The Cowboy She Never Forgot

by Cheryl Biggs

  He’d also dated other women. Lots of other women. But there had always been something in each, or lacking in each of them, that had reminded him of Kate...the sound of their laughter, a hint of red in their hair, a movement, gesture or word. Now, just being near her again, the solitude that he’d wrapped around his heart in order to survive, the denials that were his silent bulwark against the world and his own vulnerability, threatened to crumble and desert him. There was no longer any way he could deny that what he’d felt for her three years ago was still very much alive in his heart, and that realization scared the hell out of him.

  For -what seemed a timeless second, Kate’s eyes searched Shane’s face as she appreciated what she hadn’t seen in three long years, but what had been indelibly printed upon her memory for all time. Suddenly, she was more aware of him than she had ever been. His masculine force seemed to reach out and wrap around her, touching her with his will, his purpose and strength. The sensation awakened feelings in Kate she’d never expected to feel again, and though she knew she shouldn’t, she welcomed them.

  His hand moved to caress her cheek, and a delicious shiver slid through her.

  Kate looked up then, her gaze met his, and she was once again lost in the infinite darkness of his eyes.

  Shane’s fingers skipped downward to tenderly follow the curve of her jaw, his touch as featherlight and gentle as the delicate fluttering of a hummmgbird’s wings on the still summer air.

  Desire flared within Kate, burning hot, beckoning her to yield to its hungers, draining her of all hesitation and doubt. Her hands moved to his shoulders, slipped around his neck and dived into the silky, dark curls at his nape. She drew him to her as every other thought, every hesitation and doubt, slipped from her consciousness.

  This was Shane, her heart cried happily. He had finally come back to her.

  His lips brushed lightly across hers.

  A soft moan of pleasure and need escaped Kate’s throat.

  His lips moved over hers again. “Kate,” he said, his voice broken with emotion.

  Flapjack jumped onto the foot of the bed and, as if to emphasize his appearance, issued a guttural meow.

  Sanity returned to Kate like a slap of icy mountain water to her face. She jerked her hands from Shane’s neck, tore her lips from his, and pressed back against her pillow, as if cringing from him.

  The cat gingerly walked across the bed and began to knead the pillow next to Kate’s head.

  “Kate?” Shane looked down at her with a frown of puzzlement.

  She started to shift to one side in an effort to put more distance between them, and her elbow smacked into Flapjack’s nose.

  His face instantly screwed into a scowl and he hissed in annoyance.

  Kate ignored the cat and, though she didn’t want to, she looked up at Shane. Her heart and mind were at war, battling each other. The desperate need to be loved by him was like a gnawing hunger that threatened to consume her and wipe all reason from her mind.

  She couldn’t let that happen. Nothing had really changed for them, she reminded herself. Nothing.

  A bleak slant pulled at Shane’s mouth as he straightened and looked down at her for a long moment.

  She thought he was going to say something, to ask her why she’d pulled away from him, and she would be forced to lie to him again.

  But he didn’t ask. Instead, his shoulders stiffened and he turned and walked back to her door. “I’ll lock everything up, Kate. If you need anything, call me, I’ll be in the guest room.”

  Shane stood at the French doors that took up one wall of the guest room and stared out at the moonlit sagebrush that dappled the hill to one side of Kate’s property.

  He’d tried watching television, reading a magazine, and going over his plans for the ranch, but the desire that had nearly engulfed him as he’d carried her to bed, then brushed his lips across hers, wouldn’t leave him. Instead, like a coiled knot of fire, it remained smoldering within him, a merciless reminder that the only woman who had ever made him feel this way was just on the other side of his door...and didn’t want him.

  He sighed deeply. His body was tired and more than ready for sleep, but his mind was treacherously awake. If his reflection in the window was anything to judge by, he looked even worse than he felt.

  What had he thought he was doing, bringing her home? Playing nursemaid? Insisting on staying with her? She didn’t want him. Resentment struggled against the passion that still lingered in his blood.

  Three years ago she had chosen her job over him, and she hadn’t called him when she’d finally left it. She hadn’t let him know she was no longer a cop, that her life was no longer in that kind of danger. She hadn’t let him know she was competing in the rodeo, and she had lied to him and claimed there was another man in her life when he’d approached her.

  How much more blatant did she have to make it to him that she wasn’t interested?

  It was obvious from the desire he’d seen in her eyes, felt in her kiss, that physically she wanted him, but something was holding her back, and Shane figured that something was most likely the fact that she didn’t love him anymore. She probably never had.

  He damned himself. How many times did he have to play the village idiot before he figured out the game? Shane turned away from the window and looked at his clothes, draped across a nearby chair. If he was smart, if he had any brains at all, he’d get dressed and go back to the trailer.

  Kate stared through the darkness at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come and afraid it wasn’t ever going to. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts that made no sense, questions without answers, emotion without reason.

  Tears stung her eyes. If she let him back into her life the way he had been three years ago, it would just end the same way. Once he found out she was still on the job, he would leave her, but this time she feared she wouldn’t survive it.

  Maybe she wouldn’t anyway. Maybe it was already too late. She flicked on the lamp that sat on her nightstand, then glanced at the small gold clock her father had given her for her last birthday. Two in the morning. She lay back and sighed wearily.

  The house was eerily silent, except for the rumble of Flapjack’s snoring from the foot of her bed.

  Kate sat up and glanced toward the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom. Throwing back the sheet, she unthinkingly swung her legs off the bed. The moment her injured foot settled onto the floor a blast of brilliantly colored shooting stars erupted within her head and a gasp of pain and surprise rushed from her lips.

  Memory of her injury, of the accident, rushed back upon her. She looked around the room. Shane had carried her to bed, and her crutches were nowhere in sight, which meant they were most likely still propped up against the sofa in the living room. But it didn’t matter because she had to go to the bathroom, and she had absolutely no intention of calling Shane in to help her with that.

  Bracing one hand on the nightstand, and the other on the edge of her mattress, she planted her good foot squarely on the plush throw rug beside the bed and pushed herself upright, but made sure to keep her injured foot off the floor. Her balance wavered for several seconds as she felt like an awkward flamingo.

  It was about five feet from her nightstand to her bureau, then about another six from her bureau to the door to the bathroom. Leaning on the furniture and the wall, she could make it. She took her first hop, fought to maintain her balance, and her hand knocked into the clock. It smacked loudly against the wall, then fell to the hardwood floor with a crash that would wake the dead. Kate swore, hopped to the edge of the nightstand, made it to the bureau, then paused and bit her lip, staring at the bathroom door as she struggled to get her breath and remain on one foot.

  She released her hold on the bureau and hopped hurriedly, crashed against the bathroom door, and nearly fell onto the toilet. A sharp pain in her rib cage as she landed made her wince. Two minutes later she stood at the door again, preparing for her return journey.

  The door to the hallw
ay suddenly burst open.

  Startled, Kate jumped, gasped and clutched tight to the doorjamb.

  Shane stood in the doorway, clenched fists rammed on his hips, and his eyes narrowed in angry challenge. The soft glow of her bedroom lamp danced within the short curls of his dark hair, turned his muscular, bare chest to a rippling wall of shadow-touched bronze, and his long, lean legs to pillars of gold. Meanwhile, his snugly fitting white cotton briefs left little to her imagination.

  Kate’s heart nearly leapt from her breast as her gaze filled with the sight.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice like a sweep of ominous thunder rolling through the room and jerking her back to the reality of the moment.

  Kate stiffened. She didn’t like feeling helpless, and she especially didn’t like it in front of Shane. “I had to go to the bathroom,” she snapped testily. “Or did you want to do that for me, too?”

  A smile broke over his face as he ran a hand through his tousled dark hair, then crossed the room toward her. “No, but I could have carried you in there.” He walked toward her. “C’mon, I’ll help you back to bed.”

  “No, you won’t,” she said, slapping at the hand that reached out to circle her waist. She had to keep him at a distance, physically and emotionally, for both their sakes. “I’m quite capable of getting there on my own.”

  Shane glanced at the clock lying on the floor, its glass face broken, and the gold case knocked slightly askew. “With how many more fatalities?”

  She followed his pointed gaze, then raised her chin defiantly. “None, unless it’s yours.” She hopped hurriedly toward the bureau, practically falling against it in relief when she made it. “See,” she snipped, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I’m fine.”

  Shane’s eyes moved over her, dropping from her face to the sloped curve of her shoulder, to the narrowness of her waist, the slim curve of her hips, the enticing shadow of her rear end, covered only by the sheer threads of her nightgown, and the long, delicate line of her legs. “You certainly are,” he said finally.

  From the seductive tone of his voice, and the look she saw in his eyes as they moved back up over her little nothing of a negligee, she knew he wasn’t referring to her bunny hop across the room, or her temporary disablement.

  She turned away from him and took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse and heartbeat. It was from her physical efforts, she told herself, not a reaction to his presence.

  “Kate, you’re going to fall.”

  Just a few more feet, that’s all that was left between her and the nightstand. She could do it.

  “Let me help you,” Shane said, moving toward her again.

  “No.” She quickly released the bureau before he could get to her, hopped forward, glanced at him and lost her balance. A thin shriek ripped from her throat as her arms flailed the air and she began to fall.

  Shane lunged forward, caught her and dragged her up against his chest. “I told you to let me help you,” he said, emotion turning his voice deep and husky.

  Explosive currents instantly swept through her body as she leaned into his bare chest and felt the hot splay of his hands on her back.

  “Are you all right?”

  She felt the heat of his flesh beneath her hand, the accelerated beat of his heart beneath the fingers that lay over it, the warmth of his breath, ragged now, as it stirred the wisps of hair curled at her temple.

  Nothing is all right, she wanted to say. Nothing will ever again be all right. Her emotions, her senses, threatened to spin out of control. Denial of her desires was no longer an option. He had come back, and she was in his arms.

  Kate moved her hand slightly, allowing her fingers to slip within the light matting of dark hair that grew in the center of his chest.

  Shane sucked in a sharp intake of breath, but remained still, afraid if he moved, if he even dared to breathe, she would disappear.

  Kate licked her suddenly dry lips. She knew, somewhere in the farthest regions in the back of her mind, that she should pull away from him, end this before it went any further, before she couldn’t end it. The logic of rejection warred with the fear of the loneliness that lay ahead of her after he left again, and the desire to remain within the circle of his arms, to be loved by him just one more time.

  Logic lost.

  Her gaze moved slowly over his face, pausing to admire each plane and curve, to compare each change, no matter how minute, with her memories, and commit these new moments there with the rest for all time.

  Long after he was gone, and she had no doubt he would soon be gone from her life again, she would remember him like this. The passion that had simmered within her for three long years, ignored and denied, began to consume her body now. He was more temptation than she could or wanted to resist. Good or bad, right or wrong, he was the only man she loved, the only man she would ever love.

  She looked into his eyes, then reached up and ran a finger lightly over his lips. She couldn’t run from her feelings anymore, even though deep down inside of her she knew what she was doing was wrong. But she also knew it was too late to stop, too late to deny release of the passion Shane had aroused in her. “I’ve missed you so much, Shane,” she said in a tremulous whisper.

  It was more than Shane could stand, more than he was able to turn away from. He was lost now, no matter what else happened or didn’t happen, he was lost, he was hers, for tonight and always. Her words, her hands on his chest, her body pressed close to his, banished the tight hold Shane had on the last threads of denial. He pulled her into his arms. His need was savage, but his embrace was gentle as he remembered her injuries. But he couldn’t stop the soft moan of need that rumbled from his throat.

  She was ecstasy in his arms, her body soft and warm and pliant as it pressed up against his length, her curves filling his planes, inciting his needs, inviting his touch, melding with his lean length until no space separated them, no light or air was left between them.

  Damn the past, he thought, as he lowered his head toward hers. Damn all the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this.

  His mouth closed over hers, hard and hot, in a kiss filled with as much feral gentleness, as tender demand. All the loneliness, the need and longing that had lived within his long-pent-up emotions swept through him in a maelstrom of desire that shattered every barrier and defense he’d ever built around his emotions, and drew him into its abyss.

  Kate felt as if she were losing herself, and she didn’t care. She had loved him with all her heart, and she had hated him with all her heart. He had left her, and he’d come back. None of that mattered anymore, not at this moment. Her arms slid around his shoulders to draw him closer, to hold him tightly to her, if only for a little while, as her tongue slipped into his mouth and dueled with his.

  An ache of intense yearning invaded her body, sweeping all thought of everything and anything other than Shane Larrabee from Kate’s mind. Fiery heat overwhelmed every cell, every muscle and fiber, turned her limbs languid, filled her mind and heart and left her with only one thought, one need, one desire—to be loved by him.

  His mouth left hers, leaving her filled with a momentary sense of loss. Then his lips skimmed the line of her jaw, and traveled in a tender foray of exploration down the long column of her neck, each nipping kiss stoking the fires that had lam dormant within her for so long.

  “Red,” Shane whispered, breathing in the sweet scent of her as the sweeping fire of need threatened to consume his body. At the same time a niggling fear, which he desperately tried to ignore, whispered from the back of his mind that he was merely dreaming. “You are so beautiful.”

  “Love me, Shane,” Kate pleaded against his lips as they moved to recapture hers. “Please, just love me.”

  Chapter 10

  Shane swept Kate into his arms and carried her back to the huge pine bed that nearly dominated the room.

  She held him tightly about his shoulders as he gently lowered her onto the silk sheet, then moved to e
ase his long length down beside her.

  He showered kisses around her lips, her cheeks, over her eyes, along her jaw, then smothered her lips with his in a kiss that sent shock waves racing through her body, and threatening to melt her soul.

  In spite of the urgency gnawing at his insides, in spite of his need to lose himself within her and fulfill at least some of the dreams that had haunted him for the past three years, Shane forced himself to move slowly, to savor each kiss, each caress, and slip of his hands over the smooth curves of her body.

  She writhed beneath him as his mouth worked magic upon hers and his fingers pushed the silky veil of her negligee from her body. Each touch was a brush of taunting tenderness that left her body responding like fire to dry tinder, and silently begging for more.

  His hands explored her breasts, moved over the contour of her hips, roamed the length of her thighs. Her body arched upward toward him, curled into him, trembled beneath his touch. Every shiver of response his caresses elicited from her left his own body feeling about to explode from the need building within him.

  Her name slipped from his lips, and Kate relished the sound. His mouth moved to her breast, teasing its tip, pulling the taut nipple between his lips, then deserting it, and moving over the tender curve of her rib cage, the taut plane of her stomach, the curve of her hip.

  A fiery path of burning flesh was left behind everywhere he touched, then suddenly he was gone. Kate’s eyes shot open in surprise as desolation instantly filled both her mind and body.

  He stood beside the bed, looking down at her, his own body bathed in the haze of amber moonlight filtering through the French doors.