"All of it."
He used his index finger to flip on the signal for the first Placerville exit. "When you're racing, time slows down, which is one of the reasons you can handle a car at two-hundred plus. It's the same with a smash-up."
Hazel waited until he'd navigated the serpentine curves of the exit before asking, "Do you have nightmares about the crash?"
This time there was a nearly imperceptible pause before he answered. "No. Not now."
"But you did?"
"More like flashbacks. The shrink in the hospital told me, to expect them, but I thought she was talking through her hat." He glanced her way, his mouth wryly mocking. "She wasn't."
"How long did you have them?"
"A few years. Until my second or third year of law school."
He stopped at an intersection, then took the road to the left that looked as though it led off into nowhere. Hazel had been to Placerville before but had never ventured this far into the boonies.
She'd heard it said somewhere that the northern section of the California Sierra Nevada was more west Texas than west Texas, and she was beginning to see why.
"I can almost see John Wayne riding hell-bent over that rise over there," she said, craning her neck.
"Me, I was always the Lone Ranger when my brothers and I got a chance to play cowboys and Indians."
She laughed, then tried to picture a younger version of the man she knew galloping over these hills, a gangly kid in dungarees and a checkered shirt. She had limited success, however, mostly because images of a man's broad chest and hard lean thighs in tight jeans kept intruding.
"Looks like good cattle rustlin' country, Kemo Sabe," she murmured when her thoughts became too unsettling.
"More like good grazing land," he said, sparing her an amused look that should have made her laugh and instead had her thinking about the leashed hunger of his mouth when he'd kissed her.
"Is that what your brother raises? Cattle?"
"No, Appaloosas and quarter horses. Before him, though, the Dantes were cattlemen, man and boy. Three generations back."
"So how come you ended up driving race cars? It doesn't quite compute."
"Sure it does. I've always liked horses. I just wanted to drive more than one at a time."
Hazel shook her head. "That makes sense – I think."
They drove in silence for a time, heading up a winding road and through a stand of gnarled live oaks, then along a sturdy, well-maintained rail fence and up a long unpaved lane.
"How's the kid doing?" Jess asked after having her shift into low for him. Occupied with the gear lever, it took Hazel a moment to realize that he meant Neil.
"He's doing better, finally."
A muscle low on his jaw flattened, then eased. "Does he still want to blow his brains out?" His tone was completely dispassionate, as though they were discussing the latest baseball scores.
A week ago she would have been disgusted by his utter lack of emotion. Now she knew better. Jess was simply more adept at hiding his feelings than most people.
"You know I can't discuss specifics," she said, chiding him with a smile that he seemed inclined to return.
"At least he's still hanging in there. That's something." Hazel drew a cautious breath, then said lightly, "I was surprised to hear that you were the one who recommended me to the Kenyons."
He flicked her a look that could have meant anything from irritation to surprise. "Why? You're good, aren't you?"
"Very. I didn't realize you knew that, however."
"Why wouldn't I? I was around when you were treating Kels, remember?"
Hazel folded her hands around her purse and held a quick private debate with herself. Should she or shouldn't she?
She should, she decided. After all, Jess had asked her to be his wife. She had every right to display curiosity about his life, past and present.
"How did you come to know Neil and his family well enough to recommend anyone, let alone me?"
Tensing, he seemed to be considering his answer, perhaps weighing how much of his privacy he was willing to give up.
"I read about his accident in the paper," he said finally. "One day when I was at the rehab center I dropped in to see him."
"The rehab center? Do you still take therapy?"
"No." He hesitated, then frowned. "I volunteer now and then. Sometimes it helps new patients to talk to someone who's been through the drill."
"Did someone talk to you?"
"No."
Slowing to a crawl, he turned right into a track passing under a rustic wooden sign bearing a rocking D brand and the name Dante Brothers.
"I didn't know you owned part of the ranch," she said, straining against the lap belt for a better look at the land where Jess grew up.
"I don't. Garrett used to be partners with our brother Rafe before he was killed. Somehow he never got around to taking down the sign."
Before Hazel could ask him what had happened to his brother, they had crested a small rise and were heading toward a setting right out of the same John Wayne movie she'd thought of earlier.
The house was a two-story adobe with deep shaded balconies, built in the midst of a gorgeous stand of eucalyptus trees that had to be a good hundred years old or more.
A lush lawn of Bermuda grass surrounded the house, and there appeared to be a pool on the other side of a grape stake fence to the rear.
The outbuildings were adobe, as well, with the exception of a large barn made of stone. Jess pulled up next to the corral gate and killed the engine.
"Home, sweet home," he declared, half turning toward her in order to remove the keys and set the brake. "Garrett said to meet him in the barn. He's mending tack."
"Oh, Jess, it's wonderful," she said, trying to see everything at once.
"Yeah, well, don't fall in love with it," he warned, opening his door. "Garrett lives here. I live in a bungalow in Fair Oaks."
She had just freed herself from the old-fashioned lap belt when Jess opened the door and extended his hand, obviously intending to help her out of the lower than normal bucket seat.
Expecting him to let her go once she was on her feet, she found herself suddenly pulled against him instead. Before she could make a sound, his hand had slipped deftly into the hollow of her back and his mouth had come down on hers for a hard, demanding kiss.
Her heart was pounding and her legs were remarkably unsteady when he lifted his mouth from hers.
"That's just to remind you which Dante wants to marry you," he said before releasing her.
"Don't worry, I'm not about to forget," she assured him, straightening her skirt. Just as she wasn't about to let herself forget the reason – a dark-haired, adorable orphan named Francisca who needed a mother.
* * *
Chapter 10
«^»
Once inside the barn, Hazel felt as though she had stepped into a different century. Life seemed simpler here, more in tune with the rhythms of nature than the clock.
The interior was cool, the space impressive. The sweetly seductive scent of alfalfa wafted from the loft to mingle with the more pungent odors of manure and horse flesh below.
Glancing up, she saw massive hand-hewn oak beams and age-darkened timber. Stark, solid reminders of a rugged demanding life-style and the men and women who had survived it.
"This is one great barn," she murmured, turning slowly in a circle.
Standing near the door, Jess found himself watching her every reaction, measuring her response to the place he loved, like a kid bringing his best date home to meet his folks.
Somehow he'd pictured her feeling as ill at ease here as he'd been in her house, her world. Certainly she was dressed more for that parlor of hers than a working spread. Tailored slacks, simple blouse without frills or ruffles, gold at her ears and throat. Nothing overtly sexy or even subtly hinting at a female come-on. No reason at all why he should be standing there feeling as randy as a stallion confronted with a skittish mare needing more g
entleness than he possessed.
"I have to tell you, Jess, this is nothing like the puny little stable where I boarded Pizzazz."
"Pizzazz?"
How long had it been since he'd made love to a woman? he wondered, forcing himself to concentrate on her words instead of her lips. How many years of living like a monk and telling himself celibacy was good for him?
"Pizzazz was my Arab. Father bought her for me as an investment. 'Your college fund' he called her, and let it be known that I was to win enough prize money on her to increase her value substantially."
"Did you?"
"Enough to pay for four years of grad school by the time he made me sell her." She inhaled deeply. "Being here reminds me of her."
She came closer, testing the promise he'd made to himself to press his case slowly and logically. The whisper of her perfume and the proximity of her soft mouth gave him a few bad seconds before he had his control shored up again.
"Being here reminds me of damn hard work."
He was at home here, she thought. At one with this old place as he was one with the Mercedes he cherished – and constantly threatened to sell when it gave him trouble.
Was that the way Jess handled his deepest feelings? she wondered. By denying them with the same fervency?
"Did you really hate it?" she asked, giving in to the need to know as easily as she gave in to impulse. "Or are you just telling yourself that because you can't do it any longer?"
Jess froze. "I can still do it," he told her, his voice clipped. "It just takes me longer."
"And you're angry at me for bringing it up, right?" His face was stone, like the barn, all the emotion she'd been feeling from him withdrawn behind that impenetrable wall.
"Did you ever think that you'd be angry with me if I ignored the fact that you face limitations I don't?" She rested both hands on his shoulders and made him look at her. "Jess? Tell me how you want me to handle the fact that you're, um, 'differently abled,' I think the term is these days?"
Jess recognized the attempt to put him at ease with an openness about his handicap that he'd learned never to expect from a woman. Or anyone else, for that matter. Although he himself wasn't a particularly kind person, he recognized kindness in others. Hazel had more than her share.
But lying helpless as a baby in a hospital bed had taught him that kindness generally came with a kicker, the kind that stripped a man of his dignity and left him raw inside. He realized that he liked it better when she was yelling at him.
"I don't want you to 'handle' it at all," he said.
"Too bad, because we both know it's not going to go away. As someone told me once, it's not as though some scientist someplace was suddenly going to figure out a way to grow you a new arm. And if we can't be honest with each other about our feelings concerning this one small problem, how can we possibly handle a marriage?"
Turning away before he could answer, she moved eagerly toward the stalls. Like a room of kindergarten kids, the mares lined up to greet the visitors with soft nickers and inquisitive stares.
"Oh, what a beauty!" she exclaimed softly, stopping in front of an Appaloosa yearling.
Jess told himself to hold on to his anger. It was safer that way. But Hazel had a way of making a man want to take risks with her that he would never consider taking with anyone else.
"That's Madonna, my niece Andi's pride and joy."
The mare pricked her ears and whinnied. "Hiya, lady," Jess murmured, rubbing the eager nose with his knuckles.
"She likes you," Hazel remarked, glancing up at him speculatively.
"I helped Garrett deliver her. We—"
"If you say 'bonded,' I swear I'll sock you a good one," she exclaimed softly, her eyes sparkling. In the barn's dim light, they appeared more golden than green. Like a mama cat's when she was feeling frisky early in the morning. Or late at night.
Because he wanted very badly to draw her down in a bed of clean hay and make very slow, very careful love to her, he made it impossible by calling out his brother's name.
As he expected, Garrett stuck his head out of the tack room and waved. "Yo, J.D.! Thought I heard that bomb of … yours." Garrett's welcoming grin froze as he caught sight of Hazel. "You didn't tell me you were bringing a guest for dinner."
Jess sensed immediately that Hazel liked his brother on sight. But then, most people did, especially women. Garrett had been the stud of the county before he'd married his high school sweetheart. Now that he was a widower, he was in more demand than ever.
"Hazel O'Connor," he said, slipping his hand under her arm and leading her forward. "Meet the rock of the Dante family, my big brother, Garrett."
Hazel found herself looking up at an older, leaner version of Jess, with the same dark eyes and strongly shaped mouth. Meeting his frank, open gaze, she sensed some of Jess's sharp intelligence beneath the weathered facade, as well.
"Hello, Garrett. I'm very glad to meet you."
Hazel stuck out her hand. Garrett ignored it and instead gave her one of his patented bear hugs.
Watching, Jess realized just how tiny she seemed when she was wrapped up like a cuddly package in Garrett's big arms. He also realized at that precise moment just how much he wanted to slug his brother in the gut.
"I'm running a little behind mending Andi's show saddle," Garrett said when he released Hazel. Damn reluctantly, too, it seemed to Jess. "How 'bout you two having a cup of coffee while I finish up? There's still plenty left in the thermos. Made it myself."
Jess groaned. "Sure you haven't got a jug someplace instead? Hazel is partial to white wine, but I'll drink anything that isn't right out of a still someplace."
Garrett threw a long leg over the stool pulled close to the most beautiful silver-encrusted saddle Hazel had ever seen and reached for the half-mended stirrup.
"Sorry, no jug. Just coffee."
"Sounds lovely," Hazel murmured, smiling up at Garrett with a free and easy warmth Jess envied. He wasn't a jealous man, but the sharp catch in his gut was hard to ignore.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," he grumbled, handing her one of the cups Garrett kept in a drawer for visitors.
"I like strong coffee," she insisted, unscrewing the cap on the thermos.
"Strong doesn't begin to cover cowboy coffee."
Jess hooked a cup for himself and held it out toward her. She poured for both of them, then topped up Garrett's cup.
Jess tested the coffee and found it worse than usual. After his sister-in-law's death a few years back, his brother had learned to cook and keep a passable house, but he hadn't learned squat about brewing a decent pot of coffee.
"Strong, isn't it?" he said, eyeing her closely.
Hazel took a tentative sip, then nodded. "Very."
He seemed more at ease here than anywhere she'd been with him. More the rugged cowhand than the sophisticated attorney. And far more difficult to resist, she was discovering, especially when he was looking at her with eyes dark and enigmatic one moment, lashed with heat the next.
Excitement ran through her, chased by a mental shiver of warning. Once released, passion as deep and potent as his, passion that had been dammed up so strongly and for so long, could easily destroy anyone not strong enough to withstand the torrent.
"Very strong," she repeated, forcing another tiny taste. "A real challenge to the system."
His mouth slanted. "Most women prefer something easier to handle."
"And some don't."
"Hard to tell sometimes, though, isn't it?"
Wanting her with a hunger that strained even his will to endure, Jess leaned against the drug cabinet and watched Garrett's fingers manipulate leather and awl. It was a job that he had once hated. Now he would give anything just to be able to do it again.
"Where's Andi?" he asked Garrett when the silence started to make him edgy.
"4-H meeting." Garrett wet the end of a leather thong with his tongue. "County Fair's next month," he added for Hazel's benefit. "My daughter's entered Mado
nna this year."
"Do you think she'll win?" Hazel asked.
"Damn, I hope so. Otherwise she won't be fit to live with for months." Garrett pierced the leather wrap on the stirrup with the needle-sharp awl before glancing up. "Takes after her Uncle J.D., hates like fire to lose."
"Really?" Hazel murmured, her voice reeking of a playful innocence Jess was more and more inclined to kiss out of her. "You could have fooled me."
While Jess scowled, Garrett glanced at the long line of dusty blue ribbons tacked to one of the rough-hewn rafters.
"See those awards there? My old man hung the first one the year I took the bronc-busting prize at the junior rodeo. J.D. was six that year, and he musta liked all the attention I got, 'cause the next thing we know, he's out in the far pasture, trying to ride anything that would stand still long enough for him to climb on."
Garrett threw Jess a grin that wasn't returned. "Broke his leg once, dislocated his shoulder another time. Even managed to get himself a coupla concussions before he learned how to hang on properly."
"Don't listen to him," Jess told her with a dark look for his brother. She'd already sensed the subtle thread of love between the two males, even though she doubted if either would openly admit it to the other.
"How many of those up there are yours?" she asked Jess with a smile.
"Hell if I know. Ask Garrett. He likes telling stories so much."
Garrett chuckled. "Five are mine, six are his. There would have been more, but he discovered cars could go faster and farther, and that was that. Got himself an old hot rod and took to racing deer out on Old Placer Road
."
"So that's how you got started," Hazel said, watching him intently with those soft golden eyes as though she'd never quite seen anyone like him before.
Being watched made him nervous, no matter who was doing the watching or why. In the courtroom, he had learned to start out slow and easy with a new jury, giving them time to get used to the homely guy with one arm before he showed them the attorney.
There were still times, however, when he wondered if he too often won concessions from the jury or other attorneys out of sheer pity, something he hated but couldn't prevent.
ONCE UPON A WEDDING Page 13
