by Sara Orwig
“I can’t agree with that. It seems to me that it’s exactly what both of us want.” His voice was husky and raw. He stretched as if struggling to regain his control.
“My sister was devastated by a broken heart. I don’t want the same thing to happen to me.”
“Scared you might fall in love with me?” he asked with a challenging note in his voice.
She tilted her head to study him. “As scared as you are to fall in love—period. With me or anyone else.”
His blue-green eyes turned icy, and she could feel a wall come up between them. When he wanted to, he shut himself off, keeping part of himself entirely private. Sometime in the past someone had hurt him badly, but he didn’t want to share who or when or how with her, and she wasn’t going to pry.
“Merry, I know this won’t last and you know it won’t. But why not enjoy the pleasure we find in each other? You’ve kissed guys before.”
“Not like you,” she answered honestly, and he drew a deep breath.
He moved to the end of the sofa away from her and raked his hair away from his face with both hands. Shaking his hair back from his face, he seemed to be gulping for breath.
She pulled her T-shirt swiftly over her head and jammed the wispy lace bra into a jeans pocket. As she stepped into her jeans, she saw him watching her intently.
“You’re a beautiful woman,” he said in a low voice.
“Thank you,” she replied while her heart drummed with pleasure. She reminded herself he had told that to plenty of other women and not to be bowled over by sweet talk and hot kisses, but her heart wasn’t listening to her head. When he caught her wrist lightly, she looked at him in surprise. The touch was casual, merely done to get her attention, yet it sent shock waves reverberating through her. Her body ached for his touch, for his kisses, for him to finish what he had started.
That wasn’t something she wanted to let him know. Unable to summon words, she looked at him quizzically.
“Don’t go. I’m not sleepy and I know you’re not. Let’s just sit and talk,” he said, releasing her wrist.
“Just sit and talk—you promise?”
“Sure,” he answered. He wiped his brow, beaded with sweat, and she still felt hot, too. “You say you want commitment, Merry. How much commitment?”
Surprised by his question, she sat and put her bare feet on the sofa, hugging her knees and facing him while she mulled his question.
“An affair—long-term? Marriage?” he asked. “What do you really want when you talk about commitment?”
“I’m very old-fashioned, Jason,” she answered, knowing this would be the answer that would send him running or bring that cold wall higher between them. “I want it all. I want marriage. And for me, marriage is sacred and special.”
“How’ll you know when you meet the right person?”
“I’ll know,” she said quietly, trying to avoid looking too deeply into her feelings now as she studied the handsome cowboy facing her. She didn’t want to admit the bald truth, but her heart was screaming her feelings.
“Just like that?” he asked quizzically. “Like lightning striking or what?” He sounded sincerely puzzled, as if she were the expert and he the novice in dealing with sex and love.
“I’ll know the way anyone knows when she or he is in love. Surely you’ve been in love?”
He looked away, but not before she caught a strange flash that was almost a grimace. “I’ve loved, and I don’t believe you if you tell me you’ve never been in love. You’ve dated, haven’t you?”
“Yes. I haven’t ever been truly, deeply in love. I don’t want what you’re accustomed to—flings that hold no strings of any sort. That’s different.”
He pulled at his jeans stretched across his knee and glanced at her, then looked back at his knee. His scowl hinted at some inner turmoil raging, but she remained silent, knowing if he wanted to say something to her, he would.
She put her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes, aware that they were at an impasse. And aware that she already cared too much about him. He was attracted to her, but did she want to give what was between them any chance to bloom? Could she risk her heart in dating him? Questions swirled in her mind and there were no easy answers except the one that tore at her every time she came back to it—go back to Dallas and get away from him. Even given the few people she knew in Royal, she had heard talk about Jason being such a playboy.
“Merry, I loved someone and I got hurt badly once,” he admitted. She raised her head to listen. “I don’t ever want to get hurt like that again,” he said.
As she heard him talk about someone he obviously must have loved deeply, pain cut deep in her heart. At the same time, she realized he had just opened a part of himself to her that she suspected he kept closed from nearly everyone else.
“I’m sorry,” she replied quietly. “Love carries risk and sometimes loving means hurting. Were you engaged?”
He was silent so long, she wondered whether her question had intruded too much. He shook his head finally. “No. When I was five, my mother left my father and my brothers and me. She remarried.”
“Jason!” Merry said softly, shocked and caught by surprise, never guessing the shuttered looks had been because of his mother. A muscle worked in his jaw, and his fist was clenched on his knee. He had already told her his parents had been divorced, but she didn’t realize those old hurts still plagued him.
“My father never got over her. Never. That’s what hurt so damned badly. He loved her every day all his life, and he drank too much to drown his sorrows. It hurt to lose her, but that pain never diminished because my brothers and I had to watch our dad suffer. My brothers have had bad marriages, and I vowed I would avoid loving someone the way my father and brothers did. No commitment—no great hurt.”
“Jason, love doesn’t always bring hurt,” she said, aghast at his dismal view of love.
“It makes you damn vulnerable,” he said with rough cynicism.
“You want to go through life alone? There are so many joys when you share life. Children are wonderful.”
“I have my nephews and I haven’t exactly been lonely.”
She hurt for him and she hurt for herself because she suspected his life was settled the way he wanted it, and he was in no danger of risking his heart. That realization spread pain deep inside her, because he was a strong-willed man who was old enough and experienced enough to know what he wanted and to control his impulses when he needed to. Hurt and sadness filled her. She was aware of the invisible barrier between them.
She thought about the living room that didn’t seem to fit the rest of the house. “Your mother decorated the living room, didn’t she?”
“Yes, and my dad never wanted to change it. It was the one room that held her touch. That and their bedroom, but he changed the bedroom. I suppose it was too painful for him the way it had been when she was here. But the living room is the same. I intend to change it, but I just haven’t gotten around to it. None of us has ever used that room and now I don’t give it much thought.”
Merry moved close to him and put her arm around him. “I’m sorry. Do you remember her?”
He turned to look at her. He was only inches away now, and she realized moving close to hug him in sympathy was the wrong gesture if she wanted the attraction between them to cool. In the depths of his eyes, desire flashed as hot as a consuming blaze. When she met his gaze, her pulse jumped. His arm tightened, and he leaned the last few inches to kiss her.
Mouths touched, and that flash of heat and desire came, but along with it was more. Jason had just given her a part of himself that she knew he seldom had shared and it made the kiss more important. There was more of a closeness. And desire was building, igniting into heat that melted and shook her. The man could kiss. She didn’t need to know his past to know she was with an expert. His mouth, his tongue were doing things to her, with her, that shattered her cautious resolve.
She wanted to kiss him in return,
to give in return and to do to him even half of what he was doing to her.
She broke away finally, both of them gasping for breath. “We’re going in circles. I should go.”
He caught her wrist, turning her hand to kiss her palm. “Just stay and talk. We’re not going to sleep. I promise I’ll keep my distance if that’s what you want.”
“It’s what I want,” she said, knowing that wasn’t the full truth at all. It was fast becoming less than a half-truth. She wanted him with so much of her being that it frightened her.
When she moved to the corner of the sofa, he looked amused. “I think I asked you if you remembered your mother. You don’t need to answer me if you don’t want to,” she said.
“Oh, yes. I remember her,” he replied. “Lots of memories that have grown fuzzy over the years and that I no longer try to dredge up. When I was little I thought she loved us all. I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry you were hurt, because I think loving someone would be pretty wonderful.”
“Yeah, if they always loved you in return.”
“True enough. Are your brothers happily married now?”
“Yes. Ethan, who is thirty-five, has two boys from his first marriage and two from his second. Same with Luke.”
“See, sometimes you can marry and live happily ever after.”
“Maybe.” A muscle worked in his jaw and she regretted his hurts and his attitude that she didn’t think would ever change.
“So what’s the next step with the disk?” she asked, trying to get away from a discussion of marriage.
“I’ll give those copies of the files to Sheriff Escobar, to Rob—actually to several of the club members. I’ll call them around seven to set up a meeting.”
He scooted closer, stretched out his long arm and wound his fingers lightly in her hair. There were faint tugs against her scalp that should have been insignificant, but were not. Instead, desire that had been steadily burning, sparked and danced across her raw nerves. Her gaze drank in his thickly lashed eyes and sensual mouth. She longed to be back in his arms. Everything in her screamed that this man was important to her, yet she knew her reactions to him were dangerous to her well-being.
“If I meet with my friends tomorrow, will you stay here?”
“If you want me to. Yes.”
“Is that a promise?”
“If it makes you happy, I promise to stay. I’d like to hear what everyone else thinks after you meet with them, but I should go home soon.”
“You don’t have to go yet. You rented an apartment, so you didn’t plan on heading back to Dallas in the near future.”
“Tell me again about the murder.”
Jason talked softly, his hand stroking her nape or winding through her hair. The conversation shifted and changed and time passed until she glanced at her watch. “It’s almost dawn.”
“Well, we had a late start on the night.”
“I’m going to bed.” When she stood, he came to his feet.
“One good-night kiss, Merry,” he said softly, a honeyed warmth that stole her resolve.
When he pulled her to him, she went willingly into his arms, relishing his lean, hard body against her softness. Mouths together again, and the same wild sensations and needs flaring. Winding her fingers in his hair and holding him, she kissed him passionately for a few minutes before stopping him.
“Now I go.” She could feel his eyes on her as she left the room, and she suspected even though they had been awake almost the entire night, she would still have trouble sleeping.
She needed to move out of his house. Their kisses were escalating wildly into hot passion, and she didn’t want that to happen. This was not the man with whom to become seriously involved.
“Sleep in, Merry,” he called after her.
“Sure,” she replied, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He stood with his hands on his hips, watching her as she walked away. His chest was bare, all hard muscles, tempting, special. The feel of him could turn her to quivering jelly. How easily she could turn around and walk right back into his arms and he would make love to her as long as she would let him.
Was she already falling in love with this tough, hard-hearted cowboy? Was he changing just a little? He had told her about his childhood pain, something she suspected he had told few people in his life.
“Don’t get soft now,” she warned herself, yet all she could think about was Jason: his touches, his kisses, his laughter, his sexy good looks. And beneath the scary moments tonight, the risks they had taken, she realized they had worked well together.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she whispered, closing the door to her bedroom. “You’ve got me talking to myself, Jason Windover,” she said. “Get out of my head. Get out of my heart,” she added, moving to the bed to shed her jeans and shirt and slide beneath the sheet. She was exhausted, but not sleepy. Every nerve in her body was wired and she could still feel his hands on her, still remember too vividly his kisses. She’d better remember his dire views of marriage.
She came up out of sleep to bright sunshine pouring into the room. After she showered and dressed in cutoffs and a T-shirt, she went to the kitchen to find a note from Jason stating that he had gone to town.
Midmorning, he called, asking her to meet in him Royal for lunch and to help him select a new computer. Merry rummaged through her clothes, finally wearing jeans and a blue plaid shirt, letting her hair fall free.
They were to meet at the Royal Diner and when she turned to park at the curb, she saw Jason leaning against his pickup, waiting for her. As he straightened and sauntered over to open her car door, her pulse raced. How handsome he was in his black Stetson, jeans and a white T-shirt.
Over juicy hamburgers, she asked him about his morning meeting with other Texas Cattleman’s Club members.
“I didn’t get to talk to them. Dorian saw Sebastian and Will as they left the office and asked them where they were going and then wanted to go with them. I’ll try again to talk to all of them when Dorian isn’t present. But we were delayed getting together because the execs at Wescott Oil were busy with the law this morning. Will told me that someone broke into the place last night. Then, when we met at the club, Dorian was there, so little was said. Sebastian, Will and Dorian are eating lunch there now.”
“What about Dorian?”
“He avoided my gaze most of the time, but a couple of times we made eye contact, and if looks could kill, I wouldn’t be here.”
“How can he suspect you of breaking in?”
“It may just be an old antagonism that has always existed between us. Anyway, I did get to talk to Rob and Keith as we left. I gave Rob and Keith copies of our disk. Keith was impressed with your getting into Dorian’s files.”
She shrugged. “That’s my business.”
“Well, after lunch you can help me get the right computer, and then please get it all set up for me, and in exchange…” His voice changed to a sexy huskiness that made her draw a quick breath and lose what little appetite she had. She waited while he paused and his eyes devoured her.
“In exchange?” she asked, prompting him and waiting breathlessly.
“Whatever your fee is plus dinner at Claire’s plus a little romancing back at the ranch.” He reached across the table to take her hand, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Want me to tell you what I’d like to do to you?” he asked wickedly in a husky voice.
“Not here. Not now.”
“Later then,” he drawled. “How’s the evening sound? Do we have a deal?”
“I think so, yes,” she said, knowing she was mush whenever he turned on his sexy charm.
“Good.” He sipped his drink and looked at her partially eaten hamburger. “You’re not eating.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Neither am I. Not hungry for hamburgers,” he said, his searing gaze telling her exactly what he wanted.
“Jason, we’re in town in public.”
“I don’t care, and beside
s, we’re just holding hands. It’s not like I have you in my lap or any of a dozen things I wish I could do to you right now.”
“Let’s get that computer,” she said, trying to get back to being impersonal, casual and merely friendly, yet finding it difficult to catch her breath.
He slid out of the booth, leaned down beside her. “If that’s what you want, Merry,” he said in a husky drawl that was like a stroke of his hand over her.
She waited while he paid for their lunches and then they left to shop.
She tried for the rest of the day and later, as they worked on the new computer, to keep distance between them and to keep things on an impersonal basis.
Around ten that night, Jason got a phone call; when he replaced the receiver, he looked at her grimly. “That was Rob. He’s looked at the disk and he thinks the same thing we do—that more suspicion is pointed at Dorian. He said that Dorian knows someone was trying to look at his files. And Dorian suspects you, which makes him now suspect me. Rob said to be careful. Dorian probably feels safe at this point because there’s nothing in his files incriminating enough to cause his arrest.”
“Would he inherit Wescott Oil if something happened to Sebastian?”
“No. Rob has already checked into that, so I don’t see what he has to gain. That’s another big question—if Dorian is the murderer, what is his motive?”
Pondering the question, they sat in silence until they went back to the computer. At midnight, they closed it down and walked to the kitchen for a cool drink of lemonade.
Their good-night kisses escalated again until she stopped him and closed the door to her room at two in the morning.
She undressed swiftly, pulling on a frilly short red nightie and skimpy matching panties. In minutes she slid beneath the sheet.
Merry lay awake, knowing that she was falling in love with Jason. She just hoped she wouldn’t leave Royal hurting the way Holly hurt, with a broken heart that threatened never to mend. And she knew she must move out tomorrow. She had already told Jason, and they had argued about it, but she had held firm and told him she was going to return to Dallas tomorrow.
