"Nora," he said as he trained his gaze on one of the windows and the darkened yard beyond. "I told you before – I'm not the man you need."
He heard her approach, her bare feet making almost no sound on the linoleum. She stood behind him, and he saw her reflection in the window glass. Her eyes looked overly bright and he prayed desperately that it wasn't the gleam of tears he was seeing.
Damn it. He'd blown it good this time. He never should have given into the desire swamping him. He should have sent her home when she showed up in his kitchen looking like every man's fantasy. But to do that he would have had to be a saint. And God knew he was no saint.
She put her hand on his arm, and the warmth of her fingers seemed to spear deeply inside him. It had been so long since he'd felt … anything … that having her touch him so completely was a danger that rocked him even as it enticed him.
"Relax, Mike," she said, smiling, and leaned her forehead against his bare shoulder. "I didn't propose."
"I don't want to hurt you, Nora," he said tightly, and knew he was about to do just that. "But you're making too much of this. It was sex. Great sex, but sex. Desire. Not love."
She didn't say anything, so he kept talking. For the first time in three weeks, she was being quiet. And that pretty much unnerved him. Turning around to face her, he forced himself to look down into her eyes. No tears. Good. "You're a virgin and—"
"Was a virgin," she interrupted.
"Exactly. You're emotional. I mean, I'm your first, so you're making more of this than there is."
Nora straightened the robe and tightened the belt around her waist. It couldn't have been easy for a woman to look regal in his worn-out bathrobe. But she managed.
"Don't start treating me like I'm an idiot, Mike, or I'm really going to get mad."
That he didn't need. "Fine. The point is, I like you, Nora. Hell, I'm real fond of you."
"Gee, be still my heart. Oh. Wait a minute. It is."
He ignored the sarcasm and tried again. "You're a hell of a woman, Nora. I admire you a lot. I like spending time with you." He cupped her shoulders and held her in a firm grip that kept him somehow from pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "But love's just not in the picture."
Nora looked up at him, saw the regret in his eyes and felt something inside her shatter. Disappointment welled up, sure and strong. For some stupid reason, she'd thought that once she'd said the words, he'd be able to admit that there was more here than desire. But, clearly, he was determined to ignore the very real hum of electricity arcing between them.
Well, fine. But she wouldn't have him feeling sorry for her. She didn't want his sympathy. She wanted his love. And if she couldn't get that, then she wouldn't let him know that it hurt. Sure, she usually believed in honesty. But sometimes even the most honest person had to lie.
Pulling in a deep breath, she blew it out again, met his gaze and told the biggest whopper of her life. "It's okay, Mike. It's not like I want anything from you." She reached up and laid one hand on his cheek. Her heart ached, but her voice was clear. "I love you, but I'll get over it."
He blinked, flinched and shifted position uneasily. Strangely enough, that made her feel better. So she went with it.
"Really. I mean, you were a big help. Now that I'm not a virgin anymore, I'm sure I'll be able to find someone else."
Did his eyes narrow, or was that wishful thinking? She rose up on her toes and gave him a brief, hard kiss that practically burned her mouth. "I'm sure that once I get into the 'swinging single' life, I'll get over you." Oh, boy, lying was becoming easier. That couldn't be a good sign.
Nora was amazed that he was buying this. Did he really believe that she could respond to him the way she had and then go to someone else? She'd never forget his touch. Never forget the magic she'd found in his arms. And she couldn't even imagine letting anyone else touch her.
But he didn't need to know that, did he?
"Swinging single?" he asked tightly, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
"You know what I mean," she said, and ran one hand through her hair as she kept talking. "I mean, we both knew this was temporary, and I guess I'll have to find my own man after this, because it's probably not a good idea for you and me to keep spending time together and—"
"You're babbling," he growled, and pulled her close.
Pressed flat against him, she gloried in the hard, solid strength of him and hoped desperately it wouldn't be for the last time.
His gaze moved over her features. "If things were different—"
"Things are different," she pointed out. "I'm not Vicky."
"I know that," he snapped. "But I thought that would work out, too, and it didn't. I can't risk Emily's happiness."
Damn his ex-wife, Nora thought. The woman was gone, but her legacy lingered. She'd burned Mike so thoroughly he was willing to lock his heart away forever rather than take a chance.
"I'm not asking you to."
"You're asking for something."
Yes, she was. She was asking for his heart, but he wasn't ready or willing to give it. So she settled for one more piece of magic. "Another kiss?" she said. "One for the mad?"
"Nora—"
"Shut up, cowboy, and kiss me."
His mouth came down on hers and she gave herself over to the joy of the moment. And when he carried her back down the hall to the bedroom, she tried not to think about the fact that it was probably for the last time.
All night, they came together in a wild tangle of desire and need, and in the morning, when Mike woke up, Nora was gone.
He was alone.
*
Nora buried herself in pastries.
Well, baking them, anyway.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't hungry. The next few days stumbled along, one after the other, and she told herself that it would get easier. All she had to do was forget Mike.
No problem.
Shouldn't be any more difficult than, say, forgetting how to breathe.
The shop kept her busy during the day, but at night, alone in her house, she felt surrounded by memories. Her body burned for Mike's touch and she caught herself straining to hear the sound of his truck coming down the street. She thought about calling him, but she drew the line at being that pathetic.
She wouldn't become a whiny, needy female. She'd survived twenty-eight years without a man and she could do it again. "Although," she muttered as she pulled yet another pan of cinnamon rolls from the oven, "it's easy enough to live without something you never had. But once you've had it, you kind of miss it."
"Talking to yourself again?"
She shot a glance at the swinging door and gave Molly a half smile as she stepped into the kitchen.
"Hi."
"Wow. Now, there's a greeting designed to make a person feel all warm and toasty."
"You want warm toast?" Nora asked, and pointed to another tray. "There you go."
Molly shook her head, grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the counter where Nora was busy slicing a log of cookie dough. "Criminy it's hot in here." She tugged at the scoop neck of her tank top.
"Oven," Nora said shortly. Her own tank top and shorts helped beat the heat inside the bakery, but in some ways, she found the heat comforting.
"You've been in hiding," her friend accused.
"Not hiding," Nora told her. "Just working."
"You didn't let me know how it went with Mike the other night."
Nora lifted her gaze to her friend's.
"Ah," Molly said sympathetically. "Not so good."
"Actually, it was—" Nora paused, holding the knife's edge on the dough "—amazing."
"Congrats. The deed is done."
"Well and completely done," Nora said. "Several times."
"Wow." Envy colored Molly's voice.
"Everything was great." She sighed. "Until I told him I loved him."
"Ouch."
"That about sums it up."
Being a true and
loyal friend, Molly said the perfect thing. "He's an idiot."
"Agreed," Nora said, and finished her slicing. Then, picking up the slices, she spread them on a cookie sheet with practiced ease. "But he's my idiot."
"Uh-huh," Molly said, and reached for one of the still-hot cinnamon rolls. "So, what are you doing about it?"
"I'm letting him miss me."
"Is it working?"
"I miss him," she said. "Does that count?"
Molly pulled off a small piece of the pastry, popped it in her mouth and said thoughtfully, "My guess is, if you're missing him, then he's missing you."
Small consolation, she thought as she turned and slid the cookie tray into the oven. He wasn't missing her enough to come to town. She hadn't seen him or Emily in the last three days.
Nora straightened up, turned around and looked at her friend. "Love's not for sissies, is it?"
Molly shook her head. "Nope. But it's worth it, if you hang in there."
"I don't know, Moll." Nora took a seat opposite the other woman. Bracing her elbows on the marble counter, she let the coolness slip into her skin and hoped it would chill the fires still burning inside her. "I finally found love – with the one man who doesn't want me."
A hard thing to admit. Her sisters were furious at Mike, her mother was reading the singles ads again and her customers were whispering whenever she walked into the front room. Everyone in Tesoro was talking about her and Mike.
And she didn't care. All she knew was that her business wasn't as much fun if she couldn't tell Mike about her day. Her afternoons dragged on forever because she couldn't go to the ranch to help Mike exercise his horses. Her evenings were empty because she wasn't reading bedtime stories to Emily, tucking her in or getting good-night kisses.
But the nights were the worst. Alone in the dark, she relived that one night with Mike. She recalled every kiss, every touch. What it felt like to stretch out her hand to find him right there. She remembered his heartbeat in the night, his arms closing around her and his body sliding into hers.
Molly suddenly blurred and Nora blinked away the tears welling in her eyes.
"He makes me so mad, Moll," Nora said sadly. "We could have had everything, if he'd just been willing to risk his heart."
* * *
Chapter 12
«^
The longest three days of Mike's life crawled past at a snail's pace.
His mood was black as sin, and anyone with half a brain would have steered clear. But Rick, still flying high from the birth of his son, was apparently oblivious to the warning signs.
"I'm tellin' you, Mike, that boy of mine can eat his weight in formula."
"Swell." Mike concentrated on the fence post, putting his shoulder against it and leaning. The damn thing had to come out before he could replace it – and it looked as though he would be doing all the work around here himself today. He glanced at Rick. The other man was leaning against the truck fender, ankles crossed, arms folded over his chest and a stupid smile on his face.
Funny. Mike had never really noticed just how irritating someone else's happiness could be.
"Donna did a great job," Rick was saying, his voice wistful as he strolled down memory lane. "You should have seen her. No tears. No screams. Some woman down the hall was shouting loud enough to bring down the hospital."
Mike winced. He remembered Emily's birth clearly, too. Vicky had been that woman screaming. She'd called him every name in the book and then some. She'd screamed at the nurses and the doctors and then hadn't even been interested in her child when she was finally born.
Maybe it would have been better for Vicky if their "accidental" pregnancy hadn't happened. But he'd never regret Emily. And, in a way, Emily's birth had cleared the air with Vicky, too. The woman had shown her true colors and then done him the favor of disappearing from his life.
And he and his daughter had been just fine on their own. Until Nora. Mike's mind instantly conjured her laughing image and he gritted his teeth in response. Damn it. He'd been happy. Well, content, at least. And then she'd come along and made him look forward to seeing her. Hearing her.
She'd brought flowers into his house and light into his heart. And damn it … he hadn't asked her to.
"Donna was just amazing," Rick was repeating, still awed by the whole miracle of his son's birth.
Caught by the wonder in the other man's voice, Mike found himself imagining what it might have been like if Nora had been Emily's mother. He couldn't picture Nora screaming and cursing at him. He couldn't even pretend to imagine Nora turning away from her child.
He stopped in his efforts to dislodge the fence post and let his mind wander further. He saw images of Nora, pregnant with his child. Nora holding Emily's hand and laughing. The three of them sitting at the kitchen table at dinner. And then his brain picked up speed and apparently decided that if torturing him was the object of this little fantasy, then it ought to do it right.
As clear as day, he saw four or five kids, running wild on the ranch. He saw Nora and him sitting on the porch in the evening, with her on his lap as they laughed at the kids playing with a litter of puppies. In his mind, the old house was lit up like a Christmas tree and the sounds of laughter surrounded it like a protective halo.
Then just as quickly as it came, the vision ended and he was back in the field, straining against a fence post, listening to Rick ramble. His temper suddenly flared, sharp and hot, and he glared at the other man.
"You gonna help me with this or just stand there holding up that truck all day?"
"Sorry." Rick jumped away from the truck, took up a position on the other side of the fence post and started shoving. But while he worked, Rick decided to take his life in his hands. "Haven't seen Nora in a while," he said. "Everything all right?"
Mike shot him a look that should have fried him. "Everything's just dandy. Can we work now?"
"Yes, sir, boss." Rick ducked his head, but not before Mike saw the flash of annoyance in his friend's eyes.
Great. Now not only was he without Nora, but if this kept up he wouldn't have any friends left, either. Oh, yeah, this was working out fine.
*
"These cookies are yucky," Emily complained, and dropped her half-eaten chocolate chip cookie back into the bag sitting on the front seat of the truck.
"They're your favorite," Mike argued.
"Nora's are better."
Yeah, they were, he silently agreed. He'd taken Emily to a bakery in Monterey, but it just wasn't the same. It had been five days now since he'd seen Nora and Mike was busy convincing himself that it was for the best. To help himself, he'd been avoiding her like the plague. But it just wasn't any good. He could keep from seeing her, but her presence continued to be felt. She'd infiltrated every corner of his world.
Her love for his daughter.
The paintings she'd done with Emily.
Hell, her scent was still lingering in his bedroom.
"Nora says she's gonna help me make a costume for the spring play."
"What?" Mike shifted his brain back into gear and focused on his daughter.
Emily sighed dramatically and gave him one of those patient looks that he swore females were born knowing how to deliver.
"Nora says she's gonna help me—"
"Yeah, I heard that part," he said, wanting to catch his favorite little girl before she launched into a long, detailed explanation. "When did you see Nora?"
"Yesterday," she said, and licked chocolate off her fingertips.
"Yesterday?"
"Uh-huh."
Scowling, Mike asked, "Where did you see her?"
"At school. She comes and has lunch with me."
Nora went to Emily's school? "How long's she been doing this?"
"A really long time," Emily said, as if she and Nora had been doing lunch for centuries. "I like Nora. She's nice, Daddy."
Mike just stared at his daughter for a minute. How long had Nora been meeting Emily at school for lunch? Why h
ad no one told him? And why was Nora still going to the school? Their little bargain was finished. She was no longer a virgin, so the very reason they'd been spending time together was finished. Nora hadn't been to the ranch in five long days. He'd been avoiding her and he was pretty sure she'd been doing the same. But, apparently, she hadn't cut her ties to Emily.
Something warm and bright and a lot like hope rose up inside him. At the same time, he had to face the realization that he'd been a class A jerk. He'd cut Nora off at the knees. Turned his back on what had happened between them because he'd convinced himself it was the only way to protect Emily. But Nora, it seemed, had her own way of taking care of the child. And that involved maintaining ties that Mike had been so intent on cutting.
"Daddy," the little girl beside him asked in a voice filled with confusion, "how come Nora doesn't come out to the ranch anymore?"
Hmm. How to answer that one? The truth? Obviously not. After all, he couldn't very well admit to his only child that she had an idiot for a father. So what could he say?
"Well, Nora's really busy and—"
"Did you ask her to stay with us?" Emily interrupted, and gave him a look that demanded an answer.
"No, honey," he said. "I didn't."
"How come?" she asked, and wiped her mouth, dragging a line of chocolate from her lips halfway up her cheek.
Good question. How come, indeed?
"People won't stay if you don't ask 'em to," she pointed out with all the sweet wisdom of a child.
"I guess you're right," he said. If he had taken Nora's declaration of love and returned it, would she have stayed? Would she have taken a chance on him and a ready-made family?
Hell, he knew the answer to that question without even thinking about it. Of course she would. Nora wasn't Vicky. Nora was funny and smart and kind and she already loved Emily as if she were her own child. And she'd shown him more love in the last several weeks than he'd known in years.
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from spitting at himself in disgust. He'd blown it. Big time. He'd been so busy protecting himself and using Emily as an excuse for hiding from the world that he'd missed his chance at real love. The happily-ever-after kind.
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