Secrets, Lies & Loves

by Judy Duarte

  When his lips brushed her mouth, she didn’t fight. Didn’t protest. Didn’t stiffen.

  He took pleasure in the softness that promised to envelop him and relished the intoxicating scent of wildflowers in a green meadow.

  Her lips parted, allowing him entrance, and he savored the sweet, lemon-drop taste.

  As his tongue sought hers, a jolt of heat jump-started his pulse, causing his blood to race, to pound. She must have felt it, too, because she whimpered in response, and her fingers snaked into his hair.

  He wanted to draw her body to his, to pull her on top of him. To press her hips against him. And he would have, if the baby hadn’t shrieked. And footsteps and a “yoo-hoo” hadn’t sounded from the front porch.

  Her breath caught, and she slowly pulled away, breaking the kiss. Her hand slipped from his jaw.

  But she couldn’t hide the desire blazing in those golden eyes. Couldn’t hide the effect he’d had on her.

  And he knew in that moment, that he would kiss her again and again.

  Longer. And deeper.

  If he ever got another chance.

  Chapter Five

  Louanne didn’t know what had gotten in to her. She had no business kissing Rowan. In fact, she had no business kissing anyone. Not now, maybe not ever.

  And she’d been caught red-handed, or rather red-faced. What would Aggie say?

  “We’re home,” the older woman called from the screen door. “And you’ll never guess what we saw.”

  The warmth in Louanne’s cheeks suddenly blazed, her embarrassment flashing like a fire truck on its way to a three-alarm fire.

  What had Aggie seen?

  An aura of guilt hovered over her, as she faced the consequences of the thoughtless urge to kiss the man with more than his fair share of pheromones.

  She should have balked, should have pulled away when Rowan drew her mouth to his. But when his the-sky-is-the-limit gaze promised a toe-curling encounter, a slow and steady flame began to warm her blood and thaw her heart. For a moment, she felt a stir in the imaginative spirit she’d thought had died behind the ivy-covered walls of Cedar Glen College.

  And for that reason, she hadn’t given the bay window or the open front door a second thought.

  Get a grip, she told herself. It was bad enough that she’d lost her head and kissed Rowan like there was no tomorrow—or rather, like there’d been no yesterday, no impeccably-dressed college professor who’d morphed into a monster. No threat that still lingered in her ears. No reason to stay hidden and locked away from the world.

  Would Aggie assume Louanne wanted to jump the bones of the first man she’d come into contact with in a year and a half? That’s probably what the kiss looked like, especially since Rowan was a stranger. Even to himself.

  Louanne drew on what little acting skill Lula had taught her while growing up, and tried to pretend nothing had happened.

  Rowan hadn’t kissed her. And Aggie hadn’t arrived to witness it.

  “Hey, Pumpkin.” Louanne opened the front door, brushed a kiss across her son’s chubby cheek and smiled brightly. “Did you have a good time?”

  “Mah!” Noah smiled, revealing four front teeth and dribbling a tiny drop of drool to his chin.

  “Tell Mama what we saw,” Aggie prompted.

  Louanne’s heart burst into her throat, and she tried to come up with some kind of excuse, an explanation for what Aggie had witnessed, since it didn’t appear as though a denial would work.

  Noah lurched in excitement. “Duh.”

  “Duckies,” Aggie interpreted. “We saw a whole passel of them swimming in the fishing hole.”

  Oh, thank goodness. Louanne felt Rowan’s eyes on her back, even though she couldn’t see them. What had he been thinking? That they’d been caught? That they shouldn’t have kissed in the first place? That it had been too hot and too good not to kiss one more time?

  Noah reached out his pudgy little hands, and Louanne swept him into her arms, glad to have something to hold on to. Something to shield her from the realization that she was still a red-blooded woman with sexual needs.

  “Thanks for taking him on your walk, Aggie. The simplest things are such a thrill for him.”

  “For me, too,” the older woman said, as she scanned the living room and spotted Rowan. “Oh, hello there.”

  Thank goodness. Aggie hadn’t seen anything, nor had she picked up any vibes about a kiss that shouldn’t have taken place. And apparently her dear friend wasn’t aware of the desire that ricocheted throughout the living room.

  Louanne softly blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Aggie, this is Rowan Parks.”

  The plump, gray-haired woman stuck out her hand, then smiled sheepishly. “I took a little peek at you yesterday. While you were sleeping. But it’s nice to meet you. In person, I mean.”

  “Same here.” Rowan stood, accepted the customary greeting and smiled. He didn’t appear to be ruffled or flustered, not even on the inside, like Louanne was.

  “Well,” Aggie said, clapping her hands together. “Looks like we’ve got a foursome for cards. Are you guys interested in a game tonight?”

  Louanne figured Aggie was hoping to get to know Rowan better, to size him up.

  After all, just last week, the older woman had invited Louanne to attend the marathon bingo tournament at St. Mark’s Church. “You need to make friends,” Aggie had explained.

  “You’re my friend,” Louanne had countered.

  “I mean friends your own age. Besides, you’ll never find a man if you don’t leave the ranch. And there are a lot of women with unmarried sons and nephews who are dying to see them with a nice girl who’d make a good wife. And they won’t give a hoot about you having a baby.”

  Having a child out of wedlock and the resulting small-town community whispers had been Louanne’s reason for asking Pete and Aggie to keep her return and Noah’s birth a secret. And as far as Louanne knew, no one in Pebble Creek—other than Doc and their quiet-spoken neighbor, Jim Simmons—knew she was back in town with a baby. Doc had promised not to tell, and Jim, who lived alone, hardly spoke more than ten words a year—and those had to be pried out of him.

  “This is a new century,” Aggie had added. “Unwed mothers aren’t looked down upon like they once were.”

  When Louanne had told the well-intentioned woman that she didn’t like crowds, that she preferred staying home, Aggie must have assumed Louanne suffered from a case of agoraphobia, because she’d said, “Why don’t you call Doc Haines and tell him how you feel? I hear they’ve got medicine for that now.”

  Rather than go into detail, Louanne had decided to let the assumption of an anxiety disorder stand—unchallenged.

  “So what do you say?” Aggie asked, drawing Louanne back to the present. “Playing cards will be fun.”

  Louanne glanced at Rowan and tried to gauge his reaction to the suggestion.

  “I don’t mind,” he said. “Louanne?”

  She smiled, first at Rowan, then at her friend. “All right. I’ll put Noah down about 7:00. Why don’t you and Pete come over after that?”

  “Good. And I’ll bring some goodies to eat.”

  No one made goodies like Aggie. She always had a couple of treats to choose from—cookies, brownies, a lemon meringue pie. It was a wonder Pete stayed so lean, especially when his wife hadn’t.

  “I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” Louanne said, as she walked her friend to the door. Under normal circumstances, she might’ve thought having company tonight would make things awkward, especially since Pete and Aggie had become such close friends and were so protective of her and Noah. But since having someone else in the house this evening might actually defuse whatever was going on between her and the stranger who’d turned her senses on edge, she felt a vague sense of relief.

  After that kiss they’d shared, Louanne wasn’t sure she wanted to deal with the inevitable question that would follow.

  Now what?

  But when Aggie went home, L
ouanne was left to face Rowan. There was no point in averting her gaze and avoiding the subject. Because, try as she might, she couldn’t ignore his presence.

  Their eyes met, and the kiss stretched between them, connecting them long after it had ended and binding them in a way she wasn’t ready for. In a way she might never be ready for.

  What should she do? Ignore the fact that it had happened? Broach the subject, getting it over with? Then put it to bed?

  Oops. Wrong choice of words.

  Maybe she ought to let Rowan bring up the touchy subject.

  But when he didn’t mention a word, she wasn’t sure whether she should be relieved or disappointed.

  Rowan stood on the front porch and watched the sun sink low in the West Texas sky. He’d found it a bit weird that Louanne had never mentioned the kiss. He could have done so, he supposed, but he hadn’t.

  He’d never been one to analyze a sexual relationship; it either worked or it didn’t.

  He didn’t analyze sexual relationships.

  Another revelation. Was his memory going to come back one little piece at a time?

  The screen door squeaked open, and Louanne joined him on the porch, the baby boy riding on her hip. The little tyke was kind of cute, even though he didn’t have much hair. But his eyes were the same golden-brown hue as his mother’s, and just as captivating.

  “Can you watch Noah while I put dinner on the table?” she asked.

  Him? Baby-sit? Rowan hated to tell Louanne no, not after she’d been so good to him. But what the hell did he know about babies or small kids?

  He didn’t know anything about infants or children.

  Great. He’d just remembered another piece of information, which didn’t seem particularly useful. He didn’t have kids and felt awkward around them.

  “Maybe I should set the table instead,” he said, hoping for a reprieve. What if he dropped the little guy?

  “You’re not afraid of a baby, are you?” Her rich, whiskey-hued eyes held a taunt, a tease. A challenge.

  “Afraid? No. But I’ve got to admit, the idea of taking care of one makes me uneasy.”

  “You don’t have to hold him,” Louanne said, “if you’re not comfortable doing that. But can you make sure he doesn’t climb onto the sofa and fall down? Make sure he doesn’t eat a handful of potting soil or munch on one of the leaves of the houseplant on the table?”

  “Yeah, I can probably handle that.” He reached out, and surprisingly, the baby went right to him.

  The kid felt kind of weird in his arms. Not heavy, but solid and warm. A little wiggly. His diaper-clad butt was thick and pudgy. Thank goodness she hadn’t asked him to change his pants. Rowan wouldn’t do that—ever. What a nasty job.

  He looked at the baby boy and found the little guy watching him intently. “What’s up, kid?”

  Noah grinned, then pointed toward the horizon and grunted.

  “You want to go for a walk?”

  The kid lurched in his arms, indicating Rowan had understood what “umphd” meant.

  “Okay, but we’re not going far. I have to stay close to your mom. Just in case we both got more than we bargained for in this baby-sitting arrangement.”

  The baby grinned from ear to ear as though he thought they’d struck a hell of a deal.

  A couple moments later, as Rowan stood under a sycamore tree and Noah reached for a leaf, Louanne called them to dinner. Rowan was glad to pass the baton, but holding the little guy hadn’t been so bad. Not really.

  “Come on, buddy. It’s chow time.” He carried Noah into the dining room, where Louanne had their dinner waiting.

  She lifted the tray on the high chair, then, after Rowan put Noah on the torn vinyl seat, she secured the baby and replaced the chrome tray.

  After putting a ladle of beans and a chunk of ham into a small plastic bowl, she took a fork and made mush out of the contents. “Let Mama mash the air out of these beans for you.”

  Rowan laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. You think smashing beans to a paste will get rid of whatever causes gas?”

  Louanne cast him a bright-eyed smile that surpassed any he’d seen her sister flash on magazine covers. “No, of course not. But my mom used to say that when we were kids. And I’m finding myself doing and saying a lot of the same things.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Like ‘skin-a-rabbit’ when I lift his shirt over his head.” She shrugged. “Just silly little things like that.”

  Rowan didn’t remember his mother. Only that she’d had dark hair, like his. He paused, his fork in midair.

  “What’s the matter?” Louanne asked.

  He wasn’t sure. But an uneasy feeling settled around him. His mother had been young and pretty. But she hadn’t been a part of his life. He looked at Louanne, saw the concern on her face. “I lost my mom. I don’t know how. But she wasn’t there for me when I was a kid.”

  Her lips parted, and compassion flared in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. I guess.” Remorse settled in his gut. Was this what he could expect as his memory came back—bits and pieces of stuff he’d rather forget?

  Not ready to dig up more about his mother or her loss, Rowan turned the conversation back on something safe. “Where’s Noah’s dad?”

  All signs of the happy face he’d seen earlier vanished, and Louanne sat up straight in her chair like a well-versed princess. “He’s dead.”

  Rowan didn’t know what he’d expected her to say. That the guy ran off, but sent a child support check on a monthly basis. That Noah had the benefit of a father, even if the man didn’t live in the same house. Kids needed a dad who took part in their lives, who loved them.

  Still, even though children might need a father, not all of them were fortunate enough to have one. Rowan knew that for a fact. And not just because his sister had mentioned it to Louanne, who had, in turn, passed that tidbit of information along to him.

  His dad hadn’t ever been there for him, either.

  The realization gripped his heart, squeezing out a surge of resentment. Had his father ever loved him? Appreciated him? Been proud of him? It didn’t seem like it.

  He had an overwhelming suspicion that his father never had cared about him.

  But not all men were like that, were they? Didn’t some guys love their kids? Look forward to being with them and asking about their day?

  He glanced at the baby who’d smeared beans all over his face. In spite of the mess, Rowan found himself smiling at the little guy. “Did Noah’s dad get a chance to see his son?”

  “No.” She glanced down at her bowl, stirred the beans rather than scoop them up with her spoon.

  Louanne didn’t know how the conversation had switched so quickly to her memories. And she wasn’t sure how to change the subject back to one that was easier to talk about—safer.

  Lying didn’t come easy to her. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from fabricating an exciting past, like she’d done when she first stepped foot on the small but prestigious campus of Cedar Glen.

  At the time, she’d been determined to shed her backwoods image. And Louanne Brown had seemed like such a plain, going-nowhere name. So, following her sister’s lead, she legally changed her name. Lanay Landers was far more fitting and held the promise of an exciting, new life.

  It hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal, but her father had been hurt. She’d promised to change it back, but hadn’t gotten around to it before she received news of the plane crash.

  “How did he die?”

  Her dad? Rowan’s question caught her off guard, and it took a moment to realize he was talking about Noah’s father.

  Why wouldn’t he let this subject die? She hated to perpetuate the tales she’d told. And she hadn’t had to lie very often, since she avoided going into Austin, where Richard would probably focus his search for her.

  She’d been ashamed of the small, hick town in which she’d grown up. So she’d told everyone at Cedar Glen that
she was from Austin and implied that she was a sophisticated city girl.

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” she told Rowan, fighting the urge to concoct yet another lie she would then have to remember.

  He nodded, then dug into his bowl. Moments later, he looked up. “Did your parents get a chance to see the baby?”

  “No. They died before he was born.” She wasn’t sure how honest she wanted to be, since she’d kept things so close to the vest for so long. Not even Aggie and Pete knew everything. And bless them, they’d been kind enough not to pry, especially since she’d let them think she was embarrassed to be an unwed mother.

  “It must be lonely out here for you.”

  She nodded. It was. And not a day went by that she didn’t wish her parents were still here, that they could enjoy their grandson and watch him grow. That she could apologize for hurting them, even though that had never been her intent. Regret and remorse muscled to the forefront, stealing her appetite.

  Memories of her parents, of her boring childhood lingered in this house, which in some ways had been good. She’d come to grips with her past, with her roots.

  But she still felt guilty for not being happy with whom she’d been, for being ashamed of her humble childhood. For not being more appreciative. And especially for not being a better daughter.

  Guilt, she supposed, was a penance she’d pay for the rest of her life.

  It was too late to apologize to her parents, now that they were gone. Too late to admit how badly she felt about not appreciating their dream, even though it was so different from her own that, once upon a time, she’d thought her parents didn’t dream at all.

  She’d been wrong, though. Wrong about so many things.

  But maybe by encouraging Rowan to return home and make peace with his dad—something she would never have the chance to do—she could find vindication.

  Of course, Rowan would have to remember who he was and where he came from first.

  For a moment, she didn’t like the idea of him leaving, of her having to face her own sorry life alone. But it was for the best. At least, it would be better for him.

  She looked at Rowan and tried to conjure sincerity to mask her lie. “Am I lonely? Not really. I like the tranquility and simplicity that the Lazy B provides. And I can’t think of living anywhere else.” In a way, she supposed it was true.