Their Other Mother

by Janis Reams Hudson

  They were camped in the pass, with the cattle bedded down for the night. Tomorrow afternoon they would reach the summer pasture, then start back. Without the herd, the ride home would go much faster.

  “Ignore him, Trey,” Jack grumbled from Ace’s right. “He’s just fighting his destiny.” There was laughter in his voice with that last line.

  “What destiny is that?” Trey asked.

  “Would the two of you shut up so a man can get some sleep?” Ace demanded.

  “Not for me to say,” Jack answered Trey. “Except to warn you that you’re about to be shot out of the saddle where Aunt Binda’s concerned.”

  “What?” Trey sprang upright in his sleeping bag. “I thought you were just kidding about that. Ace and Belinda? I don’t believe it.”

  “Good,” Ace practically growled. “Because it’s not true.”

  Jack hooted with laughter.

  “Dammit, Jack. you’re genna spook the herd,” Ace grumbled.

  “Ace and Belinda?” Trey repeated. “No foolin’?”

  “That’s the way I see it,” Jack said.

  “That’s because you’ve got your head up your—”

  Ace was cut off by Trey’s whoop of laughter. “Oh, God,” Trey managed. “That’s priceless.” Another fit of laughter overtook him. It was several minutes before he could speak. “Ace and Belinda. Who would have thought.”

  “Nobody,” Ace stated flatly. “Except an idiot who doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Ace and Belinda,” Trey said again. “You know what I think?”

  Ace pulled his hat over his face. “No, and nobody cares, either.”

  As if Ace hadn’t spoken, Jack suggested, “That it sounds perfect?”

  “Yeah,” Trey said with a smile in his voice. “Perfect.”

  “Certifiable,” Ace muttered. “Both of you. And dead wrong. There is absolutely nothing going on between Belinda and me, except that she’s looking after the boys and the house.”

  “Only because you’re not trying,” Jack said with a laugh.

  “Give it a rest. I am not interested in Belinda Randall. For God’s sake, she’s Cathy’s sister.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Trey wanted to know.

  “Not a damn thing,” Jack answered.

  “Go to hell, both of you.”

  The men—except Frank, who wouldn’t leave his beloved horses—were gone four days. Belinda thought that surely by the time they returned she would have herself and her reactions to Ace under better control.

  She thought she was doing pretty well on that score during his absence. She concentrated on the boys and was able to thoroughly enjoy her time with them. Except for those times when they asked when their daddy would be home. Which was, oh, about every three minutes during that first day. It was better the second day, as they were occupied with giving Scooter a bath during the afternoon. That chore quite naturally turned into a water fight during which everyone, including Belinda, got soaked. Scooter rolled in the dirt and had to have a second bath that same day.

  By the evening of the third day Belinda felt as though she had her balance back. She wasn’t thinking of Ace every few minutes, and when she did think of him, she was able to do so objectively. More or less.

  Just before bath time that evening, Belinda’s mother phoned to visit with her grandsons. The boys were thrilled to talk to her. One at a time they told her about Scooter and the water fight, about herding the cattle, about their daddy being gone. “But that’s okay,” Jason told his grandma, “because Aunt Binda takes good care of us. She’s cool.”

  That was, to Belinda, the highest of compliments. As near as she could tell, being considered “cool” put her right up there with Batman, Arnold Schwar-zenegger and Scooter.

  When the boys finished talking, Belinda took the phone and let them go back to watching television while she spoke with her mother for a few minutes.

  “How are you feeling?” Belinda asked.

  “Much better. I’m fine now.”

  “You sound tired,” Belinda accused gently.

  “Honestly. You and your father. You both sound like a couple of worrywarts.”

  “That’s our job, Mom. Somebody’s got to look after you, since you won’t look after yourself.”

  “I am looking after myself just fine. And if I fall short, believe me, Howie is right here to straighten me out.”

  Belinda chuckled. “Hovering, is he?”

  Elaine let out a good-natured groan. “Worse than a mother hen. But enough about me. How are you holding up, chasing after those three boys and their father?”

  A tight knot formed in the pit of Belinda’s stomach at the thought of her chasing after Ace. Never!

  “The boys and I are getting along great.” She told her mother about Clay’s accident, the knot on his head, his black eyes, and her use of her eyebrow pencil to save the other two from like injuries. “We’re down to plum eyeshadow now, heading toward green.”

  Elaine laughed so hard she got choked and started coughing, which told Belinda that her mother wasn’t as well as she claimed.

  “Oh, my,” Elaine said when she got her breath back. “Those little devils, to try and fool Ace that way. Speaking of Ace, has he been seeing anyone?”

  The knot in Belinda’s stomach tightened. “Seeing anyone?”

  “Yes, dear. As in dating?”

  “I know what you meant,” she said irritably. “When would he have time to date? He works from before dawn until dusk, then he goes into his office and works until all hours.”

  “That’s not good, dear. You should get him to take some time off, go to town, kick up his heels. He needs to get out more.”

  “He’s a big boy, Mom. He can take care of himself.”

  “I know that, but I worry about him. He should be seeing other women by now. He should be thinking about getting married again. I said as much to him the last time we spoke.”

  The thought of Ace getting remarried left Belinda feeling as if the floor had fallen away from beneath her feet. She wasn’t sure what she said during the rest of the conversation. She wasn’t sure what she did during the boys’ baths, or when she finally put them to bed after their final half hour of television.

  It shouldn’t affect her this way, she knew. Of course he would want to get married again someday. Why wouldn’t he? But when she tried to imagine it actually happening, his actually taking another wife, cold sweat broke out along Belinda’s spine, and she felt more than slightly ill.

  The entire time he’d been married to Cathy, Belinda had been fine. She had never even thought of the intimate details of their marriage. But that had been before she realized how she really felt about him. Now she feared that if she had to watch him marry another woman, she would be tormented with visions of Ace and his new wife tumbling across those navy sheets on his bed, when Belinda herself wanted to be the one—

  Don’t think about it.

  But she dreamed about it that night. About being stretched out beneath him in his bed, his hands and mouth all over her, hers all over him. The pounding heat, the searing pleasure. And then the dream changed, and there was another woman, faceless, in his arms, while Belinda was forced to stand aside and watch.

  She woke in the middle of the night with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  She refused to go back to sleep. The first part of the dream, when she and Ace had been making love, was too bittersweet to relive, for she knew it would never happen. Wasn’t sure she would have the nerve to let it happen even if Ace...

  The second part of the dream—the nightmare part—kept flashing through her mind until she grew so irritated she had to get up and mop the kitchen floor to chase it away.

  Good God, she was mopping the floor at 4:00 a.m. because of a man.

  How the mighty have fallen.

  It was less than likely that if and when Ace remarried, Belinda would be a witness to it. While he might think to invite her—�
�You are family”—she would never attend. And she certainly wouldn’t stand beside his bed and watch him and his new wife enjoy the physical aspect of their marriage. So why was she so upset?

  Because you want him for yourself.

  She rinsed the mop and flopped it back down on the floor. The idea didn’t bear thinking about. Nothing was going to come of it. She was just suffering from an unexpected case of raging hormones, that was all. There was nothing special about Ace Wilder. Nothing at all.

  Uh-huh. Just keep lying to yourself, girl.

  “Oh, shut up.”

  She detested that little voice in the back of her head. The one that never lied, that wouldn’t let her get away with anything. Where had the stupid voice been when she’d thought she was falling in love with Ace? Had it shouted out in her mind that she was an idiot? That she was delusional? That she was not in love with him?

  The nagging little voice had been annoyingly silent on that subject.

  Belinda refused to consider what that meant.

  The more she refused it, the faster the mop swished across the floor. She would simply keep on denying these crazy feelings about Ace. That was the only thing she knew to do. The only thing that made any sense. She was no good at intimate relationships. Her marriage had taught her that much. If she’d failed to learn her lesson that time, it had hit home without question a couple of years later when she’d gotten involved with Gary.

  Lesson number forty-seven in the game of life and love: never get personally involved with your banker. Moving several bank accounts when the relationship went up in flames—or, in her case, drizzled down to a trickle before fading away completely—was more hassle than any man was worth.

  She couldn’t even imagine how disastrous an affair with Ace would be. For both of them. He wanted peace in his home; Belinda was not a peaceful person. He would want a woman like Cathy, calm, quiet, content in the traditional female role she loved so much. Belinda was none of those things.

  Cathy had wanted a man to lean on, to support her and give her children, a nice home, security. Ace had been that man.

  Belinda wasn’t interested in leaning on any man. She could provide her own home, her own security. If sometimes her life seemed a little lonely, well, she had friends, didn’t she? She didn’t need a man in her life to feel fulfilled.

  She stood back and leaned on the mop, shaking her head at herself. She had mopped more in the few weeks she’d been on the Flying Ace than in her entire life. She was pleased to realize she still hated doing it.

  She rinsed out the mop and put it away in the mudroom, then put on a pot of coffee. No use going back to bed. Her mind was still sending out flashes of that damned dream.

  God, she hated this. Hated feeling all itchy and helpless and frustrated.

  “Enough,” she told herself in the silence of the deserted kitchen. In the end it didn’t matter how she felt about Ace; she wasn’t going to act on those feelings. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself with him. Wasn’t about to make herself even more vulnerable around him than she already felt.

  By the time the sun came up, she had managed to work herself into a fine state of denial. She had blown things out of proportion, that was all. She was much too levelheaded to let a few isolated sparks get the best of her. That’s all it had been, a few isolated sparks brought on by a long bout of celibacy.

  The denial of any attraction to Ace, any soft feelings for him, grew in strength as the morning passed. She felt stronger for it, more in command of herself.

  She was still nursing that denial when she heard Jason’s shout from the backyard. “Daddy’s back!”

  Belinda was standing in the quiet kitchen, building sandwiches to go with the macaroni and cheese she’d just made for her and the boys’ lunch. If her heart gave a little leap, it was only because the shout had startled her.

  She heard the boys whoop and holler as they ran toward the barn to greet the riders. She caught herself turning toward the back door to follow them, then stopped. There was no need to go down and greet them. It was noon; they would be hungry and would soon be up at the house looking for lunch. She would just do the job she was here to do and put something together for them.

  She had another pot of macaroni going on the stove when the back door opened. She turned more out of reflex than intent. And he was there.

  Damn her pulse for leaping, her mouth for going dry, her hands for turning damp. Damn the room for becoming suddenly airless. Mud caked his boots and streaks of dirt covered his clothes. There was a tear in his left sleeve a few inches up from the cuff, and what looked like dried blood around the tear. His face was sunburned, and a four-day beard gave him the look of a desperado.

  Her heart pounded. Never had she seen a more ruggedly handsome man. The sight of him quite literally took her breath away.

  Those Wilder blue eyes locked on her like a hawk on a rabbit. She didn’t much care for the analogy. When he started toward her with that slow saunter, her hands fisted. Liquid heat pooled low and deep.

  He stopped a mere two feet from her. She could feel his heat. Without taking his eyes off her, he picked up a sandwich and took a bite.

  Neither of them had yet said a word.

  Something in his eyes spoke of anger, and it appeared to be directed at her. Belinda bristled. He looked, she thought, like a man spoiling for a fight. Well, she had plenty of fight in her, if that’s what he was after. In her current frame of mind, she’d be more than glad to accommodate him.

  He started to take another bite of the sandwich, then stopped and tossed it onto the counter. Bracing a hand on the counter, he glared at her. “Flukes,” he said.

  “Actually,” she said, “it’s bologna and cheese.”

  “Cute. I’m talking about this.” He reached out and grasped her hand.

  Fire shot up her arm, down her body. In response, she jerked away.

  “A fluke,” he said.

  “Whatever.”

  “It doesn’t mean we’re attracted to each other.”

  A shudder raced down her spine. “Of course not.” If only she could look away from those eyes so intently focused on her, she could break whatever power he seemed to hold over her.

  “I don’t want you,” he said bluntly.

  Belinda narrowed her eyes. “Who asked you to?”

  “And you don’t want me.”

  Heat stung her cheeks. “You got that right.”

  “And even if we did want each other, we wouldn’t do anything about it.”

  “Of course not.”

  “It would complicate things too much.”

  Over the sound of her own pulse in her ears she could still hear the boys down at the barn. “Absolutely.”

  He stared at her another long moment, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he ground his teeth. “Damn.” In a flash he pulled her to his chest.

  Belinda couldn’t even think straight enough to protest, before his mouth swooped down and took hers. Her gasp of surprise turned into a whimper of surrender as his arms surrounded her, his taste filled her, his heat melted her bones like wax put to the flame.

  His kiss consumed her. It confounded, it elated. It devastated. She wasn’t aware when her hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, to clasp the back of his head and pull him closer.

  Ace was aware of her every touch, her every breath, the feel of her in his arms. And even more, the feel of her arms around him. It was heaven, and it was hell, because it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. He wanted to gobble her up in three quick bites, from head to toe. He wanted to bury his flesh in hers and feel her hot, slick welcome.

  The thought made him groan. He pressed a hand to the base of her spine and pulled her flush against him. The sound that came from her throat told him she welcomed the thrust of his hips. It almost undid him then and there.

  Gasping for breath, he tore his mouth from hers. “I can’t—” To hell with it. Breathing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not when compared to kissing
Belinda.

  “Ace—”

  “No.” He took her mouth again. “Don’t say anything,” he managed without releasing her lips. She tasted dark and hot and exotic. She felt the same way in his arms. “I want—” He wanted everything. Right there in his kitchen.

  “Yes,” she said with a moan.

  He bit down on her bottom lip and tugged, then dove in again. “No time,” he said against her mouth. “The men...here...ten...minutes.”

  He knew he should let her go, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He took, and she gave. Generously. All he could think was yes. This was right. This was good. And his control was about to explode into nonexistence.

  But just one more taste of her....

  “I’ll just check and see if and when we’re getting any lunch.”

  Jack’s voice from just outside the back door broke them apart as nothing else could have.

  They stared at each other, gasping, Ace’s hands clutching her shoulders tight enough to bruise.

  The back door opened.

  “Gee.” Jack grinned like a possum. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  Chapter Seven

  Lunch was a nightmare. The boys asked a million questions, which Ace did his best to answer. Jack didn’t say anything, but whenever he got the chance, he would catch Ace’s eye, or Belinda’s, and wink. Trey caught him doing it and raised his brow in question. Jack merely grinned and nodded.

  That seemed enough of an explanation for Trey. He ate the rest of his meal with a grin that matched Jack’s for sheer audaciousness.

  Belinda wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. For the rest of her life, maybe.

  Ace wanted to hit something. Or someone. At Jack’s interruption, he had reluctantly released Belinda and stepped away. While she finished putting lunch together he went upstairs and took a shower. A cold one. It didn’t help. Except that he no longer smelled as if he’d been on a horse for four days. The wonder was that Belinda had let him near her, as rank as he’d been.

  No, he thought now, glancing at her. The wonder was that she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. They could both deny it till the cows came home, but they would both be lying through their teeth.