by Day Leclaire
“Then let me put it another way.” He gathered her close and cupped her abdomen, warming her belly through the layers of denim and cotton. “I’ll do anything and everything within my power to protect you and my child.”
Seven
She shouldn’t be surprised. She knew Joc was the take-charge type. So, finding herself bundled into his car and whisked off to the mansion he called a home shouldn’t come as any surprise. What did surprise her was how he treated her in the next few days.
Initially he handled her as though she were made of fine crystal, as though the least word or touch risked shattering her. He didn’t broach the subject of the baby, other than to arrange for a visit to the doctor so she could confirm both her pregnancy, as well as her overall health and well-being. She didn’t expect his reticence to last long, not once he decided how he wanted to handle this latest development. Until then, he was playing his cards close to his chest.
As the days built toward a week, she discovered that she didn’t object to staying with Joc as much as she’d anticipated, though she did find what she privately dubbed his “quasi-palace” somewhat intimidating. It wasn’t the size as much as the interior design. It struck her as uncomfortably formal, the pieces rich and elegant and reluctant to be touched. Not what she’d have called a home. As the first week passed and she became more integrated into his daily life, the differences between them became more and more apparent—and made her more and more uncomfortable.
How would she handle those differences now that she knew she was pregnant with his child? Would he expect their baby to live in his world? A frown touched her brow. How would that work? And of even greater concern, how did he expect her to fit in? The thought filled her with a panic that followed in her wake like an approaching storm front.
The guest rooms he offered for her use were the most sumptuous she’d ever seen. But she rattled around inside, lonely and uncomfortable while she waited to return to Longhorn. She’d spent most of the twenty-eight years of her life working from sunup until sundown. A life of leisure didn’t suit her. Nor did feeling like she was a kept woman. She remained painfully aware that she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her pregnancy.
Joc’s daily routine also caused problems. They met each morning at breakfast where an earnest young man would give Joc a report that encompassed everything from urgent news that had occurred during the night, to his schedule for the day, to calls, e-mails, and messages that could only be handled by the top man, himself. Eventually Joc added another person to the mix—an earnest young woman who gave Rosalyn a similar report about the condition of her ranch, the investigation into the fire and other problems that had occurred on Longhorn since her return from Deseos. At the end of her first week with Joc, Rosalyn had had enough.
In the middle of the dual reports, she shoved back her chair. Picking up her plate and cup of coffee, she escaped the formal dining room for the lighter, friendlier sunroom that connected off the kitchen. It reminded her of the lanai on Deseos. Best of all, gentle morning light filled the spacious area and floor-to-ceiling windows offered a wide-ranging view of the garden. She deposited her breakfast and coffee on a small glass-and-wrought-iron café table and settled onto a thickly cushioned chair. She stretched, releasing a deep sigh of pleasure. Better. Much better.
“I gather you don’t care for our morning briefing.” Joc’s voice came from the doorway behind her.
She didn’t bother to turn around. “Not really.”
“I thought it would help you to hear what efforts I’m making to find whoever’s responsible for the problems at Longhorn. At least we know that it wasn’t the men I fired for harassing you.”
This time she did swivel to face him. “It does help to know that. Seriously, Joc. I appreciate everything you’ve done very much.”
His mouth tugged to one side in a wry smile. “You just don’t appreciate it over breakfast.”
She shrugged. “I work every bit as hard as you—or I used to. But I don’t spend every minute at it. And I surely don’t allow it to interfere with my digestion.”
His smile grew and he crossed to join her at the table. “We’ll find the people responsible for your problems. I promise. In the meantime…” He dropped into the chair next to hers and took a swallow of the coffee he’d brought with him. “This is nice.”
She sat quietly for several minutes while she polished off her breakfast. “As long as we’re talking about changes to our routine, there’s another one I’d like to make.”
His voice took on a hard tone. “So long as it doesn’t have anything to do with your return to Longhorn, you can have anything you want.”
That had her eyebrows shooting upward. “You aren’t going to ask what it is before you agree? That’s not like you.”
“Is this particular change open to negotiation?” A wicked gleam crept into his dark eyes. “I’m always happy to enter into a negotiation with you.”
She shook her head. “Refuse and I’m out of here.”
“That’s what I figured.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs, hooking one ankle over the other. “Since that’s the case, name it, Red, and it’s yours,” he offered expansively.
“Okay, fine. I don’t like the bedroom you assigned me.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong with it? Whatever it is, I’ll have it fixed by the end of day.”
“Excellent.” She took a final swallow of decaf coffee and shoved back her chair. “I’ll move my stuff into your bedroom right away.”
His cup crashed against the glass table. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” She met his gaze with as much composure as she could muster. “The baby’s fine. I’m healthy. You don’t have to treat me like I’ll break. I thought after a few days, you’d get over it. But this is getting ridiculous.”
He stared at her for an endless moment before exploding into action. One minute she was sitting at the table and the next he was propelling her through the mansion to his suite of rooms. The instant the door closed behind him, he wrapped his arms around her.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked. “Be very certain, Red, because once I have you back in my bed, I’m not letting you out again.”
“I’m positive.”
Joc cupped her face and kissed her. With a low moan, she opened to him, holding nothing back. The bed rose up to meet her and he followed her down. The next few minutes passed in a breathless wrestling match as they both stripped off their clothes with frantic speed. When there was no more between them but heated flesh, they stilled, the encounter slowing, stretching, quieting as they cautiously opened one to the other.
Over the past few days Rosalyn had sat beneath the stars in Joc’s formal garden and contemplated her feelings for him and for the baby he’d given her. Had looked up and absorbed some of the magic and mystery of those shards of hope sparkling above her. But in that moment, she realized there couldn’t be a more magical or insightful moment than this.
Joc must have felt the same. With an incoherent exclamation, he lowered his head and kissed his way from her mouth to the beaded tips of breasts already showing the early changes her pregnancy wrought, to the still-flat expanse of her abdomen. And there he lingered, whispering a secret message to the child cradled deep beneath his lips.
Rosalyn closed her eyes against an unexpected wave of tears. She found this man endlessly fascinating, a creature of shadow and light, pain and grace. A hard man. A lonely man. A man who’d seen the worst and chosen to pursue the best. He offered their child its first kiss, explaining without words the emotions he fought so hard to deny. Each touch of his hand spoke of longing, of the need to connect, to belong. Didn’t he see? Didn’t he understand the importance of roots? Somehow, someway, she’d show him how vital they were. She slid her fingers deep into his hair and drew him to her, offering the only gift she could freely give.
Herself.
He came to her without words, finding his w
ay home. Slipping between her thighs, he drove straight to the core of her with a single unerring stroke. She could feel the pain that filled him, that had haunted him for most of his life. She wrapped herself around him in response, absorbing the pain and replacing it with everything she had to give.
When she’d lost her family, she thought that feeling had been lost to her, as well. But she’d found it again. Found it within the arms of this man. With their joining, hope had returned.
And together, bound and tangled as one, they tumbled.
Hours later, Joc lifted onto an elbow and feathered a series of kisses from the curve of her jaw to the curve of her breast. “I have a charity gala toward the end of this month that I can’t avoid.” He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Maybe that’s because I’m the host. I’d appreciate it if you’d attend with me. And before you use the excuse that you have nothing to wear, I still have that beaded gown you wore on Deseos.”
She started to refuse, but hesitated at the last moment, curiosity getting the better of her. “Why do you want me there?”
“Because I’d enjoy your company.” He traced the path his mouth had taken with his fingertips, eliciting a helpless shiver. “I won’t even try to negotiate with you about it. It’s a no-strings-attached invitation.”
“I wouldn’t fit in,” she demurred.
“Your family is one of the oldest in Texas.” There was a vague brusqueness underscoring his comment, one she didn’t comprehend until he added, “Trust me, you fit in better than I do.”
“Oh.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth as a possibility occurred to her. The Hollister name was also one of the oldest in Texas. “Will they be there?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Probably. My Hollister relatives attend most of the local charitable affairs. Since I’m hosting the event, we may get lucky and be spared their presence.”
“How do they react when you all meet?”
“It depends on what they need from me. It runs the gamut from smoldering glares to demands for excessive donations to looking at me as though I were something unpleasant they’d accidentally stepped in.”
That simple explanation said so much, revealed so much of what he’d gone through over the years. Her heart went out to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t let it bother you. I don’t.”
Did he really believe that? Or was that how he managed to get past the pain they inflicted? She couldn’t bear the idea of him facing MacKenzie on his own, not after what she’d pulled with Joc’s partners on Deseos. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
He traced a delicious circle around the tip of her breast. “A pity date, Red?”
She shivered beneath the teasing caress. “You think I pity the great Joc Arnaud?” she managed to scoff. “Not even a little. Besides…” She slanted him a teasing look. “Do you want to see me in that beaded dress again or not?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Then where’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I’m going to want to strip you out of that dress as soon as I see you in it.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper, one filled with tender amusement. “But at least now I know that you’re going to let me.”
“So, what’s the point of tonight’s affair?” she asked several weeks later on the drive to the gala. “Or is there a point?”
“Charity. We’re raising funds for the National Marrow Donor Program.”
“Excellent. I hope you’re also twisting a few arms so that people do more than contribute money. Let’s hope they also join the registry.”
His smile flashed white in the darkness. “That’s why I find you so fascinating, Red. You don’t care about the odds. You’re always on your feet, ready to battle for the underdog.”
“I have to admit, right now I feel like one of those underdogs.” At his quizzical glance, she clarified, “I’m a bit out of my element this evening.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She shot him a look of alarm. “What does that mean?”
“Just what I said. In time, you’ll get used to these black-tie events and it won’t bother you anymore.”
She shifted in her seat to face him. “Listen to me, Joc. I have no intention of getting used to this or any other part of your lifestyle. I don’t belong here. I belong on a ranch, dressed in a pair of jeans that are so old and worn that they know to wrap themselves around a horse’s belly without even being asked. I don’t belong in this latest getup that makes me feel like I’m…I’m—”
She couldn’t bring herself to say “a kept woman,” which might be just as well considering the way Joc tensed. He didn’t say a word, which made her all the more apprehensive. Shadows burrowed into the rough-cut angles of his face, making his appearance more austere than usual. Only his eyes glittered, the color as black and hard as obsidian.
“You will tell me if anyone so much as suggests such a thing about you.”
“And you’ll do what?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Give them hell? Threaten them? Destroy them for daring to speak the truth?”
She struggled to ignore his crisp, masculine scent, to forget how protected she felt when he held her in those powerful arms. Or how delicate and feminine she was when he swept her against the hard, broad expanse of his chest. But how could she? From the moment they’d met they’d been unable to keep their hands off each other. And from that desire, a desire unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, a miracle had been created. She struggled to gather up her emotions so that she could continue without betraying her inner turmoil.
“Don’t you get it? I walked into our relationship with my eyes wide-open. I wanted to sleep with you, to cut loose for once in my life. So, I did. But it came with consequences, and I’ll pay the price. But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
He stiffened. “You consider our baby a price you have to pay?” The question cracked like a whip. “Is that how you think of him?”
Her breath caught in dismay. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean the baby, I meant tonight. Being in this getup is the price I have to pay.”
He seemed torn between laughter and anger. “Most women wouldn’t consider tonight some sort of punishment.”
“Yeah, well. I’m not most women,” she muttered.
“No, you’re not.” He reached for her and drew his thumb along the curve of her cheek to her mouth, tracing the full sweep of her lower lip. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than yourself. I’ve had my fill of women trying to conform themselves to my expectations. Or to what they perceive as my expectations. I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in you.”
“For the sake of my ranch. For the sake of the child I’m carrying.”
“I’m interested in you because of what you do to me anytime I come near you. I thought that one night would take care of it. But it hasn’t. Nor have the past several weeks, or what we were doing right before we left the house. If anything, I want you more than ever.”
“It won’t work, Joc. We come from different worlds, with too many issues between us to think anything can come out of whatever this is between us. My priorities have to be my baby and my ranch—a ranch you’re still thinking of taking from me.”
The limo drew to a halt just then and light poured into the back, cutting across his face with sharp precision. What she saw revealed there had her catching her breath in dismay. She’d hurt him. She wouldn’t have thought it possible. But for that one instant, she saw the wound that blanked his eyes and spasmed across his expression.
“Joc—”
He cut her off without compunction. “Don’t. I know on an intellectual level you don’t trust me because I still intend to purchase Longhorn.”
“I do trust you.”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Not completely. Not when it comes to our baby or your ranch. But there have been other occasions when you haven’t had time to think, when you’ve had to go with your gut instinct. Those are the times that cou
nt. Because each and every one of those times, you’ve trusted me. You went with me to Deseos. You allowed me to make love to you. You believed me when I said I wasn’t responsible for the problems on your ranch. You’ve believed me based on no more than my word, alone.” He tilted his head to one side. “Have you ever wondered why?”
And with that he exited the limousine, leaving her to sit in stunned silence. It was an excellent question. It was also one she didn’t dare answer…because that answer threatened to tear her world apart.
From the moment they entered the charity gala, Joc played the role of gallant escort and affable patron to the hilt. No one was more charming. Or gracious. Or witty.
Rosalyn watched his performance with growing dismay. She hadn’t realized until that moment how completely Joc had let down his guard around her. She didn’t know this man, though she suspected most everyone else here did. Worse, she disliked this caricature of the man she loved with tear-provoking intensity. They were emotions wrought from hormonal imbalance, she tried to tell herself, partially from the baby and partially from having surrendered to her need to be with Joc. But deep down she recognized the lie for what it was.
With every ounce of passion she possessed, she longed for the man who’d swept her off to Deseos. And she accepted the fact that she’d helped nail in place the facade he now wielded with such skill. She wanted her wolf back. Elemental. Keen-eyed. Ruthless.
Loving.
Rosalyn found herself so focused on Joc and how he’d changed that she didn’t at first notice people’s reaction to her. She was surprised to discover that those Joc introduced her to were friendly, for the most part, though she couldn’t have said why she expected anything different. Some were speculative, and a select few were assessing, as though seeing a new playing piece on a game board and wondering how best to maneuver it to their advantage. Well, they’d soon discover that her particular game piece wielded no power and held no advantage. Maybe she should make it easy for them and stamp Pawn across her forehead.
