Lead Me Home (17 page)

“Don’t count your chickens,” she said.

“My chickens are rounded up and in the coop.” As he threw down his winning hand face-up, he felt like beating his chest in a primitive display of victory. But instead, he glanced over at her and smiled. “Panties off, sweetheart.” He ripped open the condom package. “It’s show time.”

* * *

A
URELIA HADN’T EXPECTED
to have fun playing cards, but strip poker was a blast. She’d pretended to be upset when she lost, but in reality, having a chance to tease Matthew with a little shimmy here and a little shake there had only added to her enjoyment of the game. Winning enough hands to strip him naked before he’d been able to do the same to her had been pure luck, although she’d never tell him that.

Then she’d made him work for his ultimate prize, and when she pulled her black panties off, she tossed them to him. “Your trophy, sir.”

He caught them in one hand. “Quite damp, aren’t they?”

“I might have become a little bit excited while we were playing.”

“Seems so.” He tossed the panties on the bedside table. “I might have to keep those for a souvenir.”

“For your perseverance, I suppose.”

“You really made me work for this.” He dropped to his hands and knees and moved forward, as if stalking her.

“Fitting, considering you expected to win all along.” She mimicked his stance. They circled each other, maintaining eye contact. She’d pushed him to the limit, and at some point he would spring and pin her to the mattress.

She was more than ready. Her nipples ached and her thighs were moist. Matthew brought out a side of her that she’d never known existed. But then, she’d never experienced the raw masculinity of a man who was more comfortable in boots, jeans and a cotton shirt than he would ever be in a suit and tie.

He’d spoiled her for ordinary men, and she knew that was the danger in becoming involved with somebody like Matthew. She’d taken the risk, and she’d do it again. This level of passion was well worth it.

His voice thrilled her with its restrained urgency. “You’re taunting me, Aurelia.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, but that’s okay. I have good reflexes.”

“So do I.”

“But mine are better.” With that he pounced.

She struggled because she knew he expected her to, and they rolled and wrestled on the bed, scattering covers and pillows, building the excitement. Twisting in his arms, she relished every contact with that hard body of his.

He was obviously using only a small portion of his strength, because if he’d really wanted to subdue her, he could have done it in seconds. Instead he let her think that she had a chance against him.

And then, suddenly, his arm tightened around her. Before she quite knew what he was doing, he’d brought her to her knees again as he moved behind her. Breathing hard, he leaned over and murmured in her ear, “Like this, tonight.” It was not a request.

His commanding tone thrilled her. He took her in one sure movement, thrusting deep, removing any last trace of reserve she’d unknowingly clung to. They made love as if they were creatures in the wild, and she gave herself to him as she’d never given herself to a man before. Lifting her hips, she opened her thighs and invited him to claim her as his.

Almost before she realized it, she was coming, responding instinctively to his rapid strokes. He followed soon after, driving into her one last time, holding her hips steady to receive him. She felt him pulse within her body, felt his shudder and the deep moan of release.

He held her there for a few precious seconds, and then he wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both down to the crumpled sheets. They lay panting, spooned together, still connected.

His hands cupped her breasts and squeezed gently. His breath was warm against her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I loved it.”

“Me, too.”

Her breathing slowed, and though she fought to stay awake, she drifted inevitably toward sleep. In that twilight before she went completely under, she was vaguely aware that Matthew left the bed, which left her chilled. Then he was back. Gathering her close, he pulled the quilt over them, and she surrendered to oblivion.

She woke up to the sound of the shower in her small bathroom. Cowboys rose at dawn, she’d discovered, and anyone who slept with them had better get used to it. In her opinion, the advantages of spending the night with Matthew far outweighed this small disadvantage.

Sitting up in bed, she used her fingers to comb some of the tangles from her hair. As her eyes adjusted to the pale light, she glanced at Matthew’s deck of cards on the nightstand and smiled. She might need to study up on poker so that she could get off to a better start next time.

And yet, what was the point, really? They only had a handful of nights left, and then she couldn’t be sure when and if she’d see him again. Becoming a poker expert didn’t make much sense when she had no desire to play the game, naked or clothed, with anyone but Matthew.

Picking up the cards, she shuffled them, smoothed the sheet and laid out a hand of solitaire. She liked handling the cards, because they belonged to Matthew. She had the silly urge to ask if she could keep them.

Cards, and specifically the game of poker, would forever remind her of him. So would all the recipes he’d helped her convert to cowboy-friendly dishes. In fact, that could be the hook for her blog—turning gourmet dishes into something the whole family would eat. Others were already doing something similar, but she’d give it her own personal twist and reference her experience feeding cowboys and teenagers on a Wyoming ranch.

Now that she’d become familiar with the Last Chance, she hoped Aunt Mary Lou would invite her back to visit. She wouldn’t mind learning to ride, although while she was the full-time cook she hadn’t felt she could spare the time for that. She was a rank beginner and would need lots of instruction before she’d feel comfortable on a horse.

Then the man who would make the perfect riding teacher walked into the room rubbing his wet hair with a towel. She knew he felt at home with her because he hadn’t bothered to wrap a second one around his hips. She’d lost all modesty with him, too. She wondered if being apart and seeing each other only occasionally would change that. Probably.

“Couldn’t resist getting your hands on those cards again, I see.” He grinned at her. “Next thing I know you’ll be dealing in Vegas.”

“How did you guess?” She allowed herself to admire his finely sculpted body because, after all, she wouldn’t have much longer to do that.

“The seven of hearts can go on the eight of spades.”

With regret she changed her focus from a naked Matthew to the solitaire game. She played the seven of hearts as he’d suggested.

“And now the six of—”

“Hey.” She made a shooing motion with her free hand. “Get your own solitaire game.”

“Can’t.” He started drying his hair with the towel again. “You have my cards.”

“You weren’t using them.”

“More’s the pity.” He looped the towel around his neck and walked over to his duffel bag. “But I gotta go to work. Thanks for washing some things for me yesterday, by the way. I was running low.”

“Welcome.” The interchange was so sweetly domestic that it made her throat ache.

“I had an idea in the shower.”

“What’s that?” She played three cards in a row and began to think she’d win the game.

“Blogs can be written from anywhere.”

“Right.” She uncovered exactly the card she needed and slapped it triumphantly onto the pile. “Which is why it’s so perfect for you. You can travel and still do it.”

“So could you.”

“What do you mean?” Ah, there was the jack of spades. Perfect.

“You could combine blogging and travel. You could call it
A Fork in the Road
.”

Lifting her head, she looked over at him. He’d just finished putting on his jeans and now he sat in the suede chair to pull on his boots. “Matthew, what are you talking about?”

He pulled on one boot and glanced up at her. “Your blog. Wouldn’t it be great to go all over the world trying different regional recipes and then blogging about it?”

“Maybe for somebody else.” She frowned. “I’m surprised you’d say something like that when you know I’m not into traveling.”

“But you’re into cooking, and you love trying different foods and recipes. Just think, you could talk to the owners of little cafés in out-of-the-way villages and find recipes nobody else knows about. Eventually you could do a book based on—”

“Matthew, did you hit your head on the shower nozzle? You’re the traveler, not me.” Her people weren’t good travelers. A train trip across the country years ago had left her grandparents broke when someone stole their money. Her parents had flown to Chicago once and had barely made it out of a burning hotel room. An aunt and uncle got hopelessly lost attempting to find the St. Louis Arch and then their car’s transmission had blown out.

She’d never, ever, aspired to a life of travel, which sounded miserable and scary. But she wasn’t sure he’d understand, so she brought up a different objection. “I have a job in a bank, and that’s how I support myself. Even if I wanted to try this crazy idea of yours, which I don’t, I couldn’t afford to quit my job and jaunt around collecting recipes and writing blogs.”

He pulled on his other boot. “What if you didn’t have to worry about the money angle? Would that make a difference? Because I sure see this as being a lot of fun for you, and it would make the blog a surefire hit.”

Suddenly her tummy didn’t feel very good. “Are you saying that if I write the blog from Nebraska I’m wasting my time?”

“No, I’m not saying that at all. But I was in the shower, and the blog title
A Fork in the Road
came to me, and it’s…a really good idea.”

“I’m sure it is.” And here she’d thought they were so much in sync. “But not for me.” And because she didn’t feel up to jumping on board with his plan, she felt somewhat diminished.

“I just figured I should throw it out there.”

“I can see that you did, but it’s totally impractical. You blithely eliminated the money problem, but that’s only one of the big obstacles. I have some savings, but I’m not willing to quit my job and blow them on something that might never generate an income.”

His gaze was steady. “I eliminated the money problem because if you liked the idea, I was going to take care of the expenses.”

She stared at him as she worked to process that statement. “I have a feeling there’s something else going on here.”

Blowing out a breath, he stood and walked to the closet where she’d hung his shirts. “Of course there is, but first I needed to find out if you were at all interested. You’re not, so that’s the end of it.”

Her heart raced. He was clearly disappointed by her response. The whole line of his body had gone from relaxed to tense. “Matthew, why did you ask me if I wanted to do a traveling cooking blog when you know I don’t like to travel?”

Pulling a shirt off the hanger, he put it on without facing her. “It was a mistake.”

“But why?”

“I woke up this morning with a feeling of dread, knowing we only have a few days left.” He snapped his shirt with short, jerky movements. “Apparently I’m…I’m not okay with that. I know what we agreed, and obviously I need to man up and accept reality.”

“You wanted me to travel with you?” Now that was a heartbreaker of a concept. “But you said you wouldn’t ask a woman to trail around after you and try to fit her life into yours.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tucking his shirt into his jeans, he grabbed his belt from a hook inside the closet and threaded it through the belt loops. As he buckled it, he turned back to her. “But I thought if you were involved in the cooking and experimentation with recipes, you’d be happy with your job and I’d be happy with mine, and it would all…work.”

Her eyes misted as she shook her head. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

His troubled gaze found hers, and gradually his expression softened. “Aurelia, would you at least think about it? I know it’s a big step, but you were ready to reject the blog idea until you gave it some thought.”

“That’s quite a bit different.”

“I suppose, but…just let yourself think about it.” Without waiting for her answer, he left the room.

Taking a long, shaky breath, she gazed unseeingly at the solitaire game spread out in front of her. She didn’t have to think about it.

Because he’d been traveling the world for years, he had no idea the monumental life change he’d asked her to consider. She couldn’t do it. He might be dreading their eventual parting, but it was for the best. She wasn’t the one for him.

13

M
ATTHEW SOMETIMES ATE
a quick breakfast that Aurelia fixed for him, but this morning he’d wanted to let her sleep. On days he didn’t eat with her, he usually grabbed something from the bunkhouse kitchen. Today he didn’t feel like eating, period, and for a man who cherished his food, that was significant.

He’d seriously miscalculated when he’d chosen to become involved with Aurelia. She might be the only woman in the world who could make him regret his choices as he yearned to have it all—career, life partner, even family. Desperate not to lose her, he’d come up with a plan, and she’d flat-out rejected it.

Although he wasn’t giving up without a fight, his chances didn’t look good. Her uncompromising expression as he’d left the bedroom had told him that much. She’d given him nothing to work with, no hint that she might consider his suggestion.

If she refused even to consider it, he wasn’t sure how well he’d be able to adjust. He’d always prided himself on being able to roll with the punches, but she had the power to deliver a knockout blow. And he’d given her that power by falling for her. While in the shower, he’d come to the startling conclusion that he was head over heels in love with this woman. There was no changing that now.

He sought refuge in the one place that had always comforted him—a horse barn. Because he’d skipped breakfast, he made it to the barn ahead of the cowhands. Butch and Sundance greeted him enthusiastically, probably because they thought he’d feed them.