“Was that all it was? My Parker blood?”
Mae twitched, then admitted, “By the time she was threatening to take you with her, you’d already stolen my heart. I’d never been around babies much—I was always too busy for that kind of thing. But you—” she smiled with unfeigned richness of memory “—you were different. It was almost as if you were my baby, too. I couldn’t let her take you away and never see you again. I couldn’t let her take you from your dad, either.”
Jodie was silent for a long moment. Then she wrapped her arms around her great-aunt’s normally unyielding neck and kissed her on the cheek.
She hadn’t expected such a confession. For Mae to have loved her so much!
“I love you, too, Aunt Mae,” she said quietly. “And I want to thank you. I can’t imagine growing up anywhere else or not being with these people. Not being with you. Not being with my dad.”
Mae watched her intently, studying her face, studying what she really meant behind the words. Then a huge worry seemed to lift from her shoulders, and she smiled warmly at her great-niece.
JODIE GREW DISSATISFIED with waiting for Tate to contact her. She knew he’d been angry the last time he’d seen her, but she hadn’t expected it to last. Over the past couple of days she’d been getting things in her life in order. She wanted to get this settled, too.
That was why, when Harriet returned from delivering her older children to the fair and mentioned, seemingly in passing, she’d seen Tate there, Jodie promptly decided to go to the fair herself.
She paid special attention to the way she looked, remembering that the last few times they’d seen each other, she’d not exactly been at her best. She’d either been going out for a ride, picking herself up off the ground or disheveled from collecting Rio from his hiding place. Because of the continuing heat she decided on a soft cotton dress, but it was a very flattering cotton dress that made the most of her figure and her coloring. Then she added her favorite perfume—sensual, delicate, yet incredibly potent. And a subtle application of makeup. Around her neck, she wore the locket Mae had given her, threaded on a long gold chain.
She checked the full effect in the mirror and gave a short nod, before going out and settling in the Cadillac, which Mae had given her permission to borrow.
All the way into town she tried to decide her approach. March straight up to him and kiss him full on the mouth was her first instinct, but sensible thought prevailed and she decided just to talk to him—maybe thank him again for helping her and helping Rio. Let him know casually that she and Rio weren’t together, as he seemed to think. Then take it from there.
Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach as she entered the county park and found a place to leave the car. The fair had drawn a big crowd. Numerous cars and pickups lined the narrow roadway leading to the entry gate.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make the event festive. Clusters of balloons and miles of crepe-paper ribbon had been strung from place to place. There were booths selling snack food and drinks, booths where you could win a homemade cake and enter contests for best pickles, best pie, as well as numerous game booths and a dunking stall. Areas had been roped off for children’s competitions—three-legged races, sack hops, egg-and-spoon races. Adults got into the act, too, with similar competitions.
Jodie tried her hand at a game or two—attempting to snare the neck of a soda bottle with a series of plastic rings and tossing a beanbag through the mouth of a swinging clown face—but all the while she kept an eye out for Tate.
And all the while she was aware of people looking at her. This was really her first trip into town since her return from Europe, if you didn’t count the birth of little Elisabeth. She understood they were curious to see her again. She also knew they’d heard about the recent trouble involving Rio, which brought up her past trouble with him.
People were friendly to her, though. Some even to the point of welcoming her back.
If this had been an ordinary day, Jodie would have enjoyed it. With her newfound ability to be at ease with herself, she didn’t question the motives of others quite so readily. If a person smiled, then said something in private to their companion, she didn’t wonder if they were saying something negative about the Parkers. But this wasn’t an ordinary day. She was on a mission, and only when she located Tate would it truly begin.
And then at last she saw him. He was dressed in civilian clothes—slim-fitting black jeans, a dark T-shirt and a light blue shirt he wore unbuttoned and loose. He was carrying a large box for his mother, who walked beside him.
Jodie turned away, her heart thumping wildly. This was going to be far more difficult than she’d thought. Even from a distance she was sensitive to his appeal. How was she ever going to pretend she wasn’t?
His mother saw her and stopped. “Jodie?”
Jodie turned around slowly. She forced herself to smile at Emma Connelly, then her gaze was drawn inexorably to Tate. The box was filled to overbrimming with paper products—plates, cups, napkins. It was more bulky than heavy, and Tate shifted it easily so his view of her was unobstructed.
Jodie’s forced smile stayed in place. “Ah yes... hello!” she returned brightly.
“You’re the last person I expected to see here to-day,” Emma said starkly.
“Yes, well, I heard about it and—”
“You’re welcome, of course,” Emma amended, obviously having realized how impolite she’d sounded. “Everyone’s welcome.”
“It...it looks like the fair’s going well,” Jodie said, glancing around.
“It is,” Emma agreed. “We were starting to run out of supplies. Lots of people came hungry. The barbecue’s disappearin’ faster than we can cook it!”
“Hello, Jodie,” Tate said, his voice soft, melodious.
Jodie’s insides were jumping. Her primary instinct was flight. What did she think she was going to accomplish by this? How had she thought she’d ever be able to talk privately with Tate in such a circus-like atmosphere? She should never have come. Should never have—
“Don’t let me stop you, then,” she said quickly, starting to duck away. “I...we...I’ll see you another time, Tate.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“Only to thank you again. It’s not important. I can—”
“I want to talk to you, too.”
The surrounding noise and bustle seemed to disappear as she looked across at him. Time stood still. Then a little boy, running away from another little boy, misjudged distance and bumped into her as he tried to dart past. Reality rushed back with a resounding whump—conversations, laughter, cries of triumph and disaster at the races.
Emma caught hold of Jodie’s arm and asked with concern, “He didn’t hurt you, did he? You look so...odd.”
Jodie shook her head. She hadn’t felt a thing.
Emma, still frowning, directed Tate to pass her the box. “You see to Jodie,” she said. “I can handle this. I just have to take it over there.” She indicated a pavilion a short distance away where numerous people were eating at long picnic tables.
Tate hesitated. “It would only take a minute for me to carry it over.”
“I won’t hear of it. It’s not that heavy.”
Tate made sure his mother had adequate control before she started off with the box, then his frown cleared when another woman came rushing out of the pavilion to assist her. He turned to Jodie. “Come on over here,” he said, pulling her away from the booths and into the shade of a gnarled old tree.
Plenty of people were still about, but in his company Jodie felt protected. And excited. And nervous.
His hand, encasing hers, was warm and strong and vital. She wasn’t sure she’d continue breathing if he didn’t let go soon. Yet when he did, she wanted the contact back.
She’d always thought him attractive. Now she understood why. It was Tate himself—his compelling features, leanly muscled body and the steady confidence he maintained in himself and in his abilities. It all added up to an innate v
irility he was barely conscious of. Which made him even more appealing.
He was the complete opposite of Rio, who wore his attraction for women on his sleeve and used it—and them—to his advantage.
“Jodie?” he said.
Jodie’s attention jerked back to the present and she blinked up at him.
His mouth slanted into a smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied, and knew he didn’t believe her.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked after a slightly awkward moment. “You’ve already thanked me.”
Jodie could see exactly how this strained conversation was going to play out. She’d say her bit, he’d say his, and then they’d part—no worse off, but certainly no better, either. She couldn’t let that happen. Just as she had with Mae and her father, she had to break through to the truth. And the only way to do that was to take a chance.
“Rio’s gone,” she blurted. “Back to Colorado. And I hope I never see him again.”
Tate remained stubbornly still. “I heard he’d left,” he said.
“So why didn’t you come out to the ranch? Why?” She took a deep breath. “Tate I think I love you. That may not be something you want to hear, and I’m sorry if that’s so, but I just had to say it, because—”
Tate, stepping closer, placed his fingers over her mouth, effectively hushing her flow of words. “If you say that, you’d better mean it!” he murmured huskily.
Jodie looked up at him, lost in embarrassment from her unilateral declaration, then—as his body moved against hers—in amazement at his reaction. She broke her mouth away enough to retort, “Of course I mean it! Why in the world would you think that I—”
Once again she wasn’t allowed to finish. But this time, instead of hushing her words with his fingertips, he stopped them with his lips.
At first Jodie struggled, intellect not yet having caught up with reality. Then, as physical bliss dawned, reason finally understood.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ONLY WHEN TATE and Jodie became aware of the whistles and teasing comments aimed at them by passersby did they break apart. Jodie felt her color heighten, Tate laughed and returned the teasing comments, then they left as quickly as they could.
Both were breathing hard as they reached the exit, yet they were still able to laugh at the absurdity of what had just occurred. And both were very much aware of what it meant. A declaration of sorts had been delivered by both of them. In public, in front of a small-town population. The news would travel fast.
The prospect of gossip couldn’t dampen the brightness of the moment, though. Jodie didn’t care and neither, it seemed, did Tate.
“Where can we go?” she asked, meaning to talk, but not discounting other possibilities, either.
“My place,” Tate said.
He directed her to an old Ford sedan and she hopped in happily. As they rolled past Mae’s Cadillac, Jodie had a moment of disquiet, but that vanished when she realized she could collect the car later.
The drive into town seemed to take forever. She had scooted close to him, her hand on his thigh, where he’d placed it, then covered it with his own.
Jodie had never felt so excited. No man had ever brought her to this sense of anticipation. When they parked in the driveway of his house, she was in just as much of a hurry to get inside as he was.
The door had barely shut when he pressed her back against it, his mouth devouring hers between heated explorations of her neck and breasts.
She moaned his name, her fingers threading though his short hair, pulling him closer, using her body to heighten his need.
He uttered something unintelligible, then lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, kissing her all the way.
Next she was on the bed and he was stretched out beside her. Her floaty summer dress presented little problem. One tug on the zip and it was free. His clothes were a little harder, though. The overshirt, the T-shirt, the gun he had clipped to the side of his belt
Jodie’s hand jerked away at the discovery. Tate removed the weapon, placing it safely on the bedside table.
“Being sheriff is a full-time job,” he murmured in explanation.
“Mmm,” Jodie responded, no longer caring, her fingers busy with what she’d started previously.
Their bodies free of the last encumbrance, each was able to revel in the physical beauty of the other. Tate—long and lean with sculpted muscles. Wide shoulders and deep chest narrowing to slender hips and the strong legs of a natural athlete. Jodie—willowy, yet with rounded breasts and a soft layering of flesh that kept her from being bony.
His hands caressed her, gliding easily along her spine and over her hip. “My, God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed. “I used to dream, but—”
Jodie rained kisses over his shoulders and chest. “Shh,” she whispered. “Later.”
Finally they could put the moment off no longer.
Their bodies joined and Jodie lost touch with everything but sensation, which kept growing ever stronger. She couldn’t get enough of him or give him enough of herself. Making love with him was the most wonderful, most profound thing she’d ever done. She cried out in ecstasy and felt him tremble, even as he tried to extend her pleasure.
Once collapsed, their bodies remained entwined. Minutes passed before Jodie could move again, then with her breathing still heightened, she smoothed a hand over his hair and down his neck.
She hadn’t thought about being together in this way when she’d fallen in love with him the first time—in the spring of her twelfth year. Adult love was something mysterious then. She’d wanted him to notice her, to like her, to maybe hold her hand. She wouldn’t have known what to do if he’d actually done that.
Her fingers wandered over him, exploring the way he was made. His ribs, the sprinkling of dark hair on his chest, and down over his flat stomach to the indent of his bellybutton.
“You’ll give me ideas again if you don’t stop right there,” he warned.
She hadn’t been aware that he was watching her, but when she looked up, his head was propped on his hand.
He gave a sexy grin. “But go ahead if you want. I don’t mind.”
Jodie tingled from head to foot, her body alive to every nuance of his. It was tempting, very tempting. But she controlled the urge. For now.
“You’re quite a lady, Jodie Parker,” he said huskily.
She smiled. “I could say the same about you, only change it to gentleman.”
He dropped back onto the pillow and pulled her with him, so he could continue to hold her. Her cheek rested against his chest. Minutes passed as he stroked the silky smoothness of her hair.
Finally he asked, “Did you mean what you said earlier?”
“Yes.”
“You love me,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“Since seventh grade.”
He raised his head to look at her. “You’re kidding me.”
“No,” she said, grinning. “You were my first love. I remember trying to get you to notice me and all I succeeded in doing was to get you angry. You threatened to toss me off the school bus several times when you were the driver. Do you remember?”
“You were a brat!”
“See?” She cocked her head and reminded him, “You haven’t told me how you feel yet.”
“We’re here together, aren’t we?”
“Is that your way of telling me you love me? That you’d never do this unless you were in love?”
“I wouldn’t do it with you.”
Jodie climbed partway onto his body and looked him straight in the eye. “I’d like to hear the words, if you don’t mind. Humor me.”
He dragged her the rest of the way up, until she was resting on him fully, then he cupped her face and said, “I didn’t think it was possible to love a woman the way I love you. Even if you are one of the high-and-mighty Parkers.”
&nb
sp; “Since when?” she echoed his earlier demand.
He frowned. “Now that’s a little harder for me than it was for you. It’s been a long time, I think. Only I didn’t know it. It kinda came to a head when you got back to the ranch this time.”
“You were still horrible to me.”
“When?” he challenged.
“You tried to give me a ticket!”
“You were drivin’ like holy hell!”
Jodie shifted position a little and received an instantaneous response.
“Jodie,” he warned.
She wiggled again and grinned. “What if I was ‘drivin’ like holy hell’ to get back to you? Would you give me a ticket then? Or would you—”
Her question was cut short by the best kind of answer. At least from their point of view.
TO LESSEN the distractions they both thought it prudent to get out of bed and get dressed before they talked.
Jodie met him in the living room.
It felt a little strange at first. For them to have been so intimate, then to come together for serious conversation. But Tate took it upon himself to put her at ease, crossing the room to kiss her sweetly before leading her to the only chair.
Jodie watched as he brought in a kitchen chair for himself. And when he leaned forward to collect her hand, her heart warmed toward him even more. He was a thoughtful considerate lover, as well as a demanding one. And she knew that, as the future unfolded, their lovemaking would only get better.
“I realize you’d probably rather not think about this right now, and I wouldn’t, either. But, Jodie,” he said, his voice softening on her name, “we have to think about it. If we lived in a big city, no one would care. If we were both on our own, with no families to consider, no one would care. But that’s not the way it is for either of us. You have your family and I have my mother.”
“Does she dislike me?” Jodie asked quickly. “I always have the feeling that I’ve done something I shouldn’t. Something she doesn’t approve of. I know that’s a problem I have sometimes, and I’m trying to work on it, but with your mother, it’s really there!”
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