With Family In Mind (Saddle Falls Book 1)

by Sharon De Vita

  Her lips were like wine, sweet, drugging, making his head swim, his body ache. He ran his hands up and down her back, across the silk of her blouse, feeling the warmth of her body beneath, the swell of her breasts, the hardness of her nipples pressing against him.

  He wanted her naked and warm under him, arching, wanting him, needing him, wrapped around him as they took that slow, sensuous ride into pleasure. A pleasure that would leave them mindless, spent, sated.

  Lifting a hand, he cupped her neck, needing to feel skin against skin. He felt her pulse thudding wildly in time to his own, and found it only increased his own need, his own desire. His breath quickened, until it thundered out of his lungs, a painful reminder of what his body needed, craved.

  Rebecca.

  He wanted to be patient, gentle, but he couldn’t. He hadn’t expected this, not from her. She’d been so cool, so distant. But he’d glimpsed the passion, the heat in her, and wondered if she’d use that heat and passion for something other than her work.

  Now he knew.

  Her passion, this frenzied need to touch and be touched, was as fierce in her as it was in him. It pleased him to know that he could arouse her to this level with just one kiss.

  But it wasn’t going to be enough, he realized, deepening the kiss, pulling her even closer until he couldn’t tell his heartbeat from hers.

  As he gathered her even nearer, Rebecca moaned again, her hands clutching the front of his shirt like a lifeline. She’d been absolutely certain she was going to push him away, to stop him. To stop the madness that she was sure would ensue.

  But the moment his lips touched her, the moment she got her first potent taste of Jake Ryan, every thought in her head melted in the heat.

  She’d never experienced anything like this: a kiss, a simple kiss that left her head swimming, her heart pounding, her body aching with need, desire.

  Feelings.

  My God, why hadn’t she realized there were so many feelings possible? Because until this moment, she’d never allowed herself to feel anything.

  But this…this was glorious. Heady. Addictive. She wondered how she could have possibly lived so long without this wonderful experience of knowing what it felt like to kiss a man as if her life depended on it, to hold on to him as if she might fall off the world if she didn’t.

  She wanted.

  Something she’d never allowed herself before. Ever. The ache that pummeled her body, making her vividly aware of Jake, also made her feel suddenly, wickedly alive, as if she’d just been awakened from a very deep sleep.

  Her breasts ached. An almost unbearable yearning low in her belly had her arching against him, pressing herself tighter to him, wanting to ease the ache, but not really knowing how.

  Angling her head, she followed the movement of his mouth, unwilling to let go of this glorious feeling just yet. Her fingers clutched, then clung to his shirt as she tilted her head to be able to taste him better.

  Jake’s hands, so large, yet gentle on her back, made her vividly aware of the soft silkiness of her blouse rubbing against her bare skin. The resulting wave of friction made her want to peel the material off so she could feel his hand against her skin.

  His flesh to her flesh.

  When she laced her arms around his neck and opened her mouth, Jake’s low moan as he responded in kind, dragging her further and further into this hazy wave of passion, brought reality crashing back.

  “No.” With a great deal of effort, Rebecca drew back and laid her hand on his chest again—this time to keep him at bay, to get some much needed distance from him. From that incredibly talented, glorious mouth.

  What had she done? Looking at him, she found her vision blurred with passion, her mind clouded with desire. How could she have let this happen with him? It was unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable, and might have jeopardized everything she’d come here for. One moment of madness could have forever ruined a life of discipline and control. Disappointment in herself was not something she was accustomed to, but Rebecca felt it now, sharp and shameful, and vowed this would be the first and last time she ever did anything so foolish.

  She had to swallow before she could speak coherently. “We…can’t. This…can’t happen.” Words were her life, but every word she knew seemed to have deserted her. Stunned, she pushed back her hair and shifted so she wasn’t touching him anywhere, then tried again, aware that he was looking at her with an air of amusement that was just a tad annoying. “We can’t do this, Jake.” She shook her head, wishing she knew the right thing to say under the circumstances. But she’d never been in these circumstances. “This can’t happen again.”

  “I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said with a grin, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Jerking away from his touch, because it set off a new round of desire that dazzled and delighted her, Rebecca numbly shook her head.

  “No.” She licked her lips, still tasted him, and realized it made her yearn for him, for more. It couldn’t happen again, she repeated firmly. She’d taught herself never to want or need anything. She’d picked a helluva time to forget all she’d learned.

  She made the mistake of looking at him, and felt her stomach slowly roll in a wave she now recognized as desire. She wanted nothing more than to move right back into his arms and kiss him again.

  But it wasn’t going to happen.

  Not ever again.

  “It wasn’t…bad,” she said firmly, not trusting herself to look at him. “It’s just that I cannot afford to compromise my professional objectivity or integrity.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his expression change, and she dared a glance at him, wishing her heart would stop thudding. It was so loud she feared he’d hear it. There was an expression of curiosity on his face. “I never get emotionally or personally involved with anyone I’m professionally involved with.” Her chin lifted and she forced all emotion to cool. “It would be totally unethical and could compromise my work.”

  Jake’s mouth quirked in amusement. The ice princess was back, and he apparently had once again been relegated to the poor hapless peon. Her fire had cooled, her passion had been banked, but beyond them, shadowing the depths of her eyes, that haunting vulnerability was back, making his own heart ache for whatever had hurt her.

  It was an absolutely amazing thing to watch the way she turned on and off like a light switch. How the hell did she do that? he wondered. More importantly, why?

  He wished he could have been annoyed or angry, but he only felt a desperate desire to pull her back into his arms and protect her from whatever had put that haunting sadness in her eyes.

  “That’s the first time a woman’s ever told me my kisses were unethical.”

  “It’s not funny,” she snapped, aware that she was more annoyed at herself than him. How could she have compromised this entire project, knowing how important it was? “I’m sorry, Jake, but this is not going to happen again,” she said, her voice firm, emphatic. Before he could react, she threw open the car door and hopped out, not trusting herself to be so close to him in the small car. “Now, I’ve got work to do. Thanks for the ride into town. I’d appreciate if you’d deliver my belongings to the carriage house while I go see Tommy.”

  Head high, heart still pounding, Rebecca turned and marched toward the double doors of the ranch house, determined to put this behind her. Time away from Jake Ryan would do nothing but good, she decided, determined to keep her distance—at least her physical distance.

  Jake watched her, his eyes cool and assessing, his pride a tad wounded. “Not going to happen again?”

  He shook his head as he started the car, his gaze lingering on the pleasant sway of her backside. He smiled slowly, touching a finger to his lips, which were still warm from her kisses. “Don’t count on it, Slick.” He put the car in gear. “Don’t count on it at all.”

  She’d spent almost three hours with Tommy, grateful to have something to divert her from the scene with Jake, and grateful to delay the time when
she’d actually have to face going back to the carriage house.

  She’d had no time to prepare herself for doing so, and right now, after the events of this day, she was more than a bit unsettled.

  Her emotions were in absolute turmoil today, way too close to the surface to be controlled. She comforted herself with the thought that all of this emotional response was atypical, nothing to worry about, brought on by any number of things, not the least of which was her mother’s death. Seeing Tommy Ryan again had been another factor, not to mention her unusual and totally out of character reaction to Jake Ryan. And then, of course, being offered the opportunity to return to the only place she’d thought of as home.

  No wonder she was in such turmoil.

  Once she was able to coolly, calmly analyze all that had happened today, to put things in their proper perspective, she’d be able to carefully control her emotions once again.

  Since she’d had a lifetime of practice, she was absolutely sure she could.

  After gathering up all the papers Tommy had graciously agreed to let her borrow, Rebecca drove to the northernmost part of the ranch, where the coach house was located.

  Inexplicably nervous, she hesitated for a few moments, sitting in the car, watching the setting sun, letting herself adjust to being here, giving herself time to get her emotions under control.

  She hadn’t realized it would be this difficult, she thought, as she finally dragged herself out of the car. Slowly, she opened the front door of the house, but couldn’t do more than step inside the door.

  Cobwebs of memories engulfed her like a strong net. Valiantly, she fought them back, struggling to break free of their hold, trying to keep a tight rein on her emotions, trying to stay cool, objective as she glanced around the familiar living room.

  The door was still open behind her, allowing the dusky light of early evening to filter through, casting her shadow across the plank wood floor.

  Almost paralyzed by the ghost of memories that seemed to have crawled out of the woodwork to mock and haunt her, she could do little but stare at her own shadow as she tried to harness all the emotions that threatened to come tumbling out.

  Pressing a hand to her heart, she was surprised to feel a pain so strong it seemed to radiate through her.

  So many memories were here. If she closed her eyes, she knew she would be drawn back through time.

  Twenty years.

  She continued to stare at her shadow, but it was no longer her adult shadow, but as it had been the last time she’d stood in this house—the slight, wispy shadow of a frightened, lonely, seven-year-old child.

  Her eyelids slid shut as the present mingled with the past. A chill washed over her when she heard her mother’s voice.

  “Becca? Where are you? Mama’s got a man friend coming over tonight. You go on to your room now and stay in there, hear? Read your schoolbooks or something.”

  Taking a long, slow breath, Rebecca rubbed her arms, chilled in spite of the long sleeves of her blouse.

  “Becca, you be a good girl, now. Mama’s gotta go out tonight. And stop that whining! There’s nothing to be scared of. You’re seven, more than old enough to stay alone for a few hours so Mama can go out and have some fun. You want Mama to have fun, don’t you, baby?”

  The chill became a slick coating of icy terror. Taking a slow, deep breath through her nose to stop the panic that threatened, Rebecca’s heart leaped into her throat when she smelled the scent of her mother’s cologne, as fresh and fragrant as if she’d just walked past her through the room.

  “Becca? Listen to me. Mama’s gotta go away for a little while. You go on with this nice lady, and don’t be no trouble, hear? Now, don’t you be crying like a baby before I give you something to cry about! I’ll come get you soon as I can. Promise.”

  Rebecca’s eyes opened and she blinked to clear her vision. She glanced around, surprised to find she was all alone.

  “Don’t worry, Rebecca. Mama will come get you soon as I can. Go along now, girl. And don’t be no trouble.”

  Lies.

  Blinking, Rebecca clenched her fists, as tears filled her eyes. It had all been lies. Everything her mother had promised that day, the last day she’d ever seen her, had been cruel, deliberate lies.

  Her mother had never intended to come back for her.

  Rebecca knew and understood that. But why couldn’t she accept it? She didn’t know. No matter how hard she’d tried to please, to be the perfect little girl, the perfect daughter, so her mother would want her, love her, somewhere deep in her fragile heart she had known all along it had been hopeless.

  As an adult, she had finally come to accept what she hadn’t been able to as a child. But with acceptance came the pain of loss, of sorrow so deep it seared her fragile heart.

  Her mother had never intended to come back for her. Why?

  The word seemed to echo in Rebecca’s mind as if she’d actually spoken it aloud.

  Why?

  Margaret had abandoned her own daughter as if she were no more important than yesterday’s newspaper.

  Why?

  They were the same questions Rebecca had been asking herself for years.

  How could her mother have simply forgotten her?

  She didn’t know, and now that her mother was gone, she’d never know.

  Shaking with the strength of emotions the memories evoked, Rebecca forced herself to walk slowly through the rooms, letting the memories come, knowing she had to face the ghosts of her past if she were ever to have a future.

  She pushed at the door to what had once been her bedroom. It creaked ominously in the quiet house, as if opening the door released the memories hidden there.

  The room smelled of furniture polish and disinfectant. She went to the window, pulled back the crisp, clean curtains and found herself staring.

  On the window, faded with age, was a sticker she had pasted on one corner of the pane one night when her mother had company and Rebecca had been sent to her room to study. She’d sat on her little bed and carefully looked through the book of stickers she’d bought the weekend before, when she’d gone into town with her mother.

  The five-and-dime had been selling bright-colored sticker books. And she’d desperately wanted one, so she’d done extra chores to earn the money, and finally had enough to buy the pretty little book.

  She remembered hugging it close to her on the bus ride home, waiting until she was in the privacy of her own bedroom before reverently studying each sticker, running her fingers over the bright colors, the beautiful designs, trying to choose just the right one to put in her window.

  Now, looking at the sun-faded sticker, she gently traced the outline with her finger and smiled.

  Such a small thing, but so important to a lonely little girl.

  She wondered what had happened to that sticker book. Glancing around, she remembered that the Social Services people had refused to let her take anything other than her clothes with her when they’d taken her away that morning.

  She’d had to leave it behind.

  Along with everything else that mattered to her, she thought, swallowing around the boulder-size lump in her throat. She’d left everything behind the day she’d left here: her hopes, her dreams and especially her innocence.

  Rubbing her chilled arms again, Rebecca walked out of her old bedroom and into the one that had been her mother’s. There was nothing at all left of hers. The room was empty except for a single utilitarian bed and bureau in a dark, sturdy oak.

  She leaned against the doorjamb, remembering how she would stand in the doorway, watching her mother put on her makeup and fix her hair whenever she’d been going out—which was often.

  There used to be an old dressing table in one corner, one her mother had bought at a garage sale. The mirror was so old and scarred that the silver backing was peeling away in the corners, so that she could see herself only if she looked in the middle.

  Suddenly, Rebecca remembered another memory. One evening she�
��d been standing behind her mom, leaning over her shoulder as she got ready to go out.

  Rebecca had wanted to see her reflection next to her mother’s, something all little girls did, she believed.

  But she couldn’t see it.

  It was as if she weren’t even there, because that part of the mirror where her image would have been had cracked, and the reflective agent had peeled away.

  Even then she’d been invisible to her mother, she thought sadly, as she turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut firmly behind her.

  This was one room of the house she would never use.

  Too many ghosts; too many memories.

  Slipping her hands in the pockets of her jeans, she walked back into the living room. It was almost a perfect square, and flowed directly into the small kitchen. A large rug covered part of the wooden floor. A sturdy couch with a matching chair in a brown-and-blue plaid nearly filled the small room. At each end of the couch and next to the chair were sturdy side tables. Each had a small porcelain lamp on it.

  She walked to one of the small tables and turned on the lamp. The area was flooded with a soft, diffused light that cast warm shadows across the floor and wall.

  With her hand still on the lamp, she raised her head and squinted.

  “Becca, turn off those damn lights. You’re wasting electricity. You think I’m made of money, girl? If you didn’t always have your nose stuck in a book, you wouldn’t need to be burning the lights all the time. Now turn that light off!”

  Pressing her hands to her ears and fearing her legs wouldn’t hold her up any longer, she sank down on the couch, trying to stop the memories and block the emotions she’d locked up inside for so many years.

  A deep, racking sob took her by surprise, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Like the wall of water from a shattered dam, memories and pain rushed over her, too fast to stop.

  Tears spilled from her eyes, sliding unheeded down her cheeks as she began to rock back and forth, to hold herself, as if she could hold the pain and the memories inside.

  She couldn’t.

  Not this time.