by Karen Anders
He leaned forward very slightly and asked, “You have a bunkhouse for this foreman you need to hire?”
“The bunkhouse is for the hired hands. We have a foreman’s cottage. The previous foreman had a family, so my father built it for him for privacy,” she whispered, her hopes rising as if someone with complete and irrefutable evidence had just proved there really was a Santa Claus.
“I’ll stay there until I feel able to travel.”
Her hope crashed and she couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Corey, you’d be more comfortable here. The mattress in the cottage is lumpy,” she argued.
The hell he’d be more comfortable here, he thought. Being around her, seeing her move, knowing he was in her bed would only drive him crazy. Yeah, he would be about as comfortable as a porcupine turned inside out.
But he knew when not to argue. He would just go his own way as he’d done for so long. There was only so much that he could take. Finding the woman of his dreams in this one-horse town was not one of them. Nor was seeing her fiery hair and not being able to touch it. Or being close to those tempting curves and resisting the urge to mold his hands around them. That would be more torturous than sleeping on a lumpy mattress. He just shrugged.
“Let me look at your stitches,” she said, rising suddenly, the discussion of where he would be staying obviously settled. He liked that about her. Self-confident without being overbearing. Steady and strong and so very sweet.
She moved around him and tipped his head forward slightly. She smoothed her hand against the nape of his neck and jumped back when he sucked in his breath sharply and moaned softly. His body had tautened like a bowstring, his breathing suddenly harsh and ragged.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she cried.
Corey recoiled, the soft touch to his neck like fire in his loins. The woman was driving him to distraction every time she touched him. Trying to prevent any more mishaps, he shouted, “Don’t touch me!”
Jennifer stiffened her shoulders. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and worried it. Hurt and pain shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I won’t. Call me if you need me.”
“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” Jennifer’s voice cracked like a whip in the stillness of the hayloft. She had been angry and worried when she checked on Corey hours later and found the bed empty.
“Pitching hay,” he drawled.
“You exasperating man.” She felt the irritation curl inside her. “I know you’re pitching hay. You’re supposed to be in bed. Now let’s go.” She struggled not to stare. His hair was braided and the dark wisps at the ends tumbled against his tanned flesh every time he moved. A red bandanna was tied around his forehead to catch the sweat. She lost the fight and openly stared.
In the act of sticking the pitchfork back into the hay, he grunted, clutching his ribs. She jumped forward and wrapped her arms around him, lowering him gently to the unbundled hay. She snatched the pitchfork out of his hands. “Corey, why are you doing this?”
“I don’t want your charity, Jennifer,” he muttered quietly.
“It’s not charity.”
“Then what do you call it?” he asked, his voice raised.
“I call it being human, and from what I can tell in the short time that I’ve known you, you haven’t met many of those.”
His mouth tightened, and his breathing seemed labored.
She sat down next to him. “It’s not charity. You’re going to work for me once you’re well. We’re just delaying payment. God, Corey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“So it’s guilt.”
“Yes, partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
She wouldn’t touch that question with a ten-foot pole.
“Jennifer?”
“What?”
“What’s the other part?” he said insistently.
“Oh, do you have to know everything?” she groused loudly. She got up but didn’t get far.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around. He rose painfully, awkwardly. She ached to help him.
“Yes, I want to know. I want desperately to know,” he said, as if her next words could shatter him.
She looked up at him, the need in his eyes almost buckling her knees. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, the pain below the surface. Just a little kindness, she thought. She wouldn’t lose herself if she was just a little bit kind. “Because I care what happens to you.”
“What did you say?”
She screwed up her courage. Her voice rose with each word. “I said that I care what happens to you.”
He turned away, his body so rigid that Jennifer backed up slightly. What had she said that would make him so angry?
He picked up the pitchfork and started to pitch hay with ferocious energy. She was mesmerized by the way his back muscles flexed, the way his arms bulged. The tingling in her body intensified until it was a profound ache. The guilt rose in her too, at the sight of the mottled flesh of his ribs and tight stomach. The huge black and blue bruise that marred his lower back made her want to touch it and make it better.
“Corey, you asked.”
“I’m sorry I did!” The tone of his voice was strange, choked, and the steely edge spoke of his need. What did he want her to feel? she thought suddenly. What more did he want from her than her sympathy?
This time she grabbed his arm and made him face her. He winced and she let go. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don’t understand what’s going on here. Maybe you should explain it to me,” she demanded.
His eyes blazed into hers and he swore softly, glancing away. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anything.”
“It’s not pity.”
“It’s not pity, hell! What else could you feel for me, Jennifer?” He laughed harshly.
“How about compassion, Corey? What’s so wrong with old-fashioned compassion? You protected me. You stopped Jay from hitting me in the face. They beat you, stole your money and smashed your motorcycle because of me, because of what you did for me. I’m grateful. I want to thank you.”
“Grateful?” he said bitterly.
“That’s not a nasty word, Corey. What do you want me to feel?”
The air suddenly stilled in the barn. His body was so taut and immobile that Jennifer felt a slight bit of panic. The tension built slowly, becoming almost tangible. She shivered inside when she looked at him. The shadows cast his tight muscles in relief as though he were a living statue, a magnificent work of art.
His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened with hunger. What had she inadvertently said? She never should have asked him what he wanted her to feel. She could see him fighting himself, warring with the need that had manifested itself the moment she had met those turquoise eyes. It whispered in the still air like the soft voice of seduction.
He moved forward and grabbed her, pulling her body close to his. His eyes darkened further with pain and bitterness, need and a helpless plea. “This, Jennifer! I want you to feel this.” His mouth captured hers, his kiss savage and hard. A bruising pressure that Jennifer opened to—unable to deny the passion building inside of her. Passion they both denied.
In the stillness of the loft, every little sound seemed to intensify. She could hear the soft cooing of doves in the rafters, the stomping of horses below her, the gentle play of the wind through the open door. And at the sound of the wind, she panicked. Suddenly she was afraid that she would feel him slip through her fingers and disappear like the elusive wind. She clasped him tighter, never wanting to let him go. It had been so long since she’d held a man.
His breathing was harsh in the silence, telling of a man who had fought himself for days and nights in anguished loneliness. In sheer desperation. His kiss said it all. His hard hands on her upper arms broadcast the unreasonable desire that had sprung between them.
He probably would never believe her, but she knew about that loneliness. She had lived with it for a long time, but
she had had Ellie to keep her company. He had no one and the rigid torture in his posture spoke more loudly than his words ever could. The need to soothe and comfort rushed over her with powerful, fierce need. This man had done everything he could not to shatter her peace. He’d reined in his desire so that he wouldn’t hurt her when he left. Because she was sure that he wanted her even before now. He’d wanted her that night in her driveway when he had taunted her into anger. Anger that had sent him away:
Lost in her need, she fought the rough hold of his arm, but not for him to release her and step back, but to let her go so that she could hold him closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and held him as tight as he was holding her. His ravenous mouth moved from her lips down her neck, gently suckling her skin, making deep masculine noises in the back of his throat that took her control away.
His large hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her engorged nipples. She groaned softly and she felt him shudder and tremble.
His answering groan brought her back to reality with a jolt. What was she doing? She couldn’t, wouldn’t allow this! With all her might, she pushed against his chest.
Immediately he let her go and stumbled backward, sitting down heavily on a bale of hay.
Her mouth stung and tingled and she wanted that pressure back. She wanted to explore his chest with her hands, but the ravaged look on his face and her own common sense kept her immobile.
In a voice filled with self-loathing, his eyes bruised with unbearable pain, he said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Her breathing was still ragged.
He clutched his ribs, doubling over. “Don’t look at me like that. Don’t make me want to stay.”
“I need a foreman. That’s all, Corey.”
“You don’t want me.”
“You could help me for just a little while. It would help you out and get me through calving.” She felt relieved that her heated body was finally cooling down. But her hands still trembled from the force of their passion. “I need a foreman, Corey,” she repeated. “The work is too much for me. I can’t be in two places at one time. I can’t run the ranch and be a mother to Ellie. That is all that is important to me.”
“You don’t want me,” he said again, his breathing equally ragged.
“Why? Why wouldn’t I want you?”
He refused to look at her and he refused to answer.
“Corey, what are you running from?”
“Do yourself a favor, don’t ask me any questions.” He dropped his face into his hands then raked his hair back from his face.
“You’re running from something,” she said again stubbornly, wanting answers even though she knew they would probably not be what she wanted to hear.
“I’m not running from anything.” Except maybe myself, he thought silently. Yeah, that was most definitely it. He was running far and fast from himself, but it was like running in quicksand.
“What was that kiss all about? Why did you do that?”
He wanted to say a thousand things. Because I want you more than I want to breathe. I want you crying out hot and wet into my mouth. I want to connect with you. I want to touch you where no other man has ever touched you.
He looked at her. “Didn’t you want me, too, or does my Native American heritage repulse you?”
He said the words as if the whole world were against him and it quite stunningly broke her heart. She wasn’t going to admit that she wanted him. Her sanity returned in a rush. She couldn’t afford a relationship with him. She should have kept her distance, but how could she when he was hurting so bad? How could she when she couldn’t stop thinking about him? But if she admitted her feelings now, it would make them so very real. “Is that it? You think I’m like Jay? That I would discriminate against you because you’re Native American? To me, Corey, a man is a man whether he’s black, white or green. I wouldn’t give a damn if you were striped!”
He was black, all right, but inside where she couldn’t see. “You didn’t answer my question. Didn’t you want me to kiss you?”
“No, I didn’t want you to,” she lied. “But it has nothing to do with your heritage,” she added quickly. “I was just trying to explain something to you, you stubborn jerk!”
Without warning, he backed her up against the jutting eave support of the sloping roof. She couldn’t help admiring the sleek animal grace of him as he moved so fast she barely had time to register the movement. Solid and seductive. “You know something, Jennifer? You’re giving me mixed signals.”
. “Wh-what do you mean?” she stammered, not understanding the sudden explosive change in him.
“You want to know what I think?”
“What?” she was coerced into asking by the sultry glint in his eyes.
“You are a wild cowgirl with a hidden reckless nature. Your eyes give you away. The way they look at me. The way they caress me. They say one thing. But those lips, those soft, sweet lips are telling me something else. So which is lying, Jennifer, your words or your eyes?”
“I’m not lying! I’m not going to get myself involved with a man who can’t commit. I won’t do that again, especially to some rodeo jerk who can’t even handle compassion and mistakes it for something else. Don’t work for me. See if I give a damn. You can leave right now if you want. Go ahead. Leave!”
His lips compressed, and he closed his eyes, backing away from her. His fists clenched at his sides, then he opened his eyes.
Jennifer gasped out loud with a soft heartfelt moan. She was aghast at what she had said and was instantly sorry. She hadn’t lost her temper so completely since she’d been a young girl. He’d goaded her, but that was no reason to be vile. She covered her mouth, and through a blur of tears, she whispered, “Don’t go.” Then she ran from the loft, in such a hurry to get down the ladder that she nearly fell. When her feet hit the ground, she ran out of the barn into the blazing sunlight. Grabbing the reins of her horse, she vaulted into the saddle.
She galloped away from the barn and the tears that had started to build broke loose. It wasn’t his words that had her running away. It was the look on his face. A face ravaged by strain, with lines of soul-deep pain etched around his eyes and mouth. But still, that hadn’t caused the tears. No, then she had looked into his eyes. Into wells of deep dark agony, pain so raw, torment so deep she thought she could drown in it.
She saw a man on the edge. Keenly on the edge. And she could be the catalyst that sent him over. She saw that so clearly in his eyes. He wanted her and her blood pounded from that knowledge. He was willing to risk everything, including his sanity to have her. She saw that, too. But she still wanted him with an irrational need that was dictated from her heart. She would be willing to take the risk because she knew now that if she didn’t, she’d never know what real love was. It had been staring her in the face ever since she’d met him. He was her one chance to know something powerful, something forbidden, something so reckless that she could not only lose him, but herself, as well.
He wasn’t anything like her ex-husband. He had integrity. Oh, God, she couldn’t use that old excuse about never getting involved with a rodeo rider. He wasn’t anything like Sonny at all. He was much, much more.
The fear at that thought sent her leaning over the saddle, urging her mount to a higher, dangerous speed. She leaped walls and fences without thought, letting the wind stream around her. She had to think. She had to come to grips with the knowledge that her safe little haven could become unstable.
After she’d slowed her horse to a walk, she came to the conclusion that she had waited for this man all her life. She knew that a passion and sheer touching of souls was possible, and that promise throbbed with stunning potential so intense she felt her muscles tighten in response.
If she let him go and never knew the touch of his hands, or the beauty of him, she would never have the chance again. Something would be lost to her. Something of herself, something important that she needed to discover again. Something that had b
een lost when she’d been betrayed. Trust. And if she trusted again, she could become the uninhibited woman she had once been. She was so sure that she gasped, the knowledge becoming like a bright spot in her mind. She slid to the ground, letting go of the horse’s reins. He drifted off, but she didn’t notice. She was lost and found, bereft and on the edge of joy. And so scared she was spitless. If she let Corey touch her, she would be lost and she had to make sure she was prepared to live with herself once he was gone.
He emerged from the barn long after Jennifer was gone. He clutched his painful ribs and looked out over the meadow, as if he could see her even from a distance, as if she burned like a fire on his heart. He rubbed his temple and swore soft and low. Staying here was not an option, he told himself. But he wanted to. He wanted to be good enough to deserve Jennifer and Ellie..
But he knew he wasn’t good enough. His father had told him enough times. He’d failed his mother, he’d failed his sister, and somehow he’d failed his father. He must have. He’d failed at the rodeo. He would fail with Jennifer, too. It was only a matter of time.
His attraction to Jennifer Horn was dangerous. To her. To him. To Ellie.
“Come on, you flea-bitten nag.” Ellie’s voice drifted to him and he turned to find her trying to get her horse to keep his concentration as he was going around the barrels. He walked painfully to the fence and leaned against one of the posts.
Ellie reined in the horse and slumped dejectedly in the saddle. She looked so pitiful that he couldn’t help himself. “Ellie, you’re trying too hard.”
She looked up, her face breaking into a beautiful grin when she saw him. “You’re up! Jeez, that’s great, Corey! Are you feeling better?” She nudged the horse over to the fence and dismounted. Tying the rein to the split rail, she ducked under and stood next to him. Her exuberance was going to wear him out. He gestured to the paddock next to her practice ring. “Why aren’t you training that little mare? She’s got champion written all over her.”
