“Tell me to mind my own business if you want.” Her gaze fell to the tabletop, and she scratched at an imaginary speck with her nail. “What was Annie’s mother like?”
He opened his mouth, then shut it. Sara was a good, decent woman. He wouldn’t place any blame on her for their less-than-perfect marriage. Living each day with the guilt that he’d caused her death was bad enough. He sure as hell didn’t want to share that with Madeline.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He cupped his hands around the coffee mug and stared across the room. Things between him and Sara had been fine until he’d lost his head. Thinking back on it now, he should have stayed and dealt with it, instead of running off to lick his wounds, leaving Sara and Annie to fend for themselves. He looked at Madeline. “What do you want to know?”
A cautious light filled her eyes. “Was Sara as outgoing and vivacious as Annie is?”
Sara, vivacious? “No. She was quiet. Reserved.”
Jake remembered exactly two times he’d heard his wife laugh during their marriage. The first, when Annie had tried to walk in Jake’s boots. The second, when their daughter had made mud pies, then had tried to eat one.
“Her parents were very religious. Strict. She’d never socialized much growing up.” Neither had he, for that matter. He’d been too busy working odd jobs to pay for his own clothes and, more often than not, his own food.
“So Annie takes after you?” She smiled. “I guess it must be hard for your vivaciousness to break through all that macho-cowboy swagger.”
He fought the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Madeline shrugged, the delicate slope of her shoulders sagging a few inches. “I wasn’t very social, either.”
Not social? How could someone with her looks, education and background not be social? “You’re telling me you weren’t a party girl?”
“Hardly. I was a bookworm.” She laughed, but it sounded off-key. “The private girls’ school I attended sponsored a dance each year with a nearby boys’ academy. It wasn’t until I stood three hours in the corner waiting to be asked to dance that I figured out boys were allergic to smart girls.” Her smile was a little too bright. “It was no big deal.”
But Jake sensed it was a big deal. Sure, some of the boys may have been intimidated by Madeline’s academic accomplishments. But there was more to it than that. Simply put, her budding beauty and sensuality had scared off the young men caught in the throes of their first hormonal surges.
He glanced at the clock. He should go out and work the horses. Instead, he slouched in the chair. “Your turn. Tell me about your fiancé.”
She crinkled her nose. “Ex-fiancé.”
Jake purposefully ignored the sense of relief he felt when she muttered ex.
“Jonathon’s a lawyer.”
He had sensed she was attracted to high achievers. That definitely put him out of the running…not that he’d ever considered entering the race.
“After I turned twenty-five, I offhandedly mentioned to my father that I’d been contemplating marriage and starting a family.”
Children? He had a hard time picturing Ms. Corporation with a baby on her hip and a phone in her hand. Then the image of her stroking Annie’s head popped into his mind. Maybe there was some maternal instinct buried under that businesslike veneer.
“Two months later, Father introduced me to Jonathon, the newest member of his legal team.” She waved her hand in the air by her face. “Jonathon was the first man I’d met who didn’t seem threatened by my success. He was actually impressed that I’d become a vice president at twenty-four.”
Vice president? Just how driven was this woman?
“He never came right out and said as much, but I sensed Jonathon had aspirations of making partner in my father’s firm.”
“What did your father say about your engagement to him?”
“He thought we made a good team.”
“Team?”
“Father views marriage as a business arrangement, not a love match.”
Well, Jake was no authority on marriage. His and Sara’s hadn’t been a love match, yet it hadn’t been a business arrangement, either. He wondered what it had been. “After you were engaged, did your father offer him a partnership?”
“Yes. The very next day in fact. I guess it was his reward for popping the question.”
Ouch. Jake hurt for Madeline. He wished he had the right to take her in his arms and chase the sadness from her eyes. “Any idea why he suddenly got cold feet?”
She shook her head. “Not a clue. We’d planned a church wedding this November, then a week ago he begged me to go to Vegas. Like a ninny, I assumed it was because he was so eager to be my husband. And I’d already had my dress, so I thought, why not?”
Jake grimaced when a picture of Madeline frolicking in a honeymoon suite with a faceless man popped into his mind. “You want to call him?”
“No. I don’t want to kiss and make up.”
Speaking of kisses… He dragged his gaze from her face and focused on the coffeepot across the room. “About this morning.” He squirmed against the seat, feeling like a little kid caught stealing candy from a drugstore. “You have my word, it won’t happen again.”
He expected a sigh of relief. A look of gratitude. Instead, she gave him her back when she rose from the chair and crossed the room. He waited, the muscles in his body burning with tension. Not knowing what was going through her mind drove him crazy.
“What if I don’t want your word?”
If he hadn’t already been seated he’d have fallen on his rump. Had he heard right? Did she say she wanted him to kiss her again? Oh, man.
He clutched at his shirt collar, which suddenly felt like a noose around his neck. She liked his kisses. So what? That didn’t mean she wanted to take a tumble in the hayloft with him.
He couldn’t risk kissing her again. Because if he did, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to stop at just a kiss. He’d want more. A heck of a lot more. And he knew from experience that could only lead to trouble. “Like I said. It won’t happen again.”
Nodding, she wiped her hands on a towel, then faced him. She braved a smile, but the shadows in her eyes socked him in the gut. She could tell herself she was over her miserable fiancé. But Jake knew Madeline needed reassurance that she was still a great catch, a desirable woman. No matter how badly he wanted to be the man to show her, he didn’t dare.
Because he liked Madeline. Genuinely liked her. A surge of protectiveness toward her filled him. He didn’t want to see her hurt again. He wasn’t the right man for her…not even on a temporary basis. If he allowed himself to explore this…whatever between them, she’d end up hurt again.
“I think I’ll get a shower and go to bed.” She paused in the doorway. “Will you be here tomorrow, or are you off to gather more horses?”
I wish. “I’ll be here.”
“Good night.”
Her scent stayed long after she left the room. He sat at the table, calling himself every kind of fool. When the sound of running water rattled the pipes in the walls, he took his plate to the sink, slammed his Stetson on and headed for the corrals. He’d be damned if he’d sit there and conjure up images of a naked, wet Madeline standing under the showerhead.
MADELINE STEPPED AWAY from the bedroom window and slid under the cool sheet on the bed. For the past hour she’d watched Jake hold the end of a rope while a horse trotted circles around him. Both man and beast were moving shadows under the glow of a full moon.
She closed her eyes, allowing her imagination to run wild with images of Jake kissing her. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, when the faint sound of a creaking door brought her musings to an abrupt end. A moment later the soft hiss of running water filtered into the hallway. Jake was in the shower.
When she envisioned his naked body under the cool spray, a deep, tugging sensation settled low in her belly. She plopped the pillow on top of her face to muffle a
scream of frustration. Honestly, she was acting like a virgin.
Jonathon might have been her first, but they’d had sex several times. At least three times she could remember. So why hadn’t her body reacted to Jonathon the way it reacted to Jake?
Because Jake is a real man.
Madeline sighed. She had to admit, sex with Jonathon had been well…okay. Not that she’d had enough experience to know the difference between good sex and bad sex. It was just that he’d made love as if he’d been following a ten-step guide to fulfillment. His moves had been too smooth, too choreographed.
If Jake’s kiss was any indication, Madeline had a feeling making love with the cowboy would be spontaneous, hot and, best of all, wild. She yearned to experience another of his kisses, to feel her whole body tingle and quiver.
She wished her need for Jake were just about sex. Good, satisfying sex. But she admitted it was more complicated than that. Jake made her feel. One touch of his mouth and she was lost in him. There was something inside him that called out to her. Not bodily, but spiritually. She may have been the one dumped, but she sensed that Jake carried his own scars when it came to matters of the heart.
All of a sudden, the room became stifling. She kicked off the sheet and flopped over on her stomach. The bathroom door creaked, and she held her breath. She listened to Jake’s feet padding against the wood floor in the hall. Instead of growing fainter, the sound grew louder.
He stopped outside her door and whispered, “Madeline? You awake?”
“I’m awake.”
He gripped the edge of the door and eased it open a crack farther. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She rolled over and sat up against the head-board.
He wore a fresh pair of jeans, zipped but unsnapped. No shirt.
His hair was wet, the strands reminding her of black liquid ink. He leaned against the wall by the door, crossed one leg over the other and stuffed his hands in the front pockets. He looked tired, and…glum.
She wanted to bolt from the bed and hug him until the sadness left his eyes. Instead, she plumped the pillow and hugged it to her chest. Something weighed heavy on his mind, but she worried she’d scare him away by asking too many questions.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose—an endearing habit that Madeline had noticed he resorted to when he seemed unsure of himself. Then he lifted his head and studied her openly. She suddenly wished she were wearing something nicer than the extra-large nightshirt that stopped an inch above her knee.
“I wanted to talk to you about Annie.”
Annie? He stood in her doorway in the middle of the night, sexy as all get out and he wanted to talk about his daughter? Madeline hid her disappointment and smiled. “Of course.” She patted the mattress next to her.
Indecision warred in Jake’s eyes as he stared at the spot where her hand lay. He moved closer, settling at the bottom of the mattress.
She bit back a smile. She’d never thought of herself as threatening. The idea that she made Jake nervous intrigued her.
He rested his forearms on his thighs and studied the floor. “I was wondering if Annie said anything today.”
“Said anything? She talked my ear off.”
Her comment brought a weak smile to his face. “Yeah, she’s a chatter bug. What I meant is, did she say anything about me?”
The hopeful expression on his face tugged at her heartstrings. “Well, let me think. Yes, she did. She said you were the best horse trainer ever. You don’t know how to iron. And your face gets sad when you talk about her mother.”
He stared at the floor again and cleared his voice. “She’s right. I suck at ironing. And I am a damn good horse trainer.” He expelled a long breath, then looked up. “And I guess I don’t smile when I talk about Sara.”
Madeline couldn’t stand not trying to comfort him. She leaned forward and laid her hand across his forearm, enjoying the way his muscle jumped under her fingers. “You must have loved your wife very much.”
He pulled his arm away. “I don’t want to talk about Sara.” He got up and paced in front of the window. “I know deep down Annie isn’t happy. I’ll be the first to admit she deserves a better father than me.” He drew a hand down his face. “I was hoping that you could give me some advice.”
“Advice?”
“On being a good father.”
She thought of her own father and cringed. Based on their relationship, the only advice she had for Jake was what not to do as a father. Before she could say anything, he stopped pacing and gazed out the window.
“I don’t know what she needs from me.”
“Attention and love,” Madeline whispered.
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows dipping. “I do love her.”
“Do you tell her?”
He turned back to the window. “No.” The word came out sounding so strangled that it was all Madeline could do not to vault off the bed and go to him.
“The words are wonderful, but they aren’t always necessary. A hug will do. Pulling her pigtails when you walk past her. A special nickname. A bedtime story each night. Those are little things that say I love you.”
Jake turned away from the window. “I don’t spend enough time with her.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. Training horses isn’t a nine-to-five job. There are going to be days when you don’t have as much time to spend with Annie as you’d like. Quantity isn’t as important as quality.” At his puzzled look she continued. “What you do with your time with Annie is more important than how much time you spend with her.”
“Where do I start?”
“How about reading Annie a bedtime story each night?”
He nodded, then his face brightened. “Maybe Annie could help me with the horses.”
“I’m sure she’d be thrilled to fill the water troughs or dish out their food.”
The shadows that had been in his eyes when he’d entered the room fled and his lips curved into a half smile. “Thank you for listening.”
Lord, how the man made her heart stumble. “I’m always here if you need to talk.” Her throat tightened at the lie.
Eventually, she would have to leave.
Chapter Five
“C’mon, Quicksilver. You’re not going to win this one, buddy.” Jake gathered up the lunge line used to force the stallion to trot in circles, walked the animal several feet outside the corral, then stopped.
Of all the eight horses to train, this one was his favorite. And the most stubborn. Horses by nature were emotional animals, but Quicksilver won the prize. Especially in the willful category. Jake admired the animal’s independent streak and took extra time with the stallion, making sure he didn’t break the horse’s spirit.
He stepped back and looped the lunge line around one foreleg. The animal didn’t like anything or anyone near his legs. Jake’s job was to change the stallion’s mind. Cattle horses had to get used to cows bumping into them and calves running under their bellies. If the reins got caught or snagged around the animal’s legs, it was vital the horse keep his composure and not throw the rider headlong into a fray of milling cows. Not to mention that a horse had to get shoed by a farrier every now and then.
When he tugged the line, Quicksilver balked and reared, pawing the air.
“Fine. We’ll do this your way.” Jake led the horse back into the round pen and forced him to trot in circles for another two minutes. He repeated the procedure outside the pen, looping the rope around the horse’s leg and tugging. This time the stallion cooperated. Jake rewarded the animal with softly spoken words of praise and a good long scratch behind the ears. “I knew you’d eventually figure out who the boss is around here. You’ve earned a recess, big guy.”
“What about you, Jake? Do you get recess today?”
At the sound of Madeline’s voice, his hands tensed around the halter. It was almost the middle of June. She’d been at the ranch ten days. You’d think he’d have gotten used to her sneaking up on
him at the damnedest times, but her husky voice always caught him off guard.
He glanced over his shoulder. She stood a safe distance away, gently swinging a picnic basket in her right hand. Her hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail high on her head, the reddish strands dangling down her back. She looked young, pretty and carefree.
For the past week and a half he’d witnessed the newly hired nanny and his daughter get themselves into more trouble than a litter of puppies on the loose. Sometimes he wondered who was the nanny and who was the charge. He knew one thing for sure. His daughter was happy. Annie didn’t care one way or the other if Madeline bumbled her way through this nannying thing. Annie just liked being with her.
And he had to admit, he wished he could be with both of them, instead of watching from a distance. Yet he’d learned a lot from watching. Most days, Madeline appeared on the path to recovery after her failed engagement. But occasionally, he’d catch her staring down the ranch road with a wistful expression on her face. He figured she was hoping her ex-fiancé would come for her.
He eyed the basket in her hand. “What do you have in there?”
“If I said fried chicken, would you believe me?”
He laughed. “No. But as long as it isn’t burned stew, I’ll eat it.”
Last week she’d left a bowl of stew in the oven, warming for his supper. Everything would have been fine if she hadn’t set the temperature on broil. Thank God he’d had an extinguisher in the pantry to put the fire out.
“No, it isn’t stew. Annie and I have a place all picked out.”
“I hope you’re not thinking of spreading a blanket in the backyard.” He could picture it now. The bride, his daughter and he picnicking in front of ol’ Wiley’s grave marker. He wondered how much trouble Madeline was going to stir up before she left.
“I suppose you girls want to eat by that rock.” Three days ago, Madeline had tried to make Play-Doh from scratch. Turned out hard as a rock. So Annie had painted it and scrawled the name Wiley across the glob. Then she’d placed it under the tree out back where the barn cat had been buried last year. Now the first thing he saw every time he walked out the back door was a pink tombstone.
The Cowboy and the Bride Page 7
