Angel of Mercy & Standoff at Mustang Ridge

by Heather Graham

  It wasn’t his apartment that was lacking, it was his life.

  He sat back on the sofa and closed his eyes. What would he be doing now, he wondered, if he had come back to his life exactly as it had been?

  He’d have played one of his discs while he showered and dressed, for one. And what else? Well, he’d have gone back into the office, and when he was done, he’d have gone out with the guys to celebrate the fact that the job was done. It was over. They’d have gone to a nightclub on the beach for a few drinks.

  And there might have been a woman. Someone career-minded, pretty, flashy. Someone out to have a good time, with no strings. They’d have liked each other, sure. They’d have had a good time. They might have made breakfast in the morning. They might even have remembered each other’s names.

  But Brad wasn’t going out that night—not even for a few beers with the guys. He was going to file his paperwork, and he was going to try to see Wendy.

  Unfortunately, his plan was thwarted. When Brad reached his office, he discovered that Wendy was being questioned by the district attorney. When he reached the D.A.’s office, he found out that Wendy had already gone.

  Amazed, Brad asked Gary, “That’s it? She’s gone?”

  “Oh, well, they may need to call her in again before the trial. The attorneys will want to talk to her again, I’m sure—”

  “No, no. I mean, she left? Just like that? Did she—” He hesitated, his pride tripping him up. “Did she leave me a message?”

  Gary shook his head. Brad stared at him a long moment.

  When Brad was interviewed by the D.A., he answered every question in a tired monotone. When he was done, he headed back to his office, initiated the extensive paperwork, and later returned to his empty apartment.

  He drank a beer, then drank another beer. He picked up the phone, and then he remembered that Wendy didn’t have a phone.

  She hadn’t left him a message. She hadn’t even said goodbye. Hell, they were worth more than that.

  He had another beer. And another. Around 3:00 a.m. he finally fell asleep whispering her name. He didn’t know if it was a curse or an anguished plea.

  * * *

  There was one nice thing about living alone, Wendy thought: privacy.

  For two days, she’d been able to mope around the house. She’d been able to indulge in ridiculous crying sprees and talk out loud, cursing Brad and railing against him. She’d spent long, pensive hours staring at the blank television screen, reminding herself that she did not want him anyway.

  She couldn’t live with his job, and she knew that it would be wrong to ask him to change it. Even if she did, he would eventually resent her for it. It just couldn’t work.

  And the wretched man hadn’t even come to see her when she had spent all those miserable hours with the D.A.! She’d answered a million questions then they’d somberly reminded her how much they would need her testimony to put away Jenkins and Pedro. The district attorney had seemed concerned over her volatile emotional state. She couldn’t explain that her unbidden tears had nothing to do with the case—but with the DEA investigator. Fortunately, Eric had accompanied her. He had assured them all that Wendy was far stronger than she appeared.

  And so she waited. For the first few days, she waited. She was convinced that he would come to her. She dreamed that she would wake up to find him there, standing in the doorway, dressed in old jeans. He would walk across the room, bend down to her and take her in his arms. In her dreams, their clothing would miraculously disappear, and she would feel the hot fire of his flesh next to hers.

  But then she would wake up—alone. Or else it would be worse—Baby would be sprawled out on the bed, and she would growl and hiss in annoyance when Wendy threw her out.

  Wendy returned to work at Eric’s, but she couldn’t concentrate on her work. She didn’t know that she was absolutely worthless until Eric came in one afternoon, pulled the book she was reading out of her hand and turned it right side up.

  Eric sat across from her, folding his fingers in contemplative fashion, studying her for several moments. “Why don’t you go in to Lauderdale and see him?” he suggested at last.

  She shook her head. “If he wanted to see me, he would come here.”

  “That seems logical to you. What if he’s thinking the same thing? That you’d come see him if you wanted to?”

  “I was there and he wasn’t!”

  “He probably had a million things to do, Wendy. Be reasonable. I’ll tell you what. I’ve got a dinner date with some old friends on Las Olas next Friday night. I’ll drop you by Brad’s, and if you’re unhappy there, you can just come and join me.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not right. I mean, what for, anyway? He likes his life the way that it is. I can’t really be a part of it.”

  He grinned at her and leaned forward, taking her hands. “Wendy, people change. They fall in love, and their priorities change.”

  “Who says he’s in love?” she whispered.

  Eric shrugged. “I do. As Willie says, life is a river. To live it, you must follow your heart.”

  “I’ll let you know,” she told him softly.

  By the time Friday rolled around, she had summoned up some courage. She had spent the day in a tub of bubble bath, washed her hair, given herself a manicure and a pedicure and laid out a silk cocktail dress.

  At four in the afternoon, she was practically whitewashed. But her hair was still soaking wet and she was pacing around in a worn, floor-length terry robe, trying not to chew her nails while she thought it over.

  She was confused about her purpose. What was she going to say? Can we hop into bed one more time, Brad, for old time’s sake? Hi, Brad, I was in the neighborhood, so I just stopped over?

  What if he had a woman there?

  Her courage was beginning to fade when she heard the sound of a motor. She was surprised to see that it was Eric. They weren’t due to leave for the evening until about seven, and he was supposed to be driving over. She opened the front door and saw her brother-in-law walking toward her with a packet of mail. “I picked this up at the post office,” he said, handing her the mail. “And I just wanted to check on tonight. We still on?”

  “I don’t know, Eric—” Wendy began.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He waved to her and hurried away. She thought about calling him back to tell him that it was definitely off.

  She didn’t. Maybe she would just go to dinner with Eric and his friends. It might be good to get out.

  Wandering into the bathroom, she examined her pale face and wet hair and decided that for a woman who had spent the entire day trying to look and smell delicious, she’d failed miserably.

  Then she wandered back into the kitchen, idly leafing through the mail. She found the usual assortment of bills and junk mail, then her heart began to pound when she saw that one of the letters addressed to her was from Brad’s office.

  The bills fell to the floor as she ripped open the official-looking letter.

  After she had opened it, she read it over and over. Then she felt as if she were a kettle, that heat was rising inside of her and she was fast approaching a boiling point.

  It was a thank-you from the department. An official thank-you for her part in accommodating the agent.

  It was meant from the heart, she was sure. But it was all so formal, so final.

  “There are definite advantages to living alone!” she screamed in fury, throwing the letter down and stamping on it. Still, she didn’t feel any better.

  “That son of a bitch!” she swore, pacing up and down the hallway. She stormed into her bedroom, threw herself on her bed and slammed her fist against her pillow.

  Then she realized, very slowly, that she wasn’t alone. She swu
ng around.

  He was there, just as he had been in her dreams. Well, he was dressed in a blue business suit, but he was standing in the doorway, staring at her.

  He looked good—damned good. He was handsome in navy. His white shirt was tailored and crisp, and he even had good taste in ties. His hair was combed back. His eyes appeared a little more haggard, his face a bit leaner.

  But he was standing in front of her.

  Automatically, her fingers moved to her wet hair. She’d planned this out so well! She’d meant to come to him in complete control, svelte and sophisticated, armed and armored against any vulnerability.

  But he had come to her when she looked about as sophisticated as Tinkerbell. Her temper soared again. Wendy sprang to her knees, and then to her feet.

  “You bastard!” she hissed.

  “I—uh—I did knock. You didn’t hear me.”

  “I didn’t hear you?” She began to advance on him. “I let you in, I turn my home, my life, inside out. I get kidnapped by dope dealers. And do I get anything from you? Like maybe, goodbye, Wendy, thanks, it’s been sweet? No!” She slammed both her fists against his chest. “No! I get a thank-you from the department for accommodating you!”

  “Wendy—”

  “I hate you! I absolutely despise you. You’re a ruthless ingrate!” She took a swing at him. He ducked and caught her arms, imprisoning her against his body.

  “Wendy—”

  She struggled against him in a frenzy. “You weren’t even there! I came into that office and I was a wonderful, model citizen, and you weren’t even there!”

  “Wendy—”

  “You can go and rot in hell, Brad McKenna!”

  He scooped her off the floor. Automatically, she looped her arms around his neck and stared into his eyes.

  He started walking toward the bed. “I tried to see you,” Brad said.

  Her heart seemed aflame, her flesh seemed aflame. He was touching her, holding her again. He was walking straight toward the bed.

  He laid her down. Gently tugging on the cord to her robe, he watched as it fell open. He caught his breath at the naked length of her. She saw the pulse start up against the bronze flesh at his throat. He laid his face against her and kissed her belly. She slipped her fingers into his hair.

  “I was coming to see you tonight. I had it all planned out. I was going to wear silk. I was going to be beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered huskily against her flesh. “Beautiful.”

  “You are a horrible, inconsiderate bastard, and I hate you,” Wendy breathed. She could feel his lips, just grazing her skin.

  He straightened and looked into her eyes. “Will you marry me, Wendy?”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  He loosened his tie. “I’ve thought about it. I know the way that you feel, but I think that we can come to some compromises. Life means much more to me now. I never knew how much it could mean until I found out what it was like to share. I love you, Wendy. I can’t change what I am, my convictions, or the way that I feel, but I love you. I think that you love me, too. I’ve sat home these weeks staring at empty walls. I wanted you so badly. I thought that maybe you could forgive me for what I was. I thought that you would call me—”

  “You didn’t call me!” Wendy protested.

  “You don’t have a phone,” Brad reminded her. “That’s one thing that we’re going to fix.”

  “What?” she said carefully. “We’re going to live—here?”

  “Well, it will take me at least an hour to get to work in the morning. But I figured that when I was working in Manhattan, my commute on the trains took me an hour, too. I’ll still be with the DEA, but I’m through with the fieldwork. I want to come home at night—to come home here, to spend every night with you. We’ll live here. With a phone.”

  “With a phone,” Wendy repeated.

  Brad’s tie fell to the floor. His jacket, vest and shirt followed, but Wendy was still just staring at him, dumbfounded.

  When he kicked off his shoes and trousers, she trembled and shuddered, alive with anticipation from head to toe. He stretched out over her and took her lips, kissing her slowly, savoring her lower lip, playing with her tongue. His left hand caressed the fullness of her curves, dallying over her breasts and between her legs. She was breathless when he pulled away from her, seeking her eyes. “Well?” he whispered.

  “What?” Her mind wandered. What was he talking about? She returned his kiss so ardently and touched him with such fervor. He couldn’t begin to think that she would deny him—not at this point.

  Slow down, she warned herself. She smiled sweetly, trying to ignore the spiraling need inside of her. She drew her fingers down his chest and tightened them evocatively about the aroused shaft of his desire.

  “Well? What’s the verdict?” He kissed her lips, nuzzling his clean-shaven cheek against her throat. Then he met her eyes again. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes! Yes, I will!”

  “Good.” Brad smiled complacently. Then he lowered his weight upon her and thrust deeply inside of her. Deeper, and deeper, and then he held still. “I missed you so much,” he whispered. “I can’t leave you again. I really can’t.”

  Wendy wound her arms around him. “I love you.” She swallowed, savoring the feel of him. “I love you, and I don’t think that I could ever let you go again.”

  Brad murmured something else, but she couldn’t decipher his words. As he began to stroke her, hard and fast, the words just didn’t matter anymore....

  * * *

  They were still lying there, drowsy and half-asleep—having made love several times to make up for lost time—when Wendy heard the motor of the airboat.

  “Oh, dear!” She tried to leap up; some weight stopped her. Baby! The cat had come in when they had drifted off and made herself very comfortable, despite the two humans in the bed. “Baby, get off!”

  “Out!” Brad commanded. Baby growled at him. He gave her a shove. “Off, I said!”

  Baby obeyed. Wendy laughed, struggling back into her robe. “That’s Eric,” she told Brad. He arched a curious brow, lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching out comfortably. “Hey!” She shoved him. “You get up, too!”

  He laughed and stepped into his trousers. “He’s going to know exactly what we’ve been doing,” Wendy wailed.

  Brad laughed. “And what did he think he was bringing you into the city to do?”

  “To go respectably out to dinner!” Wendy lied indignantly. Brad just laughed and walked into the living room. By the time Wendy belted her robe, she could hear the two men talking to one another. Guiltily straightening her tousled hair, she joined them. Brad swept her into the circle of his arm.

  “He says that he’d be honored to be an usher at our wedding. He’s sure that Willie will be delighted to give you away, and that maybe he’ll break down and get a phone when we do, too.”

  Wendy burst out laughing. Eric laughed and kissed her.

  “I told you, Wendy,” he whispered, “we are all fated to follow our hearts.” He gave her a squeeze. “Hey, have you got any champagne in here?”

  Wendy did. It was warm, but they plopped a few ice cubes into it, and Eric toasted them.

  * * *

  Two months later, in the Church of the Little Flower, Willie did give her away. She wore a dress of soft gray, which highlighted the silver in her eyes.

  Later, Brad told her that she was the most beautiful bride he had ever seen.

  “Really?” she asked him. He had just been telling her how much he loved her gown, but that didn’t seem to stop him from being overly anxious to remove it.

  “Really.”

  “I’m so glad we were married.”

  “So am I,” Brad said absently. Ther
e were a million little tiny hooks on the gown, and she wasn’t helping him one bit.

  “’Cause I think we’re going to have a beautiful little newcomer,” Wendy said demurely.

  “That’s nice,” Brad murmured, annoyed by the maze of hooks on the damned dress.

  Suddenly his fingers went still as he turned her toward him. “What?”

  “Well, it could be a tawny-haired little visitor with golden eyes.” Her voice trembled suddenly. “Do you mind?”

  “Do I mind?” He could barely whisper. “I—I—no!”

  He couldn’t seem to find the proper words to tell her that he loved her, and that he was thrilled and awed by the prospect of a child—their child.

  So he leaned over and kissed her, and showed her instead.

  * * * * *

  Standoff at Mustang Ridge

  Delores Fossen

  Also available from Delores Fossen

  HQN Books

  A Wrangler’s Creek

  Branded as Trouble

  Just Like a Cowboy (ebook novella)

  No Getting Over a Cowboy

  One Good Cowboy (ebook novella)

  Those Texas Nights

  Lone Star Cowboy (ebook novella)

  The McCord Brothers

  Blame It on the Cowboy

  Cowboy Underneath It All (ebook novella)

  Lone Star Nights

  Cowboy Trouble (ebook novella)

  Texas on My Mind

  What Happens on the Ranch (ebook novella)

  The Lawmen of Silver Creek Ranch

  Lucas

  Drury

  Holden

  Landon

  Sawyer

  Josh

  Mason

  Gage

  Kade

  Nate

  Dade

  Grayson

  To see the complete list of titles available from Delores Fossen, please visit www.deloresfossen.com.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7