by Sara Daniel
He hadn’t come to see her. He’d arrived by mistake and wanted to get far away without further ado. Once upon a time, they’d shared a rare, special love. She remembered it and regretted losing it, even if he didn’t.
“Of course you can use the phone.” She threw her weight into closing the barn door against the wind, secured the latch then strode toward the house, not glancing back to see if he followed. Without seeing or hearing him, she could sense his presence.
“Do you live here alone?” he asked, falling into step next to her.
“No. Mama’s in Des Moines for a couple of days, and Alejandro still uses his room when he’s on leave.” Although this time, he got to sleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair next to their mother, and if he valued his life, he’d stay gone for a long time after his “trade the mortgage money for a one-night stand” stunt.
“Leave from the Army?” Blake guessed.
“Marines.”
A pickup with a bad muffler rumbled along the gravel road as she led the way through the front door. She flinched, praying the vehicle would continue down the road without stopping. Overwhelmed on every front, she didn’t need to deal with an angry neighbor, too. Besides, her cows couldn’t have strayed far. She’d just finished the milking.
Except the first cows through the chute had been done two hours ago, plenty of time for them to wander to the end of the pasture and succumb to the temptation of the ripening corn on the other side of the rotting fence she never had enough time to replace.
Inside the house, she turned to face Blake. After spending years dreaming he would return for her, she’d never expected their reunion to be reduced to banal conversation over borrowing a phone. She gestured to the relic on the wall. “It’s still in the same spot.”
“Gotta love the rotary dial,” he murmured.
She tried not to think about all the times she’d wrapped herself in the cord as she’d whispered to him through the receiver. “Not much changes around here.”
Outside, the rumbling muffler grew louder then cut off. “Luciana!”
Her heart sank. Whatever stereotypes had evolved concerning neighborly visits in the country, Trevor seemed determined to bust the myth.
“Make yourself at home,” she told Blake. “If my cows got loose again, I’ll be gone for a few hours. I’ll understand if you’ve already left by the time I get back.”
She paused in front of him, studying his gorgeous face and wind-tousled, light-brown hair. Chances were she wouldn’t see him again for another fifteen years, if ever. Reaching up, she ran her palm down his cheek, scratchy with five o’clock shadow. Luciana lingered against his skin, her fingers tingling. Unable to resist, she stood on tiptoes and brushed her lips across his jaw.
“Your lousy cows are trampling my corn again,” Trevor shouted through the screen door. “I’m suing you for damages if you don’t get the hell out here now and fix your pathetic excuse for a fence.”
Blake stood frozen as Luciana ran out the door, calling breathless apologies to her not-so-understanding neighbor. Despite his shock over seeing her again, time and distance had allowed him to treat her as a casual acquaintance.
Until she’d touched him.
He trembled as if he were a single hand pump away from coming in his pants. Only she had that effect on him. For years, he’d chalked it up to youth and out-of-control hormones. Despite not being young anymore, hormones he hadn’t lost control of in years surged from the slight contact.
Outside, Luciana spoke in low, soothing tones to her neighbor, while pressing her palms against her heart. The guy spat on the ground and stomped away. He gunned his truck and drove off.
After he disappeared, her shoulders slumped. Blake stepped toward the door, ready to wrap her in his arms. But she didn’t glance his way, as she headed to the barn. A couple of minutes later, she emerged, wearing work gloves and maneuvering a wheelbarrow with a roll of barbed wire, metal stakes, and who knew what else inside.
Toying with following her into the field behind the barn, he discarded the idea. He’d been a town boy, never a farmer—another thing for her family to hold against him, although being a non-Hispanic, non-Catholic had been more than enough reason for them to hate him on principle.
Turning his attention to the interior of the house, he studied the familiar kitchen wallpaper peeling apart at the seams. An overturned wooden chair lay in the corner next to a bottle of glue, a clamp holding the leg support in place.
As he picked up the phone receiver, the stretched-out cord fell to a pile on the floor. He should call for a taxi, a helicopter, a damn rescue mission to take him straight to San Diego—screw the Des Moines location. And he would have, if Luciana hadn’t touched him with the same sweetness and reverence as when they were kids.
He spun Marcia’s number in the dial. “It’s Blake. Do you want a raise?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t? But where are you? We’ve gone through everything with the site development team, and I’m running out of stalling ideas while we wait for you.”
“I’m not coming. Wrap up and take the company plane home. The expansion debrief file I started is saved on the server. Finish it and deliver the presentation to Mr. Sunburst at ten o’clock tonight.”
“You want me to give the presentation? What do you want me to say about this site?”
“Whatever you think. Might as well earn your raise.” At the moment, he couldn’t care less about the hotel expansion plans, not when he had a chance to rediscover the woman who owned his past, whose single touch illuminated everything lacking in his successful, workaholic life.
“Yes, sir,” Marcia said. “But what are you working on? Is everything okay?”
“Interesting questions. Maybe I’ll have answers to them by morning.” He hung up the phone, his shoulders light. He’d bought a solid twelve hours with no interruptions and no responsibilities. Whether he could make the most of the time remained to be seen.
Dang, he wished he’d been prepared with a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. He’d networked with enough people to understand when an expensive tailored suit worked to his advantage. It wouldn’t with Luciana.
He’d have to leverage what he did have going for him. She hadn’t forgotten him, and he’d wager she wouldn’t have caressed his face if she’d been involved with anyone else.
Her father had given him no choice but to walk away from her. He’d intended to return once everyone had settled down. Then she’d lost the baby and hadn’t returned his calls—calls her overprotective parents had likely never told her about. Meanwhile, his brother offered him a one-way trip to California, and he’d jumped at the opportunity.
He’d moved on with his life—far beyond whatever they would have created together. He loved his job, even with his cranky boss. But the night stretched before him, beckoning him to forget about his responsibilities and consider what life would have been like if he’d never walked away from his first—and only—love.
Chapter Three
With a lot of cajoling and strong nudges, Luciana convinced the cows to return to the pasture, but not before one of the gentle animals nudged back, sending her flat on her ass in a cow pie. She pounded in the new post and strung more barbed wire.
Satisfied the animals would stay on her property, she returned the supplies to the barn then limped back to the house. Her bruised hip put up a good argument for cutting her losses and selling the cows as soon as possible, but she’d have no farm left without the steady but slim milk income.
Ahead, Blake stood in the doorway, raising his right hand in greeting. Her heart lurched, wanting the sight to welcome her every time she returned home.
He sauntered down the front walk. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah. A cow and I just had a minor disagreement over space.”
“Some disagreements aren’t worth it, even when you’re right,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. Although he teased about the livestock, perhaps he’d also believed their love hadn’t been
worth the trouble of fighting her parents.
“Did you find a ride out of here? Alejandro has my pickup, and I value my life too much to drive the tractor in the city.”
“I don’t need a ride. I’m right where I want to be.”
A pang of longing shot through her. Years ago, when he’d gazed at her with those bright blue eyes, she’d believed without question they lived in their own special world where they would be together forever. But not only was she not part of his world, she didn’t even understand the type of life he led. “I’m supposed to believe you want to build your fancy hotel right here?”
“No. You’re supposed to believe I want to spend the evening with you.”
“Oh.” Luciana hadn’t considered the possibility, didn’t know why he’d want to. Maybe if she had a few hours or weeks, she could get used to the idea.
“I’d hoped for a bit more enthusiasm.” He reached toward her waist.
She jumped back. “No, you can’t touch me.”
He lifted both arms as if to prove he had no intention of forcing himself on her.
Despite wanting to believe she had more will to resist him than when she’d been a teen, she wouldn’t bet on it, assuming her brother had left her any money to bet with. “I fell in cow manure in the field. You don’t want to get it on your nice suit or get close enough to smell me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Did she have to spell out the details of how far beneath his station her life had become? “I’m going to stick my babbling mouth in a soapy shower.”
His eyes gleamed. “Anything I can help with?”
“I think I can handle my own bath.” Her cheeks heated as soon as the words left her mouth. When they’d been kids sneaking around, the clandestine meetings in the cab of a pickup or in an open meadow hadn’t allowed them an opportunity to explore each other’s naked body. She doubted she’d be able to refuse the chance if he offered.
“I meant in general.” His eyes sparkled, as if he were imagining her naked under the spray. “Anything I can do to make myself useful while you’re getting all fresh and sweet-smelling?”
She didn’t need much encouragement to get fresh with him, a prospect that both terrified and aroused her. “If you want to stay, you can help by opening a can of whatever’s in the pantry for dinner. If nothing appeals to you, the freezer might have more interesting options. No promises though.”
“I can cook dinner,” he assured her.
For a moment, she imagined what her mother would think of her asking a man to cook for her in her own kitchen. Best not to think about her parents in conjunction with Blake Wellington. She couldn’t cope with her own explosive emotions, let alone her family’s reaction.
She shed her boots outside then watched him from the corner of her eye as she made her way to the bathroom, afraid to hope he might be in her house when she emerged. But he hadn’t left while she’d worked on the fence. The further hope invaded, the more fear paralyzed her.
Why had he come back into her life, and what did she plan to do with him while he graced her with his presence?
Nothing, that’s what. She didn’t have anything to offer. Even when he’d loved her, he wouldn’t have considered marrying her if she hadn’t been pregnant.
After the shower, Luciana dressed in her bedroom then leaned against the window. Craning her neck, she could see the top of the dead tree swinging violently in the wind. As soon as she finished the milking tomorrow morning, she’d cut it down before it fell on the one part of the farm she’d poured her heart into—the only memorial she had to what could have been, to the life that had never had a chance.
She shoved away from the window and left the bedroom, pausing at her desk in the living room. Despite the empty mortgage folder, she still had a little money in the emergency envelope, enough to make a good-faith payment to the hospital for her mother. Caring for Mama came first. Then she’d worry about saving the farm.
Luciana had survived the loss of her baby before she’d had a chance to hold him or her in her arms, before the child had been real to anyone but her. She could survive the money troubles on the farm, Mama’s recent setback, and whatever maelstrom Blake created with her emotions.
Grounded, she headed for the kitchen where he sprinkled an assortment of chopped ingredients over the eggs sizzling in a fry pan. “You’re making an omelet.”
He glanced at her. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a gourmet chef by any means, but give me a skillet and I can fend for myself.”
The food didn’t surprise her as much as the threat of domestic chores hadn’t sent him running. Stepping around the suit coat and tie he’d draped over a chair, she peered into the pan. “Peppers, tomatoes, mushrooms, sausage, and a hint of hot sauce. Very nice.”
He grinned, looking way too comfortable with his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, displaying the enticing light brown hairs on his forearms. “The first one’s ready if you can bring me two plates.”
She did, and he flipped it onto the plate then repeated the process of making the next one.
“Anything I forgot?” he asked.
Too overwhelmed to speak, she shook her head. She’d assumed he’d forgotten her. Instead, he stood in front of her stove, cooking for her.
He took the plates and set them on the table then held out her chair.
“You don’t have to do this.” She didn’t expect to be pampered and catered to. As a matter of fact, she no longer remembered how to graciously accept special treatment.
His lips curved in a sensuous promise. “I want to.”
She sank into the chair, frightened by how much she wanted him to shower her with affection and attention. When had she become so starved for it? Or did she crave affection only from him? “We can’t pick up where we left off. Too many things have happened. Too many years have gone by. We’re different people now.”
“I’m all for getting reacquainted.” He sifted his fingers through the ends of her hair then walked around the table to take his seat.
Suppressing a shiver, she refused to reveal her vulnerability to his touch. “As you can see, my life hasn’t changed.”
“Then why do you say you’re a different person?” he challenged.
Because life had worn her down so much she didn’t recognize herself anymore. Her dreams had morphed into a desperate grasp for survival—medical care for her mother and a roof over her head. “I’d rather hear about your glamorous life,” she said. “I assume you went to college like you planned.”
She remembered the fear in his voice when he’d confessed he wanted to continue his schooling despite her pregnancy and their plans to marry. He’d worried about juggling a full class load while supporting a family. She’d sworn he wouldn’t have to give up his dreams because of her. At the time, she’d believed their love would carry them through any adversity, not that she’d get left behind while he pursued his ambitions.
“I went to college, not quite the way I envisioned, definitely not glamorous, but it worked out well in the end. Remember, my brother had moved to California to work in the movie industry? He offered to let me crash on his couch.”
Prior to her accidental pregnancy, she’d spent six months terrified he would choose to go to college on the West Coast rather than at one of the nearby Iowa schools. The few times his brother had talked to her when he’d returned for holidays, he’d warned she would hold Blake back from his full potential if they stayed together. Of course, he had been right.
“I got a job working nights at the Sunburst Hotel front desk and went to school during the day,” he continued. “I interned at the hotel in the summers, and they offered me a full-time job on graduation. I took the job, but I also kept going to school—this time at night for my MBA. Pretty soon, I’d worked my way up to vice-president of Marketing, then of Operations. Then CEO.”
Luciana chewed on her omelet, savoring the spicy burst of flavor he’d created. A CEO had cooked her dinner. She wished she had a close frien
d to share a giggle over the gossipy tidbit, but the farm chores took up too much time to have any left over for friendship, let alone giggles.
“Congratulations, Mr. CEO.” She toasted him with her glass of water. “I’m impressed but not surprised, considering you managed your parents’ hardware store while you were still in high school.” A natural leader, he’d had her as his number one follower.
“That store took a lot of effort for little return,” he mused. “But at least Mom and Dad are enjoying their hard-earned retirement. They have a lot of fun visiting the locations where Rob films his movies.”
“His marriage made the entertainment news.” She might not have paid attention if he’d married an actress, but he’d fallen for a curvy, Hispanic teacher with a sweet smile. “No word about you, though.” Her cheeks flushed. Not the smoothest way to dig for information.
“I’m not entertainment-news worthy, thank goodness.” Blake smirked. “Engaged, twice. Never married.”
Food forgotten, she stared at him. “Twice?”
“You were number one.”
“We didn’t even have a ring, and it was a shotgun situation.”
He lowered his fork. “Please don’t use the word shotgun. I’m still trying to recover from your father coming after me with one. But I asked and you said yes, so we were engaged, even if it only lasted a week.”
She blinked. He sounded like he’d wanted to marry her instead of being backed into it.
“I managed to make my second engagement last for a year, right up until the week before the wedding.”
“Did you love her?” she asked, not sure how she wanted him to answer. The thought of him loving anyone else filled her with a terrible jealousy, but the man she’d known never would have married if he hadn’t been in love, even if the woman had been pregnant. She didn’t want to learn he’d turned cold in the intervening years.
He scratched his cheek. “Good question. We had some affection. Caroline is the daughter of the man who owns the Sunburst Hotels. Her father pushed for the relationship, and she seemed interested. Then, a week before the wedding, she called it off. She hooked up with some guy from her past. I had no idea he existed, let alone she was so hung up on him she wanted to marry him instead of me.”
