A Long Tall Texan Summer: Tom Walker (2 page)

It seemed like a dream come

true.

Then, yesterday, out of the blue, a new client

had walked in the door—Luke Craig—and the bottom

had fallen out of Tom's life. Luke had a sister, recently widowed with a small daughter. Her first name was Elysia.

Tom poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa. Moose jumped up beside him to rest his chin on his master's leg.

He petted the big dog absently. "Don't think I'm forgetting the broken pot or the garbage,"

he

murmured.

Moose sighed and gave him a baleful look.

Tom sipped coffee and wondered what he was going to do. Of all the quirks of fate, to land himself in the one town in America where he couldn't bear to live. No wonder it had all seemed too good to be true. Fate was playing a monstrous joke on him. The woman he'd seduced lived right here. Apparently she'd married and had a child after she'd come home. He wondered if she remembered him, and then chided himself for his own stupidity. Of course she did. He'd been her first experience, just as she'd

been his. She didn't know that. She'd still think that he'd seduced and abandoned her, like some big city playboy without a conscience. What a joke.

He put the coffee cup down. Moose was snoring softly. He stroked the huge head and thought how nice it was to have a companion, even such a one as this.

He didn't know how he was going to cope, but he knew he would. Jacobsville was a small town, but not all that small. He might never run into Elysia. Worry at this stage was premature.

He had all this

unpacking to do that he'd put off for almost a month. He'd do better to go to work and stop tormenting himself with things that might never happen. He probably

wouldn't recognize the woman, anyway. It had

been years ago, after all.

Fate must have been howling the next morning when he drove to work, parked his car and started into the office. Next door to his office was an insurance agency. And heading toward it was a blond woman
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in jeans, boots, a T-shirt under a flannel shirt and a neat French braid.

Elysia.

She stopped dead when she was close enough to recognize him. Gone were the big-rimmed spectacles she'd worn when she worked for him. Gone was the racehorse thinness.

She'd filled out. She still wasn't

pretty, but she was very attractive. He couldn't help staring at her.

She moved closer, not shy or reticent as she had been. She looked right at him. "I heard you'd moved here to open an investment office.

My brother said you looked strange when he mentioned my name. I told him I used to work for you, nothing else." She laughed bitterly.

"So you don't have to worry about

being

lynched. Feel better, Mr. Walker?"

The unexpected assault had tied his tongue. She wasn't the same girl he'd known at all.

His dark green eyes lanced down into hers. "You've changed, Miss Craig."

"Mrs. Nash." She corrected him.

His eyebrow jerked. "Mrs. Nash," he said.

She seemed less assertive all at once. "My husband died last year. He had cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"He was sick for a long time," she murmured.

"It's trite to say it, but he really is better off."

"I see."

"You're not married yet?"

He searched her soft oval face without expression.

"That'll be the day," he replied.

"Yes, I remember. You're the original love-'em-and-leave-'em bachelor." The bitterness was back in her voice. "I guess you're still shaking the women out of your bed..."

He stepped closer, his eyes kindling. "My love life is none of your damned business!" He never raised his

voice, but the whip in it cut almost physically. It disconcerted her.

"No...of...of course not!" she stammered.

She actually took a step backward, and he cursed himself inwardly.

"I'm sorry," he said curtly. "You probably think you were one in a line. That's the joke of the century."

"Ex...excuse me?"

He checked his watch, feeling self-conscious.

"I have to get to work."

His behavior puzzled her. She'd spent years blaming him, hating him. But he didn't look like a philanderer. Sure, she reminded herself, and most ax-murderers probably don't look like killers, either.

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She stood aside to let him pass. He hesitated,

though, the wind blowing his thick black hair around over a face that was deep olive. He had an untamed look about him. He was still very handsome, although she

was sure that he was in his middle thirties by now. His build was that of a much younger man, lean and muscular.

"You have Native American ancestry, don't you?" she asked involuntarily.

"Sioux," he agreed. "Our great-grandfather."

"How is your sister?" she asked without wanting to.

"Fine. She and Jacob have a son. He's five now."

"I'm happy for her."

"So am I. It wouldn't have surprised me if she'd never married, either."

There was a deeper meaning to what he was saying. She wished she could read between the lines. Her eyes searched his curiously. If only she could hate him.

He looked down his long, straight nose at her with dark green eyes that didn't blink. "We're both older.

I'm glad you found someone you could love. I hope he was good to you."

She flushed. "He was very good to me," she said.

"And I wasn't." His lean hand reached out, almost touched her hair, withdrawing before it made contact.

He laughed at his own inability to show affection. "I regret you most of all, Elysia," he said numbly. "I was

afraid. Maybe I still am."

He turned and went into his office, leaving her staring blankly after him.

She'd hated him so much when she'd come back to Jacobsville after his cold rejection. It hadn't even been much of a memory, that short night she'd spent in his arms. He'd been ravenously hungry for her, but rough and at times, oddly hesitant. When he'd hurt her, he'd even tried to draw away, but it hadn't been possible. His harsh groan as he gave in to his hunger had stayed with her all these long years. He'd sounded as if he hated himself

for wanting her, blamed her for it. He hadn't said a single word. Not before, during, or after.

It was painful to remember how desperately she'd loved him. She'd gambled everything on giving in to him, that once. But instead of bringing them closer, it had destroyed their tenuous friendship. She'd come

home and he'd never tried to contact her at all. Perhaps that was best. She didn't really want him to know

about Crissy. Eventually he might notice that the child bore a striking resemblance to him, but he wouldn't

know what her late husband

looked like, so there was little danger of her secret coming out.

She wondered what he would say if he knew that their one intimacy had produced such a beautiful little miracle. She couldn't tell him. Everyone in town thought that her late husband had fathered the child, but

poor Fred had been far too ill for intimacy, even when they married soon after her flight to Jacobs-ville six years before. His illness had been a long-drawn-out one, with brief periods of remission that became

even briefer as time passed. He'd been kind to her, though, and she'd had affection for him. He'd loved the child. Poor man, whose wife had divorced him to marry someone richer, just when he was diagnosed

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with cancer. They'd both been deserted

by the people they loved most. Marriage had been a sensible solution. He wouldn't have to die alone, and her child would have a name.

The thought of telling Tom Walker about his daughter had never occurred to her. His cold avoidance of Elysia after they were intimate

had told her all she needed to know. He no longer wanted her. Certainly he wouldn't want a child.

She went into the insurance office to pay her bill without a backward glance. Their time was over, before

it even began. He would never have to know about Crissy, anyway. And if he could bear to live here with the constant

sight of her to remind him of the past, she could endure it as well. She was a successful

businesswoman with rich clients at her exclusive fashion boutique that shipped couture and

locally designed garments all over the world. She had a wonderful child and a bright future. She didn't need Tom Walker to complete

her life, even if the sight of him had knocked the breath out of her all over again. She'd just have to exercise some strong self-control, that was all. Because judging by his behavior, he hadn't missed her. She wished that she could have said the same.

Tom sat down behind his desk, shaken. Elysia

looked as lovely to his eyes as she ever had. She was

more mature, much more desirable.

He felt ashamed all over again. She'd married and had a child. He couldn't have had much of a place in her heart after what he'd done. He wished things had gone differently for them. If he'd been able to communicate, a little less proud about his past, a little more open

with her, who knew what might have happened. But he'd let his chance for happiness slip right by him.

He'd given her the idea that he found her easy and undesirable after one night. How could he blame her for being bitter?

The phone rang. He picked it up. It was a potential client. He put on his best business manner and forced the thought of Elysia to the back of his mind for the moment.

It was inevitable that he was going to run into the Craigs sooner or later. As it happened, it was Luke he saw first, and he had Elysia's daughter with him.

Tom stopped dead at the sight of the child. There was something about her that reminded him vividly of his sister, Kate. The child had olive skin and light green eyes. Her hair was long and straight and jet black. She was almost the image of Kate. He smiled in spite of himself.

What a beautiful child!

"Hi, Tom," Luke said with his easy friendliness.

He had the little girl by the hand. He drew her forward.

"I'm taking my niece to a movie. Crissy, honey, this is Mr. Walker. He's Uncle Luke's investment counselor."

"Hello," the child said politely, eyeing the tall man curiously. "You look like an Indian."

His eyebrow quirked. He smiled faintly. "I had a Sioux great-grandfather."

"I like to wear my hair in braids. Mama took me to an Indian powwow. That's a festival where you can

learn all about their culture

and history, and all sorts of crafts. I had fun."

That interesting fact piqued Tom's curiosity,

but before he could say anything, Luke cut the child off.

"Christine, you're babbling," Luke chided gently, chuckling as he glanced at Tom. "She'll talk your leg off. She's only in kindergarten,

too."

"Uncle Luke thinks I talk too much," the little girl muttered, glowering up at her uncle.

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"No, I don't, pet," her relative assured her. "She wants to see the pig movie." He sighed. "I'm not keen, but I don't have much to do around the ranch today, so I was free. Elysia's at home with every pot we own on the stove putting up sauce. We're going to die of tomato poisoning. Honest to God, she's put up enough sauce to float a small ship!" He eyed Tom. "I don't guess you like spaghetti? I could give you twenty or thirty jars of spaghetti sauce for Christmas."

"I love it, as it happens," Tom admitted, amused. "Why does she put up so much of it?"

"Just between us, I think something's upset her," he confessed. "She's been like this for several days.

She's cleaned the house twice and washed both cars, now she's determined to corner the tomato sauce market."

"Mama always works when she's upset," Crissy volunteered. "Last time was when Miss Henry told her I

pushed Markie down the steps."

Tom's eyebrows both rose. "Did you?"

Her lower lip thrust out. "He called me a sissy," she said belligerently. "Just because I made him stop throwing rocks at a little frog." She brightened. “I told his mama what he did, and he got whipped. His mama has an aquarium

with lots of little fire toads in it. She let me see them."

"Poor Markie," Luke said under his breath.

"Good for you," Tom told the child.

"Do you like cows?" she asked Tom. "We've got lots. I'll bet Uncle Luke would even let you pet one, if you want."

"He can pet all I've got," Luke replied, his blue eyes dancing as he glanced at the other man.

"I'm a city boy," Tom mused, his hands in his pockets. "Lately, anyway."

"Yes, you're from Houston, aren't you?" Luke asked.

"Originally, I'm from South Dakota," he replied. "I grew up around Jacob Cade's ranch near Blairsville.

He taught Kate and me how to ride when we were young. He's a whiz at it."

"I know that name," Luke replied. "He and I were at a cattle auction in Montana a couple of years back.

He's your brother-in-law? Well, well. I have to say I was impressed. He knows cattle."

"So does Kate. I'm the odd one out."

"You know how to invest money," Luke said pointedly. "That's no small talent."

Tom smiled. "Thanks."

Luke was frowning. "Jacob said something about you... Oh, I remember," he added with a grin. "You threw a client out the door in Houston for making remarks to your secretary, as I recall."

"He was a—" he glanced at the little girl "—chauvinist." He amended the word he'd been about to use.

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"It was no great business loss. I don't like people hassling my employees."

"Didn't Elysia used to work for you, when you were working at that ad agency in New York?" Luke asked suddenly.

Tom's face showed no expression at all, but he felt a sinking feeling inside. "Yes, she did. I was sorry to lose her. She was a terrific secretary."