“Yes, as a matter of fact you are,” Shelly said. “I expect the others will start arriving any minute now—although I know that M.J. and Tracy will be late. M.J. has to close the store and Tracy has a sick calf she's going to check on before leaving town—they'll ride out together—provided Tracy doesn't get called out on another emergency. But the others—Ilka, Ross, and Sam ought to make it with no trouble.”
“And God knows,” said Sloan with a grin, “nothing stops the Courtland twins from reaching a party.”
“Good thing you suggested we all stay overnight,” Jeb commented as he handed Sloan his jacket. “The way the snow is falling, I wouldn't relish trying to make it out of here at one, two o'clock in the morning.”
“I just hope everyone gets here,” Shelly said worriedly. “Nick, Acey, and Maria were supposed to be here early.” She glanced at the clock. “They're running a little late—I expect the weather is slowing them down.” She sighed. “When we planned the party we weren't expecting it to snow.” Glancing at Roxanne's suitcase she said, “Oh, enough of that. Come on, let's get you settled.”
Leaving Jeb and Sloan talking in the main part of the cabin, Shelly and Roxanne walked to Shelly's studio to stow Roxanne's suitcase. As they entered the room, Shelly made a face. “Sorry that you'll be sleeping on the floor. And once M.J., Ilka, and the others pile in here, you're probably going to think you've moved into a sorority.”
The cabin wasn't large; Sloan had built it for a bachelor—himself—but his marriage to Shelly in June had changed all that. Since Shelly was an artist of some repute, a studio had been mandatory. The studio had been completed a few months ago and was a large, pleasant, open room with lots of windows and a rock fireplace in one end. There was little furniture in it; a red plaid couch and a couple of smalloccasional tables with fat china lamps made up the majority of the furnishings. All of Shelly's supplies were put away in the oak cabinets that lined one wall and her easels and canvases were stacked in a corner out of the way. The cabinets were broken by a long countertop with faucets and a sink; a compact refrigerator sat at one end of the counter. A can of coffee, mugs, a coffeemaker, and other coffee odds and ends were set neatly in the middle of the counter. Mattresses had been flopped on the floor with sheets, quilts, and pillows piled on them for later use. Looking around, Roxanne thought that the studio would serve admirably as an extra bedroom for tonight. There was even a small bathroom. Perfect.
Dumping her suitcase on the floor near one of the single bed mattresses, Roxanne laughed. “Don't worry about it, Shelly. We'll have a ball. A slumber party for grown up women—who could ask for anything more.” A sparkle lit her golden eyes. “And to make it even better … who knows, the guys might stage a panty raid. Poor you. You'll miss all the fun snuggled up in bed with Sloan.”
Shelly chuckled. “You make it sound tempting. Maybe I'll join you.” Mischief dancing in her eyes, she murmured, “I wonder if Sloan would like to bunk with the guys tonight in the barn?”
They exchanged looks and burst out laughing. “Not?” they said in unison.
Putting her arm through Shelly's, Roxanne said, “Come on, let's see what the men have been up to in our absence. Didn't you mention something about hot buttered rum tonight?”
They walked back into the main part of the cabin to find Sloan and Jeb sitting in front of the fire. A little black and silver ball of fur was curled up near by. At Shelly's entrance, it jumped up and trotted over to Shelly. Sitting on the floor at Shelly's feet, the tiny miniature schnauzer gave Shelly a pitiful look, her luxurious mustaches quivering. Shelly laughed and bending down picked up the dog and gave her a cuddle. “That look doesn't fool me, Pandora,” she said with mock sternness to the dog. “I know what you're up to. The only reason you're even noticing me is because Sloan wouldn't let you in his lap.”
Melting black eyes stared back at her from beneath long, shaggy silver eyebrows. A quick flip of a pink tongue on her cheek made Shelly laugh again. “I'm still not fooled. But since you've pulled out all the stops, I'll let you sit in my lap.”
Roxanne grinned. “Looks like she's finally accepted the fact that you're not going to go away.”
Sloan looked over at them. “For a while there I thought I might actually have to choose between my wife or my dog.” His warm gaze rested on Shelly. “Would have been a hard choice.”
Shelly sniffed, though her eyes were smiling. “Keep talking like that and you will end up sleeping in the barn with the rest of the guys.”
“Hey, hey, I never said I wouldn't have chosen you in the end,” Sloan drawled, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I only said it would have been a hard choice.”
Before Shelly could reply they all heard the sound of another vehicle. Shelly put down Pandora and said, “Looks like we have more arrivals.”
Chapter
10
Laughter and conversation could be heard above the shutting of vehicle doors and Sloan strolled over to the front door. Opening it, he glanced outside, then said over his shoulder to Shelly, “You can stop worrying—it's Nick and his mother and Acey.” He looked outside again. “And it looks like they've brought a couple of stragglers with them.”
Acey and Maria, Nick's mother, laden down with grocery sacks and a heavy cardboard box from which emanated the most delicious smells, entered the house first. Both Acey Babbitt and Maria Rios had worked for Shelly's family almost as long as she could remember. She'd grown up around both of them and since the death of her brother, Josh, in early March and her return to the valley a few weeks after that, she looked upon them as her only remaining family. And then there was Nick, Maria's son … Nick who looked at times very much like Josh. …
Nick, carrying a small ice chest, followed hismother and Acey and as his eyes met Shelly's, they softened, affection deepening their emerald color—the exact shade of green as Shelly's own. Brushing a kiss on her cheek, he asked softly, “You still want to do this? Tonight?”
Shelly clutched his jacket, nodding. “Yes. You?” He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Been a secret too long.”
There was a loud clearing of the throat behind Nick. He grinned. “Oh, I forgot—the reason we're late.”
He stepped aside to reveal the couple standing on the deck behind him. Shelly took one look and rushing outside with arms spread, squealed, “Roman. And Pagan! What a lovely surprise.”
Jeb looked at Sloan. “Pagan?” he murmured out of the side of his mouth.
Sloan grinned. “Shelly says it's a southern thing—she's got an Uncle Fritzie and an Aunt Lulu—Pagan and Roman's parents. Tom, the eldest, is the only one with what you could say is a 'normal' name. There's another brother named Noble and another sister named Angelique—I met the whole lot when Shelly and I were in New Orleans for our honeymoon. There's a ton of other cousins, too … let's see, uh, Storm, Hero, and, oh, yeah, Wolfe. There's more but their names escape me at the moment.”
“Jesus. And Mingo thought he had a weird name,” Jeb said with a shake of his head. He got his first look at Pagan just then as she entered the room and shrugged out of her coat. His eyes widened and he whistled under his breath. “Uh-oh, she looks like trouble for all the males in the valley—and, unless I miss my guess, a hundred miles beyond.”
Being introduced to Roman's youngest sister, Roxanne was thinking much the same thing. Having lived and worked with some of the most celebrated beauties in the world, Roxanne was used to beautiful women, but Pagan had to be, she admitted, one of the most stunning females, she'd ever seen in her life.
Pagan Louise Granger was not a tall woman. She stood only five feet six in her bare feet, but there was a lot packed in between the top and bottom. A lot. She was daintily made but with a bust that usually occasioned a second look by most males. For her height her legs were long and shapely and her hips slim and taut. Like Roman she had a feline grace.
But despite that perfect body of hers, it was her hair that usually caught most people's attention. Pagan had been bl
essed or, as she often suspected, cursed with the most incredible shade of red hair ever seen by man; that it was natural only made it more incredible. Tonight that burgundy-red hair was worn loose around her shoulders like a cloud of dark fire. Her hair was clearly red, but of such a deep shade that in certain lights you'd almost swear that there were strands of plum and claret mixed in.
The heart-shaped face that hair framed was equally remarkable. The impact of her wide-spaced, long-lashed almost lilac-hued eyes had been known to make strong men tremble. She had an elegant little nose that Helen of Troy would have killed for, a generous mouth that made even puritanical males think lascivious thoughts, and cheekbones that sent master sculptors scrambling for their tools. Alabaster skin and a smile that had enough wattage to light up a midsize city completed the package.
Being the object of that smile, Roxanne almost blinked. Oh, my, she thought, amused, aren't the boys going to fall all over themselves trying to impress you. She glanced up and saw the way Jeb was staring at Pagan and her amusement fled. Not Jeb, she thought, oddly panicked at the idea of him falling for this southern beauty. Upset and not knowing why, she quickly turned Pagan over to Nick who had just come back out of the kitchen.
Roxanne disappeared into the kitchen, needing a moment to get her thoughts under control. She was so used to having men fall at her feet, that jealousy was an emotion she had seldom experienced. So what exactly was she feeling right now? I can't be jealous—not about Jeb. I mean, come on, so we had a tumble together, it was no big deal. It had been a physical thing—her emotions hadn't been involved. Right? She bit her lip. That frenzied coupling on the countertop shouldn't have made a difference in her feelings toward him—it certainly shouldn't have made her feel all green-eyed with jealousy when Jeb just looked at another woman. I'm not jealous, she told herself firmly. Oh, but you are, whispered a voice slyly in her brain. Maybe he means more to you than you realized—have you considered that? Maybe what happened back in September hadn't been just a mindless, hormone driven sexual act. She shook her head, trying to silence the voice, but it continued. Maybe somewhere down deep inside, crooned the voice, you're actually attracted to Jeb Delaney—and not just physically. Maybe there's something more going on between the pair of you. Roxanne almost moaned aloud at the idea. Oh, please, I don't have time for this! Shut up, she hissed to the voice in her brain, and go away—I don't want any serious involvement right now and certainly not with Jeb.
Her emotions in a jumble, Roxanne strolled out of the kitchen and over to where Jeb was standing, his gaze still fixed on Pagan who was laughing at something Nick said as he handed her a mug of hot, mulled cider.
Roxanne gave him a sharp jab in the side and muttered, “Put your tongue back in your mouth. Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's impolite to stare?”
His attention immediately settled on her and Roxanne wished she'd kept her mouth shut. God. She'd sounded like a jealous wife. To make it worse, there was something very male and satisfied in Jeb's eyes as he looked at her. It unsettled her even further. A lazy smile curved his mouth. “Jealous, Princess?”
“When hell freezes over,” she snapped, thoroughly ruffled, and spun on her heel intending to put as much room as possible between herself and a certain Neanderthal.
She only took half a step before a strong male arm wrapped around her and jerked her back. Jeb grinned down into her stormy face. “Come on, Roxy, you've got to admit that the kid's gorgeous.” He lifted a mocking brow. “And the last time I checked, I was single and fancy-free. I'm allowed to look—or more if I want to.”
Her eyes shooting gold flames, her hands clenched into fists, she snarled, “Be my guest. Go ahead. Rob the cradle if that turns you on.”
He laughed and uncaring who saw it brushed his lips against hers. “My point exactly. She's an eyeful, but she's just a baby.” His gaze rested on the lips he had just touched “My taste tends to run to more, ah, mature women.” Ignoring her outraged stare, his face laughing down at her, he murmured, “Just to put your mind at rest—she's not my type.” He glanced over to where Pagan stood and added, “But Jesus, Princess, even you must see that she's one incredible package.” Before Roxanne could reply, he turned back to her and his lips touched hers again, longer this time. When he lifted his head, his eyes were no longer laughing. “Not,” he said huskily, “that she holds a candle to you. No one could.”
“As if I care,” she muttered, wishing his words didn't send a flash of warmth through her. What in the world was wrong with her? Jealous wasn't a word she would have ever applied to herself, but she was honest enough to admit that when she'd seen Jeb staring with such open admiration at Pagan, she'd felt something perilously close to it.
At the moment everyone else was taken up with greetings and unpacking the food that had arrived with Nick and the others, leaving Roxanne and Jeb isolated in a little circle all their own. They were standing off a ways from the others, almost hidden in a corner. As had happened before that veil of intimacy seemed to wrap around them, everything fading away until they were only aware of each other.
His expression unreadable, Jeb said slowly, “I think you do.”
“What?”
“Care.”
Roxanne reared back to glower up at him. “Are you nuts? You know I can't stand you—and you don't like me very much either.”
“Then how,” he asked quietly, “do you explain what happens between us? Something does. It has ever since that day. Whether you want to admit it or not, something changed between us then.”
Roxanne froze, wishing she had kept her mouth shut and never started this conversation. She was so confused. She wasn't a jealous person, yet she had felt jealous only a few moments ago. She didn't like Jeb, yet she couldn't forget those moments in his arms and the very last thing she ever wanted to talk about was that day. Escape seemed her only option, but when she tried to leave, his arm tightened around her waist.
“Things changed. Admit it,” he demanded.
Her chin lifted. “Are you referring to that time. … we, uh, you know … in my house?”
“Made love on your countertop?”
“We didn't make love. We had sex,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Now why, I wonder, is it so much easier for you to call it sex than making love?”
Roxanne ran a trembling hand through her hair.
“Because that's what it was.” Almost desperately she added, “It couldn't have been anything else.” She took a deep breath. “Look,” she said, “I don't want to talk about this. And certainly not here.”
“OK,” he said affably, removing his restraining arm. “We'll do it later.”
Roxanne left his side as if shot from a gun, his words sounding ominously like a warning.
Seeing that Maria and Shelly were setting out food on the table, Roxanne leaped in to help. Not only had Shelly and Sloan prepared a slew of finger food, but everyone else had brought along a little something extra. Soon enough the dining-area table was straining beneath the array of food, plates, napkins, and utensils. There was a big red Crock-Pot filled with tiny sweet and sour meatballs, Roxanne's artichoke frittata cut into dainty squares came next, stuffed mushrooms, and then a large tray brimming with crudities, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, cherry tomatoes, and the like. A warming tray kept cheese puffs, mini spinach quiches, Maria's chili-cheese triangles, and bite-size barbecued spareribs hot; a creamy olive-nut spread with small rounds of rye and onion bread sat nearby and scattered in between were several different kinds of chips and, of course, dips galore. To drink there was hot buttered-rum and spiced, mulled apple cider and wine or beer. And for the sweet tooth … Ah, Maria had baked four of her apple pies—much to Acey's unabashed delight. But if apple pie didn't suit, there were also lemon bars, cream cheese pies, and Pagan and Roman had brought a huge platter of melt-in-your-mouth pralines direct from New Orleans. It might not be a sit down dinner, but no one was going to go hungry.
The last of the food had ju
st been set out when the Courtland twins arrived, bringing more food—pretzels, crackers, and a chunky guacamole made by Jason and corn salsa made by Morgan. The food was given into Shelly's waiting hands and Sloan dispensed with their jackets.
Roxanne had been waiting for their introduction to Pagan and she almost laughed aloud at their expressions. Watching their eyes glaze and their faces go slack, Roxanne's sense of humor came back. Jeb was right. Pagan was one incredible package. But what impressed Roxanne most was that Pagan seemed totally unaware of the effect she had on the opposite sex.
As expected, M.J. and Tracy were the last to arrive. Ilka, Ross, and Sam had driven up shortly after the Courtland twins and Shelly had been anxiously awaiting the last of her guests. As the two women, one blond, one redhead, piled into the house, Shelly rushed up to them and, giving them a hug, exclaimed, “Oh, I'm so glad you got here. I was worried with the snow and everything.”
Sloan came up to stand behind his wife, one hand resting on her shoulder. “And I'm doubly glad you're here,” he said. “She's been fussing for the last half hour and any second I've been expecting her to send me out to look for you.” Amid the laughter and Shelly's halfhearted protests, the two women were divested of their heavy jackets and urged to join the others.
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