Redwolf's Woman

by Laura Wright

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  Contents:

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

  © 2004

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  One

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  "He's back."

  At her sister Rita's words, Ava Thompson felt her heart drop into her pink satin pumps. "Who's back?"

  "The ever-gorgeous Jared Redwolf, that's who," Rita supplied with a smile.

  From atop her white-carpeted pedestal at Benton's Bridal and Formalwear, Ava stumbled sideways, letting fly a barely audible, "Ouch," as Mrs. Benton accidentally stuck her with a pin.

  "Hold still now," said the older woman.

  Barely hearing the good-natured reprimand, Ava stared down at her sister, her large green eyes severe. "What do you mean, he's back? Back where?"

  "Here in Paradise," Rita said calmly, standing in front of the three-way mirror, fluffing her long, tawny curls. "He's across the street actually. When I went for coffee I saw him go into the diner." With a mischievous grin, she added, "And who could blame him? Did you know they have a patty melt, fries and a cherry cola, all for just $2.95 today?"

  "Those patty melts are pure horse meat," Mrs. Benton stated flatly as she pinned the hem of Ava's stunning off-the-shoulder A-line number that her younger sister had designed to hit just above the ankle.

  "Horsemeat." Rita laughed, her dark-blue eyes sparkling. "That's not true."

  Mrs. Benton shook her head dejectedly. "And to think, we're living in beef country."

  They weren't fooling anyone with their calm discussions of patty melts and cherry colas, Ava thought, taking in the pair's secret glances. From the moment Rita had mentioned Jared Redwolf, Ava had felt the two women's eyes on her, watching her like conspiring hawks—wanting to see her reaction to the news and wondering if her life was flashing before her eyes because of it.

  A life that everyone in Paradise had known about. A life Ava had left four years ago.

  A life she'd thought about every day since then in her small apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side.

  The dated air conditioner against the ratty lavender wall sputtered and coughed as the Texas heat slowly invaded the room. Ava eyeballed her sister in the mirror. "I thought you said he was going to be in Dallas for the entire two weeks, Rita. 'I have it on good authority,' you said. 'I swear, you'll never run into him,' you said."

  Rita shrugged. "Hey, what can I say, big sister? That's what he told Pat Murphy at the post office." She grinned, then placed a bridal veil over her face. "Maybe he heard you were back in town for my wedding and changed his mind."

  Mrs. Benton inhaled sharply, then looked up at Ava with eager, expectant eyes.

  "Not a chance." Ava glanced from one woman to the other. "The man despises me."

  "Despise is such a strong word," Rita said.

  "I think we should stop talking about her old beau for a moment," Mrs. Benton said to Rita. "She's moving about and I need to get a clean hem here. I sure don't want to be the one catching heck if your maid of honor walks down the aisle in a crooked dress."

  Rita smiled at the woman. "How about I blame it on a certain six-foot-three Cheyenne god with a killer smile?"

  Ava rolled her eyes. "He's half Cheyenne."

  "And what a half," Mrs. Benton said on a sigh, then quickly returned to her hem.

  Nothing had changed, Ava mused. The women of Paradise still drooled over Jared Redwolf. But were they still too afraid to show it? she wondered. Now that he was a millionaire and a financial genius with famous clients flying into to see him every week, were the ladies in town willing to overlook his heritage?

  The scent of an old wedding bouquet hanging from the ceiling permeated the increasingly humid air. Johnny Mathis crooned a plaintive love song on a small radio in the corner. And Ava felt as though she were suffocating inside her pretty satin bridesmaid dress.

  Jared was at the diner. So close by she could almost feel him, breathe in that heady scent of sun and sweat he always possessed. She wanted to see him, God help her. But she knew how dangerous that would be. He would have questions and he would demand answers. Lord, what if he'd already heard she was back in town?

  Beads of sweat trailed a path down her neck. She needed to get out of the shop. She couldn't risk running into him, not yet anyway. Not until she was ready to tell him about…

  She swallowed the thought, looked down at Mrs. Benton. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. B., but I'll have to come back later."

  The older woman frowned. "What? Why?"

  "I have to go back to Rita's."

  "For what?" Rita asked quickly.

  "I need to check on—"

  The bell located above the door of the shop's front entrance chimed merrily, interrupting Ava's bogus explanation. She glanced up into the three-sided mirror to see who had come in. Through the generous slit in the curtain behind her, she glimpsed a man walking through the shop door like he owned the place, as though the modest storefront was too small to contain him.

  Ava froze, but against her ribs her heart pounded violently. Just ten seconds more and she would've escaped him.

  Jared Redwolf.

  Without thinking, she reached up and released her long, blond hair from the rubber band that had held it tightly in place all morning.

  Jared was here. Though to her, he'd never left—her memory or her thoughts—for the four years she'd been away from Paradise.

  Time seemed to slow. She put a hand to her mouth and exhaled, swearing that she could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers as he raked his callused palms up the bare skin of her back.

  She tried to swallow, tried to breathe correctly. But it took significant effort. After all, she hadn't seen him face-to-face in such a long time, and this was not how she'd imagined their reunion.

  "I'll be out to help you in a minute," Mrs. Benton called, without looking up as she fitted another pin, no doubt hoping to finish Ava's dress before she could run away.

  But Ava was going nowhere at the moment. She was bolted to the pedestal, watching Jared as he stopped at a display of bolo ties, handling one in particular with great reverence. She felt free to look at him because she knew he hadn't noticed her through the slit in the curtain.

  Free, but certainly not easy.

  Her back to him, she just stared into the mirror, her gaze moving over him like an animal who hadn't seen food in days. Like the first day she'd seen him driving cattle on her father's ranch—bulging muscle and covered in sweat as he sat atop the fierce palomino he'd broken himself.

  He'd taken her breath away.

  If it was possible, he looked even more handsome today than she remembered. Dressed more like a cowboy than a multimillion dollar businessman in a blue chambray shirt, faded jeans and boots, he was easily the best looking man in Texas. Who was she kidding? He was the best looking man in the world. He was far past six feet now, with a man's body. Long and lean and hard. He'd let his thick, black hair grow past his shoulders, his high cheekbones were more prominent and his eyes, those heavy-lidded steel-gray eyes that charmed, thrilled and terrified you all at the same time, were cool and calm.

  But of course, he hadn't seen her yet.

  "Just here to return the tux, Mrs. Benton," he called out.

  Rita gasped at the voice that was far lower, but just as seductive as Ava had remembered. So did Mrs. Benton, but she quickly recovered before calling out, "You can bring it back here, Jared. We're all decent."

  "No." Ava fairly cried at the woman, panic welling up inside her.

  Rita reached up and touched her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. But the gesture helped little. Ava felt as if her chest would burst. She couldn't see him now, or ever again.

  Her gaze darted right and left as she searched for somewh
ere to hide, but there wasn't time. He was coming.

  Every muscle in her body tensed.

  Not now. Not like this.

  But the white curtain parted anyway and Jared Redwolf walked into the circular space, a dark garment bag slung over one broad shoulder. Ava felt her breath catch at the sight of him, so dark and masculine, bracketed on both sides by pure femininity: racks of snowy-white wedding dresses. What would he think when he saw her? she wondered, apprehension threatening to choke her as she turned to face him. What would he say?

  The only sign that Jared Redwolf wasn't a full-blooded Cheyenne was his full lips, but when his gaze landed on Ava those lips thinned dangerously.

  Mrs. Benton cleared her throat. "I'll take that suit and get your receipt, Jared. Be right back, girls."

  Ava barely noticed her departure. She couldn't tear her gaze from the man who'd ruled her mind since puberty. She simply stared at him as the only sound in the room came from a wily DJ announcing the time and weather on the radio.

  Ten a.m. and hot as hell.

  Ava felt another bead of sweat fall from her hairline to her neck, then snake down her back.

  It was the weather, not her relentless attraction for Jared Redwolf that caused this reaction, she told herself as she watched his eyes blaze fire and his jaw twitch as he stared at her.

  Finally she gathered her courage and found her voice. "Hello, Jared."

  But he said nothing, just continued to stare at her as though she were an apparition—and a very unwelcome one. She felt like a caged animal in her pretty pink satin gown that hadn't been fitted to flattering yet.

  Awkwardly Rita cleared her throat. "So, Jared. Back from Dallas early?"

  "Too early, it seems," he said, his tone bordering on venomous.

  A tight knot formed in Ava's stomach. But she understood his anger, and tried once again for polite conversation. "Jared, listen, I—"

  "By the way, Rita," he interrupted, ignoring Ava. "Congratulations on your wedding."

  Rita smiled halfheartedly, her gaze flickering toward her sister. "Thanks."

  "I'd like to get you and your fiancé something, but—"

  "We would've invited you, Jared, I just didn't think you'd be in town," Rita explained awkwardly. "But now that you're back, you're more than welcome to come."

  Ava felt her mouth drop open. This wasn't happening. She'd been so careful with her plans in coming here.

  "I appreciate the thought," he said. "But I don't think so." His gaze was intense—and back on Ava.

  "Sakir and I would love it," Rita insisted.

  He shook his head. "Thanks, but I can't do it. I have a desk full of work and a client flying in that night."

  "It'll be just a few hours."

  Ava clamped a hand down on her sister's shoulder. "If he doesn't want to come, he doesn't want to come. Don't force the issue."

  The humidity was barely noticeable when compared to the weight of sentiment that passed between her and Jared. His eyes had turned from fuming black to watchful cool steel and Ava felt that familiar stirring deep in her belly. The one she'd hoped she'd feel again, but prayed she wouldn't.

  He could rile her from a hundred paces with that look, always would.

  "What time did you say the ceremony was?" he asked Rita, though his gaze remained on Ava.

  "Two o'clock," Rita offered.

  He nodded. "Maybe I will stop by."

  Clasping her hands together, Rita looked from one to the other. "Well, you could drop by the house and pick up an invitation if you want."

  Ava's throat went bone dry. What was her sister playing at? Jared couldn't come by the house. Her gaze flickered to his. "You can just send it to him, little sister. I'm sure it won't get lost in the mail." She took a breath and added, "If you send it out today it will get there—"

  "I'll come by and get it," Jared stated firmly.

  The clang of Mrs. Benton's ancient cash register sounded. "Give me just one more minute, girls," she called from the other room.

  Ava didn't have any more minutes left. "I have to go," she said firmly. A few years ago, she would've just remained until the very bitter end of this torture. A few years ago she'd been an idiot. But not today. She'd been through way too much in the past four years to allow these three people to tear apart her small sense of confidence. "I'll see you back at the house, Rita." Without looking at Jared, she stepped down from the pedestal, grabbed her purse and headed out of the curtained room just as Mrs. Benton was heading in.

  "But the dress…" Mrs. Benton called after her, but Ava didn't listen, she needed air, she needed—

  So intent was she on escape, she actually gasped when she heard the deep baritone from behind her say, "Running away again?"

  Halfway to the front door, halfway to safety, she froze. That voice now filled with cold sarcasm had once told her how beautiful she was.

  "You always were good at running, Ava."

  She slowly turned around and faced him. "You didn't say one word to me in there. I didn't think you'd care if I left—or notice for that matter."

  His eyes darkened and a muscle in his jaw twitched violently. "I noticed."

  She wasn't exactly sure if they were talking about the dressing room or the past four years. "What can I do for you, Jared?"

  "Not a damn thing."

  "Then I'll be going."

  "Your husband here for the wedding?"

  Her pulse skittered in her blood as she was reminded of the lie she'd been forced to tell before leaving Paradise. "We're not together anymore," she said quietly.

  "You walk out on him, too?"

  Ava took a deep breath. Jared had a right to be angry with her, but she wasn't going to accept barb after barb. Living in New York, having a child and a high paying interior design job had really changed her. No longer was she a pushover to her father, to Jared—to anyone.

  She took a step toward him. "I understand that you're angry with me, but that's no reason to be downright cruel."

  "I'm not angry at you, Ava." His dark eyes bore into her. "You have to really care about someone to be angry with them."

  She felt her throat tighten as tears threatened. She realized with a start that she'd actually formed a fantasy over the years about seeing him again. And this was so drastically far from that fantasy it was almost comical. She and Jared would never be together again. He despised her, and she imagined that even a full explanation and an apology wouldn't make much of a difference. The man had turned cold and hard.

  But it wasn't just her feelings, her heart anymore. She had more to protect now. She straightened her shoulders. "Look, you obviously don't want to see me or talk to me. Let's just pretend this never happened, pretend we never had this encounter and try to steer clear of each other. I'll only be here a couple weeks. So that shouldn't be too hard."

  "Are you telling me not to go to your sister's wedding?"

  She swallowed hard. "Not telling. Just asking."

  He nodded stiffly. "Then I won't be there."

  Ava hesitated for a moment, then turned to leave. But he was right behind her, his large hand covering hers on the knob. Her breath caught at the feel of him, at his closeness. The scent of leather and heat and pure maleness emanated from him, heightening her awareness. For a moment, it was as if time had never passed. He felt familiar and wonderful, his scent intoxicating. She glanced down at his tanned fingers practically interlaced with her own.

  "Ava?" he said, removing his hand from hers.

  She looked up at him. "Yes?" He was so close she could feel the solid wall of his chest grazing her shoulder. She could feel his heat, his overwhelming strength. A combination that had branded her many times before.

  His gaze traveled from her neck to her mouth, then up to her eyes. "Let go of the door." He raised a brow. "This time I'm going to be the one walking out first."

  * * *

  Jared drove his truck down the dirt road like a madman. Well, that's what he was, wasn't he? He'd just come face
-to-face with the one woman he couldn't forget—the woman who'd betrayed him.

  The wild beauty, he'd called her back then. And at twenty-six, she hadn't changed much—only filled out in all the right places. High breasts and curved hips with that slender white neck that had always driven him nuts. Those tiny freckles that were sprinkled about the bridge of her nose were still visible, but had faded somewhat. Her honey-blond hair was longer and more lustrous than he remembered, but it still held the fresh scent of daybreak.

  Damned if it hadn't taken everything in him not to run his hands through it when he'd stood beside her at the bridal shop door.

  He knew that she'd be here for her sister's wedding, but the idea of Ava Thompson returning to Paradise was just something he hadn't wanted to think about—couldn't ever think about—if he expected to survive his days and nights.

  The first year she'd been gone had been hell, he recalled, as the dull ache in his chest turned razor-sharp like the spines of the cactus that lined the road outside the truck's window. He could still remember that morning like it was yesterday. That morning when Ben Thompson had met him out in the south pasture and told him that he knew about Jared and Ava. Ben had told him that his daughter had left for New York to marry another man, someone her equal, and wasn't coming back. Jared had been just twenty-four then. A poor ranch hand who was working his way up in the numbers business and wanted nothing more than Ava, a few hundred acres of his own and a future in finance. But no matter how much he'd wanted to go and find her, fight for her, he hadn't.

  She'd wanted another man.

  She hadn't wanted Jared.

  And neither had her father, Jared had quickly learned. Ben had booted Jared and his grandmother off of the ranch just one week later.

  On an oath, he cut his truck right and skidded into his long driveway, barely clearing the iron gates. Well, he had everything now. With the help of one incredibly loyal client who had believed in Jared's talent, he'd become successful and highly respected in a short amount of time. The rich and famous came to him when they wanted to see and protect their financial future. Yes, he had it all.