by Donna Alward
She laughed lightly. “Oh, that’s true with the day-to-day stuff. Familiar surroundings breed comfort. But I spent every first date convinced that this guy was Mr. Right. And then and there...I took the plunge. No wonder I’m a joke.”
“Sometimes it’s not about walking away but realizing you have the strength to choose. And to own that choice. I suppose Cadence Creek isn’t all bad. It has good qualities. Your family is there. Your friends are there. You might not want to cut all your ties. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.” Like he’d done. Shut everyone out. Hated the world for a while.
He hadn’t meant for his own bitterness to leak through into his words. He’d meant to keep this all about Amy and what was happening between them. And still it kept coming back to Sheila, and how her weakness had caused him to lose everything.
“I don’t think I’m there yet.”
“I know. And part of your strength is realizing it and being honest about it. But I’ve got to tell you, Amy, it’s been killing me. Maybe if we hadn’t kissed at the wedding. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten a taste of you when you first got here. But I did. And while I’m working very hard to respect your boundaries and give you the space you need, the truth is I can’t get you out from under my skin.”
There. He’d said it. The temperature in the room seemed to lift several degrees as her gaze clashed with his.
“You think I don’t feel it?” she asked, her breath catching in her throat. “You think this has been easy for me, sticking to my guns? Me, who hasn’t stuck with anything in her life up until now?”
“Maybe you haven’t found the right thing to stick to,” he suggested.
He took another step forward. He knew he shouldn’t. But dammit, it had only been what, five days since her arrival? And he was getting impatient.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
He swallowed, knew they had to meet on equal ground. He wasn’t going to be the only one pursuing. She had to choose to take a step and take this further.
“Waiting for you to meet me.”
“Jack,” she warned.
“You know what I want. I don’t have a plan, Amy. I don’t have an exit strategy or all the answers. But being this close to you is driving me crazy.”
There was a long pause and he could practically hear her considering. Then she took a hesitant step forward. “Me, too.”
They were only a breath apart now. “‘Me, too’ what?” he asked.
Another small step. “Crazy,” she whispered, and she reached up and took the Stetson off his head and dropped it to the floor. “So damn crazy.” Then she raised her hands and sank them into his hair, twining the strands between her fingers while he slowly felt himself burst into flames.
He would go slowly. He would. If it killed him.
She tilted her head and stood up on tiptoe, tentatively touching her lips to his.
He responded carefully as his eyelids automatically slid closed at the first touch of her mouth. God, she tasted sweet. Like chocolate and sugar and innocence and it threatened to break the tiny thread of control he possessed. Gently she kissed him, teasing his lips, learning the shape of his mouth, exploring rather than possessing. He hadn’t realized that a woman could take him apart piece by piece but that was exactly how he was feeling. As if she were stripping him bare until there was no pretense between them. The room was silent, a reverent hush surrounding his quiet undoing.
It was most unexpected, but Amy’s pure and surprisingly innocent touch erased everything he’d used to build a wall around himself. His company, his success, his money, his confidence. All of it was an elaborate facade and she obliterated it like it was nothing...with one simple, sweet kiss.
Right now he was Jack. Just Jack.
His arm slid around her, pulling her close against him, ski jacket to sheepskin, and he was at once thankful and infuriated that such a thick barrier separated their bodies. And still the kiss went on, beautiful, complete.
She stepped back, and the air between them seemed tinged with regret that it had ended so soon. Her eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were blossoms of color, her lips swollen from being thoroughly kissed. Her hat sat sideways on her head, the riot of blond curls cascading beneath it and touching her shoulders. She’d never been more beautiful.
“I should get back. Everyone will be wondering where I am.”
He wanted to say that she should stay. That they could find a corner of privacy in the barn and take this all the way like he was dying to do. But she deserved better. And when they made love...
Yes, he realized, it was a matter of when and not if. When they made love, he didn’t want it to be a rushed affair in a cold barn on a scratchy horse blanket. She deserved soft sheets and a goose-down duvet. Soft light and all the time in the world....
He took a shaky breath.
“I’ll stay and do the chores so we don’t go back in together.”
Her expression softened into one of gratitude. “Thank you, Jack. That’s very considerate.”
Considerate, hell. There was no way he could appear in front of clients right now. What they’d been up to would be painfully obvious.
But he’d allow her to think what she wanted.
“I’ll see you at the party.”
“Okay.”
She went to move past him to the door, but he stuck out his hand and grabbed her arm, halting her progress. “Wait.”
She angled her head up to look into his eyes and he searched them for a moment or two. Then he dipped his head and took her lips in one more short, sweet and wholly unsatisfactory kiss. “I’ll see you later.”
She didn’t say a word, but he saw her throat bob as she swallowed and stepped back. He’d let her take the lead this time, but it wouldn’t always be so. Not once she gave the go-ahead....
Once the barn door closed, he grabbed a shovel and threw it in the wheelbarrow. Cleaning stalls and feeding the horses would work off some of the excess energy running through his body right now.
* * *
AMY KNEW SHE should feel exhausted. The day had been long and the afternoon had ended quite unexpectedly—in Jack’s arms.
She stepped carefully to the edge of the living room, which now housed the smaller table from the kitchen, laden with plates, cutlery, condiments and napkins. Along the side of the room, several waist-high occasional tables were set up, each one a different fondue station. It looked fantastic, and she worked her way around the room, lighting the fuel and adjusting the flames to heat the ingredients in the various pots.
She wasn’t sure what to think about Jack. He was testing her fortitude, there was no question about that. And a lot of what he’d said made sense. It had given her a lot to think about. Possibly some of it she should regret....
Not the sleigh ride, though. She didn’t regret that. How could she, when Jack had been so utterly lovely? It had been nice, sitting next to him in the front of the sleigh, his strong thigh buffeting hers as the gait of the horses rolled them along over the snow. It had been a picture-perfect afternoon...right down to the part where he’d put his arm around her and she’d curled up against his reassuring bulk. She’d closed her eyes and fantasized for a little while in the dozy space between sleep and alertness. Not that she’d ever admit that to him. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe the important thing wasn’t shutting the door to the possibility of them, but exercising the right to choose what happened next.
Members of the group began arriving, so she went to the stereo and turned on the music. At the door she made sure each guest had either a sparkly tiara or a crown to add to the New Year’s spirit. Later there would be party horns and a few tubes of streamers and confetti she’d discovered at a party supply store in town.
As things got under way she checked the fuel under each fondue pot and adjusted the heat. The
beauty of it was people could eat as they wanted. She’d labeled fondue forks at every station with the guest’s names and they mingled about, cooking beef, chicken and shrimp in hot oil or broth, dipping bread and vegetables in cheese, and her favorite: the caramel and chocolate pots where dessert waited. A tray of fruit, puffy marshmallows, pound cake cubes and cookies was waiting to tempt everyone’s sweet tooth.
At the other end of the tables was the bar, set up with sparkling water, soda and wine, and two buckets where bottles of champagne were chilling for the New Year’s toast.
“You really pulled off something great on short notice.” Jack’s voice sounded as he slid up behind her, put a hand lightly at her waist. It was a careless touch, casual, but that didn’t stop the tingle from racing along her spine. After this afternoon, the light touch took on far more meaning.
“Thanks. Once I had the idea, it was just a matter of making a trip to town....”
“I’ve had fondue before. It’s a lot of prep work. How you managed it...and the sleigh ride today, and then show up looking like you do...” His fingers gave a squeeze. “You done good, kid. Rosa couldn’t have done it better. And you’re far nicer to look at.”
“I won’t tell Miguel you said that.” She couldn’t help the smile that lit her face.
“Miguel would be the first to agree with me. We love Rosa to death, but you look beautiful, Amy. Really beautiful.”
She’d worn the one dress she’d brought on the trip, a cobalt-blue sheath style with long sleeves and a deep neckline that merely hinted at cleavage. She’d paired it with her best shoes, too—gold sparkly heels with a platform toe. She’d longed for a chance to wear them and New Year’s Eve was perfect.
Tonight, she felt like the hostess. And she was proud. Oddly enough, after this afternoon, she was doubly glad she’d brought something so flattering. She’d wanted to knock Jack’s socks off after days of wearing plain jeans and sweaters.
She turned around to say thank-you and the words died on her tongue. Jack had dressed up, too—oh, not in a suit or anything, but he wore black trousers, black shoes that were so shiny she could see her reflection and a soft black button-down shirt that fit perfectly and showed off the breadth of his wide chest. It was a combination that any woman would find hard to resist.
“Wow,” she breathed, looking up and meeting his eyes. “Damn, you clean up good, Mr. Shepard.”
“What, these old things?” A grin crawled up his cheek. “You’ve seen me dressed up before. At the wedding.”
“Yes, but I kind of got used to you in your jeans and plaid shirts and boots. I forgot that you...”
She broke off. She had often forgotten over the past few days that Jack was probably the richest man she’d ever met. That he didn’t do chores at the barn on a regular basis, but sat in a boardroom making decisions over a wide domain.
The powerful Jack, the confidence he exuded tonight, was drop-dead gorgeous and heart-stoppingly attractive. But she was surprised to find that she preferred low-key Jack, in his worn jeans and tousled hair. In his Stetson, like today. In a sheepskin coat, with his arm around her as they kissed in the cold barn....
“You must be hungry,” she said quietly, her fingers itching to touch him but she showed restraint. “You didn’t come in for dinner.”
“I finished up in the barn. Rosa went home from the hospital this afternoon and Miguel was under strict orders to stay away from the ranch after lunch. By the time I came in the mess was cleaned up, so I went upstairs to shower and change.”
Indeed he had. He smelled good enough to eat.
“Come grab your set of fondue forks and a plate, then. As my grandma used to say, a bird can’t fly on one wing. You need to eat. And let me fix you a drink. What would you like?”
“You don’t need to wait on me. We’re in this together, remember?”
She looked up at him and without thinking ran her tongue over her lips. “Maybe. But I can still get you a drink. You don’t need to drive, so no need for tonic and lime tonight, is there?”
He reached around her for a plate and the pointed forks bundled together with his name flagged on them. “Why Miss Wilson, are you planning on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me tonight?”
She stilled so completely that he turned his head to look over at her. Color splotched her cheeks and felt like it was burning its way down her neck at the suggestion. “Just kidding,” he said.
Unsmiling, she met his gaze evenly. Heck. In for a penny, in for a pound. It was all she’d been able to think about for the past three hours, after all. “After this afternoon, the thought crossed my mind.”
He nearly dropped his plate, recovering quickly but not before she saw that she’d shocked him. “Rum and cola,” he requested hoarsely. “Maybe you’d better make it a double.”
She walked over to the bar, conscious of the fact that his eyes were likely following her. She kept her steps slow and steady, and she wasn’t above letting her hips sway gently.
She made him his cocktail and poured herself a glass of cabernet then made her way back to his side. The stereo was set to a New Year’s party station and the background noise provided a little bit of cover.
He was at a fondue station, cooking a piece of chicken in hot oil. She handed him the highball glass and touched her glass to the rim. “To a successful first week, with only a few wrong turns.”
“You’ve more than redeemed yourself for that. Everyone has had great things to say about you, Amy. You’ve done a very good job on very short notice.”
“Thanks. It’s been fun. But honestly, how Rosa manages to do this and all the cooking boggles. She must be some woman.”
“She is.”
“I thought I’d like to try it. I told Chuck to take tomorrow off. It’s New Year’s Day. He deserves the day off, don’t you think?”
His chicken was done and he took it off the fork to cool, then stabbed a jumbo shrimp and stuck it in the oil. “Are you sure? Cooking for twelve can be a lot.”
“It won’t be Chuck’s tenderloin, but I can cook. You’ll see.”
She wanted him to know she could do the whole job. That just because they’d had a little interlude this afternoon didn’t mean she wasn’t taking this opportunity seriously.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” he said quietly.
“Maybe I want to prove it to myself. Maybe I want to prove a lot of things to myself.”
His gaze clung to hers. “Go for it. Far be it for me to stand in your way.”
Anything else she might have said disappeared as they were joined by two of the guests, who tried their hand at the meat station. Excusing herself, Amy took a plate and dipped some veggies and crusty French bread in the sharp cheese fondue. She mingled with guests, taking the time to chat with each. Now that she didn’t have to rush to the next task, she enjoyed talking to them about their hometowns and lives—places she’d never been. Maybe someday...
The evening wore on. The laughter got louder, and the CEO, who she now called Jake at his insistence, had taken over manning the bar. The fondue wound down and Amy shut off the meat and cheese stations and left the chocolate and caramel.
She was dipping a piece of Granny Smith apple in golden caramel when she sensed Jack behind her shoulder. “Little something for your sweet tooth?”
“Have you tried it yet?” she asked.
“No.”
She turned around and, holding the plate to catch any syrupy drips, held the wedge of apple to his lips. “Try it.”
He bit it, his firm lips closing over the fruit, his tongue sneaking out to swipe at a rebellious bit of caramel that clung to his lip.
“Delicious.”
“Right? Now try this.” She moved to the next pot, selected a ripe strawberry and dipped it in the dark chocolate. “Tell me this
isn’t heaven.”
She held it up and he took it from her fingers. “Heaven,” he agreed, and she grabbed another berry and swirled it through the chocolate before popping it into her mouth.
Cool sweet berry and warm rich chocolate exploded on her tongue and she closed her eyes. “Mmm.”
His eyes flashed at her, telegraphing a meaning that both frightened and exhilarated her. “Good God, woman. You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t think you are.”
She smiled, feeling particularly saucy. “Okay, maybe I’m not, really.”
“I normally enjoy my clients, but I wish they’d all disappear right about now.”
“How very inhospitable of you. Why would you wish such a thing?”
He reached behind her, picked up a profiterole, touched it in the chocolate and offered it to her. She couldn’t resist the soft pastry and rich cream.
“If they were gone, I’d hold you in my arms and we’d maybe dance. I’d feed you strawberries by candlelight and pour you cold champagne and keep you up half the night.”
She thought she might just melt into a puddle right now.
“Mr. Shepard. How brazen of you.”
His teeth flashed as he smiled. “Right. Like you’re not enjoying the dance we’ve been doing all night. I find I’m liking the new, confident Amy.”
“I didn’t say anything had changed.”
Their gazes clung for a few more moments and then Jack checked his watch. “Only a few more minutes until midnight. I suppose we should get the champagne ready.”
She let the tension between them drop, a little reluctantly, but she needed to get the confetti party poppers ready to go. “You get the champagne. I’ll be right back.”
She scuttled off to retrieve the bag she’d hidden behind the bar, then distributed a few of the confetti tubes to random guests. When the countdown began, she was standing a few feet away from the bar, her tube ready, a grin on her face as she watched Jack peel the foil off the first bottle of champagne.
