by Norah Wilson
Lauren rolled over, dragging a hand through her hair as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She was still tingling in places she barely knew she had, and she’d probably be sore tomorrow, but she was also happy. “That was the most…incredible sex I have ever had.”
“Hmmmm, me too.” Cal rolled onto his side, supporting his head with one hand while tenderly tracing patterns on her rib cage with his free hand.
“Really?” She lifted her own fingers to stroke his arm, so brown against her white flesh.
“Really,” he said, his calloused fingers circling her belly button. She sucked her breath in. “But I’m guessing it means something vastly different to you than it does to me.”
The words stilled her fingers. It was true. No doubt it was different for her. Unlike him, she’d probably still be taking these memories out years from now. She rolled away swiftly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she struggled into her bathrobe. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, cowboy. Women don’t confuse sex and love nearly as often as men imagine.”
“Hell, Lauren, that’s not what I meant.”
He’d crawled to the edge of the bed to sit there beside her, and she turned to face him with cool eyes. She wasn’t prepared for the warmth in his eyes. She looked away again. “Then what did you mean?”
“I meant the term best sex ever is relative,” he said. “Which was supposed to be my very clumsy segue into asking you about your experience base. After what just happened, I’m thinking it might be a little bit—thinner—than I imagined. Particularly for an erotica writer.”
Oh, hell! She’d just made a complete fool of herself, jumping to the wrong conclusion and getting all weird. Well, it couldn’t be helped now.
But his observation did present an opportunity to come clean on at least one point. And she was so ready to be done with the erotica writing thing.
“I’m afraid I lied about that.” She glanced sideways at him to observe his reaction. “I don’t write erotica.”
His face went slack with surprise. “You don’t?”
She shook her head no.
He blinked. “Do you write at all?”
“No. Well, actually I wrote an article once for a veterinary magazine…”
“I don’t understand. Why’d you lie about something like that?”
“Because I wanted an excuse to keep you talking that first day.” Well, that part was certainly true. Truer than he would ever know. “And because I wanted you to be interested in me.” And that part, she now knew, was truer than she would have allowed herself to acknowledge back then.
He blinked. “Five foot nine with legs that go on forever…you thought you had to embellish on that to get my attention?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Cal. Even I can see I’m not what anybody would call your usual type. Even before I laid eyes on your ex-wife, I knew that. And you have to admit that that little fiction set the table nicely for a hot summer fling, didn’t it?”
“You got me there,” he admitted. “I probably would have left you alone if you hadn’t said that. Or tried to.” His eyes darkened with…what? Sorrow? Regret? “I tend to stick to women who…well, a different kind of woman.”
“Of course,” she said, her voice tighter than she would have liked. “Well, no harm done. I’m a big girl. I can take our little vacation romance in stride.”
“Can you?” His eyes bored into hers, searching for the answer.
God, had her stupid lie sucked him into this relationship against his better judgment? Her throat tightened to the point of aching. “What? Are you afraid I’ll fall in love with you? Is that it?”
Dark spots of color flagged his hard cheekbones. “Of course not. But I do have a healthy respect for the power of sex.”
Belatedly Lauren remembered Marlena’s sexual addiction and the agonies he must have suffered over it. She groaned. “Cal, let’s not argue.” She placed a hand on his bare chest and felt a tiny bit of the tension go out of him. “I’ll keep a cool head about this, I promise. Scout’s honor. I can handle myself.”
“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Lauren was afraid it was too late for that, but she smiled confidently. “No one’s going to get hurt. We both know the rules. Now, could we have a quick shower before we hit the hay? You’ll want to be rested when you make peace with Zane tomorrow.”
His gaze sharpened. “What makes you think I’m going to make peace with that old buzzard?”
Lauren’s smile was real this time. “Because you’re a good man, Cal Taggart.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
How did I come to be here?
Cal slumped in a worn chair in the antiseptic waiting room of the outpatients’ department, reflecting on how much his nice, ordered life had changed in a matter of weeks. Marlena had turned up on his doorstep like a bad penny; his father had materialized out of the blue; his guest ranch business had been scuttled by an unseen enemy and he had no idea how to fight back.
And then there was Lauren.
He didn’t know how it happened, but somehow she’d wormed her way right into his heart. He’d lain in bed last night with her body cradled against his and faced the truth. He loved her. She was smart and generous and wise, but most of all, she’d seen him at his absolute worst—time and again—and hadn’t turned away.
Of course, the realization was bittersweet. She’d made it plain that this was nothing more than a walk on the wild side for her, that she was in no danger of falling in love with him.
A door opened and Zane walked out. Street clothes replaced the blue johnny shirt he’d been wearing most of the morning.
Cal stood. “You ready?”
“Damned right I am,” he growled.
“Any word on the tests?”
Zane waved a hand. “Bah! They won’t tell me nothin’. Seems to me, somebody sticks a camera down your throat or up some other orifice, they oughta tell you what they saw.”
“They probably want to go over it up, down, and sideways before they commit themselves.”
“Well, I can tell you there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I’d agree with you if I hadn’t seen you flopping around on my floor like a fish,” Cal said pleasantly.
“Insolent pup!”
“Crotchety old bastard.”
For the first time, the words were exchanged with a kind of affection. Cal smiled as they navigated the shining corridors.
Cal had searched his father out first thing this morning and slowly, haltingly, awkwardly, they’d talked about the past.
They’d both grieved the loss of one woman—Cal’s mother, Zane’s wife—but each had responded differently. Zane had withdrawn into himself in those early years, seeking oblivion in the endless grind of ranching, which left him physically and mentally exhausted. Feeling twice abandoned, Cal acted out. Only the most flagrant misbehavior stirred the older Taggart from his numbness. Consequently, the only attention Cal got during those critical years was negative attention. By the time Zane emerged from the worst of his grief, their pattern for interaction had been set.
Zane had apologized again for putting Cal’s rescued mare down. That was never going to sit easy with Cal, but at least he understood his father’s actions better now.
Apparently Zane had gone into her box stall to check one of her hooves after he’d observed her favoring the front left leg. Given her transition from the hideous conditions she’d been kept in to the lush spring pasture on the Taggart ranch, he’d suspected a bout of laminitis in the making. But the mare had gone crazy when Zane approached. Zane had taken a solid kick to the chest (he still had a scar from the injury, which he’d shown Cal). Much as Cal had loved that horse, he knew that if Zane had lost his footing that day, Cal would have come home from school to find his father’s trampled body in that stall. Fortunately Zane had managed to scramble out, but the experience had cemented his fear that the animal was too dangerous for his son, and he’d taken immediate action. Cal still felt
he could have gentled the mare given time, but he could understand his father’s thinking.
Cal never thought the day would come when he’d forgive his father, but in the end, it was easy. All he’d had to do was imagine how he might cope if Lauren were snatched from him today. It wasn’t the same; he and Lauren weren’t man and wife, committed to each other for a lifetime, hadn’t conceived a child together, but still, Cal could see how a man might shut down.
It helped that Zane recognized his failure. His regret was genuine and palpable. Cal had already granted his absolution, but he knew the old man would carry his remorse to his grave.
“In the end, maybe losing the ranch was the best thing that could have happened to me,” Zane had said. “Once I didn’t have the routine to escape into, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I’d done wrong. Couldn’t live with the regret no more. I had to come here and try to make peace with you, son. I shoulda done it a long time ago.”
Cal had assured him it took two to make a quarrel, and he could have made a visit home once in a while or at least called to check in.
They’d concluded the talk with as much awkwardness as they’d started it. By mutual body language, they’d negotiated an end to it with an “All right then,” and a nod. No handshake, no shoulder bump, no hug.
Now they exited the hospital, crossing the burning asphalt to Cal’s truck. As Cal pulled out of the parking lot, he flicked on the radio, filling the cab of the truck with the strains of an old Stones classic. Zane fidgeted for about five seconds, then grabbed the tuner knob. A couple of twists, and he’d tuned in a country station. Cal just grinned and accelerated away.
“So, you gonna ask that Townsend girl to marry you?”
Cal ground the gears, found second, and popped the clutch. The truck shot forward. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”
“She’s a smart one.”
“She is that.” Too smart to get serious about a floundering rancher sinking in a sea of red ink.
“Sits a horse good too.”
“Yup.”
“Mind you, she could use some proper western footwear.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Veterinarian training would come in handy too.”
Cal slanted Zane a look. “She’s a small-animal vet, Dad.”
Zane ignored him. “A looker too.”
“I had noticed,” Cal said dryly.
“And she must find you passably handsome, judging by how many nights you spend away in her cabin.”
“Dad!”
“I’m old, son, but I’m not stupid.”
“Would you just drop it? She’s not going to marry me.”
He snorted. “’Course she’s not, cuz fool that you are, you’ve just said you’re not going to ask her.”
“That’s right. I’m not going to ask her.” Cal gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, but kept his face bland under his father’s searching gaze.
“Okay.” Zane sighed, lifting a thumb to scratch his eyebrow. “Just don’t go breaking her heart, son.”
That’s it. Cal stepped on the brake and pulled the truck over onto the dusty shoulder.
“What?” Zane looked around. “Why are we stopping?”
“So I can straighten you out.” Keith Urban’s voice filled the cab, and Cal gave the knob a twist to kill the radio. “Things are different between men and women these days, Dad. Women are just as capable of enjoying sex for the sake of sex as we are. They’ve leveled the playing field.”
Zane lifted his eyebrows. “That so?”
Hadn’t Lauren told him so last night? “Hell, Dad, she’s got her own life, friends, a practice back east.”
“I see.”
He turned to glare at Zane. “I don’t think you do see. She…doesn’t…want…to…marry…me, okay?” He enunciated every word carefully.
Zane looked back at him with the same gray eyes Cal had seen in his own mirror for the last thirty-six years, and they were filled with compassion. “Ah, son, I really do think I see.”
Cal looked away. He was very afraid his father did see. Cal made a show of checking his mirrors. Throat tight, he gunned the motor, put the truck in gear, and pulled back onto the road. For good measure, he flicked the radio back on, tuned in the rock station again, and turned it up good and loud.
Cal wasn’t home ten minutes before Lauren tracked him down in his office. He’d have taken her in his arms and kissed her, but one look at her face dissuaded him. “What’s wrong?”
“I guess we should have checked Marlena’s bed last night after all.”
“She’s gone?”
“She was, but she’s back now.”
He slumped on his desk. “Where’s she been?”
“Harvey McLeod’s.”
Cal blew out a breath. “All night?”
Lauren nodded. “Harvey dropped her off this morning.”
“And Brady’s still registered with us?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t suppose Marlena’s arrival escaped his notice?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t think it was meant to.”
“Damn that woman.” Cal shoved a hand through his hair. “Were there fireworks?”
“Oh, yeah, between Brady and Marlena.”
He massaged the back of his neck. “What about Harvey?”
She shook her head no. “He didn’t stay long, just dropped her off. The show was only getting started when he left.”
“Quite the gentleman,” he muttered. “What time was that?”
“Around eleven o’clock.”
“And all has been quiet since?”
She nodded. “Brady rode out to the fields, and Marlena is locked in her room.”
He crossed to her. She looked so worried he couldn’t help but lift a finger to trace the frown on her forehead. “I’m sorry you had to be here for that. It must have been tense.” He dropped his hands to her shoulders to massage them. “Look, it’s almost suppertime. Why don’t we go see what Delia’s fixed?”
She backed away from him as though he’d suggested walking barefoot through rattlesnake country.
“That’s it? You’re not going to do anything?”
He stiffened. “What do you expect me to do? Physically restrain Marlena?” He turned away from her accusing eyes. “Hey, I couldn’t stop her when she was my wife, remember?”
“But Cal…”
“But nothing.” He cut her off bluntly. After the emotional ordeal of this morning’s talk with his father, Cal had surpassed his daily quota for drama. “We’ve talked about this, and there’s nothing I can do short of sending her packing, and I won’t do that with this loan shark thing hanging over her.”
Lauren’s lips thinned. “Fine,” she clipped, then left.
Cal rolled his eyes as he listened to her booted feet clomp through the house, followed by the bang of the screen door.
“Has everyone in this household gone insane?”
There was no one to hear his question but the walls, and they made no reply. Didn’t matter, he decided. It was rhetorical anyway. They were all nuts.
Scowling, he sat, punching the computer’s power button. Since he was in a foul mood anyway, he’d have a go at the books.
Two hours later, Lauren found him still in his office. She had news for him, and he’d just better listen this time!
“She’s gone.”
Cal rubbed a hand over his face and made an exasperated sound. “I told you, I can’t keep her away from Harvey McLeod.”
“Listen to me,” she said. “Marlena got a call on her cell maybe twenty minutes ago, after which she ran out to the barn, saddled Tango, and rode like hell in a westerly direction.”
He shrugged. “So she was in a hurry.”
“Yeah, but Seth says that a few minutes later, Brady rode out after her. Seth and Brady have been hanging out these past weeks, and Seth says Brady has been talking wild since Harvey dropped Marlena off this morning. What if he set he
r up, Cal? Until she got that phone call, she’d been shut up in her room. What if Brady made that phone call himself, or got someone to make it for him, to lure her out so he could punish her?”
Cal swore softly.
“Something bad is going to happen if we don’t stop it. I just know it.”
“I hate to agree with you, but you might be right,” he conceded. “The kid’s volatile enough.” He surged to his feet. “I’ll saddle up Sienna and fetch Marlena back.”
“Sienna’s ready to go. Buck, too. I had Jim saddle them.” Cal lifted an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t really think I’d stay behind, did you?”
“Not really,” he said dryly.
They’d been riding ten minutes when they were hailed by one of Cal’s men. Lauren recognized him as Trey Thomas, the man who’d acted as Cal’s bullfighter during the rodeo.
“What is it?” Cal called. Sienna danced sideways, but he reined the mare in. “We’re in kind of a hurry.”
“You saved me a few minutes,” Trey said. “I was riding in to give you a message from Harvey McLeod.”
Cal groaned. “I might have known he’d be involved in this.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. What’d he say?”
“Well, he was on his way to the MaKenney place when he heard some ruckus in one of them coulees over yonder.” Trey pointed in a northwesterly direction. “Next thing you know, man on a paint comes up over the lip of it and he’s got a woman on board, ’cept she don’t seem to be willing. McLeod thinks the woman was—”
“Marlena,” finished Cal. “And the paint has to be Brady’s.”
Lauren inhaled sharply. “Why didn’t Harvey ride after him?”
“He tried to, ma’am,” Trey said. “Pretty palomino pulled up lame. It was hobbling something bad when I came across him.”
“Why didn’t you ride after them?” asked Cal.
The older man looked insulted. “Burkett was with me, Boss. I sent him after them. ’Tween us, he’s the better tracker.”
Cal nodded. Burkett was a good tracker, though he was almost as arthritic as Jim. “Sorry, man. I’m just edgy.” The cowboy accepted Cal’s apology with a grunt. “Could you ride in and call the cops? Give them the story and get them out here.”
