Still the One

by Debra Cowan

  “Show-off.” Kit’s mare skidded to a stop.

  His mare reared, spun in a fancy pivot. He held his seat easily, his triumphant gaze finding hers. “I even gave you a head start.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Blackstock. There’s still the race back.”

  He slid to the ground and left the reins hanging loosely over his horse’s neck, then led the mare to the water’s edge.

  When Kit tried to swing one leg over, Sugar snorted and bumped against a tree, trapping Kit’s leg.

  Leaving his horse, Rafe walked over and laid a hand on the mare’s nose. Sugar immediately quieted, and Kit noted that he’d had the same calming effect on her yesterday at the shooting range.

  She dropped to the ground, then led Sugar to the creek. As the horses drank their fill of the clear water, Kit tried to dodge the thought that had teased her all morning.

  Near the water, the bank was firm and rocky. Trees lined each side of the sparkling creek, which snaked as far as Kit could see in both directions, growing wider upstream. The water disappeared around a curve, lost beneath drooping branches and shade, then appeared again glistening in the sunlight.

  “The horses will graze here. Let’s walk.”

  Kit immediately fell in with Rafe’s suggestion and dropped her reins. She followed him up the rise and caught up with him in the shade of an old pecan tree. Sunlight dappled the ground, beaming its way between leaves to make delicate patterns on the knee-high prairie grass.

  He looked into the distance, across acres of rippling grass, greening winter wheat, the occasional stand of blackjack and cottonwood trees. “It’s peaceful out here.”

  It was peaceful, but tension hummed inside her. Kit knew those shimmering nerves had to do with the man beside her. The man she’d never forgotten. “This was a great idea, Rafe. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I thought it would do us both good. The horses needed it, too. I’ve only been out twice to ride since my folks have been gone.”

  He took off, long legs easily parting the grass.

  Her steps fell in with his, and she observed quietly, “Everything looks great, almost exactly the same. The barn’s a different color, I think.”

  “Yeah, they decided to repaint with gray instead of red.”

  A cool note slid into his voice. “So tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself, Kit.”

  “You already know.” She gave her hair a quick finger-combing. “I’m a flight attendant.”

  “Ten years is a lot of flying. Don’t you do other things?”

  “Oh. Sure.” She thought for a minute. What did she do?

  “I finally finished college,” she offered tentatively, stopping beneath a sprawling oak.

  He stopped, too, looking at her in surprise. Something dark burned in his eyes. “That’s great. I knew you would.”

  Because of Liz and her stunts, Kit had missed final exams twice. She hadn’t been able to complete her credits and graduate with Rafe. She’d done so in the months following their breakup, but she hadn’t walked across the stage with her class, with him. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she resented missing that.

  Tamping the irritation spiraling inside her, she said, “I was able to help Liz get a job with the day-care center. She’s done very well there. She seems to have a real affinity for children.” She laughed. “I know, you’re going to say it’s because she’s one herself.”

  He reached up, stripped a spring-green oak leaf from its branch. “No, I’m not.”

  The wariness she’d noticed this morning still shadowed his eyes, still showed in the way he carried himself. He was careful not to stand too close to her, careful not to look at her too often.

  She knew she’d hurt him years ago. Knew, too, that his parents were justified in being aloof and even angry with her. She didn’t want to hurt him again, but she wanted another chance with Rafe. She’d dated enough since their breakup to know that guys like him were one in a million. And she’d thrown him away.

  He took off again, moving with fluid grace. She followed, trying to keep at least an arm’s length between them. That seemed to be what he wanted. Beneath the shade of a pecan tree, where the grass was short and cropped, he stopped. His shirt sleeves skimmed over biceps that looked as hard as the oak trees around them.

  Water gurgled down the hill. Mockingbirds and whippoorwills scolded and squawked overhead. The scent of freshly trodden grass, the newness of spring drifted in the air.

  She ached to be close to him, but she didn’t move. “My dad’s still in Norman. He said to tell you hi.”

  Rafe nodded, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “What else? Don’t you have any hobbies?”

  She sensed he was simply making conversation. Something to keep both their minds from the past. Or perhaps Liz. “I’m involved in the city’s reading program. I read to an elderly person at the library once a week.”

  “Really?”

  “That was one of Liz’s community service projects several years ago. She was on probation at college and she had to pick a project. I became interested in it and still enjoy doing it.”

  “Do you still water-ski? You were hell on a slalom.”

  She smiled. “I haven’t done it in years.”

  She’d given it up. With her job taking her out of town so much and her spare time spent chasing after Liz, there didn’t seem to be time for going to the lake.

  He leaned against the ancient oak tree and propped one booted foot on the trunk behind him. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot going on.”

  “Not really. I just run around a lot.” She laughed, but it hit her then just how little she did for herself, how much of her time revolved around her sister.

  He’d been right about Liz, Kit realized. About how she couldn’t let go of the responsibility she felt for her sister, that she felt for her entire family.

  Dissatisfaction over that had simmered inside her for a long time. For the last year, it had become more insistent, but it was Rafe who’d finally forced her to address it.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she said, “You were right before.”

  He turned his head, a slight frown between his brows.

  “About Liz. About how she should be standing on her own two feet. About how my dad has been pushing for that. He has, for quite a few years.”

  Rafe slowly brought his leg down, straightened. “I shouldn’t have said those things. They’re none of my business and I do know there’s a reason, Kit.”

  The gentle sympathy in his voice tugged at her, urged her to move toward him. She could still feel his reserve, see it in the sudden flare in his eyes, but she needed to be close to him.

  “You really helped me yesterday, Rafe.”

  “Hey, I know it’s tough, waiting to hear from her, wondering when you will.” He stared over her head, a muscle in his jaw working. “But you will.”

  “I know. I meant, you were really there for me. Just like you always were.”

  He pushed away from the tree, stepped around her. “Let’s don’t make more of that than there was, Kit. I was just doing what any…friend would do.”

  “But I don’t want just anyone to do it.” She couldn’t believe she’d said the words, and the brittle silence behind her told her he couldn’t, either.

  She was afraid to turn around, but she did, her gaze going straight to his. Wariness and heat smoldered there. He was so solid, so strong. He’d always been those things. And she’d missed them. Missed him.

  With each moment they spent together, it became clear how much. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she took a step toward him.

  “We should probably get back.”

  She reached out, threaded her fingers with his. He tensed but didn’t pull away. She knew what she had to do about Liz. If she could be close to Rafe for just a minute, she knew she’d have the strength to do it.

  His fingers were warm and still in hers; his pulse beat a strong tattoo against the column of his throat. Want unfurled i
nside her, scrambling her pulse, plucking at her nerve endings. She saw desire, felt him fighting it. Fighting her.

  She moved closer, lifted one hand to the rugged line of his jaw. “I don’t think I’d be able to get through any of this if it weren’t for you. I think that’s why I had to find you.”

  He started to shake his head, and she laid a finger against his lips. His chest was deep and strong. His eyes bored into hers, guarded, piercing.

  “Don’t you ever wonder?” she whispered, unable to keep from dragging her index finger across his bottom lip.

  His free hand came up, clamped around her wrist and pulled her away. “No.”

  She looked into his eyes, saw the lie. The black fire in his gaze turned her bones to water.

  “Don’t you ever think about how good it was between us? What might’ve happened?”

  “No.” But the word was choked, and his gaze fell to her lips.

  She could see the same questions in his eyes that had tortured her since last night. She could read the craving to find out, feel it in the way his body tightened against hers. She might regret it later, but for now she had to know.

  Keeping her gaze locked with his, afraid he would step away, she raised up on tiptoe. His grip tightened on her wrist, but he didn’t move.

  One kiss. Given freely. Completely unrelated to hidden cameras or listening devices.

  She had to taste him, had to know if they could possibly have another chance. It wasn’t over. The smoldering darkness of his eyes, the taut quiver of his body told her he wanted her.

  She touched her lips to his, and it was as if a barrier broke. The need and hunger that had slowly swirled between them exploded.

  On a growl, he hauled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He ravaged her mouth, his hands skimming her back, cupping her bottom and anchoring her to him. She felt something sharp and rough at her back, realized he’d backed her up against the tree. She didn’t care. All she wanted was him, to have this insane whirlpool of need take her down as it was doing now.

  He lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist. “Damn, Kit. Damn.”

  Dragging his lips from hers, he nipped his way down her neck, and she clutched at him, kissing his ear, his temple, his cheek. He was hot and hard between her legs, making silver heat lick at her belly.

  After tugging her T-shirt out of the waistband of her jeans, he slid his hand beneath. His palm, slightly callused, sent a shiver through her as he dragged it over her rib cage. When his hand closed over her silk-covered breast, she moaned, the pleasure a sharp ache inside her.

  He captured her mouth again, and her tongue skimmed his lips, stroked his tongue.

  With a strangled curse, he slid her down his body and put her on her feet. Her legs wobbled, and she braced herself against the tree, her hands spearing into his hair as he shoved her shirt up, took her in both his hands.

  His thumbs skimmed her nipples, hard and straining against the thin material of her bra. He flicked open the front catch, and her breasts spilled into his hands. She made a sound deep in her throat, her breath stalling at the sight of his hands, bronze against the pearl of her flesh.

  He dipped his head, circled one nipple with his tongue. “I love your breasts. I’ve always loved your breasts.”

  A flush heated her body. The shyness she thought she’d outgrown whistled back, but only for a second. His mouth moved over her, gently, hungrily. Heat shot straight to her core. Trembling, she arched into him, holding on tightly, loving the sensation of being swept into a tide of feeling.

  His kiss claimed and demanded. He lifted his head, his gaze scorching as he caressed her breasts again.

  “Why didn’t we fight harder for this?” she breathed, clutching at his shoulders to keep him close. “How did I ever walk away from you?”

  It took her a moment to realize he’d stopped. His mouth branded her neck; his hands cradled her breasts.

  She opened her eyes, her mind fuzzy with desire. The disbelief in his eyes, the resentment hit her senses like a slap.

  “Rafe?”

  With unsteady hands, he pulled her shirt down and stepped away. Barely six inches, but it felt like miles.

  “Rafe?” A sob backed up in her throat. Hunger clawed through her, twisting a knot of need.

  His breathing was ragged, his pulse jumping wildly in his neck. “We’re not going to do this, Kit.”

  “But—”

  “No.” He held up both hands as if to ward her off. “I’m not going down that road again.”

  “But things are different now.” Still shaky, she fastened her bra, straightened her shirt and tucked it in. She tried to think around the feel of his hands on her body.

  “I was always there for you. You were never there for me. And I’m not talking about sex. I commit, you don’t,” he said harshly, turning away from her. “Things are not different.”

  “They could be.” She snagged his elbow, drawing a savage look. She released him. “What you said about Liz is true. It’s time to make her grow up. I’m ready to do that.”

  “Just like that?” he said doubtfully, the heat in his eyes cooling.

  “Yes. I realized that before now, but I couldn’t admit it. You made me face it. I’ve got to stop bailing her out, let her start making her own mistakes.”

  “Darlin’, this is me you’re talking to.”

  “I’m not saying it will be easy, but I’m ready.” She sounded desperate and didn’t care.

  “I know how responsible you feel over your mom, Kit.” He reached out, almost reluctantly she thought, and stroked a finger down her cheek. “I don’t think you can walk away. Not from Liz, not from any of the responsibility you feel.”

  “I know Mom’s death wasn’t my fault.” She gripped his arms, granite-hard beneath her palms. “Logically I know it, but if I hadn’t thrown a fit for those shoes, she wouldn’t have taken me to the mall. And Liz wouldn’t have been deprived of a mother.”

  “You were fourteen, Kit. You were not driving the car. Not her car, not the car that hit her. You tried to help her, and there was nothing anyone could do.”

  “I know all that.” The emotions of the last few minutes, the seesaw between worry and gut-twisting desire dissolved the few defenses she had left. Tears burned, and she swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “I know you’re right.”

  “Hell.” Rafe shifted uneasily, then lifted the tail of his polo shirt. “Here.”

  “I’m not going to cry,” she sniffed, waving away his offer.

  “I know.” He reached out, thumbed a tear from her cheek. For a second, just an instant, his palm cupped her cheek, then he pulled away.

  “Once we find Liz and I know she’s all right, I’m going to tell her.”

  He shook his head. “Kit—”

  “I mean it. I’m going to do it.”

  “Can you, Kit?” He went completely still, his gaze probing hers. “Can you really?”

  “You don’t expect me to walk away now?” She wiped another tear off her cheek. “She’s in danger.”

  “This certainly doesn’t seem to be one of her typical stunts. And no, I don’t expect or want you to turn your back on her. But I don’t believe you’ll be able to let go once she gets back, even if she’s safe and sound. Besides, I’m not what you really want anyway. You’re confused by the uncertainty of this situation. When we find your sister—”

  “No, I’m not confused. I do want you. I want us. I know it now. I know what I need to do, what it’s time to do.”

  “Do you know?” He advanced on her, backing her against the same tree where he’d kissed the breath out of her. A raw hunger, primal and disturbing, blazed in his black eyes and reached out to her. “Because I’d want all of you, Kit.”

  He was lethal and glorious and undeniably male. The low, harsh edge in his voice sent a shiver rippling through her. A delicious heat started between her legs.

  “All of you. No sharing this time. I won’t settle for less ever
again. And you can’t do it, Kit. You can’t commit, at least not to me.”

  “I want to try.” She’d never been so excited or frightened in her life. Her heart pounded in her throat; her body trembled. “I really want to try.”

  His gaze locked with hers, searching, measuring. In one split second, she saw it—the decision, the rejection.

  “That’s good,” he said, gently removing her hand. “I hope you can someday.”

  She felt more lonely than she had in years. Since the day she’d told him no. Emotion welled in her throat, and she struggled to get the words out. “That’s not enough for another chance?”

  He stared at her for a long moment, uncertainty then regret chasing across his carved features. Tension lashed his shoulders.

  “No,” he said simply.

  Chapter 8

  Just after six that evening, his mood as hot and unrelenting as the sun burning its way down the sky, Rafe drove north on May Avenue toward Eddie Sanchez’s apartment complex. Why the hell had Kit decided she wanted to change now? Why did she think she could change?

  She sat beside him, arms folded protectively across her middle, staring silently out the window. She hadn’t said a total of ten words since they’d returned from his parents’ place. Not even after Nita’s phone call a few minutes ago with a message she’d picked up from Mrs. Hawkins on the company voice mail. The elderly neighbor of Tony’s excell mate had called to say that she’d spoken to Sanchez in the apartment complex’s parking lot.

  Kit’s scent slid seductively around him. The velvety feel of her soft, delicious flesh still branded his hands, his mouth. And the harder he tried to forget, the more clearly he recalled the creamy taste of her. Sheer sexual frustration had every nerve in his body wired tight enough to relay electricity.

  Kit wanted him.

  Rafe locked his jaw. While that knowledge could still make his pulse spike, it also made his resolve harden. He hated the distance between them, but it was for the best. She’d said she wanted another chance, but what she really wanted was for things to be the way they used to be.