Now here she was, living right here with him, and all he wanted to do was run away.
* * *
"I thought we could go out," Cal repeated Sunday afternoon, watching Addie wash the lunch dishes at the kitchen sink. "To dinner."
"When?"
"Tonight." He figured the timing was right. Mrs. Johanson had spent the weekend, as she did every weekend. But she'd driven out of the driveway twenty minutes ago, right on schedule at half past one on Sunday afternoon, and John was standing by to baby-sit the boys. He'd take her out to a nice meal, show her that he could be more than a bad memory in a motel. And then he'd give her his resignation.
"Well," he prompted, wishing she'd turn away from scrubbing that metal pan. "What do you say?"
"I don't have much of an appetite these days."
"Just order soup." She rinsed the pot and set it in the drainer. He noticed that her hands were shaking.
"I might get dizzy."
"It's air-conditioned."
"But—"
"Then I'll carry you to the car and drive you home." He leaned closer and looked into her face. Her cheeks were pink enough, and she didn't look the least bit sick. "Your mother told John you were going to see a doctor."
"Yes. Just to stop her from worrying. I might need to eat a little better."
"You can start tonight."
She smiled and tossed the dishcloth at him. "Okay. What time do you want to go out? And how fancy is this place?"
"We can leave at six, John's going to watch the boys and wear anything you want." He turned to hurry out of the kitchen before she changed her mind. This had been easier than he'd imagined.
"Hey, Cal?"
Damn. He turned. "What?"
"Did my mother put you up to this?"
Now that was a question he hadn't expected. But from the look in her pretty blue eyes, he guessed Addie was serious. "What's your mother got to do with us going out tonight?"
"She wants me to get married." Her smile just about dropped him to his knees. And so did the word "marriage."
"I was just thinking about a couple of steaks and maybe dessert, sweetheart."
"Well, all right." She started to laugh. "But I wouldn't put it past my mother to start matchmaking."
"I'm the last person she'd toss your way," Cal declared, tipping his hat before he reached for the door once again. "See you later." He got out of there as fast as he could, before Addie could change her mind and decide that her mother wouldn't approve. Paula Johanson frightened him. She was pleasant enough, always polite and well-mannered, but Cal was always afraid he was going to do something wrong when she was around. Like spill his coffee or knock over a chair. If Paula had ever walked in when he was spread out on a bed with her daughter, there would have been hell to pay.
He wasn't thinking of hell five hours later when he saw Addie. No, she looked like an angel, in a floaty white skirt and a damn fine top that hugged every inch of her and matched her eyes. Her hair was loose and curly, and her mouth—well, he didn't need to stare at her mouth. He took her hand and tugged her toward the door.
"You look beautiful," was about all he could manage without embarrassing himself.
"You don't look too bad yourself," she said, smiling up at him as they went down the side steps to the driveway. He'd worn a copper silk tweed sports jacket he'd bought in Austin last year for a friend's wedding, but he'd decided a tie was too formal with the white shirt. Now he wasn't so sure.
"Thanks. I'm glad we're getting off the ranch."
"Me, too." She sounded as if she meant it, which pleased him. But the boys danced around the newly washed truck and asked John why they couldn't go along.
"Because John would be lonesome," their mother told them, which seemed to do the trick. Cal ushered her into the passenger seat and shut the door before the boys could cause a scene and give the old man a hard time. Old John took both of the boys by the hands and looked as if he knew exactly what he was doing.
"We'll be back in about three hours," Cal promised him. "I owe you one."
"You owe me more'n that," the old man drawled, winking. "Like maybe a nice, new slow cooker or something."
"You be good," Addie said, rolling down the window to give one last order. "Eight o'clock bedtime, no matter what. Earlier if you're naughty."
"Dam— Darn right," John agreed. "Now wave yer mom good-bye and go back to yer supper."
"Thanks, John."
He tipped his hat, and Cal started up the truck and turned it around to head down the drive. "That wasn't too hard," he said, once they'd made it a hundred yards away from the house.
"Poor John. I'm feeling guilty already."
"You have the cell phone?"
"Yes."
"We can be back here in twenty minutes if he needs us," Cal promised.
"Why are you doing this?"
Damn. A trick question. There was no way to answer this one without getting in trouble, and here they hadn't even had appetizers yet. "Doing what?" he stalled. He turned on the radio and hoped a little Faith Hill would help.
"Taking me out."
"John's idea. He's matchmaking." That seemed to surprise her, because Addie didn't say any more for at least a mile or two. He looked over to see her gazing at him with those big eyes of hers. He'd give a million dollars to know what she was thinking.
"We sure started out the wrong way."
"I'm sorry about that." Sort of, he amended, remembering the feel of her body underneath his. It was hard to be sorry about having great sex with a beautiful woman.
"Yes," she said. "So am I. When I saw you that day at the ranch, I couldn't believe my bad luck."
"Thanks." He smiled at her to show he knew she was kidding.
She reached over and touched his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that, Cal. I just never expected that my awful mistake was going to show up in my backyard. I don't go around having sex with strangers in motels after drinking in bars."
"I didn't think you did." He almost drove off the road. What the hell had he been thinking? She was a widow with kids, a pretty woman who no doubt wanted another husband. Anyone could tell she needed a man around, especially since she seemed so damn fragile. But he was about as far away from husband material as, well, John.
"It's not something I intend to do again," she said, after a long moment of silence.
"I went to Billy's the next Saturday looking for you," Cal said.
"I gave up rum and Cokes. And nights out with Kate." She shuddered. "I don't know what got into me that night."
"Neither one of us was thinking straight," he pointed out, but Cal knew he hadn't been the same since he'd taken her on that bed. He'd wondered how to get in touch with her. He'd worried about the broken condom. And he'd driven to Billy's on Saturday nights for four weeks in a row, hoping to see her or her dark-haired girlfriend, so he could get her name. He'd wanted to see her again, wanted to make love to her for hours and wipe away the tears he hoped she wouldn't shed.
"No," she said. "That's true. In fact, there's something—" She stopped.
"What?"
"Nothing." He noticed she was gripping her hands together and her knuckles were white. "I guess you like living in Nowhere. Have you ever thought of living anywhere else?"
"I've thought of getting my own place," he admitted. This was his opening. He could tell her that he was leaving after the summer was over, or sooner if he could find someone to help John.
"In Texas?"
"I imagine."
"I see."
Cal glanced sideways and saw that she'd gone pale. "Addie? You okay?"
"I'm fine. So do you have any family around here?"
"Not that I know of, not anymore. I guess John's the closest thing to family that I have." He smiled. "He thinks you need a husband."
"He's probably been talking to my mother. That's all she thinks about."
"And you don't?"
"No."
She sounded sure of herself, Cal realized
. Which, he told himself, was a relief.
* * *
"The woman at the bar—the one in the dark-green dress—keeps staring at you." Addie sipped her minted iced tea and watched Cal shift uncomfortably in his chair. He didn't so much as glance over his shoulder. "Old girlfriend, maybe?"
"Maybe."
"She's quite beautiful. A redhead. About thirty-five, I'd guess, but it's hard to tell in the dim light."
"I imagine that's Deb Stornaway," Cal replied. "She works in real estate around here and runs a small ranch north of town."
"Oh." Addie didn't like the piercing jealousy that landed in the pit of her stomach. How ridiculous. Cal was a handsome man who had spent most of his life in Nowhere. Of course he would know a lot of women. Addie looked down at her strawberry shortcake, a dessert that was larger than Cal's Stetson, and picked up her fork.
There hadn't been a good time to discuss having a baby, Addie realized. Not over dinner, when Cal had shared stories about her father with her. He'd referred to his own family twice, to explain that he barely remembered a mother who ran off and a father who pretty much left his young son to fend for himself until the social workers came to take him away.
"We dated for a while," Cal explained. "About three years ago."
"What happened?"
"She wanted something permanent," he said, pushing his half-eaten apple pie aside.
"And you didn't."
"No."
"Why not?"
He smiled. "Maybe I'm getting too old, too set in my ways. Like John."
"You're not so old."
"Almost forty."
"Yes, I know. You have a birthday coming up."
He stared at her. "John again?"
"No. I've been going through my father's papers," she explained. "Your birthday is May twenty-first."
"That's right." He took a sip of his coffee and set the mug down. "There was something I wanted to talk to you about tonight."
"I wanted to talk to you, too," she heard herself say. "I've put it off for a while now but it's only fair that you know what's going on." She took a deep breath.
"You're ending the cattle operation," he said, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Well, no—"
"No?"
"There was an article in the paper about a ranch near us that's raising some special breed of beef cattle." She wished she could remember the name of the dam things. "Saint something."
"Santa Gertrudis?"
"That's it. Are they very expensive?"
"They are." He leaned back in his chair. "Sweetheart, I thought you wanted a bed-and-breakfast operation, not a cattle ranch."
"Eventually," she said. "But I need to keep money coming in so the ranch is self-sufficient."
"Like its owner," Cal said.
"Yes." She finished the rest of her dessert while he discussed the merits of a new breeding program. There would be other times to talk to him, she promised herself. And maybe she needed to do it somewhere private, without an ex-girlfriend watching or a waitress interrupting to refill his coffee.
There was time, Addie told herself. Neither one of them were going anywhere.
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
"I let the little fellas watch TV after they put their pj's on," John whispered. "And they fell asleep so I just left them here."
"That's okay. I'll get them to bed." Addie smiled. Matt lay sprawled on the couch while Ian was asleep on the floor, his head nestled against an oversize pillow. "I'll take them upstairs. Thank you for taking such good care of them."
"No problem, Miss Addie," the old man drawled. "They're fine boys. Didn't give me no trouble at all, except for falling asleep before I could get them upstairs in their beds."
"I'm glad they behaved themselves." She had given them strict instructions to obey John and to go to sleep when they were told to, but she suspected John was too softhearted to be strict with them. "They were pretty excited about you being here."
"Did you two have a good time?" The old man grinned. "It's sure nice when two young people can go out and be alone together."
"We had a lovely dinner," Addie assured him, but Cal frowned. John stifled a laugh and moved toward the door. "I'll be heading home now, though. I'm feeling a bit sleepy myself. Good night, Miss Addie. 'Night, Cal."
"Good night," she said, before leaning over Matt to wake him.
"Don't bother the boy," Cal said, stepping closer. "I'll carry him upstairs for you."
"All right." She followed him up the kitchen staircase and turned on a small, corner lamp so Cal could see. "It's this one," she said, pulling back the covers on her son's bed. Cal deposited the sleeping child onto the mattress and Addie covered Matt with the striped sheet.
They did the same with Ian, who grumbled in his sleep and opened his eyes once to stare blankly at the rancher holding him. "Mr. Cal?"
"Go to sleep, boy," Cal whispered. "You're in your own bed now."
Ian blinked twice before closing his eyes and rolling over on his side. "Okay," he mumbled before falling asleep.
"Thanks," Addie whispered, once the boys were settled in their beds. Cal started for the stairs, but Addie stopped him. "Wait," she whispered. "I have that article up here, the one about the fancy cattle and how that ranch is making money selling beef that doesn't have additives or chemicals."
She hurried past her bathroom and closets, through the narrow passageway that connected her room to the children's, to find the magazine for Cal to read. She heard his footsteps behind her as she knelt down and rifled through the stack of reading material next to her bed. She wasn't surprised to see the man standing there, looking at her in the dim light that came from the bathroom's night-light.
"I found it," she said, coming to her feet. "There's an auction every June and—"
"Addie." He reached out to take her hand. "Forget the cattle for a minute."
"But—" His hand was warm, the skin rough around her fingers.
"I'm going to kiss you good-night now," Cal said. "I'm done talking about cows."
"Are you sure?" She couldn't help smiling up at him in the darkness. "This magazine article has a lot of information you might want—"
"I'm sure," he said. Cal took the magazine and tossed it onto the bed, then tugged her closer so that their bodies touched. Her breasts were against his body, and she had the overwhelming desire to rip off his shirt and bury her face in his naked chest. She remembered it being a very impressive part of him. "No more ranch talk, sweetheart. I'm going to take advantage of being in your bedroom for a few minutes."
Oh, good, she wanted to say. Even though she had no business kissing the man, or starting something that she shouldn't really finish. But she was only human, she told herself, gazing up at the man who held her so gently. "And how are you going to do that?"
He brought his mouth down to hers, brushed her cheek with his lips. "Well, I thought I'd kiss you for a while," he whispered. "Maybe a few hours."
"Hours?"
"Mmm." His lips moved across hers. "Unlike our first date."
"Please don't remind me." The immediate physical reaction to his kisses was all too familiar. She told herself she was lonely. She reminded herself that her hormones were raging out of control. She forgave herself for kicking off her sandals and pulling him closer.
"It's one of my fondest memories," he murmured against her mouth. "Up until the end, when you ran out of the motel room."
She wasn't running now, she realized. That wide expanse of king-size bed was only inches away, but Addie knew she had to resist hauling the cowboy onto the mattress. She was a respectable woman, a mother, a landowner and a woman of reason and good sense. But he kissed her again, not so gently this time. And the respectable woman of good sense looped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer.
"We shouldn't," she managed to say, once he'd lifted his mouth. Her body tingled in all the right places and reminded her that she was courting trouble.
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
"Although I suppose it's not that terrible, since we've done it before—"
"That one time doesn't count," the man growled. "Not really."
Oh, it counted, she wanted to say. Enough to make a baby, despite the circumstances.
"I have to lock the doors," she managed to whisper into his chest.
"I did." His fingers lifted her blouse and caressed her bare skin. For one instant of panic, she wondered if he could tell that her body was rounder. But she told herself that there was no way he could remember the shape of her waist or the curve of her abdomen, not from the brief time they'd spent naked together.
"How can we do this?" she whispered. "We know each other now."
His hands swept along her back and unhooked her bra. His soft chuckle tickled her neck. "You only have sex with strangers, Addie?"
"Of course not, but—" Oh, dear. Those wonderful hands of his unbuttoned the front of her blouse. He swept it off her shoulders and down her arms before tossing it to the floor. Then he did the same to her bra, releasing her breasts so that her sensitive nipples brushed against his starched cotton shirt.
"Addie?"
She'd closed her eyes and leaned against him as his hands stroked her bare back, then lower, to unzip her skirt and ease it past her hips to the floor. "Mmm?"
"You're beautiful, just as I remembered."
"It was dark," she countered, embarrassed by the compliment as she stood there wearing nothing but pale-blue bikini underpants.
"Not that dark."
No, not that dark. And not that long ago, either. But this time they knew each other. This time they were friends, or something more than acquaintances. And this time they were in a house—her house—and weren't exactly alone. His large hands caressed her breasts, weighed their heaviness, moved lower to her waist. His fingers skimmed the satin cloth that covered the last bit of skin. He made short work of removing her underwear, surprising her by lowering himself on his haunches and working the scrap of fabric down her legs. She held his shoulders and lifted one foot and then the other, kicking the underwear aside with an abandon she didn't recognize in herself. His lips touched her stomach and his hands held her hips still.
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