by Caro Carson
“You’re back in Texas now.” He winked at her. “And if it helps me win the girl, I’d like to remind you that I’ve got horses. Lots of ’em. Let’s go camping.”
“But we’ll talk? The reason we’re going is to talk?”
“Under the stars. Around the fire. We’ll talk.”
Chapter Fourteen
Braden knew how to live on his land. His dad had taught him well, and he and his brothers still made an annual pilgrimage, without fail, to this spot on the bank of the rapid, wide creek that bore the name River Mack. For too many years, that brotherly trip had been Braden’s only return to Texas.
He stood by the fire ring and took a moment to look over the land he and his brothers had inherited. It was good to be back—and back for good. Braden knew he would never live so far away again. Boston and New York were in his past; his childhood home was his future.
It was right to bring Lana here. They’d come to talk, and talk they did. As they’d driven one of the ranch’s heavy-duty pickup trucks and horse trailers deep into the ranch’s two thousand acres, Lana had told him about West Central. Her meeting with the CEO had been pointless. Like Quinn, Lana wasn’t impressed. Braden trusted their judgment. He was a shareholder, and more than that, he was a MacDowell. He’d have to look into the situation.
Saddling horses turned out to be like riding a bicycle, which was fortunate, because Braden hadn’t saddled a horse in a year and Lana hadn’t in six years. They rode in silence for the first little while, and then Lana talked about the serious insult she felt, believing that Montgomery had only hired her to take the fall for his poor decisions. Now that she knew Braden’s mother’s condition, the odd selection of studies made some sense. From the gastrointestinal study to the one for a rare skin condition, they each represented a medicine aimed at some form of difficult-to-treat pain. Montgomery appeared to have been throwing the entire department behind his attempt to help Marion.
He remained impossible to reach, which meant the cruise Myrna remembered him discussing was still under way. He’d probably taken the missing laptop with him. A confrontation was unavoidable. Lana would have to demand her department’s property back.
“If he took a hospital computer on his cruise, perhaps he just took a working vacation,” Braden said. He counted the hoofbeats until Lana smiled.
“Is he working, or is he on vacation?” she asked.
“He can’t be both. Let’s head back to camp.”
They set up the tent in the bright February sun, laughing when half of the thing popped up on its own, catching them by surprise. Braden found his commitment to talk continually tested by the utterly sexy picture Lana made in blue jeans and a sheepskin jacket. She kept her hair in a ponytail, tucked under a worn straw cowboy hat from a long-ago summer. She moved in a less refined, more energetic way when she wore boots instead of high heels.
He followed as she collected tinder for their fire, admiring those blue jeans every time she bent to pick up a stick to add to the pile in his arms. He smiled at her childish impulse to toss a twig into the creek to watch it race the rapids.
When he could stand it no longer, he threw the wood to the ground, knocked her hat off and kissed her until she clung to him.
“We’re talking,” she reminded him, breathless.
“We’re talking, we’re talking,” he muttered, letting go of her slowly so she could regain her balance. He bent down to retrieve her hat, then bent again to pick up the firewood. When he stood and faced her, she knocked his hat off, he chucked the firewood, and they didn’t talk some more.
* * *
It was rapidly getting darker and colder, but the roaring campfire kept Lana warm. Braden kept her transfixed. She openly watched him as he covered the horses with blankets for the night and shortened their leads. The horses were secured to a highline. Braden tested the rope she’d helped him stretch between two trees earlier in the day. It was secure; they’d done it right the first time.
Actually, he’d done it right. Her role had been a childish one, standing by with the ropes while Braden used tree straps and fashioned a rope pulley and tied all kinds of knots she never used in surgery. He’d had the highline set up and the horses secured in a matter of minutes, all done with an economy of effort that only men who’d been doing that kind of thing since childhood possessed.
If they’d had a child, he or she would be five years old now. Would Braden be demonstrating bowline knots and Alpine loops to a miniature version of himself right now? Or perhaps, a version of herself?
Braden left the horses and began rustling among their gear in the pickup truck. Lana turned her attention to the fire. There was nothing like staring at the smoke and flames of a wood fire to let the mind wander. All she saw were orange flames against a black night. All she thought about was a more realistic outcome, had she and Braden had a child.
Braden would be teaching knots to his child during a weekend when he had visitation rights. It was easy to imagine that she and Braden would have been divorced within five years. She would have been eaten up with resentment, left behind to hire a nanny while she finished her residency and he got his Harvard degree. Or she would have moved to Boston and then New York, trailing her husband and moving from one practice to the next, changing jobs before she’d settled in, wondering when and where Braden would be flying off to next, being the one to run the household by default because he wouldn’t be physically present. Either way, she and her child would have both spent more time with the nanny than with Braden.
“Happy belated Valentine’s Day,” Braden said, handing her a champagne flute as he settled into the low camp chair next to hers.
“This is a nice surprise, thank you.” Lukewarm words, but the best she could summon after daydreaming about divorce.
Braden stood the champagne bottle on the ground at their feet. Lana didn’t recognize the label. It wasn’t sold in any grocery store she’d been to.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you yesterday,” Braden said.
“Myrna loved the roses. I mean, I did, too, but today has been great, really.”
And it really was. As an adult, it didn’t matter to her if she celebrated Valentine’s Day on the actual date or a day later. What mattered was that she was with Braden, who still loved her and who still wanted her to be his wife.
With the hours she expected to put into her job, she and Braden wouldn’t be together at the end of every day, sharing every dinner, every night. But when their schedules did mesh, they could have glorious days like today. She thought she might be able to live contentedly between interludes of pleasure, looking forward to her husband’s company on weekends and devoting herself to the hospital most of the time. A marriage like that could possibly work.
But not if they had children. A child would not understand that Daddy couldn’t be home on an actual birthday. A child wouldn’t be happy if Daddy came home the day after a school play. It was just one more reason not to have children.
Would a childless life make Braden happy?
She drank in the masculine beauty of his profile as he poured more champagne for her. She wanted him. She wanted him badly enough to consider a commuter type of marriage, badly enough to accept that he’d be present only when his business allowed it. Marrying an international business tycoon instead of a fellow physician was a different life than she’d envisioned, but because the man was Braden, and because she’d missed him with an ache she couldn’t ease for six years, she was willing to compromise. Would he compromise, too, and agree to postpone children indefinitely?
It was the kind of thing they were here to talk about.
She cleared her throat. Braden looked her way expectantly. She chickened out and gave him a weak smile before gulping her bubbly.
The fire popped.
One of the horses shook out his mane.
Lana drank more champagne.
Braden stretched out his legs, crossing one booted ankle over the other. “You’re still a natura
l on a horse. I can’t believe you haven’t ridden since med school.”
“Thanks.” She smiled into her flute. She couldn’t help it—she loved being good at things. She loved that Braden thought she was. “I’m sure I’ll feel muscles I forgot I had tomorrow.”
“You’ll want to ride again, anyway. You love everything about Texas. You love the ranch life like you love medicine. So, why aren’t you practicing it?”
“Practicing...medicine? I am.”
“No, you’re not, except on the odd day you get called in to cover for the E.R. What happened? You were going to buy into Dr. Forrest’s practice. He was close to retirement. He wanted you to replace him. You loved Austin. You loved your patients. It all fit.”
“That dream had to have you in it to make it work.” She didn’t want to feel the bitterness again. She needed to explain it without getting emotional. “It was all so beautifully balanced in my mind. The two of us, sharing one practice, one life, one home. And then—”
No, she couldn’t do it. She was bitter. He, not she, had killed that dream. The fire was the only safe place to focus her eyes. She couldn’t look at Braden, although she could feel him looking at her.
“And then,” Braden said, picking up her story, “I told you I needed an MBA, and I went to a school clear across the country to get it. I want you to know that I realize my move to Boston was rooted in immaturity.”
Curiosity began to edge out bitterness. The flames danced lower, running out of fuel as the evening went on. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ‘choosing a Harvard education’ described as an immature move.”
“Insecure, then. You were going to have a career that carried great esteem. Always, my wife would have the title ‘doctor’ and all the respect that entails. You disapproved of practically every other career, but I thought even an M.D. could be proud to introduce her husband from Harvard.”
“Was I really so snooty about it?”
He didn’t answer her, but she felt the truth of it. She’d disdained his ambition as nothing more than the greedy pursuit of dollars.
She didn’t want to watch the fire any longer, so she tilted her head back to look at the clear, clear stars in the country sky.
“I could have gotten an excellent MBA from UT in Austin,” Braden said, and she knew the bitterness in his voice was directed at himself. “Baylor. Rice. They are within driving distance to Austin. But it had to be Harvard. I was too busy competing with you when I should have been loving you.”
Ah, competition. They really were a perfect match, even in their flaws.
“Did you know I got board certified in family medicine?” she asked.
“No.” Braden stood and started banking the remains of the fire. “That’s good. You finished what you started.”
Lana stopped staring at the stars. Braden was so much more spectacular, lit by the remains of the fire against the inky black of night.
“I knew you were with PLI,” she confessed quietly.
Braden went very still.
“Even though I was board certified in family practice, I was the first one to apply when that research position opened in D.C. Maybe I’d been keeping tabs on PLI’s research activities.”
Braden stabbed at the last smoldering ember, then turned to face her. “Lana...”
She rushed on, needing to complete her thought. “Maybe I wanted to share the same field with you. Or maybe it was more immature than that. If family practice wasn’t good enough for you, then it wasn’t good enough for me anymore, either. Maybe I’m in research because I was competing with you, too.”
“We’re idiots.” He crouched in front of her chair and took her hands in his.
“Idiots circling around each other for six years.”
“Damned stubborn.”
“Too proud.”
Braden stood and pulled her out of her chair. “Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Outside, it was peaceful along the banks of the River Mack. Clear skies, bright stars. The tethered horses blew softly now and then in the crisp night air.
Inside the small tent, Lana felt electric anticipation. The low nylon walls were illuminated by the soft light of a yellow lantern that hung from a loop overhead. She was zipped up in her sleeping bag, parallel to Braden’s, grateful for the thin foam of the bedroll underneath her. A portable space heater was humming to fend off the February chill.
Braden had courteously given her first access to the tent to get ready for bed, something she’d had to accomplish on her hands and knees, because the tent was not big enough to stand in. Now, cozy in a loose-fitting T-shirt and panties, she wasn’t about to leave the warmth of her winter-rated sleeping bag to go back outside. Braden would just have to change in front of her.
Braden ducked into the tent and zipped the door shut for the night. Sitting on his sleeping bag, he pulled his shirt off with his back angled toward her. That was fine with her. He had a gorgeous back, all shoulder muscle and tapered waist. Lana held very still, waiting for more.
Over his shoulder, Braden said, “You can turn away.”
“Okay.”
After a moment, Braden sighed. “You’re watching, aren’t you?”
“I can be damned stubborn.” She put her hand over her mouth so that she wouldn’t ruin her tough-girl words with a nervous giggle.
Braden slid his leather belt out of its loops, undid his button fly and hooked his thumbs in his waistband.
Lana held her breath.
With a buck of his hips, he shucked off his jeans, underwear and all.
Good God.
She’d sat across from him in the conference room on Monday and had thought he looked good in a suit and tie. She’d smugly remembered what he looked like without them, too: warm skin over hard muscle. But her memories had been nothing, merely faded glory compared to the strength beside her now. With his back to her, she could admire so much, from the indentation at his hip to the cleft of his backside to the muscles of his thigh.
He flipped the sleeping bag over himself, hiding most of his body from her view as he lay on his side, facing her.
“But...” she protested.
He raised one eyebrow, in what she’d always thought of as the imperial MacDowell look.
She rose on one elbow and pulled her ponytail holder from her hair. His brows drew together in concentration as he followed the movement of her hair, watching intently as she scooped it all over one shoulder.
Gotcha. He’d always had a thing for her hair.
His eyelids half closed in a heavy, slow move, but then he grabbed a pair of flannel pants from their pile of gear and pulled them on under his sleeping bag. Then he calmly lay on his back and scrunched his jacket under his neck in lieu of a pillow, looking as if he were ready to sleep. Alone.
That gave her a moment of uncertainty. After their campfire talk, she was certain they were back in a relationship. A relationship with Braden had benefits—benefits she’d just seen in the glow of the lantern.
Maybe he was waiting for a sign from her. She hadn’t flirted with a man in an eternity. She hoped it was like riding a bicycle—or saddling a horse.
She toyed with her hair again, attracting Braden’s attention immediately. “Aren’t you going to kiss me good-night?”
His gaze left her hair to settle on her mouth. “No.”
Surprised, she tossed her hair back. “But you kissed me when we were gathering firewood.”
“We were fully dressed. In the daylight. By an icy cold creek.”
It was cute of him to act as if she was irresistible. Flirting was fun. “The creek is still out there if you need it after you kiss me good-night. I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” He half rose and turned toward her again. The muscles in his supporting arm were sharply defined. “I’m not a teenager, and we’re not casually dating. There are no good-night kisses on the doorstep anymore. We came here to talk, but I’m thirty-four years old, and I’m in love with you
. If I touch you tonight, I’m going to make sure you beg for more.”
Lana’s heart skittered to a stop. He wasn’t playing.
When her heart resumed its rhythm, it was faster. Stronger. If he touched her, it would lead to more. That sounded more like a promise than a threat.
This time, she acted before she could chicken out. She lay back, arching a little as if she were stretching on a luxurious mattress, tucking one arm behind her head. Slowly, she extended her other arm toward him. “Then would you check my wrist? I think I pulled a muscle in my forearm holding the reins today.”
Without breaking eye contact, he sat up the rest of the way. The sleeping bag bunched in his lap. Looming over her, he took her hand in one of his. With his other hand, he began squeezing her flesh firmly, working from her wrist to her elbow.
Slowly, she raised her knee, nudging aside the unzipped flap of her sleeping bag to expose one bare leg. “I may have twisted my ankle a bit.”
Solemnly, Braden placed his warm hand above her knee. Watching the path he created, he ran his hand down her leg, until he palmed the instep of her foot. He reverently placed a kiss on her ankle, then ran his hand back up her leg, past her knee, firmly up the inside of her thigh. He watched her face as he cupped her through her underwear for a moment, holding his hand still just long enough to transfer the heat of his palm to her body. Then his hand continued its journey upward until it rested on her belly.
The intensity in his face made Lana suck in a shaky breath. She wouldn’t be flirting with him anymore this evening. This night, this sharing of bodies with Braden, was going to be a Big Deal. She had no doubt that she would remember this weekend, forever. She hoped she was ready.
She lifted the top layer of her sleeping bag in invitation. “Sleep with me, Braden.”
He kissed her full on the mouth, tenderly, and moved next to her, laying himself beside her, overwhelming her senses as his body touched hers all at once, from her shoulders to the tips of her toes. He took his time covering them both with the quilted cloth of the sleeping bag, giving her a chance to shiver past the first sensation and settle into him. Propped on one elbow over her, he smoothed her hair back, carefully, toward the edge of the pillow. He slid the strands out of the way so he wouldn’t catch them and pull her long hair by accident.
