Gambling On a Heart (24 page)

He produced a ring of keys from his pocket, removed one of them and held the key toward her. “This will open the mudroom door, beside the garage. Go in and make yourself at home.”

Yeah, right.

She gingerly accepted the key as if it was a poisoned dart. “Okay.”

He picked his hat up from the desk, but before setting it on his head, he drew her to him again with his free hand on her waist. This kiss was lighter, teasing and promised delights to come. When he pulled back, he left her wanting to strip him right there and have her way with him. Without saying a word, he smiled, settled the Stetson on his head and left.

Tracy watched the door close, the tinkling bell giving a cheerful good-bye. To her it was the harbinger of doom.

What the hell was she doing?

* * * *

Tracy slowed down as she came to the turn-off for Oak Springs Road. She should just go home and forget this whole crazy thing. Her heart was bound to be broken.

She stared at the sign for the county road named for the creek running parallel to it and the ranch to which it led. A beep sounded, and she looked in the rearview mirror to find a pickup truck behind her. When had she stopped? Shaking her head, she took her foot off the brake and hit the gas, zoomed right by the turn-off and over the bridge. At the fork in the road, she turned onto another county road, aptly named Gambler’s Folly.

Yep, this was a gamble alright, and it definitely was folly. She stopped again on the road when she came to the Zack’s gate–the original gate to the CW Ranch. The arch over the driveway was made of wood and showcased the cattle brand the Cartwrights had used for nearly a century and a half–a connected C and W. Beside the brand were painted a pair of aces, representing the winning hand in the poker game in which Cole Cartwright had won the original land in 1865.

The story went that his cousins, Dylan Ferguson and Elijah Blackwell, had pooled their money together and insisted Cole play in the Dallas game only months after they’d returned from the Civil War.

Taking a deep breath, Tracy stared at the aces. “I’m betting one heart and my dignity. What will you raise me, Zack?”

She parked her car next to the garage, added since Zack owned the house. A porch ran the length of the sprawling ranch house. Several rocking chairs sat in the shade, along with a jumble of large toys, including a bright pink battery operated toy car. In the side yard, under a large oak tree was a wooden swing set, complete with tower and slide. A sandbox nestled under the floor of the loft.

Tracy imagined Zack sitting on the porch watching Mandy play in the yard. She wasn’t prepared for the longing to be there beside him watching
their
kids playing.

Rather than give into the hopelessness, she found courage and opened her car door. She fished the key Zack had given her out of her slacks pocket and opened the first door she came to. As promised, it opened into a mudroom. To the left of the kitchen, a huge dining room opened through an impressive timber arch. She turned away from the exhilarating view of the pastures provided by the wall of windows and looked around the kitchen as she thrust out a sigh.

“Make yourself at home. Right.”

She set her hobo purse and the key on the top of the black marble counter of the island, over which hung an assortment of copper-bottomed pots and pans. The appliances were state-of-the-art and stainless steel. This kitchen belonged to someone who knew how to cook. Her heels sounded hollow on the stone floor, reminding her of a big empty castle. A stone fireplace divided the kitchen and the parlor. A long, heavy trestle table with a bench on either side took up the space before the cold hearth. On either end were antique high-backed Spanish chairs.

She turned toward the mudroom door, thinking it might be a good idea to just leave while she could. She caught sight of the counter closest to the door. It was a muddle of newspapers, magazines and a few toys. The tiny naked arm and a head with badly cut blonde hair poking out from among the daily news made her laugh. Most of the time, she felt as if she was drowning in the bad news of the world, too, just like Barbie.

The allusion helped her relax enough to continue exploring. She felt the pulse of history in the home, much as she did at the house at Oak Springs. However, unlike her mother’s childhood home, here she didn’t feel so overwhelmed by the formality.

As she wandered around the large dark wood table in the dining room, gently running her fingertips over the dusty surface, she remembered the time Zack had brought her over to this house the Christmas Eve they’d stayed here while his grandparents were away. Zack and she had attended the family gathering at his Uncle Paul’s, then instead of taking her home, Zack had brought her back here. She smiled at the bittersweet memory.

“This house will be mine someday.” Zack showed her around. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” She looked around at the table and hutch full of old dishes. “It’s a really neat place.”

“It is. Some of this stuff has been in my family for well over a hundred years.” After taking her into his arms, he said, “C’mon, there’s something I want to show you.”

He led her to the bedroom at the end of the long corridor. The master suite was as massive as the rest of the house and as primitive, although it had been added recently. Zack left her long enough to light the candles he’d placed around the room. “You aren’t really thinking of doing what I think you are. Not here. In your grandparents’ bed!”

He laughed and kissed her on the nose after wrapping her up into his arms again. “I changed the sheets and even laundered the comforter. Besides, they don’t sleep in here anymore. Granny sleeps in one of the other rooms in a special bed. And Granddad sleeps in a twin bed beside hers. He didn’t like being in here without her. Claims the bed’s too damned big.”

He’d made love to her most of the night. At the memory of his touch, anticipation sizzled through her.

As if a ghost whispered in her ear, she heard his words as they’d lain together, wrapped up in a glorious afterglow.
“I want to ride rodeo after graduation, while you go to school. I’ll take some ag-business classes between rodeos, and by the time you’re done with med school, I should be done with what I need to know to run this place. Then we can move in...”

Tracy gasped as the meaning of his words burned through her brain like a rocket. She’d been too tired to listen to the rest of his words and fallen to sleep.

“He was talking about our future.” The pain of the realization rocketed through her. She had to make Zack fall in love with her again.

With renewed determination, she decided to look around the rest of the house.

She made her way to the living room, again taken aback by the mix of modern and antique furniture, the amazing view from a wall of windows and the clutter of toys mixed with Zack’s magazines and books. It was such an intimate view into his life. She could see him relaxing in the big leather chair reading his magazines or watching the big screen TV hanging on the wall, while Mandy sat on the floor playing with her Barbies in the giant pink dollhouse in the corner.

Suddenly, a chill tickled down her spine, and she hugged herself against the shiver. She didn’t believe in ghosts. But she figured with the history this place had, if they did exist, there had to be a ghost or two wandering aimlessly around the wide halls and big rooms.

Tracy looked toward the fireplace separating the living room from the formal dining room, and her heart stuttered over a few beats when she saw the photographs lovingly displayed. No, the ghost she felt wasn’t Cole Cartwright coming back to check up on his poker winnings. This ghost was far more real, and a lot harder to exorcise.

“You must be Lisa,” she whispered, but her voice echoed in her mind as if she’d screamed the words.

The stunning woman stared back at Tracy with her full lips frozen forever in a bright smile. She’d been a beauty queen and she looked the part. Long black hair framed a heart-shaped face. Her intelligent, brown eyes were set wide with a pert nose between. Amanda, indeed, looked a great deal like her mother.

Tracy turned her attention away from the woman who’d taken the heart she’d so carelessly broken and made it her own, to the other photos. The next photograph was of Zach in full dress uniform before the flag. The insignia on his uniform was that of a private first class. He looked so young in the picture. She’d seen it before; his aunt had shown it to her years ago. Carefully, she picked up the frame and gazed down at the stranger in the picture chronicling a chapter in Zack’s life she knew very little about.

“That was taken before I went to Afghanistan the first time.”

She almost dropped the frame when she spun to look into the somber face of the live, older version of the man in the picture. The uniform was different, but he resembled the soldier more than the scruffy-haired cowboy she’d fallen for in high school.

Staring into his blue eyes, she saw an unfamiliar shadow. Maybe Zack was more a stranger than she liked to admit. How much of the cowboy she’d hopelessly loved was still in there? Or had his beautiful wife and the life of a Marine fighting in the war completely changed him?

She was ready to find out.

Tracy returned the frame to its place on the mantle and forced herself to look at the pictures of Zack’s life. There were several of Lisa and Amanda as she went from infant to toddler, and a few of Zack with his family. But the one that stopped her cold was obviously a wedding picture. He had Lisa tucked under his arm. Lisa had been the complete opposite from Tracy–average height, busty and curvy. Zack was dressed in a suit and Lisa wore a simple white dress. Lisa practically glowed, and Tracy wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Zack look so happy.

She turned away from the depiction of the life that could have been hers. “Lisa was so beautiful.” Her voice sounded as if she’d dragged it out of her over sandpaper. She hated herself for reminding him of how much she would never measure up to his dead wife.

“Yes, she was.” He held her gaze as if looking for the secrets of the universe.

“Zack...”

She gasped when he pulled her to him. “And so are you,” he whispered against her lips and swallowed her will to disbelieve with his blazing kiss.

Much as he had on that Christmas Eve a lifetime ago, Zack led her down the hall to the open heavy wooden double doors of bedroom at the end. They stopped by the bed, and he deposited a small plastic bag holding a box of condoms on the bedside table.

Anxiousness like nothing she’d ever felt before smacked into her like a tornado when she looked at the king-sized bed. The bed wasn’t made, but the dark green and tan comforter and plain white sheet were pulled up to the pillows.

“Sorry about the mess.” He reached for the buckle of his service belt. “I never entertain company in here.”

She bit her lip as he removed the belt holding various gear, including a holstered Glock, and gently laid it on the couch in front of a red brick fireplace. He didn’t date and probably hadn’t had sex since his wife’s death. The prospect of being the first since Lisa both thrilled and scared her to her core.

When he stood before her again, she met his gaze. “Shouldn’t you lock that up? Because of the gun?”

The grin tugging on his lips had invisible tentacles attached to the pit in her lower belly where she felt its pull. With his hands on the buttons of his shirt, he said, “Are you afraid of my gun?” He opened more buttons, revealing his chest was bare underneath.

As with the night they’d played in the pool, she found it hard not to stare at the muscles moving under the tanned skin and the scar marking the wound that had nearly killed him.

He shrugged out of the shirt. “I wasn’t planning on shooting off
that
particular gun.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and unlaced his boots, pulled them off, then his socks. Such a simple act, but the exhaled breath caught behind her heart somewhere in her throat. He stood, held out his hand to her. “Come here.”

And despite every warning bell in her going off, she took his hand and let him pull her to him. He wrapped her up in his arms.

“This is crazy. It’s the middle of the afternoon. You should be at work trying to figure out who stole your horses. Or sleeping. You said you worked all night.”

A grin lifted the corner of his lips. He hadn’t shaved, and the day’s growth of beard darkened the angle of his jaw and planes of his cheeks. A troublesome lock of hair fell over his forehead. He looked just like the picture of the bad-assed rodeo cowboy she’d ripped from a friend’s calendar and kept folded up in her underwear drawer.

“Yeah, we probably are crazy, but I don’t care.” A hairsbreadth above her lips, he murmured, “Tell me now if you don’t want to do this, Tracy.”