by Nora Roberts
Aaron didn’t ask himself how he’d known she’d be there. He didn’t ask himself why knowing it, he’d come. Both he and the stallion remained still as he watched her. She didn’t splash around but simply drifted quietly so that the water made soft lapping sounds that didn’t disturb the birdsong. He thought he could see the fatigue drain from her. It was the first time he’d seen her completely relaxed without the light of adventure or temper or even laughter in her eyes. This was something she did for herself, and though he knew he intruded, he stayed where he was.
Her skin was milky pale where the sun hadn’t touched it. Beneath the rippling water, he could see the slender curves of her body. Her hair clung to her head and shoulders and burned like fire. So did the need that started low in his stomach and spread through his blood.
Did she know how exquisite she was with that long, limber body and creamy skin? Did she know how seductive she looked with that mass of chestnut hair sleek around a face that held both delicacy and strength? No, he thought as she sank beneath the surface, she wouldn’t know—wouldn’t allow herself to know. Perhaps it was time he showed her. With the slightest of signals, he walked Samson to a tree on his side of the boundary.
Jillian surfaced and found herself looking directly up into Aaron’s eyes. Her first shock gave way to annoyance and annoyance to outrage when she remembered her disadvantage. Aaron saw all three emotions. His lips twitched.
“What’re you doing here?” she demanded. She knew she could do nothing about modesty and didn’t attempt to. Instead she relied on bravado.
“How’s the water?” Aaron asked easily. Another woman, he mused, would’ve made some frantic and useless attempt to conceal herself. Not Jillian. She just tossed up her chin.
“It’s cold. Now, why don’t you go back to wherever you came from so I can finish what I’m doing.”
“It was a long, dusty morning.” He sat on a rock near the edge of the pool and smiled companionably. Like Jillian’s, his clothes and skin were streaked with grime and sweat. The signs of hard work and effort suited him. Aaron tilted back his hat. “Looks inviting.”
“I was here first,” she said between her teeth. “If you had any sense of decency, you’d go away.”
“Yep.” He bent over and pulled off his boots.
Jillian watched first one then the other hit the grass. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Thought I’d take a dip.” He gave her an engaging grin as he tossed his hat aside.
“Think again.”
He rose, and his brow lifted slowly as he unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m on my own land,” he pointed out. He tossed the shirt aside so that Jillian had an unwanted and fascinating view of a hard, lean torso with brown skin stretched tight over the rib cage and a dark vee of hair that trailed down to the low-slung waist of his jeans.
“Damn you, Murdock,” she muttered, and judged the distance to her own clothes. Too far to be any use.
“Relax,” he suggested, enjoying himself. “We can pretend there’s wire strung clean down the middle.” With this he unhooked his belt.
His eyes stayed on hers. Jillian’s first instinct to look away was overruled by the amusement she saw there. Coolly she watched him strip. If she had to swallow, she did it quietly.
Damn, did he have to be so beautiful? she asked herself and kept well to her own side as he slid into the water. The ripples his body made spread out to tease her own skin. Shivering, she sank a little deeper.
“You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”
Aaron gave a long sigh as the water rinsed away dust and cooled his blood. “Have to admit I am. View from in here’s no different from the one I had out there,” he reminded her easily. “And I’d already given some thought to what you’d look like without your clothes. Most redheads have freckles.”
“I’m just lucky, I guess.” Her dimple flickered briefly. At least they were on equal ground again. “You’re built like most cowboys,” she told him in a drawl. “Lots of leg, no hips.” She let her arms float lazily. “I’ve seen better,” she lied. Laughing, she tilted her head and let her legs come up, unable to resist the urge to tease him.
He had only to reach out to grab her ankle and drag her to him. Aaron rubbed his itchy palm on his thigh and relaxed. “You make a habit of skinny-dipping up here?”
“No one comes here.” Tossing the hair out of her eyes, she shot him a look. “Or no one did. If you’re going to start using the pond regularly, we’ll have to work out some kind of schedule.”
“I don’t mind the company.” He drifted closer so that his body brushed the imaginary line.
“Keep to your own side, Murdock,” she warned softly, but smiled. “Trespassers still get shot these days.” To show her lack of concern, she closed her eyes and floated. “I like to come here on Sunday afternoons, when the men are in the ranch yard, pitching horseshoes and swapping lies.”
Aaron studied her face. No, he’d never seen her this relaxed. He wondered if she realized just how little space she gave herself. “Don’t you like to swap lies?”
“Men tend to remember I’m a woman on Sunday afternoons. Having me around puts a censor on the—ah, kind of lies.”
“They only remember on Sunday afternoons?”
“It’s easy to forget the way a person’s built when you’re out on the range or shoveling out stalls.”
He let his eyes skim down the length of her, covered by only a few inches of water. “You say so,” he murmured.
“And they need time to complain.” With another laugh, she let her legs sink. “About the food, the pay, the work. Hard to do all that when the boss is there.” She spun her hand just under the surface and sent the water waving all the way to the edge. He thought it was the first purely frivolous gesture he’d ever seen her make. “Your men complain, Murdock?”
“You should’ve heard them when my sister decided to fix up the bunkhouse six or seven years back.” The memory made him grin. “Seems she thought the place needed some pretty paint and curtains—gingham curtains, baby-blue paint.”
“Oh, my God.” Jillian tried to imagine what her crew’s reaction would be if they were faced with gingham. Throwing back her head, she laughed until her sides ached. “What did they do?”
“They refused to wash anything, sweep anything, or throw anything away. In two weeks’ time the place looked like the county dump—smelled like it too.”
“Why’d your father let her do it?” Jillian asked, wiping her eyes.
“She looks like my mother,” Aaron said simply.
Nodding, she sighed from the effort of laughing. “But they got rid of the curtains.”
“I—let’s say they disappeared one night,” he amended.
Jillian gave him a swift appraising look. “You took them down and burned them.”
“If I haven’t admitted that in seven years, I’m not going to admit it now. It took damned near a week to get that place cleared out,” he remembered. She was smiling at him in such an easy, friendly way it took all his willpower not to reach over and pull her to his side. “Did you do the orphan today?”
“Earmarked, vaccinated, and branded,” Jillian returned, trailing her hands through the water again.
“Is that all?”
She grinned, knowing his meaning. “In a couple of years Baby’s going to be giving his poppa some competition.” She shrugged, so that her body shifted and the water lapped close at the curve of her breast. The less she seemed concerned about her body, the more he became fascinated by it. “I have a feeling about him,” she continued. “No use making a steer out of a potential breeder.” A cloud of worry came into her eyes. “I rode the west fence before I came up here. I didn’t see any more breaks.”
“There weren’t any more.” He’d known they had to discuss it, but it annoyed him to have the few moments of simple camaraderie interrupted. He couldn’t remember sharing that sort of simplicity with a woman before. “My men rounded
up six cows that had strayed to your side. Seemed like you had about twice that many on mine.”
She hesitated a moment, worrying her bottom lip. “Then your count balances?”
He heard the tension in her voice and narrowed his eyes. “Seems to. Why?”
She kept her eyes level and expressionless. “I’m a good hundred head short.”
“Hundred?” He’d grabbed her arm before he realized it. “A hundred head? Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be until we count again and go over the books. But we’re short, I’m sure of that.”
He stared at her as his thoughts ran along the same path hers had. That many cows didn’t stray on their own. “I’ll do a count of my own herd in the morning, but I can tell you, I’d know if I had that much extra cattle in my pasture.”
“I’m sure you would. I don’t think that’s where they are.”
Aaron reached up to touch her cheek. “I’d like to help you—if you need some extra hands. We can take the plane up. Maybe they wandered in the other direction.”
She felt something soften inside her that shouldn’t have. A simple offer of help when she needed it—and his hand was gentle on her face. “I appreciate it,” Jillian began unsteadily. “But I don’t think the cattle wandered any more than you do.”
“No.” He combed the hair away from her face. “I’ll go with you to the sheriff.”
Unused to unselfish support, she stared at him. Neither was aware that they were both drifting to the line, and each other. “No—I . . . it isn’t necessary, I can deal with it.”
“You don’t have to deal with it alone.” How was it he’d never noticed how fragile she was? he wondered. Her eyes were so young, so vulnerable. The curve of her cheek was so delicate. He ran his thumb over it and felt her tremble. Somehow his hand was at her lower back, bringing her closer. “Jillian . . .” But he didn’t have the words, only the needs. His mouth came to hers gently.
Her hands ran up his back, skimming up wet, cool skin. Her lips parted softly under his. The tip of his tongue ran lazily around the inside of her mouth, stopping to tease hers. Jillian relaxed against him, content for the long, moist kiss to go on and on. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so pliant, so much in tune with another’s movements and wishes. His lips grew warmer and heated hers. Against her own, she could feel his heartbeat—quick and steady. His mouth left hers only long enough to change the angle before he began to slowly deepen the kiss.
It happened so gradually she had no defense. It was an emptiness that started in her stomach like a hunger, then spread until it was an ache to be loved. Her body yearned for it. Her heart began to tell her he was the one she could share herself with, not without risk, not without pain, but with something she’d almost forgotten to ask for: hope.
But when her mind started to cloud, she struggled to clear it. It wasn’t sharing, she told herself even as his lips slanted over hers to persuade her. It was giving, and if she gave she could lose. Only a fool would forget the boundary line that stood between them.
She pulled out of his hold and stared at him. Was she mad? Making love to a Murdock when her fence had been cut and a hundred of her cows were missing? Was she so weak that a gentle touch, a tender kiss, made her forget her responsibilities and obligations?
“I told you to stay on your own side,” she said unsteadily. “I meant it.” Turning away, she cut through the water and scrambled up the bank.
Breathing fast, Aaron watched her. She’d been so soft, so giving in his arms. He’d never wanted a woman more—never felt just that way. It came like a blow that she was the first who’d really mattered, and the first to throw his own emotion back in his face. Grimly he swam back to his own side.
“You’re one tough lady, aren’t you?”
Jillian heard the water lap as he pulled himself from it. Without bothering to shake it out, she dragged on her dusty shirt. “That’s right. God knows why I was fool enough to think I could trust you.” Why did she want so badly to weep when she never wept? she wondered and buttoned her shirt with shaky fingers. “All that talk about helping me, just so you could get what you wanted.” Keeping her back to him, she pulled up her brief panties.
Aaron’s hands paused on the snap of his jeans. Rage and frustration tumbled through him so quickly he didn’t think he’d be able to control it. “Be careful, Jillian.”
She whirled around, eyes brilliant, breasts heaving. “Don’t you tell me what to do. You’ve been clear right from the beginning about what you wanted.”
Muscles tense, he laid a hand on the saddle of his stallion. “That’s right.”
The calm answer only filled her with more fury. “I might’ve respected your honesty if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve got a cut fence and missing cattle. Things like that didn’t happen when you were in Billings waiting for your father to—” She cut herself off, appalled at what she’d been about to say. Whatever apology she might have made was swallowed at the murderous look he sent her.
“Waiting for him to what?” Aaron said softly—too softly.
The ripple of fear made her lift her chin. “That’s for you to answer.”
He knew he didn’t dare go near her. If he did she might not come out whole. His fingers tightened on the rope that hung on his saddle. “Then you’d better keep your thoughts to yourself.”
She’d have given half her spread to have been able to take those hateful, spiteful words back. But they’d been said. “And you keep your hands to yourself,” she said evenly. “I want you to stay away from me and mine. I don’t need soft words, Murdock. I don’t want them from you or anyone. You’re a damn sight easier to take without the pretense.” She stalked away to grab at her jeans.
He acted swiftly. He didn’t think. His mind was still reeling from her words—words that had stung because he’d never felt or shown that kind of tenderness to another woman. What had flowed through him in the pond had been much more than a physical need and complex enough to allow him to be hurt for the first time by a woman.
Jillian gave out a gasp of astonishment as the circle of rope slipped around her, snapping snugly just about her waist and pinning her arms above the elbows. Whirling on her heel, she grabbed at the line. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
With a jerk, Aaron brought her stumbling forward. “What I should’ve done a week ago.” His eyes were nearly black with fury as she fell helplessly against him. “You won’t get any more soft words out of me.”
She struggled impotently against the rope, but her eyes were defiant and fearless. “You’re going to pay for this, Murdock.”
He didn’t doubt it, but at that moment he didn’t give a damn. Gathering her wet hair in one hand, he dragged her closer. “By God,” he muttered. “I think it’ll be worth it. You make a man ache, Jillian, in the middle of the night when he should have some peace. One minute you’re so damn soft, and the next you’re snarling. Since you can’t make up your mind, I’ll do it for you.”
His mouth came down on hers so that she could taste enraged desire. She fought against it even as it found some answering chord in her. His chest was still naked, still wet, so that her shirt soaked up the moisture. The air rippled against her bare legs as he scooped them out from under her. With her mouth still imprisoned by his, she found herself lying on the sun-warmed grass beneath him. Her fury didn’t leave room for panic.
She squirmed under him, kicking and straining against the rope, cursing him when he released her mouth to savage her neck. But an oath ended on a moan when his mouth came back to hers. He nipped into her full bottom lip as if to draw out passion. Her movements beneath him altered in tone from protest to demand, but neither of them noticed. Jillian only knew her body was on fire, and that this time she’d submit to it no matter what the cost.
He was drowning in her. He’d forgotten about the rope, forgotten his anger and his hurt. All he knew was that she was warm and slender beneath him and that her mouth was enough to drive a
man over the line of reason. Nothing about her was calm. Her lips were avid and seeking; her fingers dug into his waist. He could feel the thunder of her heart race to match his. When she caught his lip between her teeth and drew it into her mouth, he groaned and let her have her way.
Jillian flew with the sensations. The grass rubbed against her legs as she shifted them to allow him more intimacy. His hair smelled of the water that ran from it onto her skin. She tasted it, and the light flavor of salt and flesh when she pressed her lips to his throat. Her name shivered in a desperate whisper against her ear. No soft words. There was nothing soft, nothing gentle about what they brought to each other now. This was a raw, primitive passion that she understood even as it was tapped for the first time. She felt his fingers skim down her shirt, releasing buttons so that he could find her. But it was his mouth not his hand that closed over the taut peak, hot and greedy. The need erupted and shattered her.
Lips, teeth, and tongue were busy on her flesh as she lay dazed from the first swift, unexpected crest. While she fought to catch her breath, Aaron tugged on her shirt to remove it, cursing when it remained tight at her waist. In an urgent move his hand swept down. His fingers touched rope. He froze, his breath heaving in his lungs.
Good God, what was he doing? Squeezing his eyes tight, he fought for reason. His face was nuzzled in the slender valley between her breasts so that he could feel as well as hear the frantic beat of her heart.
He was about to force himself on a helpless woman. No matter what the provocation, there could be no absolution for what he was on the edge of doing. Cursing himself, Aaron tugged on the rope, then yanked it over her head. After he’d tossed it aside, he looked down at her.
Her mouth was swollen from his. Her eyes were nearly closed and so clouded he couldn’t read them. She lay so still he could feel each separate tremor from her body. He wanted her badly enough to beg. “You can make me pay now,” he said softly and rolled from her onto his back.
She didn’t move, but looked up into the calm blue sky while needs churned inside her. The warbler was still singing, the roses still blooming.
