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Authors: Sherryl Woods

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BOOK: Heartland
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“He's very proud of your success.”

“He's glad the bills are being paid,” she retorted with a touch of asperity. Forcing a more cheerful tone, she said, “Well, now that you've seen for yourself how terrific things are around here, you can be on your way.”

Steven ignored the blatant dismissal. “You've never married.”

Lara's hands stilled. “So? Marriages don't guarantee happiness. From everything you had told me about yours, you of all people should know that.”

He winced. “You're right. I was just a kid, and my marriage wasn't a particularly happy one. That doesn't mean I wouldn't try again, if the right woman came along. What about you?”

“I suppose, if the right man came along, I'd marry.”

“But in all these years he hasn't appeared? Maybe your standards are impossibly high.”

She frowned at the sarcasm. She'd heard the same thing from Tommy all too often. Even mild-mannered Megan chastised her for shutting herself away on the farm. Only Greg, the youngest of the three siblings, left her alone. He was too absorbed with his paintings to even notice the rest of the family. Choosing a solitary existence for himself, he saw nothing odd about her life-style.

Her resentment of the familiar refrain was all too clear in her tone. “Your mythical perfect woman apparently hasn't shown up, either, or am I wrong?” she said, attempting to turn the tables and put him on the defensive. “Have there been other women since you left here eleven years ago?”

“There've been women,” he admitted curtly.

“But no marriages?”

“No. I think I was spoiled.”

“Oh?” She heard a note in his voice that puzzled her. It was the same solemn hint of regret she'd caught at the bank the day he'd offered to buy her land.

He picked up a small piece of dough, worked it nervously for several minutes as tension built. The air was still, crackling with the promise of a storm and something more. At last he dropped the dough back onto the counter and let his hands fall to his sides.

“I've missed you, Lara.”

Her eyes widened in shock. That disconcerting quiet note was back in his voice. He actually sounded sincere. “What did you say?”

“I've missed you,” he repeated with a touch of belligerence. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Since you're the one who walked out on me without a word, yes, it is a little surprising.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“And I was one of yours?”

“Not you, Lara. Leaving you. That was the mistake. At the time I was so sure it was the right thing to do, but now I don't know.”

She swallowed hard. “I think you'd better go.”

“Nope,” he said, his voice merely conversational rather than challenging. “I ran away once before. I won't do it again, not without explaining, not without trying to make things right.”

“How can I get through to you? I don't want your strawberries or your explanations. I don't want to have casual little chats with you about old times. In fact, I don't want you here at all.” Her voice rose, ending on a note of frustration.

“I think you do.” He took a step closer. “I think that's why your cheeks are flushed that becoming shade of pink and your pulse is racing.”

“If my cheeks are flushed, it's because I'm angry,” she retorted. “And my pulse is not racing.”

A rough, tanned finger reached out, and she jerked away instinctively, backing up. He pursued her. A single step was all it took. He touched her neck gently, found the telltale pulse and lingered for just an instant. “Liar,” he said.

Furious and suddenly all too vulnerable, Lara felt tears form in her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I've waited long enough.”

“Long enough for what?”

“For you to come to your senses. Long enough to see if I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“I came back here three years ago hoping that I'd been wrong, praying that you weren't the reason no other woman appealed to me. I had this image of you in my mind that wouldn't go away. It was there when I was awake. It was there when I slept. Worse, it was there no matter whom I held in my arms.”

His gaze met hers, and she saw the shadow of pain in his eyes. It stunned her that Steven had not escaped the past years without scars, either. She tried to steel herself against what she saw. It made him appear defenseless, more accessible than the heartless man who'd been able to distance himself from a girl he'd promised to love. His smile now was a weary hint of the blaze of pleasure it had once been.

“Then I saw you,” he said, sounding as bemused as she felt. “God, how you'd changed. There were shadows under your eyes. You'd pulled that incredible golden hair of yours back so severely that all I wanted to do was yank it loose and run my fingers through it until it was the wild tangle I'd remembered. And you were thin, all those ripe adolescent curves gone. But I wanted you, just the same. I wanted you so badly I hurt, just the way my body is hurting right now. I knew right then that I could never let you go again.”

“Stop it,” she pleaded. “Stop saying that. You left, Steven. You betrayed me. You betrayed all of us. You can never change that. It's too late. I don't want you back.”

As if her words had been a challenge, a slow, gentle smile, brighter now, tugged at the corners of his lips. “I'll make you want me again, Lara. You know I can do it, too, don't you?”

His words were spoken confidently, laced with a dare. Once Lara might have taken him up on it, but no more. She'd built a quiet, pleasant life for herself. Safe. More secure than ever, now that the farm was doing well each year. Steven Drake would not waltz in here one summer afternoon and take that hard-won serenity away from her.

Oh, but he has, she thought. That's exactly what he's done. If he left right now and never came back, he would take her hard-won peace of mind with him.

“You're still here!” Jennifer shouted with enthusiasm as she came back into the kitchen, tugging Kelly with her. The two-year-old's eyes were still sleepy, and she held her favorite blanket clutched in one hand. The end was dragging on the floor. “Kelly's just a baby. She still has to take a nap.”

Steven reached down and scooped Kelly up. She promptly put her head on his shoulder. Lara glared at her.

“She doesn't look like a baby to me,” he said. His voice was filled with such tenderness and delight that it tugged at Lara's heart. It was as if he'd guessed that the free-spirited, independent Kelly was closest to the way Lara had once been. Did he recognize the similarity she'd felt so often and responded to it as she did?

“I think she's almost as pretty as you are,” he said to Jennifer.

“You think I'm pretty?” Jennifer asked, twirling around excitedly.

“Absolutely. When you grow up, I'll bet you'll be as beautiful as your Aunt Lara.” His eyes met Lara's, but she looked away, unable to deal with the clear message she saw there.

“Tell you what, girls,” he was saying now, his voice so deliberately casual, he immediately aroused Lara's suspicion. “Why don't you come over and go swimming again tomorrow? I have it on good authority that there are bigger fish waiting to be caught, too.”

Jennifer's eyes lit up. Even Kelly, normally slow to wake fully from her naps, seemed to perk up at the prospect of another adventure.

“Oh, can we, Aunt Lara?” Jennifer begged. “Swimming's the most fun of anything, and I want to catch that big fish before Kelly and me have to go away.”

Helpless in the face of their enthusiasm, Lara evaded giving a direct response. “We'll see.”

“Noon?” Steven persisted. “This time I'll have my housekeeper fix the picnic.”

Another picnic by the stream with its inevitable memories was the very last thing Lara intended to do with Steven. He'd reached new heights of insensitivity just by suggesting such a thing. Then, clearly aware of her discomfort, he'd knowingly backed her even further into a corner. The man was maddening.

“I don't think so,” she said finally. “It would be too much trouble, and we have things to do tomorrow, anyway.”

“What things?” he and Jennifer said in a chorus.

She gritted her teeth to keep from yelling. “This is a farm. There are always things to do.”

“But you said earlier you had enough help now,” Steven reminded her. “Surely you could find the time for a picnic.”

“Not tomorrow,” she said firmly.

Not ever, she thought.

Steven nodded at last, accepting the finality of her decision. “Okay, kids, we'll do it another time. Your Aunt Lara and I will work it out.”

“You promise?” Jennifer inquired skeptically, disappointment etched on her face. That expression was almost Lara's undoing.

“Cross my heart,” he said as he put Kelly down and headed for the door.

“No go,” Kelly protested at once, dropping her beloved blanket and holding up her arms.

“I'll be back, sweetheart. You can count on it.”

The promise was addressed to Kelly and Jennifer, but his eyes were on Lara. Deny it or not, now her cheeks were flushed and her fingers trembled, but she refused to look away. It had been years since she'd felt this way, giddy with excitement and filled with the yearning ache of desire. Too many years, she admitted reluctantly and hated herself for the traitorous response.

“He shouldn't have come back,” she murmured when he had gone. “He should never have come back.”

But he had.

Chapter Three

L
ogan Fairchild stood with one dusty boot propped up on the bottom rung of the split-rail fence. He whipped off the sweat and dirt-stained Stetson he'd worn ever since Lara had hired him and wiped a red bandanna across his weathered face.

Everything about Logan, from his deliberately Western attire to his slow talk, bowlegged walk and rough edges, suggested a man who'd grown up with Texas-style ranching. Lara knew for a fact, though, that Logan had been born not thirty miles away in northwestern Ohio some sixty years ago. In all that time the closest he'd ever been to a cowboy was a John Wayne movie, but he lived out his dream nonetheless. He was the best farm manager she'd ever run across, steady, knowledgeable and willing to take orders from a woman—as long as she listened to his advice first.

“This here corn's lookin' mighty good, Ms. Danvers.” Brown eyes scanned the fields spread out before them. “It's Fourth of July, and already it's high as an elephant's eye, just like the song says. I told you this hybrid was gonna do right by us. If the weather holds, you'll have your best year yet.”

“I hope so, Logan. I used the last of the money we got for selling the land to buy that new equipment. What with that and hiring the extra men last year we barely made ends meet. I don't want this place to start running in the red again. Tommy and Greg will start in on me again about selling. Since Tommy left, they think the farm is too much for me to handle.”

“Not with me around, it's not. Don't you worry. We'll do okay, Ms. Danvers,” he said. “If the Lord wants us to.”

He pulled an ear of corn off the nearest stalk and stripped away the corn silk to reveal plump yellow kernels. He poked a thumbnail into a juicy kernel and apparently found it tender. He nodded in satisfaction. “We ought to start harvesting this field by the end of the week.”

“Do you have the men you need?”

“We should be okay.”

“If not, pick up some day workers. I don't want the crop going bad because we couldn't get it harvested in time.”

“No chance of that,” he chided. “I know my business.”

She grinned at him. “Probably better than I do, right, Logan?”

“You're pretty good yourself,” he conceded grudgingly. “For a woman.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” she said with a resigned shake of her head. “You're an unrepentant male chauvinist.”

He hooted at the charge. “Through and through, Ms. Danvers. Through and through. Now get along with you. That parade's starting in town pretty soon, and you don't want those little ones to miss it.”

“They're already having their own parade. They've been carrying flags around the house all morning. I left when Jennifer started beating on a pan.” Recalling the noise, she shuddered.

Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a whistle he'd carved. “Give her this. Maybe it'll go easier on your nerves.”

“Thanks, Logan. I'm sure she'll love it. I know I will.”

Lara walked slowly back to the house, thinking about this year's crop. She hoped Logan was right about the new corn. This year could be a turning point for her. With a good crop, she'd be able to add to her special account meant to buy back Steven's property. A bad year could be devastating, especially with the pressure from Tommy and Greg. She didn't know why they'd suddenly gotten it into their heads that she should sell the place, but they could both take a flying leap before she'd consider it. Before her agitation could build, she brought herself up short. She wasn't going to think about that today, not with a big holiday celebration waiting in town.

Long before she reached the house, she could hear the girls. As she turned the corner, she saw them waiting impatiently for her on the porch.

“We make music, Aunt Lara,” Kelly said, clapping two pan lids together. The makeshift cymbals were accompanied by Jennifer's improvised drum, the bottom of one of Lara's best pots. The performance made up in enthusiasm and volume what it lacked in rhythm and musicality. Lara shuddered again but kept a smile on her face.

“That's very loud music,” she said, a comment she was certain they would consider high praise. “As soon as you're finished with your song we can leave for the parade.” The pan and lids clattered to the porch. She shook her head. “Nope. They go back inside.”

There was much scurrying before they finally reappeared, miniature American flags in hand. Dressed in red-and-white-striped shirts and blue shorts, they made a patriotic pair. Lara pulled her camera out of her pocket. “Let's get a picture of you two to send to Mommy and Daddy. I'll bet they're missing you a whole lot today.”

The girls posed reluctantly, clearly more excited about the prospect of the parade. The instant the camera's shutter clicked, they were off to pile into the car. Jennifer had already fastened her seat belt, and Kelly was crawling into her car seat by the time Lara got there.

The downtown streets were already crowded when they arrived a half hour later. They parked a few blocks from Main Street and walked over to find places on the curb, which was already lined with families.

“Me can't see,” Kelly protested, trying to wiggle between adult legs.

“Me, either, Aunt Lara.”

“We'll walk a little way down and see if we can't find a better place.”

“But the parade's already started. I can hear it,” Jennifer lamented, tears welling up. “We're going to miss it all.”

Suddenly Steven was blocking their path. Catching sight of Jennifer's tears, he was instantly kneeling down in front of her. “What's all this about?”

Blue eyes were turned on him appealingly. “Kelly and me can't see anything. Everybody's too tall.”

“Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?” His gaze lifted to meet Lara's. She was trapped. Again. His voice dropped a level. “Hello, Lara.”

“Steven.”

“Mind if I help out my friends here?”

She shrugged. There was no point in objecting. She'd have two hysterical children on her hands if she did.

Steven lifted Kelly and perched her on his shoulders, then took Jennifer's hand. He approached the family in front of them. “Excuse me, folks. Would you mind if the little one here gets up front so she can see?”

They responded automatically to his smile and parted to create a space for Jennifer. She looked back at him. “You, too.”

“Nope. That wouldn't be fair. Your Aunt Lara and I are tall enough to stay back here. We'll be right behind you.”

Accepting Steven's word without question, Jennifer turned to watch the parade. Kelly was already wide-eyed as the first band came marching past. She waved her flag so enthusiastically it almost caught Steven in the eye. Lara reached out to take it away from her, but Steven intervened, his hand catching hers in midreach. “She's okay. No damage done.”

Instead of dropping her hand, he used the incident as an excuse to keep it, holding it in the familiar way of two lovers used to such casual intimacy. Lara's head protested the touch, but her body accepted it all too readily. His flesh was warm, his fingers gentle in their command over her senses. It was the touch of a man who knew well the subtleties of seduction. In time, just when Lara's blood was heating, her heart drumming, he released her. She felt instantly bereft and furious because of it.

The last band marched past, and the crowd began to break up, most of the people heading for the square where a barbecue was being held throughout the afternoon, to be followed by games and dancing and fireworks.

When he'd retrieved Jennifer from her spot along the curb, Steven touched a hand to the small of Lara's back to turn her toward the square. “Come on. I'll buy you all some chicken and corn on the cob.”

“Really, that's not necessary,” Lara protested.

“Of course, it's not necessary. I want to do it.” He tendered his most beguiling grin. “You wouldn't want me to spend the rest of the holiday all alone, would you?”

“With the number of available women in this county, you wouldn't be alone more than five minutes, and you know it.”

“But I'd rather choose the one I'll spend my time with. Come on, Lara. It's just a barbecue. Your nieces are with us. We'll be chaperoned by the whole town. How dangerous can it be?”

Lara's heart skipped a beat. She was unable to restrain herself from saying, “I seem to recall that eleven years ago the whole town wasn't enough to keep us from getting into trouble.”

Warmth filled his eyes. Their glances caught and held. Time—eleven lonely years—vanished. “I wasn't sure you remembered that night.”

“How could I not?” she said, unwillingly lost to the memories. “It was a night that changed my life.”

“Mine, too,” he said very, very softly, and for just an instant she believed him. “Stay, Lara.”

Desire tugged at her. “Steven, I can't.”

“Can't or won't? Weren't you planning to take the girls to the barbecue before I came along?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a sigh.

“Then you can't very well disappointment them, can you?” he pressed.

“Please, Aunt Lara,” Jennifer begged. Even Kelly's bright blue eyes watched her hopefully.

Her eyes flashed angrily as the trap tightened around her. “Steven—”

He gave a quick, pointed glance at the two wide-eyed children and held up a hand.

“Hey, Nellie, my love,” he called to the grey-haired woman who normally worked behind the old-fashioned soda fountain at Beaumont's. Lara noticed that a blush crept up her cheeks at the affectionate greeting he'd been giving her since he and Lara had gone into the drugstore for milk shakes eleven years ago. Apparently not even women over sixty were immune to Steven's considerable charms. Nellie waited for him, not looking one bit surprised to see Lara and her nieces with him.

“Would you mind doing me a tremendous favor?” he asked her. “You'd be saving my life.”

“Steven Drake, I'd walk across hot coals for you,” she told him, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Lara. “It's a good thing I'm not a few years younger. I'd take that sweet talk of yours seriously, and then we'd both be in a pack of trouble with your young lady here. What do you need?”

“How about taking Jennifer and Kelly on down to the barbecue for me so I can have a few minutes alone with Lara?”

“Steven,” Lara protested.

“I don't mind a bit,” Nellie said cheerfully. “How about it, kids? Shall we go find the biggest pieces of fried chicken we can?”

“And ice cream?” Kelly inquired hopefully.

“I'll bet we can find some ice cream, too.”

“Thanks, Nellie. You're an angel. We'll catch up with you in a few minutes,” Steven promised.

“Take your time and enjoy yourselves. With my grandkids away, it's a real treat to have some little ones along on a day like this.”

As soon as the children and Nellie were out of earshot, Lara whirled on Steven. “How dare you? For the past week you've been barging into my life, using those children to get to me. I don't know what you're after, but I wish you'd tell me and then back off.”

The more she fumed, the broader Steven's grin grew. “What's wrong with you?” she demanded. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I'm not laughing,” he said, swallowing a chuckle. “It's just that it's been so long since I've seen you this furious.”

“Well, if you're perverse enough to think I'm terrific when I'm angry, you're in for the treat of your lifetime because I am boiling mad, Steven Drake.”

She began pacing up and down the sidewalk, drawing amused glances. Her blond hair, drawn up in a ponytail, bounced indignantly. She stopped in front of him finally and put her hands on her hips. She glared straight into his eyes. “You are an insufferable, arrogant, rude man, and I've had just about all I intend to take from you.”

“That's better,” he praised. “Go for it.”

She waved a hand in his face. “This is not some game.”

“Closer to therapy, I'd say.”

“You traipse back into town, get some ridiculous notion into your head about wanting me back...” The amused glint in his eyes suddenly registered, and his comment sank in. “What do you mean this is closer to therapy?”

“I told you the other day you needed to do all the yelling you didn't get to do eleven years ago. It's time you got your feelings all out in the open so we can deal with them.”

His deliberately calm understanding was almost more than she could take. She began pacing again. “Who made you an expert in psychology? I don't want to deal with what happened eleven years ago. I want to talk about what's going on right now. I want to talk about the way you're trying to manipulate me. I won't have it, do you hear me? I won't have you acting all sweet and attentive with my nieces just to get to me. They're little kids. They won't understand when you stop showing up.”

“Any more than you did?” His voice was very quiet.

She halted in midstep and turned slowly back to face him. His expression was unreadable, but his message had been crystal clear.

“Okay,” she said at last. “You're right. I didn't understand. I still don't, but can't you see I don't care anymore? Right now all I'm concerned about is the way you're using those girls.”

“Who says I'm playing up to those kids to get to you? I happen to like children. They always say exactly what's on their mind, unlike some adults I could mention.” He stared at her pointedly before adding, “Besides, Megan asked me to look in on them.”

Lara couldn't have been more stunned if he'd slapped her. “Megan?”

“I ran into her before she and Tommy left town. She suggested I drop in and check on them. She didn't like the idea of the three of you being all alone over there and since I am the closest neighbor, she asked if I'd mind. Of course, I said I wouldn't. She didn't want me to mention it to you.”

BOOK: Heartland
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