Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY) (14 page)

When she finally pulled away, he smiled and turned the movie back up. A settling had passed between them and an acceptance that neither one had ever felt. It took her a long while to realize what had happened, to recognize the feeling blanketing over them both.

It was simply a trust unlike anything she’d ever felt. He trusted her without questioning when she’d given no answer. All he’d asked for was not to be lied to, and she swore she never would. She’d keep her secrets, but she would no longer wrap them in lies.

When the movie ended, he took her hand and they walked to the bedroom without a word. He stripped off his clothes, watching her do the same. Neither bothered to turn on a light. The open blinds and windows let in enough moonlight to see.

He pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and waited for her to climb in. When she did, he moved in beside her and kissed her lightly. “The movie wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” he whispered against her ear. “I wouldn’t mind having a date with you again.”

She stretched, letting her body settle against his. All the stress of the day moved away, and she finally felt safe. She wouldn’t have cared if he kissed her again, but he only whispered, “Good night, Babe.”

She poked him gently in the ribs and felt his laughter against her throat.

M
ARCH
24
D
UPLEX

R
ONNY
SLIPPED
OUT
THE
BACK
DOOR
OF
HER
LITTLE
apartment and into the cool night air. She had to force herself to think about what day it was. The twenty-fourth, she thought. One week since Marty had moved in with her. The days, even the hours flowed together. There was so much to be done, and time passed not from morning to night, but from the precious hours Marty was awake.

They’d almost lost him the second day. She didn’t sleep for more than thirty hours as she stayed by his side. Something in her tired mind said she’d lose him if she didn’t keep watch. Finally he calmed, and she slept for twelve hours only to find him smiling at her when she ran in to check on him.

Mr. Carleon tried to keep time in balance. He insisted she eat breakfast even when she didn’t notice it was morning. Beau Yates, next door, played his guitar every evening he didn’t work, and Marty would hold her hand as if they were at a great concert.

Dr. Addison Spencer came every day to check on him. She kept close records and tried to balance his pain medicine so that he could keep his wits about him. Ronny teased him that the doctor was fighting a lost cause because after falling off a mountain he didn’t have many wits left.

Marty, in his usual superior way, claimed he’d been born double-witted and could stand to lose a few. The first time he laughed, everyone in the room stopped. Ronny fought back tears as she realized teasing him just might be the magic that helped him live one day longer.

As always, Marty complained. He didn’t like the food or it was too hot or cold in the room or the sun bothered him or the room was drab. He even complained about the color of the paint.

Ronny frowned at him. “Well, in a perfect world, what color would this room be?”

“Green,” he said. “Deep forest green.”

That afternoon, while he slept, everyone grabbed a paintbrush, and when he woke up the room was green. Of course, he reminded them all that it was the worst paint job he’d ever seen, but no one listened.

Tonight was the end of his eighth day and he was still alive. She walked to the ramp Cord and his men had built for a wheelchair. Marty was no closer to being able to sit in a chair than he’d been the day he came, but seeing the ramp brought her promise.

Someday, she hoped, she’d roll him down the ramp and they’d go the block to Main Street. They’d go past all the stores and look at the courthouse. Maybe they’d stop at the diner for lunch or go over to Buffalo’s Bar and Grill and have a beer. She’d sit beside his chair and they’d hold hands as they listened to Beau and his partner in the band play. It would be like a real date, something they’d had very few of.

Marty would always say that Beau was a dreamer, his head full of songs, and she’d argue that it might not be a bad way to go through life.

Ronny wasn’t a big dreamer. She’d never wanted a great passion or riches or to travel the world. All she’d ever wanted was for someone to love her. She wanted to hold someone’s hand and smile. She wanted one person to care when she had a cold or lost weight or cut her hair.

“I don’t want much, God,” she whispered into the silent night around her. “If you could see your way to give us just a little more time.”

Marty was asleep and the night called her out for a walk.

The sudden sound of a car moving slowly down the street made her move back into the shadows of the duplex. In the foggy glow of the streetlight half a block away, she watched her mother’s car circle the block. Once. Twice.

On impulse, Ronny walked to the curb. If her mother wanted to say something to her, Ronny decided she’d listen. She no longer had any energy left to be angry at Dallas Logan for kicking her out. In truth, it had been the start of her awakening, and she knew, even if asked, she’d never go back.

When Dallas’s old Buick circled one more time, she made it almost even with Ronny before she gunned the engine and sped away.

Ronny smiled at the taillights as she buttoned her coat and tied back her hair with a band she kept in her coat pocket. She was sure her mother thought the gesture of driving away fast would hurt Ronny. One more insult. One more time that Dallas could reject her child.

Only Ronny no longer felt it. She knew she was loved and needed by the man inside, and her mother’s anger no longer mattered. She moved silently through the streets, no more than another layer of shadow between the streetlights. She liked the night when she could disappear and let the darkness hold her for a while.

When she went back inside, Marty was awake. He must have been watching her from the window. “Come here, honey.” Not only did his eyes show the pain he felt inside, but he seemed sad for her as well.

She walked to the chair that always sat close to his bed. “You saw my mother’s car?”

“I did. If I could I’d take away all the bad memories of your growing up with that woman, but I’ve come to believe that the bad only makes us appreciate the good, and you are the best thing that ever came into my life.”

“Really?”

“You’re the only person who ever needed me. I wish I could always be here for you. When I was away, every day I tried to remember details about you. The way your hair moved. The way you stood up to me that first day we met even though I was yelling at you. I even remember that funny hat you used to wear when you delivered the mail. I thought it was the ugliest hat I’d ever seen, but you were cute as a bug wearing it. Funny, no matter what was going on when I was away, the thought of that hat would always make me smile.”

She laced her hand in his. They’d agreed days ago not to waste time saying things like “How do you feel?” or “You need to rest” to one another. They took the short periods of time they had. It was all that was left and somehow, it had to be enough.

“Tell me about your adventures,” she said, curling against the bed so that she was as close as the machines would allow her. “Tell me about the world you’ve seen.”

He began telling her of mountain climbing and hang gliding and skiing in the Alps. For a moment, as she listened, he wasn’t a frail man in a hospital bed. He was the man she had met and fallen in love with. He was whole again, pulling her along with him on his adventures . . . pulling her into a perfect world.

A
PRIL
4

T
HEY
’
D
BEEN
MARRIED
ALMOST
A
MONTH
WHEN
C
ORD
woke Nevada at dawn with a rough kiss. They’d kissed good night for over a week—soft, gentle kisses—but this was different. This tasted of passion.

“I can’t hold out any longer, Babe.” His hand spread wide along her side. “I got to get closer to you, so if you don’t want this, you’d better stop me now.”

She stared up into his warm eyes, still half asleep. He looked more like a man being tortured than someone about to make love to his wife. His jaw was set. His gaze never left hers as his hand moved down her, hungry for the feel of her. The silk nightgown bunched and tugged against his callused hands. He wasn’t holding her, only brushing over her, as if learning her every curve.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against her ear. “So soft.”

She didn’t budge as he pulled off her short gown and moved above her. The feel of his body pressing over her warmed her as he shifted her arms and spread her blond hair across the pillow. For a minute he waited, matching his breathing to balance hers, letting his warmth blanket hers.

He braced his elbows on either side of her face and kissed her with feather kisses along her cheek. With each breath his hard chest lowered and pressed against her as his lips trailed over her skin. When he returned to her mouth, she opened to his hunger and moaned as the kiss turned molten.

The kiss was deep, and neither thought to breathe. When he finally broke away, she gulped for air and waited for him to pull her into heaven.

His big hands moved into her hair and tugged her gently as he tasted the flesh of her throat like a man starving for her.

She could feel her whispered moans of pleasure pushing him beyond reason.

If she didn’t tell him how she felt, he’d move away and she’d never know this man she’d married any better than she knew him now. Pressing her lips against his ear, she whispered, “Make love to me, Cord. Just love me.”

He pulled away and looked into her eyes, then lowered his mouth to hers with one last gentle kiss before passion consumed them both.

Without a word he made love to her with great tenderness. The only sound was her soft cry when he entered her. He wasn’t taking, but giving in loving touches and slow kisses that moved over her skin like warm water. What he lacked in polish, he made up for in gentleness. He hesitated at times, giving her moments to anticipate pure pleasure and rushed at others as if he couldn’t wait to be closer to her. His body never smothered or dominated, but comforted and sheltered her from all the world except his touch.

As he moved over her, so close they became one, she had the sense of coming home, of being complete.

When they were finished and both too tired to do more than breathe, he pulled her against his chest and floated the covers over them both without saying a word.

Even in the shadows of passion, he held her as no man had ever held her. His hand moved slowly down her body, cherishing one last touch before he fell asleep.

Tears dripped down her cheeks. She’d wondered what making love to him would be like. Violent, savage, wild, but it was none of those. He’d made no promises. Whispered no endearments. Told no lies. But his every touch told of caring deeply, so deeply he’d lost himself in satisfying her.

An hour later, he was dressed by the time she woke and crawled from the bed. For a minute they just looked at each other. He wore his jeans and western-cut shirt with the snaps, all pressed and starched. His winter-wheat hair was still wet from a shower and she could smell the shaving cream he’d just used. Down to his handmade boots he looked every bit a successful, powerful rancher.

She stood before him with wild straw hair and a gown strap hanging to her elbow. The top of one breast showed, but after he’d handled her so completely at dawn she didn’t think it would matter much.

“About this morning . . .” He finally broke the silence.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she interrupted.

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t move any closer.

She crossed half the distance between them. “No one’s ever made love to me like that. Not ever. You made me feel like I was special. Like I was priceless, and I’ll not have you ruin it by saying you’re sorry or that we shouldn’t have done it.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I was going to ask you if it really happened or if I was just dreaming. Either way I had no intention to apologize.”

She felt like a fool for her outburst. “It happened,” was all she could manage.

“So, I take it, you’ve no objection to it happening again sometime.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Crossing her arms, she tried to look proper. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind at all if it became a habit between us.”

She wanted to run to him and kiss him, but something in the way he stood told her he wanted to keep everything in a compartment, even her.

For a man who never touched anyone, he had certainly touched her before dawn. Even now she could still feel his big hands sliding down her body, moving her gently so that he could satisfy every part of her.

“I have to get over to the bunkhouse.” He pulled her back from her thoughts.

“All right,” she answered, not knowing how to talk about how perfectly they’d made love.

He nodded once and walked to the door. “You might want to go shopping for more of those little gowns that aren’t long enough to cover anything or thick enough to hide anything. I like them.”

Looking down at the silk slip of a gown, she smiled. It had cost her a hundred dollars, and until last night she hadn’t thought he’d noticed. She’d order half a dozen online today and have them sent overnight.