by Ray, Francis
Fallon slid her hands into the small gloves that probably belonged to Carmen, nodded, swallowed, and placed her hands below his on the wooden handle. “Yes.”
Together they cut into the earth, once, twice, a third time before moving to the spot where the other tree would be planted, and repeated the motions. Lance stopped when he felt moisture drop on his hand. He glanced up to see tears sliding down Fallon’s cheeks.
He pulled her into his arms with one hand and exchanged the shovel for the camera with Oskar. “Thanks.” His arm still around her, they started back to the house.
“I’d like to watch for a bit.”
He led her to a bench tucked beneath the trees off the long path leading to the pond. He took her hand. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, then leaned her head against his shoulder. “I was thinking about the child you lost and thought it was a shame that no one ever cried for the loss except you.”
“And Richard.” Lance blinked a couple of times. “I called him and he came to Atlanta despite the torrential rains and power outages across the city.”
She lifted her head. “I’m glad he was there for you.”
“I … I never told anyone else,” he said slowly. “It was too…”
”Painful,” she said.
“That, and I felt guilty.” He glanced away. “Maybe there was something lacking in me that made her do it. Maybe I wasn’t enough.”
“Maybe she wasn’t the woman you thought she was.” Fallon took his face and turned it to her. “She was selfish. She didn’t think of you or the child, only herself. She took something from you that can never be replaced. Put the blame where it belongs. You make me want to scream, but from the short time I’ve known you I know you take your responsibilities seriously and there isn’t anything you put your mind to that you can’t accomplish.”
“You believe that?”
“I’m sitting here when I planned to be in Austin by now. I don’t bend easily, if at all.” She gestured around the landscaped yard. “Richard said you came from humble beginnings, yet you have this fantastic home and succeeded in everything you’ve ever set out to do.”
“Professionally, yes,” he said quietly.
“I admit your interpersonal skills need work, but so do mine. I tend to speak first and think later.” She looped her arm through his and looked to where the men were digging the holes for the trees. “Don’t sell yourself short. If I didn’t think you’re pretty fantastic past the good looks, I wouldn’t have gone to bed with you and I wouldn’t be here now aching for you.”
“I don’t want your pity.” He came to his feet.
“Pity?” She stood as well. “Why would I pity you? You were kicked in the gut, but so were a lot of people with much worse. You not only survived; you flourished. But you’re so busy looking at the past, you can’t be thankful for where you are or focus on the present.”
“Are you finished?”
“For now.” Picking up her camera, she stalked off toward the men planting the trees.
* * *
Lance sat back down on the bench. Maybe he should have let her call the cab. Even as the thought formed in his mind, he knew he couldn’t have. Somehow she had worked her way into his heart even before he knew she carried his child.
She was right about one thing: he couldn’t let go of the past. Caring meant being vulnerable. It was safer being alone, yet as he watched the first tree being lowered into the ground and saw Fallon brush away tears even as she raised the camera he had to wonder if he might be wrong. Was finding the person who made your heart glad worth the risk?
Despite her being angry with him, she still cried for the life of his child that had been lost. She was a complicated woman. She’d stayed instead of going to the house and calling a cab. On one hand, he had to admire her for holding her own, even if it would be so much easier if she were easily intimidated.
As if their argument had never happened, she stared at him across the hole in front of her and beckoned him. He honestly thought of not going.
Fallon was getting to him. He thought he could keep her compartmentalized, but he realized that wasn’t happening. She was too vibrant. She called to him on so many levels that he was finding, much to his chagrin, he wanted her heart as well as her body.
Her beautiful eyes narrowed, she propped one hand on her slim hip, the other on top of the metal handle of the shovel. Lance stood and started toward her. He was strong. He could be around her and protect his heart from being ripped from his chest again.
He honestly believed that until he reached Fallon and stared down into her eyes glistening with tears. His heart clenched.
He wanted to pull her into his arms, soothe her, and never let her go. He realized he’d miscalculated. It was too late to guard his heart. Somehow she’d already found a place there. He could accept it and convince her to marry him—something he never thought he’d do—or keep fighting a winless battle.
“I told Francisco we’d like to throw the first dirt to start filling the hole and return to finish,” she told Lance.
He’d already told Francisco as much. Lance had wanted him and Fallon to be a part of the planting at the beginning and the end. They’d had a shaky beginning and he wasn’t sure if the ending would be any different.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Standing close to her, their bodies touching, smelling her perfume, he came to a decision—he’d do whatever it took to keep Fallon and their baby. But that didn’t mean he had to put himself at risk and let her know how much he cared.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I don’t want to argue.”
“Neither do I.” She smiled up at him. “I think I’ll leave that part out when I write in the journal tonight.”
He found himself smiling back. “Don’t. It will show what kind of woman you are.”
“And that would be?”
“Strong, dependable, courageous, and all in a beautiful package.”
Her astonished delight showed in her face and eyes. He took pleasure that he was the cause. “We’ll make this a day to remember.”
Sure of himself and in control of his emotions once again, he took hold of the shovel she held. Together they scooped up the first turned earth and tossed it on top of the root ball.
* * *
Late that afternoon, in the guest bathroom of the cottage, Fallon soaked in the tub filled with scented bath salts and admitted gaining Lance’s trust was going to be one of the most difficult tasks she’d ever taken on. He could turn that cold stare on her in an instant, but he also went out of his way to take care of her.
She learned from Oskar that Lance had asked him to pick up the gloves after Lance had brought her to the cottage. He’d wanted them to share the experience together. He’d insisted she return to the cottage and rest in between the plantings. Carmen had arrived soon afterward with a light snack.
He watched over and took care of Fallon. It could be duty or obligation because she carried his child, but she didn’t think so. There was something in his eyes when he looked at her that gave her hope.
When she’d returned later, his T-shirt was soiled and wet with perspiration. He’d done more than shovel in dirt. There’d been a look of satisfaction on his face.
A knock sounded on the door. “Are you all right?”
He also worried about her. Another good sign.
“Fallon?”
“Just enjoying the tub. I’m getting out now.” Climbing out of the tub, she dried off, moisturized her skin, and put on a strapless sundress, thankful that she always packed a few extra pieces when she traveled. She’d asked her mother to pack her enough clothes for the two weeks and send them.
Opening the door, she found Lance waiting for her. He’d showered and changed clothes. He wore a white knit shirt that delineated the hard muscles of his chest, and a pair of the sinful tight jeans she loved seeing him wear. Her skin heated. The man definitely had a high Y factor.
He re
ached for her hand. “Carmen left dinner for us on the loggia. Or do you want me to bring it back here?”
She placed her hand in his, felt her pulse leap. “By the pool is fine. What did you tell Francisco about the second tree?” she asked. It had been on her mind for a couple of hours.
Long seconds ticked by before Lance answered, “That I wanted to honor the memory of someone I’d lost.”
She leaned into him as they approached the loggia. “You helped them plant the trees. You’re going to be sore in the morning.”
“I’ll survive.” He pulled out her chair, poured her a glass of lemonade, then served them baked chicken and brown rice. “We both thought this might be better for your stomach than spicy food.”
“The soup last night wasn’t spicy, but it still didn’t stay down.”
Lance frowned. “Maybe you should just eat the rice. Smaller portions are better, too.”
“We’ll see.” Bowing her head, Fallon said grace, then picked up her spoon and ate a bite of rice. “Good.” She waved her spoon toward his plate of rice and chicken. “You don’t have to eat light because I am.”
He picked up his fork. “We’re in this together.”
“Have you had the open appraisal yet?” she asked.
“It’s scheduled for next month.” He cut into his chicken. “Word leaked out and we’re already getting lots of calls. It’s going to be a madhouse.”
“I saw you at the auction, remember. You can handle it.” She sipped her drink. “And you can’t wait.”
He almost smiled. “Ninety-nine percent will be worthless, but there’s always that chance of finding a valuable piece.”
“And you’ll treat them fairly,” she said with conviction.
“Thank you. That means a lot.” His phone rang. “Excuse me.” He reached for his phone, looked at the readout, and frowned.
“Problem?”
“I’m not sure.” He accepted the call. “Hello.”
“Did you find Fallon?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You—you seemed concerned. I hope things are all right.”
“Yes.”
“I … Good night, Lance.”
“Good night.” He disconnected the call and returned the cell phone to his pocket.
Fallon ate a couple of more bites, then lowered her spoon. “You can tell me to mind my own business, but you have that look again.”
He picked up his lemonade, then put the glass down again. “It was my mother.”
“And?”
“I was looking for you the night of the wedding reception. She called to ask if I’d found you.”
Fallon brightened. “I told you. She’s reaching out to you.”
He picked up his knife and fork. “Did you tell your mother about the baby?”
He certainly knew how to change the subject. “No. I don’t know how.”
He put the utensils on his plate and came around the table to hunker down beside her. “Your mother and sister love you. They would walk to Santa Fe to break every bone in my body to protect you. No matter what, they love you. That won’t change.”
She swallowed, glanced down at her stomach. “I know. I just don’t want to disappoint them. I always thought I’d be married first.”
His mouth tightened. “I ruined that for you.”
“I could have said no. I take full responsibility for my actions.” She moistened her lips.
“I’m not sure how it happened. I mean, I used a condom each time.”
Fallon blushed. “We’re the failure rate.”
“Yeah.” He pulled a chair over and sat down. “So, where do we go from here?”
“I wish I knew.”
“We could get married,” he suggested.
“And then what?” she asked. “You have your business in Tucson and I’m traveling—”
“You still plan to work?”
“For as long as I feel like it,” she answered. “I plan to be in Playa del Carmen as scheduled.”
“You are not scuba diving!” he said emphatically.
She twisted her head to one side. “How about parasailing?”
“You—,” he began, then saw the teasing glint in her eyes. “That wasn’t nice.”
“You should have seen your face.” She laughed.
“It’s good hearing you laugh.” His hands palmed her cheek. “It’s good having you here. I missed you.”
Her hands covered his. “I missed you, too.”
He had to kiss her. His lips touched hers, a gentle melding of warmth. Heat and desire rushed though him. He deepened the kiss, his hand lowering to mold her breast; his mouth followed.
She moaned his name. He wanted, needed, more. Picking her up, he carried her to the oversized chaise longue and followed her down.
“Lance, we can’t.”
He shut his eyes tightly and tried to bring his body under control.
“Lance.”
“Give me a minute.” He stood, raked his hand over his head.
“We—it…” Her trembling voice trailed away.
He turned. Her dress was back over her breast, but he could still feel, taste, her hard nipple in his mouth.
“I think I should go to the cottage.” She came to her feet. “I-I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”
He let her go. It was easier that way. Besides, he was too near the edge. After a few minutes, he followed and knocked on the cottage door.
The door opened. “Lance, it’s not going to happen.”
“I got the message earlier.” He headed toward the master bedroom.
“You haven’t moved your clothes into the house yet?” she questioned, trailing after him.
He stopped at the door. “I haven’t moved, period. See you in the morning.” The door closed behind him.
* * *
Fallon stared at the door, then jerked it open and came to an abrupt halt. Lance, his knit shirt off, was bent from the waist, shoving his pants off his long legs. They were halfway down his thighs.
Her eyes rounded on seeing his erection. Her gaze snapped up to his; then she spun away. “Please pull up your pants so we can talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, and since this is my room—”
“Lance, you can’t be serious about sleeping here,” she said, trying not to imagine him with his pants off. He had an incredible body.
“I am. This bed is comfortable.”
Fallon blushed. She knew exactly how comfortable the bed was. “I didn’t hear you showering.”
“Well, I heard you running the water in the tub and went to the pool house to shower,” he said, not sounding too happy.
She had almost turned to ask him why before the reason sank in. The same reason her own imagination was running wild. Besides an incredible body, Lance had a mouth and hands that set her body on fire. She’d hardly been able to form a coherent thought.
She cleared her throat. “You haven’t been back since the auction?”
There was a telling silence. “No. I came back for the wedding, just like you did.”
Something wasn’t making sense. “Why buy the house and not move into it?”
“I haven’t had time.”
She didn’t believe him. She needed to see his face. Taking a deep breath, she turned. Lance leaned against the poster closest to the foot of the bed. His pants were on, thank goodness, his bare arms crossed over his lickable chest. He didn’t look happy. “Then why buy a house you don’t have time to furnish or live in?”
His hands dropped to his sides. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Did the time they shared at the cottage mean something to him? “I asked you a question first.”
He started toward her. “Good night, Fallon.”
When he was within a foot, she ducked around him and went still. On the hand-painted floral chest beneath the window was the glass collection from the Yates estate. She couldn’t believe it. Her hand trembling, she picked up one of the crystal pieces,
an angel, and simply stared at him.
“So I bought the collection. It’s no big deal,” he said.
Replacing the glass because her hands were unsteady, she went to him. He’d bought them so he could give one to her. But what made her heart beat with joy was that he kept the collection in his room. “You’re a fraud, Lance. You try to be hard and rigid, but you’re not. You care about people.”
“I thought you were in a hurry to go to bed.”
“First, I have to do something.”
He gazed at her with suspicion. “What?”
She kissed him, letting her body mold itself to his before lifting her head. “I’ll be the first to say it. If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be here. Good night.” She certainly had a wonderful start to her journal.
* * *
If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t be here.
Lance had thought about what Fallon had said most of the night. She cared. Caring wasn’t love, but it certainly was a huge step in the right direction.
He picked up his watch from the nightstand. Seven-oh-two AM. He wasn’t sure what time Fallon got up, but he planned to be there if she wasn’t feeling well. She needed someone to take care of her, and that someone was going to be him. Pulling on his briefs, shirt, and jeans, he went to her door.
Indecision held him still. He didn’t want to wake her up by knocking, but he didn’t want to walk in unannounced. Yesterday was different.
Deciding he couldn’t stand outside her door all morning, he slowly opened the door. Fallon was asleep on her side, her hands pillowing her cheek. She looked peaceful. She still had dark circles beneath her eyes, but he was working on that as well.
“I’m not asleep,” she murmured, her eyes still closed.
“You—” He stopped himself before he said “sick.” “Do you want crackers and ginger ale?” he asked, coming farther into the room.
“How good are you at backrubs?”
His brows bunched with worry as he strode across the room. “You did too much yesterday. I should have known better.”
Her eyes opened. “Planting the trees was important. Besides, I’m not sure it had anything to do with my back hurting. It might be the mattress. I can’t get comfortable.”
The two nights she’d spent with him, they’d been in his bed. “You want to move now or wait until tonight?”
