Secrets, Lies & Loves

by Judy Duarte

  Louanne certainly didn’t need to repeat that foolish mistake. Especially since Rowan was as much a stranger to himself as he was to her.

  She just wished she didn’t find him so darn handsome, his eyes so mesmerizing. His kiss so stimulating.

  But no matter how attractive the man was, no matter how much she enjoyed his kiss, she couldn’t let herself go.

  She wouldn’t.

  Ten minutes later, the men entered the house through the service porch, chuckling about something, and joined Aggie and Luanne in the kitchen.

  Pete scanned the room. “Where’s Noah? Taking a nap?”

  Aggie shushed her husband. “Keep your voice down. We don’t want him waking up yet.”

  That was true. As precious and entertaining as Noah could be under normal situations, he woke up like a little grizzly bear if he didn’t get enough sleep.

  But it wasn’t Pete who caught Louanne’s eye, who drew her attention. Who caused her blood to warm.

  Louanne’s gaze settled on Rowan, on his vibrant eyes, on the boyish smile that lit the room. On the way he filled out her father’s shirt and jeans. He balanced a grocery bag in one arm and a smaller one in his free hand.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her eyes focusing on the cream-colored bag with a red Farley’s logo in his hands. Apparently, he’d gone shopping, which shouldn’t surprise her. He’d probably gotten tired of wearing her father’s hand-me-downs.

  Rowan smiled a bit sheepishly, while Pete grinned from ear to ear.

  “What’s so funny?” Louanne asked.

  “Nothing.” Pete looked at Rowan and nodded toward the smaller bag. “You gonna give it to her?”

  “In front of a crowd? I was going to wait until we were alone, but I guess it won’t hurt to let her have it now.” Rowan set the grocery bag on the counter, then handed the beige bag to Louanne.

  She furrowed her brow, then looked at Rowan for an explanation. When he didn’t give her one, she asked, “What’s this?”

  “It’s a gift.” He tossed her a crooked grin. “For you.”

  Aggie edged closer, her curiosity apparent. “What’s in it?”

  There was only one way to find out. The crisp paper crinkled as Louanne opened the bag and peeked inside. A pretty lime-green fabric caught her eye. Curiosity mounting, she withdrew a slinky sundress.

  It was the kind of garment she might have worn years ago—back when she’d actually hoped to make her mark on the world, when she’d wanted to turn a man’s head. When she’d wanted to be noticed and appreciated.

  “I don’t understand.” She looked at the gorgeous man who was proving to be unpredictable. Would he explain?

  He merely stood there, watching her every move. “What’s this for?” she asked.

  “I wanted to thank you for taking me in.” Rowan slipped his thumbs into the front pockets of his worn jeans, looking as gorgeous and devilish as ever. “Do you like it?”

  Like it? Of course, she did. It was lovely. But what in the world was she going to do with a fancy garment like that on a cattle ranch? Her days of dressing up were over.

  Apparently, her silence implied she hadn’t appreciated his thoughtfulness or the gift, because he sobered and took the bag from her hands, leaving her to hold the dress. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a slip of paper. “I kept the receipt. So you can exchange it for something else, if you want to.”

  “No. I mean yes.” Louanne fingered the cloth, the chafed skin of her hands snagging on the silky material. Then she looked at Rowan. “It’s pretty. Thank you for thinking of me.”

  “But?” he asked, picking up on her reservations.

  “I’m not sure where I’d wear it.”

  “Why don’t you wear it while you hang out the wash? Or—” he nodded at the countertop where a dozen jars cooled “—or while you can green beans?”

  “That seems frivolous. Don’t you think?”

  “Not at all.” Their gazes locked, and for a moment, the walls of the room closed in, leaving only the two of them to deal with a blood-rushing attraction.

  As crazy as the idea seemed, Louanne was sorely tempted to slip into the stylish dress. To do her hair and apply some lipstick and a bit of mascara. Maybe even give herself a manicure and a pedicure. And even more tempting was the thought of Rowan’s reaction if she put some effort into it.

  Because truthfully speaking and humility aside, Louanne could look every bit as glamorous as her sister, Tallulah, when she wanted to.

  Lanay Landers, the stylish, sophisticated identity she’d banished to the far corner of her memory, reared her head, daring her to dress up for Rowan. To feel like a sexually attractive lady one more time.

  But she brushed aside the irrational suggestion. “It seems silly to keep a dress I’ll only wear to can beans and hang out the wash.”

  Rowan’s smile returned, and his gaze pierced hers. “How about wearing it tonight? For dinner? We can feed Noah, then dine on the front porch.”

  Dine? He made it sound fancy, special. Appealing. And the idea held more merit than Louanne cared to admit.

  Especially since she wondered what Rowan would think of the woman she no longer was.

  That evening, Louanne wiped the colorful remnants of Noah’s chicken-and-rice dinner from his little face and hands, then removed him from his high chair.

  She wasn’t sure how Rowan had managed to talk her into eating with him on the front porch. But he had. And she’d agreed to wear the dress he’d bought, too.

  “Can I help?” Rowan asked from the kitchen doorway. He appeared to have showered, his face freshly-shaven, his dark curls damp. He leaned against the doorjamb, half cocky, half rebellious. And completely sexy.

  Louanne found it difficult not to stare, not to notice the male interest that flared in his eyes. Sexual awareness made her painfully aware of the smudge of strained peas on her white shirt and the perspiration that dampened her brow.

  Was this dinner supposed to be some kind of makeshift date? Or was he just trying to be a nice guy?

  It was hard to say, especially since that nice guy was making her pulse soar and her imagination spark.

  He’d asked her a question, but she couldn’t seem to recall what it was. Had he asked whether she needed his help?

  “I’ve got everything under control. And I…uh…just need to get Noah ready for bed.”

  “I’ll take him for you.” Rowan slid her that bad-boy smile that sent her heart spinning like an out of control top on a hardwood floor. “So you can get dressed for dinner.”

  “You’ll put pajamas on Noah?” Her mouth had surely dropped. Was this the same guy who balked at keeping an eye on the baby last night? “Are you sure you want to tackle something like that?”

  Rowan tore his gaze from hers, settling on her son. “Do you want me to give it a shot, pal?”

  Noah lurched toward Rowan, and the man took him in his arms.

  “Diapering him is kind of tough,” Louanne said, feeling as though she should be honest. “He squirms around quite a bit. It’s like a game to him.”

  Rowan froze. “You want me to put on his diaper?”

  The frightened look in his eyes was priceless, and she grinned. “Well, you’ll have to take the old one off first.”

  “Change his pants?” The guy appeared to be taken aback.

  Louanne couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Maybe you ought to let me change his diaper, then you can lasso him and get his pajamas on.”

  “Good idea,” Rowan said with a grin. Then he followed her into Noah’s room.

  Making a point of showing him how to fold a diaper, Louanne managed to get the job done in record time, in part because Noah seemed mesmerized by Rowan standing over him. She slipped a pair of rubber pants over his double diaper, noting her rapidly growing son would need a larger size soon.

  Disposable diapers would probably make life a whole lot easier, but she couldn’t warrant the additional expense.

  She pulled a pair of
summer pajamas out of Noah’s bureau drawer and handed them to Rowan. “Do you think you can dress him for bed?”

  “How hard can it be?”

  Pretty difficult, at times, but she didn’t forewarn him. In fact, a part of her wanted to stand back, so she could watch what might prove to be an entertaining show.

  “I can handle this little guy,” Rowan said. “Why don’t you go change your clothes?”

  “It might take a while,” Louanne said. “I’m not slipping into that new outfit without a shower and a shampoo.”

  Rowan liked the idea of her putting some effort into dressing for dinner—dressing for him. He slid her a slow, easy smile. “Take all the time you need.”

  She seemed to ponder the idea, then smiled and walked away, leaving Rowan alone with the baby.

  He blew out a sigh, then held up the blue-and-yellow pajamas. Two pieces—top and bottom. Snaps all over the place. Why the hell did they put fasteners along the waist?

  Rowan had been sleeping in the raw so long, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d worn anything to bed. Another revelation.

  Why the hell couldn’t he remember something solid—something that would help him make sense of things?

  He slipped the little shirt on the baby. That was easy enough. But before he could snap the last button, Noah rolled over and crawled to the far side of the crib at a speedy pace.

  “Come back here,” Rowan said with a smile. “We’re not done, yet.”

  Noah grinned, his eyes—the same golden-brown hue as his mother’s—glistened in challenge.

  “So that’s how it is. I’ve got to catch you?”

  Noah shrieked.

  Three minutes later, Rowan managed to corral the kid and get his pajamas on, but he didn’t mess with the snaps in the waistband.

  Now what?

  Noah popped a thumb into his mouth, watching Rowan carefully, as if to see how much the bedtime routine had actually changed.

  What was the next item on the nighty-night list? “Now I lay me down to sleep?” A story?

  He wasn’t sure, but he had half a notion to give the kid a hug and a kiss goodnight, although he wasn’t sure where that idea came from.

  Instead, he gently brushed a hand across the light brown wisps of downy-soft hair. “Sleep tight, pal.”

  As Rowan turned toward the door, Noah blurted out a cry of protest, and Rowan wasn’t sure what to do. Did he stay and try to coax the kid to sleep? Did he go and let the little guy fuss for a while?

  Taking a chance, he flipped off the light switch. “It’s time for bed, Noah.”

  Silence followed him out of the room, so he figured he’d lucked out.

  Now all he had to do was get the table set up on the porch. He’d contemplated buying flowers and a candle for ambiance, while he and Pete were in town. But when Pete had poked fun at him for picking up a bottle of chardonnay at the liquor store, he decided not to let the old man know he meant to treat Louanne to a little romance.

  The flowers would have to wait until another time, but the darkened porch made candles a logical choice. He wondered whether Louanne had any stashed someplace. He supposed he’d have to look.

  A couple of minutes later, he spotted a set of candlesticks on the fireplace mantel.

  Had he always set a romantic mood when dining with a lady at home? It sure came easy for him. And the process had triggered some other memories, albeit nothing he’d call crucial or important. But as he’d perused the shelves at the liquor store, he’d realized he possessed a respectable knowledge of California wines. Where and how that information developed, he couldn’t be sure, but there hadn’t seemed to be any reason to hang a star on it.

  He’d chosen a bottle of Stag’s Leap chardonnay, which was now chilling in the refrigerator.

  And as he prepared dinner, he wondered where he’d learned to make chicken piccata, but the proper ingredients had seemed to magically pop into his grocery cart earlier today. And his hands knew exactly what to do.

  At times, he felt as though his memory was within reach, but he couldn’t find the key that would open the floodgates.

  Remembering things one piece at a time was frustrating.

  He fumbled his way through the kitchen, discovering a knife to slice the French bread, a bowl for the salad and two goblets that didn’t match. And when he’d almost given up, he found a corkscrew for the wine.

  He removed the cork and carried the chilled bottle and two glasses out to the front porch.

  Louanne wasn’t lying when she said it would take a while, but Rowan didn’t mind waiting. In fact, the anticipation of seeing her in the new dress grew steadily.

  And by the time he had set the table and lit the candles, she still hadn’t come out of her bedroom.

  Okay, so the table and setting was a bit rustic, but he’d set a romantic mood. And even the heavens had done their part to create a star-twinkling backdrop. He hoped Louanne would appreciate his efforts, and that this evening would make her feel special.

  Maybe she’d loosen up about leaving the ranch—no matter what her reasons were for remaining on the property.

  Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Rowan peered through the screen door, into the living room, and spotted Louanne. She looked radiant. Stunning.

  He stood on the porch like a befuddled high school freshman who’d been approached by the prom queen in full homecoming regalia.

  Hell, he’d figured Louanne would look good in green, and the dress had looked great on the hanger. But he’d never imagined how damn hot it would look on the tall, leggy brunette. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought the dress had been designed for her body alone.

  He shook off the initial adolescent reaction and opened the screen door to get a better view, to close the distance between them.

  Wow. A scooped neckline revealed the swell of her breasts, and narrow shoulder straps adorned her shoulders and chest, showing just enough skin to make a man wonder what lay beyond the green garment. The slinky material complemented every curve of her body. And Rowan had to make a conscious effort not to gape and gawk.

  A man with a pretty woman like that on his arm would want to hold her close all evening, with his hand possessively riding along the gentle contour of her hip.

  “You look lovely,” he said. “And whoever designed that dress would be amazed at what you’ve done for it.”

  “Thank you.” A blush only made her look prettier. She’d let her long brown hair hang loose, over her shoulders. And she wore makeup—not too much, just a splash of lipstick and a dab of mascara—just enough to draw a man’s attention to her eyes, the perfect cheekbones and the classic heart shape of her face.

  Just enough to make a man want to draw close. To mark his territory with a hug and a kiss.

  “Why don’t you come outside?” he suggested. “I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

  She seemed to flounder a moment, as though uncomfortable with the compliment. Or maybe with the way he was looking at her. Hell, she’d have to be a fool not to see the interest in his eyes or sense his desire to kiss her again.

  Rowan wasn’t sure what was in the cards tonight. But he intended to let this hand play itself out.

  Candlelight flickered on the patio table, competing with a silvery half-moon and a splatter of twinkling stars. The air was laden with the chirps of crickets and the songs of bullfrogs near the creek.

  Dinner had been perfect. Special. Delicious. Louanne couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent such a lovely evening—on the ranch or anywhere.

  Rowan refilled her glass of wine, and although she wasn’t really inclined to drink alcohol, the romantic ambiance made it difficult to resist.

  “It’s nice outside tonight,” he said.

  “I used to read out here on the porch. And even as darkness settled, I found it hard to drag myself out of a story long enough to go inside or turn on the porch light.” Louanne fingered the stem of her wine glass and smiled at the memory. “S
omeone would always take pity on me, though, and flip the switch.”

  “You like to read?”

  “I used to. When I was younger, I loved books, particularly literature.” She wasn’t sure why she’d opened up. The wine maybe? Or was she becoming more comfortable with Rowan?

  “Used to?” His eyes flickered in the candlelight. “You don’t like to read anymore?”

  “I started writing a book a couple years ago and spent my free time in front of my laptop computer. And I suppose I just haven’t renewed my old reading habits.”

  “Did you finish the book?”

  She didn’t answer right away. And when she did, she told the truth. “No. I stopped writing before Noah was born.”

  “Why?”

  What could she say? That her literary efforts, as well as her dreams and the promise of an exciting future had been dashed by a crazed man who wanted to own her body, heart and soul? A man who’d threatened to kill her if he couldn’t have her to himself?

  Rowan continued to stare at her, to slowly uncover every lie she’d ever told. Or at least, that’s the way it felt.

  “Things were different while I was in college. It was easy to dream. But I wasn’t living in the real world. And when I moved home to the ranch and became a mother, reality settled in.” She tried to shake off the morose millstone that her spirit lugged around and forced a smile. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll find time to read again.”

  “And time to dream?” he asked.

  How had he known that she’d given up her dreams? Did he suspect that the nightmares had taken their place?

  Yet each time she caught Rowan’s eye, each time she felt that spark of desire heat her blood, she felt her imagination stirring. And it seemed foolish. A complete waste of time and energy. After all, with Richard waiting to pounce on her, she couldn’t very well think of love and romance or fame and fortune.

  So she shrugged off his question with another. “What good does it do to dream?”

  Rowan didn’t know who or what had hurt Louanne. He suspected Noah’s father had done a real number on her. And the loss of her parents had to have been tough. He hated the idea that her hopes—and possibly her spirit—had been squelched.