But first he had a few fences of his own to mend.
They were gone. The first thought that ran through his mind when he knocked on the door a third time, rattled the knob and waited was that she’d already set out to mend her own fences by taking Pete to Austin for the holidays.
Instead of feeling glad, he felt betrayed.
He knocked again just to be sure. If she happened to be upstairs, she might not have heard him. He glanced toward the barn, saw that the horses were outside, the two foals with their dams in one pasture, separated from Zeus and the geldings.
She wouldn’t go off and leave her stock untended, not the Ellen he knew. Nor would she have gone off and left Booker and Clyde to look after things. But, there was no sign of the small truck.
The duelly was there, however, parked beside the horse trailer. Rattling the door again, he yelled, “Ellen!”
Then he moved to the edge of the porch and called again, in case she happened to be in the backyard hanging clothes.
She wasn’t there.
Suddenly he felt as if a cold north wind had just blown across his naked skin. Just because she wasn’t here didn’t mean anything had happened to her. The first thing he’d done was to make damn sure she was safe, especially after Beau had called to say she’d insisted on returning home.
But two nights ago one of Del Brio’s hit men had been killed when his car had gone off the road at a high rate of speed. According to the EMT who was one of the first to arrive on the scene, the man had been covered with tattoos. Further checking indicated that Silent Sal had disappeared and was rumored to be headed south across the border. One of the new hires at the police department was checking into the case. Spence had met the detective and been favorably impressed.
“Ellen, where the hell are you?” he muttered now, more worried than he wanted to admit.
She was obviously away on some errand. A Christmas program at school, maybe at church. There was a wreath of fresh greenery on the door. He recognized Pete’s artistic efforts. The plastic jet model didn’t add a whole lot of color, but the effect was cheerful enough.
“Damn it, Ellen, I need you to be here!”
Beside him, the pup whimpered. He’d let her out on a leash to do her business, and now she was wedged up against his leg. “Sorry, pal, looks like we might have to change our holiday plans.”
It was then that he heard the sound of a truck negotiating the rutted driveway, which hadn’t improved in the short time since he’d left. He watched the red pickup pull over toward the barn. Brake lights flashed briefly when she caught sight of his new 4x4, then the passenger door opened and Pete spilled out, his arms holding a squirming bundle of tan fur.
“Uh-oh. Lady, I think we may be redundant,” Spence said softly to the timid creature at his side. The dog he’d called Lady for her gender and delicate features whimpered and leaned against his leg. Reaching down, he scratched her ears.
“Spence! Mom, Spence is here! Hurry!” Pete started running toward the house, clutching a squirming pup in his arms. “I knew you’d come back. Mom didn’t believe me, but I told her— Is that your dog? Hey, we’ve both got a dog now, that’s totally cool!”
By that time Pete and the mongrel pup were on the porch. The two dogs were going through the canine ritual of establishing rank. Ellen stepped down from the truck and stopped, one hand on the door. When she made no move to come closer, Spence left Pete to look after both pups, loped down the front steps and hurried across the clearing before she could change her mind.
“Ellen? I, uh, thought I’d come by and wish you a merry Christmas.”
She looked angry. Not a good sign, not good at all. “I brought Pete a surprise, but it looks like I’m a little late. I can pretend she’s mine.”
Ellen’s lips tightened. Her eyes flashed green fire in a face that was so damned dear to him it was all he could do not to clasp it between his hands and kiss her until neither of them could remember what it was she was holding against him.
He knew what he’d like for her to hold against him. Her body, baggy jeans, faded shirt and all.
She continued to look him over, evidently not particularly liking what she saw. He’d showered, shaved and dressed in a suit and tie, even splashed on a palmful of cologne. At the moment he felt distinctly over-dressed.
She stared at his boots, which had probably cost more than she spent in feed for all her stock in a month. A lot more. So he did what any good lawyer would do, he created a diversion.
“Things are looking good around here,” he said with a smile that had to be forced. He felt cold. Cold and scared. “I see Miss Sara had her foal. A filly? She looks good, too, from what I can see.”
Silence. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it a chilling silence, but it wasn’t exactly warm, either. So he tried again. “The, uh, the Christmas wreath looks good. If I know Pete, he probably wanted to top the Christmas tree with a Delta Wing jet instead of an angel. Hey, you need a hand unloading anything? I mean, as long as I’m here…” He figured she’d probably been doing some last-minute shopping, as the stores would be closed tomorrow.
“You’re not staying,” she said flatly.
“I’m not? I mean, of course I’m not. Wouldn’t think of it. Like I said, I just came by to drop off—”
She was struggling to drag a twenty-five-pound sack of puppy food out from behind the driver’s seat. Carefully edging her aside, he did it for her.
“To drop off what? That dog? If you had any notion of leaving her here, we already have a dog. We just got back from the pound.”
“Yeah, I see. Looks like Pete’s tickled with her. Him. Whatever.”
“As long as you’re here, would you mind giving me a hand unloading the bike from the duelly as soon as Pete goes inside? I picked it up from the shop while he was at Joey’s house the other day, but it’s jammed in behind the seat and I can’t get it out.”
“The bike?”
“You know…a bicycle? The thing that got blown away last month?” She stared up at him, the first hint of concern touching her features. “Spence, what is it? What’s wrong? Are you— Is your head—”
“Functioning properly? Evidently not. Yeah, let me give you a hand. Where do you want it, in the tack room?”
Leaving the puppy food on the hood of the pickup, he manhandled the awkward cargo out of the larger duel-wheeled truck. If he was any judge, Pete would outgrow it within the year. Still, it was a sturdy model—nothing fancy, but serviceable. He wheeled it into the barn. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the door, picking up dust motes. The place felt good. Felt familiar. Felt like home.
Unaccustomed to being at a disadvantage, he said, “I might as well help you get the stock in as long as I’m here.”
“You’re not dressed for it.”
I can undress. The errant thought popped into his head before he could help himself. Fortunately, he didn’t let on that he’d had a momentary vision of the two of them lying naked, limbs entwined on a couple of hundred-pound bales of hay. Be scratchy as the devil, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t even notice.
“Spence, do you have time to come in for a minute? I won’t keep you long.”
If she were a witness, he might have been able to read her, but she wasn’t a witness, she was the woman he loved more than he had ever loved anyone or anything in his life. And for the first time he was beginning to realize the gaping hole that would be left in his life if she refused to be a part of it.
“Sure, I’m in no hurry to leave.” He leaned the bike against the wall and Ellen reached for a faded horse blanket and moved to cover the Christmas surprise in case Pete got curious when they brought in the stock.
The motion brought her close to where Spence was standing, so close he could inhale the distinctive fragrance of her hair, her soap, the baby powder she used after her shower.
Tucking a corner of the blanket over the handlebar, she said, “Pete made a surprise for you.”
“I love you.
”
“We were going to mail it, but we didn’t know your address.”
“Did you hear me?”
“You can pretend you think it’s great. You don’t have to frame it or anything like that….” Her voice trailed off. In the dim light, he caught a glimpse of wetness on her cheek. That was all it took.
“Oh, Ellen, Ellen, don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s all right. I know I don’t have any right to expect— That is, if you did, it would’ve been great, but since you don’t, we can still be friends.”
She hit him on the shoulder. Smacked him with her open palm hard enough to rock him back on his heels. “You…you idiot! What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you let me know you were all right? It’s been five days, and you didn’t even call to—”
When he hauled her into his arms and pressed her face against his shoulder, she sobbed out her anger, her fears, her frustrations. He made soft, soothing sounds, things like, “There, there, now. Shh, it’s all right.”
“Well, why didn’t you call?” Lifting her face, she glared at him, wet, red-rimmed eyes, pink-tipped nose and all. Never had he seen a face more beautiful, more beloved.
“I wanted to call at least a hundred times, but, sweetheart, I had to be sure. Del Brio’s out on bond, still capable of pulling strings, unfortunately, but not for long. Aside from another mission I’ve been involved in—I’ll tell you about that later—I had to be sure you and Pete were completely safe, and that meant waiting until anyone who thought they could get to me through you was taken care of.”
“Taken care of?”
“One way or another. Remember your tattooed friend, one of Del Brio’s goons? He had the misfortune of being involved in a fatal accident. It happened just before he could be called on to testify against his boss.”
“You mean, he was murdered.”
“The terminology varies, but yeah, that’s about the size of it. His partner, Silent Sal, apparently fled the country.”
She took it pretty well. Cool, seemingly composed. Then her chin gave one small wobble, and he caught her to him again, pressing her face against his shoulder. Any excuse to hold her in his arms. For a guy who was supposed to be fairly intelligent, fairly well-educated, reasonably experienced in social matters, he was at a complete loss.
For several moments he simply held her there, rocking her gently, savoring the experience while he still could. He’d told her how he felt and she’d ignored him. Case closed.
Damn it, case reopened! “Look, I don’t know if you’re interested or not, but I’ve resigned.”
She gave him a startled look. “Resigned? What on earth are you going to do?”
“Honey, it was time. Besides, I didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Malone, the puppet Del Brio put in place as soon as I was out of the picture, has agreed to testify. That means Frankie is in too much trouble to worry about me, so you see, he’s no longer a threat to you or Pete. Now that I’ve resigned I’m no threat to him, either, and whatever else he is, nobody’s ever accused Frank Del Brio of being stupid.”
She was toying with the silver tips of his string tie. At least she hadn’t pulled away completely. “I don’t understand. You resigned so that this man wouldn’t be able to put pressure on you?”
“Using you and Pete. Right. Honey, it was the only way.”
“You resigned because of us. That’s not right. You could have gone on to be…well, maybe attorney general, if not governor.”
He had to laugh at that. “Whoa! I appreciate the confidence, but believe me, I’ve never had any political ambitions. Retirement suits me just fine. Besides, I’ve got other ideas.”
“Spence, a minute ago you said…” Her voice trailed off. Her fingers were moving now on the pearl studs fastening the front of his Western-style shirt. “You said something a few minutes ago—”
His pulses ratcheted up a notch. “I did?”
“About—” She broke off and sighed. “I’m just no good at this.”
“You’re not? I mean, what are you no good at?”
“I don’t know how to handle this kind of thing gracefully. I mean, I’ve been married, for heaven’s sake, but I’m still not…I mean, I’m really not very…”
“Experienced. Know something? Neither am I.” He was beginning to feel a distinct sensation of warmth creeping into the region of his heart. Other regions, as well. “I know a cure for that.”
“For what?” Her face was now pressed against his throat, her hands moving inside his coat, fingers creeping around his waist.
“A lack of experience.”
The experience had to wait until much later. Even then, they were aware of the fact that no household was safe from intrusion from an eight-year-old boy on Christmas Eve. Long after midnight, after the two pups had decided to accept each other’s presence in the household as long as Lady was top dog—after an exhausted Pete had shown Spence the drawing he had done for him and accepted Spence’s sincere thanks—Spence and Ellen lay in each other’s arms on the couch.
“Your ranch is probably so much nicer,” Ellen said. He’d told her something about it, not that he’d spent much time there. He’d bought it from a couple of old friends who had wanted to move east to be closer to their children.
“Nah, yours is bigger than mine, if you include your leased acreage. Anyhow, I thought maybe we could keep both, operate them sort of together. Before you know it Pete will be grown up and ready for a place of his own.”
“Unless he decides to become a veterinarian or a fighter pilot.”
“Even so, he’ll need a home base. This can be Pete’s. When he’s old enough we’ll let him decide.”
In her chenille bathrobe, her hair still damp from the shower and smelling of green apple shampoo, Ellen traced his features. “I was so afraid to hope,” she whispered. “You didn’t say you loved me before you left.”
“I couldn’t afford to take the chance. Sweetheart, you’ve already lost so much. If I’d told you how I felt and then something had happened so that I couldn’t make it back, that would only have made things worse.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“You want to fight?”
Eyes gleaming, she shook her head. “You know what I want to do, as soon as we’re sure it’s safe.”
What she was doing to him now was anything but safe, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her so. Pete was just going to have to get used to the fact that men and women—daddies and mamas, in particular—needed privacy.
He brought her hand up from his naked chest and kissed her fingertips. In desperation, he rasped, “Want a piece of chocolate pie?”
“Uh-uh. I want a piece of former district attorney, soon-to-be private law consultant, J. Spencer Harrison.”
“Sooner than that to be husband of Ellen Wagner, well-known horse breeder, and stepfather to one future artist-astronaut-veterinarian.”
From a corner of the cluttered room, a Christmas tree, only slightly lopsided, glowed colorfully. Underneath were packages to be distributed in a few hours. There were still things that had to be worked out, but Spence had no doubt they could do it. Together, they could handle whatever the future brought.
They went into the bedroom but left the radio on in the living room, softly playing Christmas carols as a seasonal cover-up for whatever sounds they might make. Spence would prefer Pete to sleep through the remainder of the night. For a guy who had never known his own father, whose mother had disappeared when he was fifteen, he was surprisingly comfortable with the idea of helping to raise a son, only he’d just as soon get started tomorrow. Tonight belonged to Ellen.
The last carol faded, followed by an advertisement for Hogg’s Hardware Emporium, followed by a familiar nasal tenor singing something about an angel flying too close to the earth.
Spence frowned as a half-forgotten memory tripped a switch in his mind, but then Ellen spoke and everything else disappeared.
“Babies,” she said, quietly using her hands to send him into car
diac arrest. “Did I happen to mention I might want some more babies before I get too old?”
He managed to catch his breath sharply as she touched a sensitive place in the crease of his groin. “Just might?” he gasped. “Better make up your mind fast unless you want to wait until I can retrieve something out of the bedside table.”
Ellen laughed, a sound that was more beautiful than any song Willie Nelson had ever sung, and then Spence was laughing, too.
Oh, yeah. Retirement was going to suit him just fine.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Dixie Browning for her contribution to the LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB series.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7205-1
THE QUIET SEDUCTION
Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Books S.A.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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