. Just slow down and enjoy.”
She knew she should stop, that she was crossing an invisible and dangerous line, but she couldn’t find the words and her voice was dry and hoarse as he continued kissing her and stroking her, spreading her legs gently, slowly finding that sensitive part of her that she’d sworn no man would ever discover again.
But she didn’t stop him and as he touched her, slowly at first and then more rapidly, she found his rhythm and moved furiously with each magic stroke, inviting more, wanting more, gritting her teeth with the need of him, all of him. His hands and mouth were exquisite and she felt herself soaring ever higher like a shooting star careering across the sky until the release, when it came, rocked her so hard she would have sworn the heavens split and the world shattered.
Only when it was over, when he was holding her in his arms and kissing away the tears of relief, was she able to slow the beating of her heart and hear the soft sigh of the wind over her own ragged, desperate breaths. How could one man affect her so? How could she ever let him touch her again—how could she not? In a few short weeks, she’d come to rely on and trust him as she had trusted no one since Hank.
“Travis, I—”
“Shh, honey. No need for words.” But his eyes had darkened as if there were unspoken gestures hanging between them.
She nestled in his arms for a minute before becoming aware of the sharp tensile strength of his muscles, the hard planes of his face and the very noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans.
Turning to him, she held his face in her hands and began kissing him, slowly at first and then more feverishly until he moaned with pleasure. With fumbling fingers she stripped him of his jacket and sweatshirt, her fingers playing softly in the swirling hair of his chest.
Strong and sinewy, his flesh was hot and firm. She kissed him on his bare skin, rimming one of his nipples with her tongue and letting her fingers explore him, the ridges and planes of his muscles, the slope of his back, the rounded firmness of his buttocks.
When she opened his fly, he didn’t stop her and as she pushed off his jeans, he groaned in some kind of male ecstasy. Her fingers glided over the hard muscles of his thighs and she moved lower, but before she could pleasure him as he had her, he kissed her and his knees parted her legs. Eyes, seeking and dark, stared at her breasts as he poised over her. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, sweat beading his upper lip.
“Yes,” she lied. How could she be sure of anything? But she wanted him…maybe even loved him….
“No regrets?”
“None,” she promised.
Biting his lower lip, he fumbled in the dark, found his jeans and shook out his wallet. Deep within the leather he found the foil packet and opened it quickly.
Ronni was still breathing hard, her abdomen rising and falling, her breasts full and wanting as he kissed first one nipple, then the other. He lifted her hips with his hands. Eyes locked with hers, he entered her, so slowly she thought she would die in ecstasy, and then he withdrew just as lazily, as if he had all the willpower in the world. She would never have thought she could be ready so soon after being satiated, but her need was great and she moved with him, accepting his thrusts, yearning for more, wanting all of him.
His tempo increased. She moaned and cried out as he fell to his elbows and joined her in a fierce, ancient dance that caused the earth to sha
tter and the seas to part.
“Travis,” she whispered, his name familiar and right. “Travis, oh, please—” And then it came, that sweet spasm of delight that caused him to collapse against her, crushing her breasts and jarring her to her very soul. This was how it was supposed to be.
She held him close, her heart pounding wildly, and a new sensation akin to love surrounded her in its gentle blanket. The horses snorted as if in disapproval, but she didn’t care. For the first time in nearly four years, she felt like a woman, a full, complete woman.
“You’re beautiful, Veronica,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. He brushed a strand of hair from her face and when he stared at her, she saw deeper emotions in his eyes, as if he too felt the change in their relationship, he too realized there was no turning back, he too knew their lives would never be the same.
Levering up on one elbow, he stared down at her and touched the hill of her cheek with one long finger. “I…I…” He stopped, took in a deep breath and shook his head. “Look what you’ve reduced me to, woman.”
A tightness was forming in her throat as she realized how serious he’d become. How sober. How intense.
A heartbeat, then his gaze locked with hers. Her throat turned to sand. Oh, God, she knew what he was going to ask before the words, those beautiful, frightening words whispered through the barn.
He took her hand in his as if afraid she might pull away, “I want you to marry me.”
CHAPTER TEN
“I…I DON’T KNOW what to say,” Ronni whispered as Travis plucked a piece of straw from her hair.
A smile split his jaw and some of the tension drained from his face. “How about, ‘Oh, Travis, I never thought you’d ask, I’ll marry you and bear your children, clean your house, wash your clothes, kiss the ground you walk on and be devoted to you for the rest of your life?’”
Ronni, close to tears a moment before, laughed. “Oh, sure, that’s what was on the tip of my tongue.” Kissing him, she saw the merriment in his eyes and she hugged him closer. Marriage. To Travis. “I—I want to be sure,” she said as the reality hit her.
“You aren’t now?”
“For the moment, yes, but for the rest of our lives…? I barely know you.”
He smiled, his teeth flashing white in the darkness as he stared at her. “I feel like I’ve been looking for you all my life.”
“Really?” she asked and he laughed. “Be serious for a minute.”
“I am. Dead serious. I want you to be my wife.”
“I though that after your divorce you were through with marriage.”
“But I didn’t count on meeting you.”
Sighing, she said, “I don’t know if it would be fair—to you.”
“I know what I want.”
“Do you?” Still reeling from his proposal, she sat up and felt the cold air chill her skin. Never once had he said that he loved her, nor she him. It was just too soon, too early in their relationship. She’d known Hank for years before she’d married him and even now, almost four years after his death, she felt as if she was betraying his memory.
“I’m willing to take a chance.”
“But I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “There’s Amy—”
“Who’s crazy about me and Bryan.”
“That much is true.” Wrapping her arms around her legs, she stared at this wonderful man. Her first impulse was to say yes and throw herself into his arms and make love to him over and over again, but she had to be practical. She was a mother; he, too, had a child. It wasn’t just the two of them, they weren’t impetuous teenagers.
“How do you feel about my son?”
“Oh, that’s not it,” she said, reading his thoughts. “Bryan’s a little on the surly side sometimes, but that’s just the nature of the beast. A teenager suddenly thrown into a new situation—new home, new school. Then he wracks up his knee and feels like a fool so he covers it with bravado.”
“Thank you, Dr. Freud.”
“You disagree?” She arched a dark eyebrow high.
“Not at all, and I think you’re just what he needs—a no-nonsense woman who likes kids.”
“So that’s what this is all about.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not just looking for a new mother for my son. If that were the case, there are several women in Seattle who would have gladly done the honors.” He looked away from her and she experienced a jab of jealousy for these faceless women who wanted him. “But they were more interested in becoming Mrs. Travis Keegan than being a companion to me or my son. I had the feeling that each of them had the same agenda—their first act as my wife would be to banish Bryan to a boarding school as far away as possible.”
Had they slept with him? Shared his bed? Said they loved him? Had he promised them marriage? Told them he cared? “Then they were fools. Bryan’s a great kid.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so. He just needs some of his rough edges filed down, but it will all come in time.” Reaching in the straw for her jeans, she added, “Look, I’d better go inside. If Amy wakes up—”
“You’re ducking the issue.”
Flinging her sweater over her head, she said, “I just can’t make a quick decision like that. I mean, I never thought I’d marry again….”
“Because you were still married to Saint Hank.”
The accusation stung, but it was true. Years before, she’d believed that she would marry Hank, have his children, experience the joys and worries of parenthood, look forward to their grandchildren and eventually grow old holding each other’s hands. Emotion clogged her throat. “When I took those vows, I was serious.”
“But they ended with the ‘till death do us part’ bit.” There was a trace of anger in his voice and he glared at her with hard, unforgiving eyes.
“I know. I’ve finally accepted it.” She stuffed her bra into the back pocket of her jeans. “But it’s taken a while. A lot longer than it should have.” Only recently had the stones in her heart lightened. Only recently could she think of Hank’s death and not be angry. “Come on,” she said, shaking her hair loose, “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee and you can try and persuade me that becoming the next Mrs. Travis Keegan is the sane, sensible and only path to take.”
She started for the door but he tackled her and drew her down to the floor with him once more. “All right, Ronni, we’ll play this game your way,” he said, his nose touching hers, his eyes, bright and intense as he stared at her. “But I’m warning you, I’m not a patient man.”
“Funny you should bring up your lack of that particular virtue,” she replied with a giggle, “because I’ve been accused of the same thing.”
“See. We’re perfect for each other.”
“Convince me.”
“Gladly,” he whispered and kissed her until the breath was trapped in her lungs and the world began to spin again.
* * *
“You’re kidding!” Bryan said as he walked from one side of the room to the other. He was without crutches now and his gait was even and strong, with no hint of any lingering damage. The doctor had told him to take it easy, no strenuous running or jumping or skiing for a few weeks, but he was healing well and it looked as if he wasn’t going to need surgery. He threw his hat onto a sofa in the living room and glowered at his father. “I’m not going to any dumb little Christmas pageant, Dad.”
“Amy’s expecting you,” Travis said and swallowed a smile. Recently Bryan had begun to call him Dad again, though when it had first occurred eluded him.
“Geez!” Bryan flung one hand into the air in disgust. “Why’d she have to invite me?” he wondered aloud.
“Because she likes you.”
“She’s a runty little kid.”
“Doesn’t matter. She think
s you’re great.”
Bryan rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically. “She thinks everyone’s great and I’m tired of her hanging around bothering me. Why is it we spend so much time with them, anyway?”
“Because I like her mother. And I like Amy and Ronni’s going to be over here any minute, so try and paste a smile on your face, okay?”
He’d no sooner said the words than Ronni’s van pulled into the driveway. She’d worked all day at the mountain and her face was still flushed from the cold as she entered the room without her daughter. Travis spun Ronni under the mistletoe, then as she giggled, kissed her lightly on the lips.
Bryan, witnessing his father’s affection, looked out the window and glowered. He was talking about moving to France again and Travis figured he’d have to put up with the boy’s insecurities and worries for a while longer. No doubt Bryan would be upset until he started school and then, hopefully, once he realized that he would be accepted and find friends, all this angst would abate.
“Look at you,” Ronni said a trifle breathlessly when Travis set her on her feet. She was staring at Bryan as she stepped into the living room and tossed her purse onto the hearth. “No more crutches.”
“Nearly a clean bill of health,” Travis said.
“Yeah, but no basketball, skateboarding or skiing,” Bryan grumbled.
“All in good time.”
He made a sound of disgust as if he believed he’d never get to do anything the least bit fun again.
“So how were things on the mountain today?” Travis asked.
“Relatively calm considering it’s Christmas break,” she replied. “A few injuries, but not many, thank heavens.”
Another deprecating noise from Bryan’s direction.
Ronni ignored the boy’s foul mood. “I wanted to make sure you know how to get to the church. The pageant’s at seven, but I have to be there earlier since I’m in charge of the angel choir and getting the twins into their costumes.”
