The Cowboy And The Debutante

by Stella Bagwell

  Anna could see how their outpouring of concern touched him, but the excitement had also worn him out. He went to bed early and didn’t wake until she carried a cup of coffee in to him the next morning.

  “What are you doing in my bedroom?” he demanded, jerking the sheet up to his armpits.

  Anna smiled at his show of modesty. “Spoiling you. But don’t look so worried. I’m not planning on making a habit of it.”

  He propped himself against the varnished pine headboard and took the steaming cup she offered him. As he sipped, his dark gaze drifted over her slender figure. She was wearing a simple cotton dress printed with tiny yellow daisies. Her hair was loose and waving around her shoulders like a cloud of red silk. He’d never woken to a more beautiful sight.

  “This is good,” he said with surprise.

  She pulled a face at him. “What did you expect, melted tar?”

  Before he could reply, she eased down on the side of the bed and studied him as he sipped his coffee.

  Her nearness jolted his senses. Her gaze was like fingers softly touching his face and throat and shoulders. “Why are you looking at me in such a way?”

  Faint color touched her cheeks. “Just making sure you’re all right.”

  He stared awkwardly down into his coffee cup. “Of course I’m all right,” he said gruffly. “There’s no need for you to hover over me like a mother hen!”

  “Why? Does it make you nervous?”

  His gaze swiftly lifted to her face. “It should make you nervous, Anna.”

  She laughed softly, and he could only think how different she was from the woman he’d first met in the stables several weeks ago. And this Anna, the one he had come to know, was the one he couldn’t resist.

  “Even if you wanted to make love to me, you couldn’t,” she said boldly.

  His brows shot upward, then his eyes narrowed shrewdly as they scanned her flushed cheeks. “You’ve never made love to a man. How do you know I can’t?”

  Her cheeks flamed even brighter. “Because I—you’re in a weakened condition. And the binding on your ribs barely allows you to move.”

  His lips twisted wryly, and then he carefully leaned over and placed his coffee on the nightstand beside the bed. “I’m sure we could think of a way.”

  Anna’s heart began to thump out of control as his hand touched her forearm, then slid slowly upward until his fingers found the edge of her sleeveless dress.

  “Please don’t make fun of me, Miguel,” she whispered. “I can take anything from you but that.”

  His eyes widened and then his nostrils flared as his gaze slid from her face, down her slender throat and on to the faint shadow of cleavage just above the neckline of her dress.

  “I wish I could laugh, Anna. I wish I could look at you and tell you that I didn’t want you. But that would be lying to both of us.”

  His face and his voice were both solemn, and when his hand left her arm to boldly cup her breast she gasped with both shock and pleasure.

  “Do you see why you shouldn’t be here with me?” he asked.

  It took Anna a moment to realize he was touching her because he actually wanted to. Because he had to. And the realization flooded her with joy.

  She leaned closer and cupped his face with her hands. “I wonder,” she whispered, “how long it’s going to take for you to trust me.”

  One hand curved against the back of her neck and pulled her head down to his. It was the first time he’d kissed her since his accident, and Anna was hungry for the taste of him.

  She grasped his bare shoulders and leaned closer while consciously making an effort to avoid his ribs. But after a moment she forgot all about his injury. There was nothing weak about the way his lips were consuming hers or the bold thrust of his tongue between her teeth.

  His desire fueled hers, and she inched forward as her body yearned to touch his, to feel his heat and strength against her. Her hands explored his shoulders and arms, then thrust into his thick hair.

  “Anna! Anna! Do you know how much I want you?” he murmured. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her cotton dress and slid up her bare thigh until his fingers reached the edge of her satin panties. “You’ve never given yourself to a man. And God help me, when you do, I want that man to be me.”

  She drew in ragged breaths as she pressed her cheek next to his. Her heart was racing, her body on fire. Never had she felt so needy, so wanton, in her life. Yet with Miguel it felt natural and right. He was the man she’d been saving herself for. He was the only man she would ever want or love.

  “You want me for the moment,” she whispered doubtfully.

  “For the moment. For always.”

  Trembling, she leaned her head back far enough to gaze into his eyes. She found no mockery in the brown depths. Only longing and regret. The sight of the last pricked her eyes and throat with tears.

  “But you wish you didn’t feel this way,” she said huskily.

  He groaned at the pain on her face, the ache wrapping itself around his heart. “I wish I could forget who you are. What you are. I wish I could take you into my arms and make love to you without worrying about tomorrow.”

  “If you love me, tomorrow will take care of itself.”

  His fingers traced gentle patterns over her cheek as his eyes delved deep into hers. “‘Love,”’ he said in a low, mocking voice. “I’m not so sure there is such a thing or if I could ever feel it.”

  She shook her head ever so slightly. “What about your son? Surely you love him.”

  His features lost all expression except for his eyes, and they hardened on hers. “I told you I don’t want to talk about Carlos. So don’t try to bring him into this!”

  She refused to give in to him. “Why? I want to be a part of your life!”

  He shook his head and muttered a Spanish curse word under his breath. “These days you’ve spent on the ranch have blinded you. You’ve conveniently forgotten you have a career—”

  Before he could get the rest out, Anna jumped to her feet and stared down at him, her fists clenched at her sides. “You’re determined to use my career as a shield! You don’t want to own up to the fact that you’re just too damn scared to love me!”

  In the blink of an eye he grabbed her by the wrist and jerked her back down on the bed beside him. The mattress bounced wildly.

  “Miguel!” she practically shouted. “Your ribs!”

  “Forget my damn ribs! You asked for this fight. Now you’ve got it!”

  His fingers slipped inside the front of her neckline and jerked her forward. Anna’s hands landed against his shoulders with a thud, and she stiffened her arms to keep herself at bay.

  “I don’t want a fight!” she said with a gasp. “I want you to take a good look at yourself. You are the one who’s blinded! Not me!”

  A mocking laugh passed his lips. “No. You are the one who needs to open your eyes, Anna. I am a wounded man. And I’m not talking about this,” he gestured to the binding around his chest. “But inside, where I feel and think, there’s nothing but scars. Scars that a woman put there! Maybe I am a coward for not being able to love you. But I like to think I’m simply not being a fool.”

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. “I’m not the woman who hurt you! I would never hurt you! If you can’t see that by now...I don’t think you ever will.”

  The sight of her tears was like a lance in Miguel’s chest. She was a soft, beautiful angel. To make her cry was a sin in itself. But he had to be cruel to be good to her. She didn’t realize that now. But she would someday, he thought sadly.

  Groaning with self-derision he reached up and gently wiped at the drops of pain sliding down her cheeks. “Anna,” he said gently, “I understand you would never intentionally hurt me. Right now you think we could be married and the rest of our lives would be bliss. But it wouldn’t be that way. We’re too different. Our lives are nothing alike.”

  “If you’re talking about my career—”

/>   “Of course I’m talking about it! And I have to be honest with you, Anna. I’m a selfish man. If you were my wife I would want you here with me. Not running off to play for crowds of people! And you would grow to resent my possessiveness.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to play for crowds of people.”

  “That’s what you believe.” His eyes softened and his hand slid gently up and down her bare, slender arm. “But you’re young. Right now your heart and your body are making war with your thinking. But later you’ll know what’s best for you, and it won’t be me.”

  With a heavy sigh she rose from the bed and walked over to the double windows overlooking the rugged cliff of mountain at the back of the house. This land was like him, she thought. Rough, unyielding, yet terribly beautiful.

  Another rush of tears burned her eyes, but he couldn’t see them as she kept her gaze on the landscape beyond the window. “What makes you think you know all this, Miguel? Do you have some inner vision?”

  She heard the mattress creak and then she felt his warm breath against her ear. His hands curved over her shoulder and she blushed as she felt his bare legs brush against hers. He hadn’t bothered to pull a pair of jeans over his boxer shorts. It was an erotic temptation to turn and look at him.

  “I’m much older than you, Anna.”

  “Years don’t always equal wisdom,” she said softly, then turned and curled her arms around his neck, pressed herself gently against the hard-muscled length of him. “When you lost your son, you gave up on life. You gave up on the notion that you could ever be happy again. But we could be happy, Miguel. We could have children of our own, and we could include Carlos in our family, too.”

  “Carlos has his own family now.”

  “But you are his father. He needs you.”

  He pulled back his head and looked at her. “That’s only what your grand romantic notions are telling you. But in truth, Carlos has everything he needs. A rich home, the best private school, a mother and stepfather. No, he doesn’t need me interfering in his life.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he suddenly pulled out of her embrace, and she watched him pluck a pair of jeans from the end of the bed and quickly pull them on. He was growing much stronger with each passing day. Soon he wouldn’t need her care anymore.

  She was thrilled he was mending so quickly. But she dreaded the day when he would tell her she had to leave. Until then she had to think of something to open his eyes. To make him see they belonged together.

  As Miguel reached for his shirt, he glanced over his shoulder at her. Hunger was on her face as she stood there by the window watching him dress. And it was all he could do to keep from going to her, taking her by the hand, and leading her to his bed.

  The struggle within him made his voice gruff when he spoke. “Have you cooked breakfast?”

  “Yes.” She crossed the room and helped him pull a clean chambray shirt up over his shoulders, then slowly, one by one, she fastened the buttons for him.

  When she finished he lifted both of her hands to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers. She closed her eyes and savored the sweetness of his tender caress.

  “Then it’s time we ate and got back to our senses,” he said.

  Anna followed him to the kitchen, but as they sat at the table eating huevos rancheros, her mind drifted back to the bedroom and the taste of his lips, the feel of his hand on her breast and thigh. And when she looked across the table at him, his dark eyes told her his thoughts were there, too.

  Chapter Nine

  “You love him. I can see it on your face. Hear it in your voice each time you mention his name,” Chloe said to her daughter. “So what are you going to do about it?”

  Anna and her mother were sitting on the front deck of Miguel’s house, soaking up the last rays of evening sun. Throughout most of their trivial conversation Anna had been staring off into space, her chin propped on her fist. Now her head jerked up, and she looked around at the older woman in stunned disbelief.

  “How could you know—”

  Chloe’s soft laugh interrupted her. “I’m your mother, darling. When you have children of your own, you’ll understand what I mean.”

  Anna groaned and thrust a hand through her disheveled hair. The past few days she’d spent here with Miguel had been both heaven and hell. Being close to him was too sweet for words. Yet being with him and knowing it would all soon end was ripping her apart. She was no closer to making him see reason than she’d been a week ago. Two weeks ago!

  “It looks as though I’ll never have children, Mother. Miguel doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she said grimly. “And I can’t see myself with any man but him.”

  Chloe drummed her fingers thoughtfully on the arm of the lawn chair. “Before your daddy and I left for South America you told me he’d kissed you. That doesn’t sound like a man who’s not interested.”

  Anna sighed wearily. “Oh, Mother, Miguel has kissed me many times. It doesn’t mean anything to him.”

  Chloe’s brows arched. “Really? Several times? Well, I never took him for a shallow man.”

  “He isn’t!”

  Chloe made an open-handed gesture. “You just told me there was nothing behind his kisses.”

  “Well, there is, but Miguel—” She stopped and groaned with frustration. “Oh, you just don’t understand. He doesn’t trust women. Least of all me.”

  “Why least of all you? You told him about Scott, and he thinks you’re just on the rebound?”

  “He knows about my broken engagement. But that’s not the real problem with Miguel. His ex-wife was... well, she apparently came from a monied, well-to-do family in Albuquerque. She was spoiled and self-centered and never took their marriage seriously. She didn’t even want their child until after she’d given birth. And then she divorced Miguel and took their son with her. At first he fought for custody, but then he finally decided he couldn’t win against their money and power. He had to let his baby go.”

  “How terribly awful.”

  “Yes. And he’s afraid I’ll do the same thing to him.”

  “Anna! He couldn’t believe that of you. You could never inflict that sort of pain on anyone.”

  Anna got to her feet and began to pace across the redwood deck. Chloe followed her movements with worried eyes.

  “He doesn’t think I’ll do the same thing exactly,” Anna told her. “But he does believe I’m too young to know what I want or maybe too emotionally unstable,” she added bitterly.

  Anna clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You’re not thinking of Belinda now?”

  Anna glanced guiltily at her mother. “Sometimes I can’t help it. I had very bad judgment concerning Scott. And for the past year I’ve been a strung-out mess. I couldn’t eat or sleep.”

  “You’d been going through a difficult time with your personal life and keeping up with your career. That doesn’t mean you’re anything like your birth mother! She was on drugs for heaven’s sake!”

  “I know,” Anna miserably agreed. “But look at me now. I’m not much better. I’ve let myself fall in love with a man who wants nothing to do with me!”

  “A person doesn’t let herself fall in love, honey. It happens, and there is no control over it. That doesn’t mean you’re unstable, or anything like Belinda. I like to think your daddy and I raised you better.”

  Anna cast her a wan smile. “You did. I’m just feeling... desperate, I guess. Sometimes I think Miguel does care about me. But he believes my music will eventually pull me away from him. And he doesn’t want to take the chance.”

  “And what about your music, Anna? You’d be giving up so much, years of training—to stay here and be Miguel’s wife.”

  Anna walked over to her mother’s chair and faced the older woman head-on. “What would you and Daddy think if I did give up my music?”

  “It’s not—” She stopped herself, then as she studied Anna’s face, a wide smile began to spread across her lips. “You
do really know what you want, don’t you? It’s beyond what your daddy and I think. Your heart has already decided.”

  Anna sank down on her knees and pressed her mother’s hand between her two. Smaller bandages were still taped to her palms where the lariat rope had cut the deepest, but there would be no permanent damage. If she wanted to continue her career at the piano there would be nothing to stop her. Except her heart, she thought. It just wasn’t there anymore. It was with Miguel.

  “Mother, with Scott I was so naive. I had this notion I could continue to play the piano, be his wife and eventually have children. Everything in its proper place and order. I thought I could keep everybody happy by doing it all. I was so foolish. But falling in love with Miguel has made me see what’s really important.”

  Chloe smiled with gentle understanding. “Somehow I thought Miguel might have that sort of effect on you.”

  Anna made a face at her. “That’s why you and Daddy deliberately stayed away, isn’t it? You purposely wanted us to be alone.”

  Chloe looked terribly guilty. “Well, we didn’t think it would hurt anything to give you two a nudge toward each other. And we certainly enjoyed our time away together. But don’t you think you should be telling Miguel all of this instead of me? If he knows how certain you are—”

  Anna threw up her hands and rose to her feet. “I’ve already told him. He’s determined I’m headed back to Chicago or New York or any city with a big band or symphony orchestra!” She walked to the edge of the deck, then turned and headed back to Chloe. “Telling Miguel how I feel just isn’t enough, Mother. I’ve got to show him. And I don’t know how.”

  She took a seat again in the lawn chair, then cast her mother a calculated glance. “Do you know anything about Miguel’s son?”

  “Not much. He’s mentioned him to us a few times. That’s all.”

  “Does he never see him?”

  Chloe’s head swung soberly back and forth. “No. The boy lives in Texas, and Miguel used to go there to see him on occasion. That was when Carlos was much younger. But eventually the visits grew further apart and he quit going altogether. I think it hurt him too much to see the boy being fathered by another man. And Miguel has never believed he had anything to offer the boy that he didn’t already have.”