Heartbreak Ranch (18 page)

“Tell me what I should have done,” he demanded, his voice dangerously cool. “I knew damn well that selling the ranch would hurt you, but there was no convincing Harley. Would it be easier if you'd found that the ranch had been sold to Walter Larkin, or Jim Pooler? Maybe to one of those fancy Hollywood types who have been moving into the state and buying up the property?” Quick as a flash, his hand streaked across the table and caught her wrist. “Tell me, Julianne. Is it worse having me own it? Would you feel better right now if the ranch belonged to a stranger?”

“It already does.” She tugged at her wrist to free it. “I don't know you. I thought I did. At least as well as you let anyone know you. But I was wrong.” Her voice grew deceptively distant. “I can see that now. Maybe you really did think Harley should be the one to tell me. But I'll never understand how you could take me to bed and still keep this bit of news to yourself. That strikes me as a bit cold, even for you.”

“Sleeping with you had nothing to do with the ranch.”

That those low, smooth words still had the ability to send a fast skitter down her spine was surely due to system overload. The reaction was unexpected, and totally unwelcome. “I need no convincing that emotion didn't enter into the act.”

He bit out a curse, rose and rounded the table. “That's not what I meant, and you know it.” He came to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders, sliding down her arms and up again in a skin-warming caress. “I saved the ranch the only way I could. I own it, and I won't deny I'm glad about it. But I didn't mean to hurt you, then or now.” At her silence, his fingers tightened on her shoulders and his voice deepened to a rumble. “I don't pretend to understand what's between us, but it's there, and neither of us can deny it. I don't know what it means. But I know that I want you to stay so we can find out.”

She slipped out of her chair, away from his touch. Busying herself making another pot of coffee gave her something to do with her hands. “I'll stay. At least until Annie gets back on her feet. I've made some mistakes along the way, but I've never walked away from a commitment. Once she's well enough, though, I'll be on my way.”

She could sense the utter stillness that came over him, even without turning to see it. Could feel the air between
them grow thick and charged. Like a coward she kept her back to him.

“Where are you going?”

“To school.” She was proud of the steadiness in her tone. “I've been thinking about it for a while, and if I want to be registered for the fall semester I'll need to get signed up. Then I'll have to find an apartment, a job….” Her voice trailed off. The sheer weight of the decision, one that had seemed so right only yesterday, seemed intolerably heavy today. Because now when she left, it was forever. Now when she left, it was goodbye.

He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Are you…is Harley going to pay for it?”

She whirled around then, temper flashing. “As if I'd have asked him!”

He inclined his head. “I didn't figure you would. I just want you to know that I'll handle your bills.”

“Like you handled the ranch?” The words were out before she could stop and think. A muscle tensed in his jaw, and his eyes went flinty. “No, thanks. I'll take care of it myself.”

“With what? You don't have much money. You couldn't after the way Andrew went through it.” He made a swift motion with his hand. “Don't be petty, Julianne. You need the money and I have it. Let me do this for you.”

She set her teeth to keep from grinding them. “Petty and immature, that's me.” Her fingers clutched the countertop in back of her to keep them from finding something, anything, and heaving it at his head. “How can I make you understand? I will not take anything from you. I'd rather dance barefoot on broken glass. When I leave here, I won't be your concern anymore. There will be no more Sir Jed to the rescue. I won't be coming back.” She held
up a hand to stem his words. “Save it. You don't need me for anything more than to salve your conscience.” Her tone mocking, she reminded him, “You told me not long ago that you didn't need anybody. The biggest mistake I ever made was not believing you.”

 

Riding fence was a meticulous, tedious job. There were miles of it stretching around the pastures of the H/B, and all of it had to be checked regularly. But working outside had its advantages, chief among them the scenery. The peaks were backdropped against the bright blue sky, the foothills of the mountains dotted with lush green trees. Somewhere a meadowlark sang its cheerful summer tune. The sound never failed to lighten Jed's mood. Until now.

He'd given Julianne several days to cool down and start thinking logically. He knew her temper. It was the type to flare suddenly, explode brilliantly, before vanishing. He'd known she'd be disappointed. But he'd seriously underestimated her reaction.

It wasn't that she avoided him. She was still taking Annie's place in the house with ever-increasing competence. She fixed the meals and watched over the housekeeper's progress with an eagle eye. She was
there,
but she wasn't accessible. At least not to him.

Kneeing his mount gently, he urged it to a faster pace. He couldn't reach her on any level. She was civil, but frighteningly distant. She spoke to him about the meals, Annie's progress. But any attempt to turn the conversation to a more personal note had been met with complete failure.

There was no doubt about the depth of her hurt, but there was no hint of it in her voice when they spoke. It was in her eyes, though, in the deliberately blank mask she
affected. Like a wound too deep to bleed, the hurt didn't show.

Her reaction only added to the load of guilt that had been growing inside him since she'd returned to the ranch. She'd been right, he hadn't thought about her feelings when he'd offered to buy the place. At least, not at first. He'd learned not to expect Harley to sink any money into the H/B, learned to weather those times when the man would attempt to drain it of major chunks of its operating capital. But it was when Harley had started to sell off pieces of prime bottomland that Jed had felt the first real stirrings of panic. For the first time he'd faced the fact that there was nothing to prevent the man from parceling the ranch off to support his gambling habit. The realization had been like a stake to his heart.

Finding a loosened wire on the fence, he signaled to the men and then worked with them to rewrap the wire and fasten it more securely. Thanks to the inheritance from his father, he hadn't had to stand by helplessly and watch Harley whittle the place down to a shadow of its former magnificence. He'd always considered that money as the grandest of ironies. The man who'd never really been a father to him had enabled him to buy the one place in the world he'd ever called home.

He remounted. Maybe it was true that Julianne's feelings hadn't been his first priority when he'd bought the ranch, but it was equally true that he hadn't stopped considering them since she'd come home.

And for some reason that scared the hell out of him.

 

The air of stillness in the house had all his senses on full alert. Instead of removing his boots and going upstairs to shower and change, he strode immediately to the kitchen. It was empty.

Jed stood in the center of the room and scanned the area with one narrowed glance. There was no sign of dinner preparations being made, and no sign of Julianne.

A cold sense of unease twisted his insides and he went to Annie's room. The woman's welcoming smile quickly turned to a frown when she saw his dress.

“Jed Sullivan, what in blazes are you thinking, wearing your boots in the house? I'm not so crippled up that I can't get up out of this chair and teach you a lesson you ought to have learned years ago.”

“Where is she?” His quiet voice reflected none of the panic circling in his gut, none of the flat-out dread. But there was something in his tone that had Annie eyeing him carefully.

“If you're talking about Julianne, she went to Billings today. Took off early this morning, actually. She wanted to be home by dark, but wasn't sure she'd make it.”

Relief rushed through him in a torrent, making him incapable of speaking for a moment. When he'd seen the empty kitchen, he'd thought… He mentally backed away from the fear that had flooded through him. Julianne was coming back. She'd told Annie so.

“I hope you're not going to ride the girl about her taking a few hours to herself. She's been working herself to a frazzle around here. Even after hearing the news that you and Harley had been keeping from everyone, she hasn't let up.”

Jed exchanged a long, steady look with the woman. As usual, when faced with that penetrating stare, he felt like the recalcitrant kid he'd been at twelve. He jammed his fists in his pockets. “Dammit, Annie, I explained this once. I didn't want to tell you or anyone else until Julianne knew.”

“And you wanted to force Harley to be the one who told her.” The woman nodded. “So you said.”

He looked away, his face grim. “You think I was wrong.”

“I think you were right to force that old reprobate to take responsibility for his actions, for once,” she said tartly. “About the other…buying the ranch…” She heaved a sigh. “I know he would have sold it to someone else if it hadn't been you. And there's no man who deserves it more than you do. But I can't parcel out my feelings for you and Julianne. I don't like to see either of you hurting the way she is right now. It about breaks my heart.”

Her words were tiny daggers to his chest. If he'd thought it was impossible to feel any more miserable, he'd been wrong. He swung away, went to the window and stared sightlessly out at Annie's prize roses.

“This doesn't have to change anything.” It took effort to keep desperation from leaking into his words. “There's no reason for her to leave the ranch. It's as much her home as it is mine. I've tried telling her that, but she isn't listening to me these days.” He turned his head to look at Annie over her shoulder. “Maybe if you talked to her.”

The woman looked away and began pleating the bed-cover with her fingers. His eyes narrowed. “Annie?”

Stubbornly, she refused to answer. He swung around to approach her, a sudden thought occurring to him. “What did you say Julianne was doing in Billings today?”

There was a long silence before the woman released a breath. “Well, you'll find out soon enough, I suppose. She's been calling all the pawnshops in the area. I suppose she's making the rounds.”

Surprise held him still. “Pawnshops?”

“There's no talking the girl out of an idea once she's decided on it. I told her I had money put away, money I'll
never use, but she refused to borrow from me. She's going to finish college and she's bound to do it on her own. She's selling her diamond earrings.”

It was a moment before comprehension set in. “She's pawning her jewelry?”

Annie smiled sadly. “She didn't really have much, but she did set store by those earrings. I guess there's something she wants more.”

There was a pain in his gut, like the twist of a carefully placed knife. Yeah, there was something she wanted more. Like leaving the ranch. Getting away from him.

He swung away again, pacing in the room. He had a vivid memory of the earrings that Annie spoke of. Julianne had been sporting them the only time she'd visited the ranch with her husband, had worn them again the night of the Cattlemen's Ball. The first night he'd kissed her. He should feel no sorrow that the gift from her husband would be lost to her, but the thought of Julianne having to give up one more thing she loved made his throat go tight. “Little fool,” he muttered. “I told her I'd take care of her expenses. She's got to get over her damned pride, Annie, and let us help her.”

“I'd say chances of that are slim. She's made up her mind to leave.” The quaver in the woman's voice had Jed's attention jerking toward her. “I don't know of any way to stop her from doing just that.”

The panic was back, practically choking him. He clenched his hands and released them spasmodically. “She's hurt and angry. I know that. But she loves the ranch. College won't last forever. She'll be back.”

The woman firmed lips that were inclined to tremble. “No. Not this time. Believe me, I've tried. I've talked myself blue in the face.”

Desperation reared, with a ferocity that was alarming.
“She's left before. The ranch is part of her. She can't be in the state and not return.”

“But what's to keep her in the state once she finishes school? She only has a year or so left on her degree. No, Jed, I think we just have to accept the fact that Julianne is going to leave us, unless we can convince her otherwise.”

He wasn't prepared for the wave of helplessness that drenched him at her words. The power of the emotion stunned and terrified him. Violent desperation spilled out then, fueling anger. “What am I supposed to do, get on my knees? Well, screw that,” he snarled, not noticing the shocked expression on Annie's face. “I'm not begging her to stay. If she wants to leave, let her go. I don't need this mess, I don't need her. I've got the ranch.”

“Yes,” Annie agreed quietly. “You've got the ranch.”

There was a time when those four words would have been all he needed to fill the vast emptiness he carried inside him. Bleakly he contemplated the oak plank floor and wondered when having the ranch had ceased to be enough.

J
ed sat on the edge of Julianne's bed and watched as the smell of fresh coffee brought her awake in slow, involuntary increments. By sheer force of will he kept his gaze on her face, away from the soft skin and smooth silk bared by the bedcovers bunched at her waist. Her head burrowed deeper into the pillow, and there was a pang in his heart as he remembered a time when her head had rested on his chest. With little effort, he recalled the softness of her cheek, the feel of her pressing closer to him. Her eyes fluttered slowly open then, and the dazed, unfocused look in them reminded him of the look he'd seen on her face each time he'd slid deep inside her.

The mental images kept him tense as she stretched and yawned before propping herself higher in bed. He shoved a coffee mug into her hand with barely controlled violence and watched her eyes slide closed in appreciation for its hot, bracing flavor. And he knew the exact instant when sleep fully fled, when awareness and memory returned.

Her eyes flew open and her fingers clutched the mug more tightly. “You make an unlikely waiter. When did you add room service to your list of duties around here?”

He heard the wariness layered beneath the words, and his chest drew tighter. “We need to talk.”

“Okay. All right.” Her gaze lowered to the mug in her hand and refused to lift. “I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

Something perverse inside him made him ask, “What's wrong with now?”

He watched her swallow hard and reach to pull the covers higher. “Well, since I'm not in the habit of sleeping fully clothed, I'm really not dressed for it.”

His gaze flashed to her shoulders, bare but for bits of ribbon, all that held her short nightgown in place. She hadn't been dressed for it the last time he'd come to her bedroom, either, he remembered, though he'd come that time to talk, as well. To apologize for pushing her away when she'd been trying to help him in the only way she knew how. He'd almost told her then about the sale of the ranch. The secret had weighed particularly heavily after offering up that slice of his past. But before he could, she'd made an offer herself. One that had been impossible to resist.

She still wouldn't look at him. As she hunched her shoulders to sip at the coffee, one ribbon did a slow, sensuous slide off her shoulder. She shrugged at it impatiently, and it inched a couple of fractions higher.

He stared at the sliver of fabric, filled with a sudden need to reach out with one finger to hook the ribbon, to pull it lower. To bare the flesh that had not long ago been his to touch, to taste, to possess. The urge was so strong that he rose abruptly from the bed, shoved his hands into
his pockets and propped himself against the wall. If there was ever a time to avoid temptation, it was now.

“I didn't know if you'd be around later. You took off yesterday without a word. Thought maybe you had plans for today, too.”

“No, not really. Just the usual chores to do.”

The silence stretched, thrumming with tension. “You didn't get back until late last night,” he said finally. Not by a hint in his voice did he let on that he knew the exact moment she'd arrived home. The tide of relief that had coursed through him when he'd heard the front door open, heard her take the stairs to her room, had been short-lived. It had been too easy to imagine a not-so-distant time when he'd wait in vain for her return. The knowledge had made sleep impossible, and the Scotch too inviting.

“So, your trip to Billings was successful?”

She stiffened. “I did what I set out to do.”

“Dammit, Julianne.” The words exploded from him, and he pushed away from the wall, striding around the bed until its length was between them. Only then did she lift her gaze to his.

“Pawnbrokers? Some of those people aren't real trustworthy. I can only imagine the parts of the city you were in. Alone.”

She ignored the emphasis he'd placed on the last word and confronted his anger head-on. “It isn't your concern, Jed. Annie has obviously told you the whole story, so what do you want to hear? That I failed? Sorry to disappoint you.”

Frustration made his voice harsh. “You're hardly a match for those predators.”

“On the contrary.” Her chin tipped up in a gesture of defiance. “I'm not stupid. I knew I'd be at a disadvantage, so I used my God-given talents of charm and persuasion.
I wore the guy down.” At his silence, she added, “I did my homework. I got the best price possible for them.”

It wasn't until that moment that he admitted to himself that he'd been hoping to hear a far different answer. He'd wanted to hear that she hadn't raised enough money, that she'd changed her mind. He should have known better. His palms went damp, and he stifled the urge to take them out of his pockets and wipe them on his jeans.

“You know it's going to be a couple of months before Annie's up to full speed. And even then someone should be watching her to make sure she doesn't overdo things.”

“I'll be here as long as Annie needs me.”

The words slashed through him like a keen-edged blade. As long as Annie needed her. But not Jed. He fisted his hands. He wasn't a man to know about need. He'd spent his life making damn sure that he never felt it for anyone. Why then did it feel like her words carved a deep, ragged furrow through his chest?

“I've been thinking about something you said before.” At her words, his gaze went to hers and held. “It still hurts, that Harley sold the ranch. I think it always will. But—” she took a deep breath, as if forcing herself to continue “—if the ranch has to be belong to somebody else, I'd just as soon it be you. I know what it's meant to you all these years.”

The words should have soothed. Instead they tangled with the guilt and frustration that seemed constant companions these days. “What about what it's meant to you?” he countered. He watched her closely, saw the spasm cross her face, saw the way her fingers clenched the mug, and pressed his advantage. “Think about it, Julianne. Nothing has to change.”

A sad little smile pulled at her lips. “Everything already
has.
We
changed it, Jed, you and I. We can't change back. At least I can't.”

It took more courage than he cared to admit to utter the next words. “So you're just going to walk away from what's between us?”

“Actually, I'm going to run like hell.” She tried for lightness, didn't quite pull it off. “Who are we trying to kid, here? I've spent my life wanting more, and you've spent yours making damn sure no one ever hurts you again. If anything good has come out of this situation, it's that I've been forced to take a hard look at myself. I won't be satisfied with crumbs anymore. Not from my selfish father. Not from my emotionally crippled ex-husband. Not from you.”

His gaze shot to hers then, a protest on his lips, but she wasn't finished. And every word she uttered pummeled him with relentless force. “No one gets close to you, Jed. You make sure of that. I've made up my mind that I'm not going to
settle
for anything anymore, and that includes being content with the tiny fractions of yourself that you're willing to dole out.” Her tone became wry. “Call it a delayed sense of self-preservation.”

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and the words he spoke were torn from him. “You want me to admit that you matter to me?” He whirled on his heel to pace the room and wished savagely for a cigarette. “You do matter. I've told you that before. What else do you want?”

There was a sadness in her voice that tore at his heart. “Nothing from you.
Just for you.
I guess for a start I'd like you to have what I just got with Harley. If not satisfaction, at least a sense of closure. Until you put your past behind you where it belongs, you can't get on with your future.”

She waited, but when he didn't respond she shook her
head. “Maybe Harley was right. I've always wanted too much.”

He stood still while she slipped from the bed and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind her. His gaze fell to the rumpled sheets, and he swallowed hard. Memories of the two of them lying there lingered in the air, of tangled bodies and heated nights. Of silky hair, smooth skin and eager hands. Of Julianne, painted with moonlight and shadows, adorned with only rose petals.

Suddenly the air in the room was too thick to breathe. He tore his gaze from the bed, scowled and concentrated on moving oxygen in and out of his lungs. She had no right to look so hurt, so disappointed by his silence at her words. He didn't have the faintest idea what she was talking about, anyway. Closure? What the hell was that? He'd had little opportunity for closure in his life. People disappeared too fast. Keeping himself apart, shut off, was an acquired defense, one that had served him damn well. Until she had taken even that from him.

Wearily he scrubbed both hands over his face. He knew with an instinct that owed nothing to logic that if Julianne left, even a return to that safe, comfortable detachment would be impossible. He was in the middle of a crossroads, and both paths were equally terrifying.

When he heard her turn the shower off, he finally moved toward the door. He'd played it safe all his life, maintaining control, eliminating risks. Now he was faced with the greatest risk of his life. One false move would cost him Julianne forever.

 

The supper table had been cleared and Julianne had gone to Annie's room to beat the woman at gin. Uncustomarily, Jed had joined them, although not to play cards. Instead he was prowling the room silently, in a way that
had Annie raising her brows and Julianne clenching her teeth.

“Land sakes, Jed. You're awful restless tonight,” Annie commented as she discarded from her hand. “You don't have to keep us company, you know.”

“What?” He looked at the women blankly.

“I said, either sit down or get on to your den. You're breaking my concentration. Playing with this one—” she nodded toward Julianne “—requires all my attention.”

His gaze shifted to Julianne then. She could feel his piercing regard, feel the force of his will leveled at her, and couldn't quite control a shiver. It had been a week since he'd brought coffee to her room, a week since he'd accepted her decision about leaving the ranch.

She slid him a sideways glance, which skittered away under the force of his gaze. At least he'd seemed to accept it. But when the two of them were in the same room, the tension was palpable. He'd made no attempt to talk her into staying again, and she knew he wouldn't. The price she'd named had been too high, the demand too great. Maybe once she was one hundred miles away, in a new apartment, that fact might stop making her ache.

He'd walked in on her when she was calling to inquire about the availability of apartments within walking distance of the campus, and just the memory of the expression on his face still had the power to weaken her knees. Until recently, she'd had no doubt about her ability to co-exist with him until Annie was well. But she hadn't reckoned on the charged silences, the smoldering looks. She hadn't reckoned on the strength of her own feelings for him.

Because she was unwilling to examine those feelings too closely, she focused instead on her cards. She hadn't counted on the torturous nights alone, when the prospect of sleep was distant and the future stretched out before
her, bleak and desolate. She hadn't counted on feeling like she'd lost every chance of happiness she'd ever had.

She drew a card and discarded it without thinking. Only when Annie made a pleased sound and pounced on it with barely disguised glee did she remember what the other woman had been collecting.

The next hand, Annie laid her cards down and crowed, “Gin! And I owe it all to you, Jed.” She beamed a smile at him. “Your pacing must have distracted the girl. Maybe I'll keep you around every time we play.”

Julianne didn't dare risk a glance at him. He was a distraction, all right, much more so than Annie could know. And she was rapidly beginning to accept the fact that he would continue to be a distraction no matter how far she moved, or how fast she ran.

The doorbell pealed then and she looked up quizzically. “Are either of you expecting company?” Annie shook her head, and Jed…she looked at him more closely. If she hadn't doubted he possessed any, she'd have sworn he was wearing nerves.

When he remained frozen in place, she rose and headed to the front door. “No, no, don't get up,” she muttered under her breath. “Let me do it.” Then she pulled the door open.

The couple on the porch were strangers to the area. She knew all the neighbors within a fifty-mile radius of the ranch. Yet there was something familiar about the man's still, waiting air, something recognizable in his enigmatic gray eyes.

Julianne's gaze shifted to encompass the dark-haired woman standing by his side, and she smiled tentatively. “Can I help you?”

It was the man who spoke. “We've come to see Jed. I'm John Sullivan, and this is my wife Ellie.”

His words rocked her. Disbelievingly, her gaze swung from the man to the woman, and back again. Jed's brother. One part of her mind took rapid inventory, even as the rest struggled with comprehension. At first glance, they didn't resemble each other. Where Jed was dark, this man's hair was almost as light as her own. Jed was an inch or two taller, maybe a bit leaner. But upon closer examination, the similarities were there, too. That gray gaze that gave nothing away; the quiet aura of strength and purpose. It was more than the thin white scar tracing across the man's throat that told her that he could be as dangerous as his brother.

His brother. Foreboding flashed across her mind. What was Jed going to say? How was he going to react? He'd firmly rejected the idea of contacting this man, despite every hope she'd held to the contrary. His brother's unexpected appearance was going to force him to face his past, and her throat tightened in anticipation of the scene to follow.