by Diana Palmer
His hands were on her shoulders, holding her in place, and his eyes were on her mouth in a way that made her breath rustle in her throat.
"Sa-Sarah Jane…" she stammered.
"Is facing the opposite direction and doesn't have eyes in the back of her head," he murmured. "So just give me your mouth without a struggle, little one, and I'll show you how gentle I can be when I try."
He felt her mouth accept his with the first touch, felt her body give when he drew her against his hard chest. She sighed into his mouth, and his brows drew together tightly over his closed eyes with the sheer pleasure of holding her.
She reached up under-his arms to hold him and her body melted without a vestige of fear. Even when she felt the inevitable effect of her closeness on his powerful body, she didn't flinch or try to move away. He was her heart. Despite the pain and the anguish of years ago, he was all she knew or wanted of love.
His hands smoothed her hair as his hard mouth moved slowly on hers. She'd dreamed of this for so many years, dreamed of his mouth taking hers with exquisite tenderness, giving as much as he took. But the dreams paled beside the sweet reality. Her nails scraped against his back, loving the way the muscles rippled under her fingers.
His mouth lifted a fraction of an inch, and his breath was audible. "Who taught you to do that?" he whispered huskily.
"Nobody. I…guess it comes naturally," she whispered back.
His hands slid up her back to her hair and tangled gently in it. "Your mouth is very soft," he said unsteadily. "And it tastes of coffee and mint."
"I had Irish mocha mint coffee," she said.
"Did you?" He searched her eyes slowly. "Your legs are trembling," he remarked.
She laughed nervously. "I'm not surprised," she confessed. "My knees are wobbly."
He smiled, and the smile echoed in his eyes. "Are they?"
"Daddy, watch how high I can go!" a small voice called out.
Blake reluctantly loosened his hold on Meredith. "I'm watching," he called back.
Sarah Jane was swinging high and laughing. "I can almost touch the sky!" she said.
"Funny, so can I," Blake murmured. He glanced at Meredith, and he wasn't smiling.
She looked back, her heart threatening to burst. He took her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers so that he had them pressed in an almost intimate hold.
"To hell with your reputation," he said huskily. "Move in with us for a couple of weeks. Nobody will know except Bess and Bobby, and they're not judgmental."
She wanted to. Her worried eyes searched his. "Your company is an old and very conservative one. Your board of directors wouldn't like it at all."
"My board of directors doesn't dictate my private life," he replied. "We could sit close on the couch and watch television at night with Sarah. We could have breakfast together in the kitchen. If Sarah had nightmares, she could climb in with you. You could read her stories and I could listen." He smiled crookedly. "I don't remember anybody ever reading me a story, Meredith," he added. "My uncle wasn't the type. I grew up in a world without fairy tales and happy endings. Maybe that's why I'm so bitter. I don't want Sarah to end up like me."
"Don't run yourself down," she said softly. Her eyes searched over his face warmly. "I think you turned out pretty well."
He touched her hair with a big, lean hand. "I never meant to be as cruel to you as I was." He sighed wearily. "And I guess if it hadn't been for Sarah, you wouldn't have come near me again, would you?" he asked.
She lowered her eyes to his chest. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I was still bitter, and a little afraid of you when I came back. But when I saw you with Sarah…" Her eyes lifted. "You might not realize it, but you're different when she's around. She takes some of the rough edges off you."
"She's pretty special. No thanks to Nina," he added curtly. "God knows why she kept the child when she so obviously didn't want her."
"Maybe her husband did."
"If he did, he sure changed his tune when he found out she was mine. He turned his back on her completely. I'm damned if I could have done that to a child," he said coldly. "Whether or not we shared the same blood, there are bonds equally strong."
"Not everyone has a sense of honor," Meredith reminded him. "Your sense of honor was always one of your strongest traits."
"It still is." He sat down on the bench again, tugging her down beside him and drawing her closer while Sarah stopped the swing and ran to the sandbox. "She'll carry half that sand home with us," he murmured ruefully.
"Sand brushes off," Meredith reminded him.
He smiled. "So it does." He leaned back and his hand contracted on her shoulder. "She's crazy about you."
"I like her, too. She's a wonderful little girl."
"I hope you'll still think so after she's treated you to one of her tantrums."
"Most children have those," she reminded him. She leaned back against his arm and looked up at him. Impulsively she reached up and touched the white line of scar tissue on his face, noticing the way he flinched and grabbed her hand. "It's not unsightly," she said softly, and she smiled. "I told Sarah it was a mark of courage, and it is. You got it because of me. It was my fault."
His fingers curled around hers and pressed before he led them back to the scar and let her touch it. "Saving you from a wild bronc," he recalled, smiling because it was a lot like what had happened to Sarah in the corral. "You weren't after a lacy white handkerchief. Instead it was a kitten that had run into the corral. I got to you in the nick of time, but I ran face first into a piece of tin on the way out."
"You used words I'd never heard before or since," she murmured sheepishly. "And I deserved every one of them. But you let me patch you up, anyway. That was sweet," she said unthinkingly, and then lowered her eyes.
" 'Sweet.'" His hard lips pursed as he studied her face. "You'll never know what I felt. The atmosphere was electric that day. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to glare at you. It kept me from doing what I really wanted to do."
"Which was?" she asked, curious, because she remembered too well the cold fury in his face and voice as she'd doctored him.
"I wanted to pull you into my lap and kiss the breath out of you," he said huskily. "You were wearing a cotton blouse with nothing, not a damned thing, under it. I could see the outline of your breasts under the blouse and I wanted to touch them so badly that I shook with longing. It wasn't more than a day later that I did just that, in the stable. You didn't know," he guessed, watching .the expressions play across her face.
"No," she admitted breathlessly. "I had no idea. Of course, I was shaking a little myself, and trying so hard to hide my reaction from you that I didn't notice what you might be feeling."
"I lay awake all night, remembering the way you looked and sounded and smelled." He glanced at Sarah, watching her make a pointed castle in the sand and stack twigs around it for doors and windows. "I woke up aching. And then, days later, they read the will, and I went wild. Nina was clinging to me, I was confused about what I felt for you and for her." He shrugged. "I went crazy. That's why I said such cruel things to you. I wanted you so badly. When I saw you later, I couldn't resist one last chance to hold you, to taste you. So I kissed you. It took every last ounce of willpower I had to pull back."
"I really hated you for that," she said, remembering. "I knew you were getting even for the will, for what your uncle tried to do. I never realized that you really wanted me." She smiled self-consciously.
His lips twisted. "Do you think a man can fake desire?" he asked with a level stare.
She flushed and avoided his gaze. "No."
"At least I know now that I'm still capable of feeling it," he said heavily, his eyes going again to Sarah. "It's been a long dry spell. I couldn't bear the thought of having some other woman cut up my pride the way Nina did. And no one knows better than I do that I'm not much good in bed."
"I think that depends on who you're in bed with," she said, staring at his shirt.
"When two people care about each other, it's supposed to be magic, even if neither of them has any experience."
"It wasn't magic for us, and we both fit into that category the day the will was read," he murmured softly.
"That's true. But I fought you. I didn't understand what was happening," she confessed.
He studied her down-bent head. "Do you think it might be different now that we've both had five years to mature?"
"I don't know," she said.
His lean hand touched her hair hesitantly and trailed down her cheek to her soft mouth. "I haven't learned a lot," he said, his voice quiet and deep. He drew in a slow breath. "And you knock me off balance pretty bad. I might frighten you if things got out of hand."
He sounded as if the thought tormented him. She lifted her eyes and looked up at him. "Oh, no," she said softly. "You wouldn't hurt me."
His heart stampeded in his chest when she looked at him that way. "Would you go that far with me?" he whispered.
She couldn't sustain that piercing green-eyed gaze. Her eyes fell to his hard mouth. "Don't ask me, Blake," she pleaded. "I would, but I'd hate both of us. All those years of strict upbringing don't just go away because we want them to. I'm not made for a permissive life. Not even with you."
She made it sound as if he were the exception to the rule, and he felt a sting of pure unadulterated masculine pride at her words. She wanted to. He smiled slowly. That made things a little easier. Of course, the walls were all still up. The smile faded when he realized that those scruples of hers were going to stop him, because his own conscience and sense of honor wouldn't let him seduce her. Not even if she wanted him to.
"I guess I'm not either, if you want the truth." He sighed. "You and I are a dying breed, honey."
She heard the endearment with a sense of awe. It was the first time he'd used one with her, the very first time. She was aware of a new warmth deep inside her as she savored it in her mind.
"Daddy, look at my sand castle!" Sarah Jane called. "Isn't it pretty? But I'm hungry. And I want to go to the bathroom."
Blake smiled involuntarily. "Okay, sprout. Come on." He moved slightly away from Meredith. "She doesn't settle for long. Her mind is like a grasshopper."
"I think it's the age." Meredith smiled. She knelt and held out her arms for Sarah to run into, and she lifted the child, hugging her close. "You smell nice," she said. "What do you have on?"
"It's Daddy's," Sarah said, and Blake's eyebrows shot up. "It was on his table and I got me some. Isn't it nice? Daddy always smells good."
"Yes, he does." Meredith was fighting a losing battle with the giggles. She looked at Blake's astounded face and burst out laughing.
"So that's where it went," he murmured, sniffing Sarah and wrinkling his nose. "Sprout, that stuff's for me. It's not for little girls."
"I want to be like you, Daddy," Sarah said simply, and there was the sweetest, warmest light in her green eyes.
Blake smiled at her fully for the first time, his white teeth flashing against his dark tan. "Well, well. I guess I'll have to teach you how to ride and rope, then."
"Oh, yes!" Sarah agreed. "I can ride a horse now. And I can rope anything. Can't I, Merry?"
Meredith almost agreed, but Blake's eyes were making veiled threats.
"You'd better wait a bit, until your daddy can teach you properly," Meredith said carefully, and Blake nodded in approval.
"I hate to wait," Sarah muttered.
"Don't we all," Blake murmured, but he didn't look at Meredith as he started toward the car. "Let's find someplace that sells food."
They found a small convenience store with rest rooms just a little way down the road, where they bought coffee and soft drinks and the fixings for sandwiches, along with pickles and chips. Blake drove them back to the park, which was beginning to fill up.
"I know a better place than this," he remarked. "Sarah, how would you like to wade in the river?"
"Oh, boy!" she exclaimed.
He smiled at Meredith, who smiled back. "Then let's go. We're between the Canadian and the North Canadian rivers. Take your pick."
"The North Canadian, then," Meredith said.
He turned the car and shot off in the opposite direction, while Sarah Jane asked a hundred questions about Oklahoma, the rivers, the Indians and why the sky was blue.
Meredith just sat quietly beside Blake as he drove, admiring his lean hands on the wheel, the ease with which he maneuvered through Jack's Corner and out onto the plains. He didn't try to talk while he drove, which was good, because Sarah wouldn't have let him get a word in edgewise, anyway.
Sarah's chatter gave Meredith a breathing space and she used it to worry over Blake's unexpected proposal. He wanted her to move in with him and Sarah, and she was more tempted than he knew. She had to keep reminding herself that she had a lot to lose—and it was more than just a question of her reputation and his. It was a question of her own will and whether she could trust herself to say no to Blake if he decided to turn on the heat.
He wasn't a terribly experienced man, but that wouldn't matter if he started kissing her. She still loved him. If he wanted her, she wasn't sure that all her scruples would keep her out of his bed.
And being the old-fashioned man he was, she didn't know what would happen if she gave in. He'd probably feel obliged to offer to marry her. That would ruin everything. She didn't want a marriage based on obligation. If he grew to care about her, and wanted her for his own sake and not Sarah's…
She forced her mind back to the present. It didn't do to anticipate fate. Regardless of how she felt, it was Blake's feelings that mattered now. He had to want more than just her body before she could feel comfortable about the future.
Seven
Blake drove over the bridge that straddled the Canadian River, but he didn't stop on its banks. He kept driving until finally he turned off on a dirt road and they went still another short distance. He stopped the car under an oak tree and helped Meredith and Sarah Jane out into the shade.
"Where are we?" Meredith asked, disoriented.
He smiled. "Come and see." He took Sarah's hand and led them through the trees to a huge body of water. "Know where you are now?" he asked.
Meredith laughed. "Lake Thunderbird!" she burst out. "But this isn't the way to get to it! And this isn't the North Canadian or the Canadian. It's in between!"
"Don't confuse the issue with a lot of facts," he said with dry humor. "Isn't this a nice place for a picnic?" he went on. "We have shade and peace and quiet."
"Who owns this land?"
He pursed his lips. "Well, actually, it's part of what I inherited from my uncle. It's only fifteen acres, but I like it here." He looked around the wooded area with eyes that appreciated its natural beauty. "When I need to think out something, I come here. I guess that's why I've never built on it. I like it this way."
"Yes, I can see why," Meredith agreed. Birds were singing nearby, and the wind brushed leafy branches together with soft whispers of sound. She closed her eyes and let the breeze lift her hair, and she thought that with Sarah and Blake beside her, she'd never been closer to heaven.
"Sarah, don't go too near the edge," Blake cautioned.
"But you said I could go wading," the child protested, and began to look mutinous.
"So I did," he agreed. "But not here. After we eat, there's a nice place farther down the road where you can wade. Okay?"
For several long seconds, she matched her small will against his. But in the end she gave in. "Okay," she said.
Blake got out the cold cuts and bread, and a heavy cloth to spread on the grass. They ate in contented silence as Sarah offered crumbs to ants and other insects, fascinated with the variety of tiny life.
"Haven't you ever seen a bug before, Sarah?" Meredith asked.
"Not really," the little girl replied. "Mama said they're nasty and she killed them. But the man on TV says that bugs are bene… bene…"
"Beneficial," Blake said. "And I could a
rgue that with the man on TV, especially when they get into the hides of my cattle."
Meredith smiled at him. He smiled back. Then the smiles faded and they were looking at each other openly, with a blistering kind of attraction that made Meredith's body go hot. She'd never experienced that electricity with anyone except Blake. Probably she never would, but she had to get a grip on herself before it was too late.
She forced her eyes down to the cloth. "How about another sandwich?" she offered with forced cheer.
After they finished the makeshift meal, Blake drove them down to the small stream. It ran across the dirt road, and Sarah tugged off her cowgirl boots in a fever to get to the clear, rippling water. Butterflies drifted down on the wet sand, and Blake smiled at the picture the child made walking barefoot through the water.
"I used to do that when I was a boy," Blake said, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the trunk of the car and watched her. "Kids who live in cities miss a hell of a lot."
"Yes, they do. I can remember playing like this, too. We used to get water from streams occasionally in oil drums, when the well went dry." Her eyes had a wistful, faraway look. "We were so poor in those days. I never realized how poor until I went to a birthday party in grammar school and saw how other kids lived." She sighed. "I never told my parents how devastating it was. But I realized then what a difference money makes."
"It doesn't seem to have changed you all that much, Meredith," he said, studying her quietly. "You're a little more confident than you used to be, but you're no snob."
"Thank you." She twisted the small gold-braid ring on her finger nervously. "But I'm not in your class yet. I get by and that's all."
"A Porsche convertible is more than just getting by," he mused.
"I felt reckless the day I bought it. I was thinking about coming back here and facing the past," she confessed. "I bought it to give me confidence."
"We all need confidence boosters from time to time," Blake replied quietly, his eyes on Sarah. "She's slowly coming out of the past. I like seeing her laugh. She didn't in those first few days with me."
