Lone Star Rancher (9 page)

“Good morning,” she said with determined cheer.

He stood and tossed the uprooted grass into a plastic trash bag. “Good morning.”

Tingles rushed along her nerves as his dark gaze slid over her. She wondered what a child of theirs would look like. Tall? Yes. Brown-eyed? Probably, since the darker color was dominant. Outgoing like its uncle Miles or quiet and introspective like its father? Boy or girl?

So many questions.

“What is it?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, realizing she'd been staring. If they were in love, the news of a child would be received with joy and excited plans for the future. On some instinctive
level, she knew he wanted children, that he would be a kind, loving father and a wonderful husband.

“I, uh, was restless and thought I'd better get outside while the storm is in a lull.” She glanced at the bag half-filled with pruned shrub branches and weeds. “I wondered who did the yard work. I assumed you had a landscape service.”

His smile did things to her heart. “You're looking at it. Mom says working in the garden is good for the soul. I find it relaxing. Most of the time.”

She wondered if the latter phrase was meant to exclude her presence. The tension grew to an almost audible hum in the air. During the awkward moment, she saw his hand clench, then relax, as if he forced himself not to react to it.

“Well, I'll let you get back to work,” she said and hurried toward the line of trees marking the creek.

The sound of the stream was loud as she approached. She found the water murky and fast moving. At the dam, it rushed over the stones on top of the earthen structure. She decided to stay on this side of the creek and close to the house as the wind picked up again.

As she walked toward the homestead, she felt the first drops of rain hit her face and arms. Smoky joined her as she raced up the side lawn. Reminded of her youth and the happy days she'd spent at her grandparents' small ranch, she laughed as she and the dog tried to beat the storm.

The door opened just as she reached for the knob. The wind, as cold as a sudden frost, pushed her inside, and Clyde forced the portal closed while Smoky headed for shelter in the stable where he slept each night.

The onslaught of the storm was accompanied by a brief burst of hail that beat on the windows like mischievous demons trying to get inside.

“A foretaste of winter,” she said, still smiling as she dried off with a paper towel.

“Yeah.”

“Did you finish your weeding?” she asked.

“No. Only half the front yard is done.”

She wondered if she should have volunteered to help, then decided that wasn't a good idea. She had to keep her distance, she told herself firmly, although considering the circumstances, it might be a little late for that.

Thunder boomed directly overhead, sounding like a summons from hell. Every muscle in her body jerked. The lights flickered, then went out. The gloom of the storm entered the room. Jessica wrapped her arms across her chest as chill bumps danced along her skin.

“We can have a fire,” he said.

He filled a coffee cup, then went into the family room. She did the same and followed. The fireplace had a gas starter, so in a matter of minutes cheery flames leaped over the wood. He added several more logs from a supply located behind a handy door.

“Nice,” she said from the corner of the sofa where she usually sat.

He settled in his usual chair with a nod. When the phone rang, he answered the extension on the table beside the leather recliner. “Flying Aces,” he said.

When he hung up without saying more, she asked, “Wrong number?”

He shrugged. “I suppose. They hung up.”

Him again? Jessica wondered. How had he found her?

Staring into the fire, she felt something akin to hopelessness wash over her. The telephone calls and the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy weighed on her soul…and her conscience.

If she hadn't fled to the wilds of Texas like a coward,
none of this would be happening. “I'm sorry that I brought my troubles to you,” she said in a low voice, miserable and guilty about involving him in her misfortune.

His eyes seared into her. “You think that was your stalker?” His tone was frankly doubting. “How could he find you here? It was a wrong number.”

Though she doubted it, she said, “I hope you're right.” She stared into the fire, then sighed as the rain came down harder. The day certainly matched her mood. She sighed again and rubbed her arms where chills again ran along her skin.

“Damn,” he said and stood.

She stared at him in surprise, then apprehension, as he strode to the sofa, bent and lifted her into his arms.

He returned to the recliner and settled her in his lap, then spread a chenille afghan over both of them. “Relax,” he murmured in a gruff but comforting manner.

“I didn't sleep very much last night,” she began, then shut up. She didn't want to explain that remark.

With another sigh she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Warmth from the fire, the cover and his powerful masculine body seeped into her from all sides.

Feeling safe and cherished and other things she couldn't name, she yawned and did as he had ordered. She fell asleep and hardly roused when he let the chair back into its reclining position.

 

Clyde opened his eyes, saw that nearly two hours had passed and that the fire had fallen into embers. “Hey,” he said softly, hating to wake the woman in his arms.

Her eyes opened at once, looking like twin pieces of a summer sky as she gazed at him.

“The fire is getting low,” he said. “I need to add some logs to it.”

When she rose, he found he was reluctant to give her up. Her lithe body felt right in his arms. Too right.

“It's time for lunch,” she said, also noting the time. “Would you like a sandwich?”

“Yeah, that would be fine.”

While she headed for the kitchen, he rebuilt the fire and turned the gas off, which he'd forgotten earlier. The new wood caught fire at once, heating the air that circulated around the firebox and warming the room.

The rain, and sometimes hail, still raged outside. The electricity had flickered on a couple of times, but had promptly gone back off, which wasn't unusual in a Texas thunderstorm. He would hate to be out in it, trying to get the electrical lines back up and working.

Jessica returned, carrying a tray, which she placed on the table beside the recliner. She returned to the kitchen and reappeared with another. Sandwiches, chips, pickles and sliced fruit were on the two plates. Glasses of iced tea accompanied each meal.

“Looks good,” he said, every hair on his body rising as electricity radiated between them.

They ate without talking. Her eyes stayed on the fire most of the time. The couple of times their glances met, his blood notched up a few degrees.

The quiet, the intimacy of being inside while the storm swept over the land, the knowledge that they were alone and that the attraction hadn't diminished one bit after that day at the lake burnt through his resolve.

He ate quickly, but food didn't appease his appetite. “Jessica,” he said. When she faced him, he couldn't think of another word.

When she averted her gaze and pressed her lips firmly together, he knew she, too, felt the vibes between them.

Setting the tray aside, he stood and paced the narrow
room, restless and irritated with his inability to control the odd need to hold her and claim her as his own. He knew it was a really stupid idea.

Only it wouldn't go away.

When he stopped and stared at her, torn every which way by the hunger and longing he couldn't deny, she shook her head. “We can't,” she said breathlessly.

“Can't?” he questioned with a mirthless laugh.

“We shouldn't.” She set her tray on the coffee table, the food only half-eaten.

“Tell me to quit breathing,” he suggested.

She stood, a tall, slender woman who seemed to match him in every way. He saw the passion in her eyes and his control raveled into shreds.

“Jessica,” he said, and this time other words followed. “I can't be with you like this and not want you. But you know that, don't you?”

She gave him a troubled perusal. He couldn't hide the evidence of his hunger for her. “Yes,” she said honestly. “It's the same for me. I don't know why…”

Her voice trailed off.

“That part is easy,” he said, moving close so that they nearly touched. He wanted to touch her, needed to. “Polar opposites. Male and female. The attraction is as natural as rain.” He gestured toward the window. “As sunshine.”

He smiled when she did, a tiny smile at the corners of her mouth that indicated humor at their predicament and a worried resignation that it should be so. He realized he understood her as he had no other woman.

“Come with me,” he invited huskily.

“Where?”

“My room,” he said softly. He took her hand in his. “My bed.”

She didn't retreat when he led her toward the doorway.

“My arms,” he ended.

Together they went up the stairs. There he found paradise and made sure she found it, too.

Sated, he rested, Jessica secure in his arms, the little frown of worry she'd worn recently smoothed from her lovely, striking face.

He smiled, kissed her and fell into a deep sleep.

J
essica woke to unusual warmth and comfort. It took her a split second to realize why. She was snuggled against a very strong, very male body. It had been a long time since she'd spent the night with a man.

Five years, she recalled. Five years ago she'd fallen for the marketing director of a cosmetic line. They were shooting the ads along the exotic coasts of the world—Spain, Italy, Turkey, New Zealand and Australia. It had been a magical time.

When they'd returned to the U.S., the magic had disappeared and she'd finally seen him for the egotistical, demanding creature he really was. It had taken several months for this fact to sink in, though. She'd been caught up in a romantic dream of her own making.

And, she admitted, some stubborn part of her hadn't wanted to admit she'd been so terribly wrong.

She sighed and put the memory aside. Clyde was down-
to-earth and practical. He acted gruff at times, but he was kind. Also gentle. And the best lover she'd ever had.

After making love in the afternoon, they'd napped, then had soup for dinner and popcorn in the evening. At ten they'd just naturally returned to his bed, made love and slept there, snug in each other's arms. This time he'd had protection and had used it.

She hadn't mentioned her suspicions about the results of their other tryst down by the lake. It was pointless until she was sure. Then she would tell him.

Would he be glad?

“Good morning,” he now said in a deep rumble that spoke of contentment and perhaps amusement.

He nibbled on her ear, making her smile. “Hi,” she said, then stretched luxuriously.

“The coffee should be ready,” he said.

“When did you put it on?”

“About thirty minutes ago while you were still in dreamland. A falling branch woke me.
You
didn't stir a hair.”

She laughed. “I can sleep through anything.”

“Stay still,” he told her when she started to rise. “I'll bring you a cup of coffee.”

“Wow, service with a smile.”

His smile was enchanting, but his eyes held emotions she couldn't read. He pulled on a sweat suit before leaving the bedroom. Going to her room, she brushed her teeth and rinsed her face, then returned next door.

A few minutes later, Clyde reappeared, this time with a tray holding one plate and two forks. She propped her back against the pillows while he sat on the side of the bed.

It seemed very romantic, sharing the cheese omelet and several slices of toast. When he spread one slice with jelly and held it out to her, she took a bite, then watched as he took the next one.

“It's still raining,” she said.

“And windy. It was gusting pretty hard last night. There're several limbs down. I was surprised to find the electricity on this morning. I thought we'd better eat while we had the chance to cook something.”

She sipped the hot, delicious coffee. “What do you need to do today?”

“Check the livestock and make sure they're okay. See if Clinton needs any help with the chickens. I'll probably have to replace some shingles on the barn roof, but that'll have to wait until the weather clears.”

“Mmm,” she said.

“Otherwise,” he said with his quiet smile, “we'll have to entertain ourselves as long as it's raining.”

“I saw a biography on John Adams I would like to read.” She patted back a yawn.

Clyde laughed softly. “Sleepyhead.”

“Did we sleep last night?” she asked mock seriously. “I can't seem to remember.”

Still chuckling, he removed the tray and disappeared down the hall. She listened to his steps fade as he went down the stairs before she forced herself from the comfortable nest.

She showered and dressed in slacks and a T-shirt, then dried her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. Pausing in front of the mirror, she was surprised by her reflection. She looked young and carefree. Happiness radiated from her like an aura of enchantment.

Some part of her urged caution, but her heart hopped around her chest like a perky robin. Clyde had been her first wild, sweet love. Maybe he was destined to be the last, her one and only true love.

Smiling she went downstairs.

The phone rang just as she entered the kitchen. Clyde's
hands were wet as he washed out the skillet he used for the eggs. “Get that, will you?” he asked.

“Sure.” She lifted the receiver. “Flying Aces.”

There was silence on the line.

“Hello?” she said.

The hair prickled on her nape as she heard the sound of breathing on the line. She hung up the phone with a bang. Fear and anger jostled for first place in her.

“Who was it?” Clyde asked, finished and drying his hands on the dish towel.

“The stalker.”

A beat of silence followed her declaration. “What did he say?” Clyde asked.

“Nothing. Just breathed.”

He laid his hands on her shoulders as if to comfort her. “It was a wrong number.”

“No.”

“It was,” he insisted. “He couldn't possibly know where you are. Wrong numbers happen, even in Texas.”

It took an effort, but she finally returned his smile. “I think I'll read for a while.”

“It's damp and chilly this morning. I'll make a fire, then I'm going outside to check for storm damage.” He hesitated. “Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. Violet made me promise to keep an eye on you. I wouldn't dare not keep it.”

Again she smiled. When he lightly kissed her goodbye after getting the fire blazing in the grate, she resisted the need to cling to him. Instead she settled on the sofa with the thick biography and forced her mind on the words.

After an hour, she laid the book aside and added more logs to the flames. Restless, she roamed from window to window, looking for Clyde. When she spotted him returning from the egg barn, his long stride bringing him to her,
she experienced such a dizzy-headed lightness she had to hold on to the windowsill to steady herself.

Mixed concerns warred within. For one, there were the silent phone calls of late, three of them. Three wrong numbers happening in short order, each one hanging up without speaking? She shook her head, not believing it.

Second was the fact that she could be expecting. She had no idea how Clyde would react to this news.

And last but not least—not least at all—was the knowledge that she'd again fallen for the handsome, elusive older brother of the Fortune triplets.

She had no idea where she stood in the grand scheme of his life. Did a mad passion equal a lasting love?

 

Even bad luck must change eventually, and so it was with the weather. On Thursday, the rain stopped early in the morning and by ten, the sky was clear.

Miles and Clyde had gone to the stock sales near Austin for the day. She had elected to stay at the ranch. Her father liked to attend sales and ranch-related functions just for fun. She would have a hard time explaining why she was in Texas without visiting her parents if her dad spotted her with the Fortune brothers.

Outside she weeded for a couple of hours, then went in to shower and change clothing. Gathering her courage, she admitted it was time to sneak into town and go to the market, which was also the drug store. The need to know if she was pregnant overrode all else.

The old grocery had been taken over by a chain, and since she'd been gone from the area for a long time, she didn't think it likely anyone there would know her.

As a precaution, though, she put her hair up and wore a floppy straw hat along with big sunglasses. In slacks and
a plain white T-shirt, she looked like most of the population of the town.

Backing the station wagon out of the neat garage, she realized it felt odd to drive. In the city she didn't bother to own a car. It was too hard to find a parking space, so she used cabs like most sensible residents did.

The two miles to Red Rock zipped by much too fast. She noticed the new houses on the approach to the town, but the town center, with its circular park instead of a square, was the same as she remembered.

The park contained a white gazebo, black wrought-iron posts with lanterns that resembled gaslights with white globes, and lots of benches tucked among shade trees.

Traffic was light and flowed smoothly around the park circle and onto the side streets. Main Street and Sycamore Avenue formed the two major arteries through the obviously booming town. She passed Emma's Café where she and her pals had spent their spare time.

New signs on old offices saddened her as she thought of the attorneys, dentists and doctors she'd once known, fixtures of the town, who had retired or passed away. She didn't recognize many of the new names.

The grocery had been enlarged, taking over the old pool hall that used to be next door, bulldozing the building and turning the area into a parking lot.

“Huh,” she muttered, not sure she liked the changes as she pulled into a space and turned off the engine. Pulling her hat down to her eyebrows, she tried to make herself appear shorter as she went inside.

It didn't take long to find the feminine products section and select a pregnancy test kit. She picked up a few other items so the one wouldn't be so conspicuous, paid for them, then hurried outside.

And came face-to-face with her sister.

“Jessica?” Leslie said. “Jessica! It is you!”

“Shh,” Jessica hissed. She grabbed Leslie's arm and guided her away from the market's double doors.

Leslie looked completely baffled as they stopped beside the station wagon. “What are you doing here? Are you working? What's going on?”

Jessica smiled wryly at her sister's perfectly natural questions. “How about lunch?” she asked. “Then I'll come clean and explain all.”

“You'd better,” Leslie said darkly, then spoiled it by laughing. “I thought I was seeing things, but this explains the photo in the paper recently.”

Jessica tossed her grocery bag into the station wagon, grateful that her little sis couldn't see the items she'd purchased. The two crossed the street and went into a hole-in-the-wall diner that hadn't been there when she'd lived in the town. “What photo?” Jessica asked.

“In one of those tabloid magazines,” Leslie explained. “There was a story about Ryan Fortune at a funeral and how some people think he killed a long-lost relative. I thought it was you in the background of the picture, but I knew it couldn't be. You were presumably a thousand miles away.”

Jessica sighed. “I was at the funeral. I suppose it was naive to expect to go unnoticed. Was I identified by the tabloid reporter?”

“No. I recognized Clyde Fortune, who was behind the others as they left the chapel, and then noticed a woman who was with him. My heart nearly jumped right out of my chest, but I thought I must be mistaken in first thinking it was you.”

Leslie's eyes questioned Jessica, who nodded, admitting she was the woman clinging to Clyde's arm.

“But what were you doing there? Why are you
here?
”

They were interrupted by a waitress Jessica didn't know and who seemed indifferent to her identity. After she and
Leslie ordered, Leslie called her husband on her cell phone and said she was having lunch with an old friend and that she'd tell him about it later.

“Is it okay if I tell him I saw you?” she asked after punching the off button.

“Yes, but don't tell anyone else.” Jessica brought her sister up to date about the stalker.

“You should have come to us,” Leslie scolded. “Marty and I would have watched out for you.”

Marty was Leslie's husband of almost ten years. High school sweethearts, they had married after graduation and had two wonderful daughters, Douglass and Chanson, both of whom Jessica adored.

“I know,” Jessica said, “but I didn't want to put your family, nor our parents, in danger in case this wacko followed me.”

“The town has grown so much lately that I don't know everyone anymore, but I haven't seen any strangers, any
suspicious
strangers around,” Leslie assured her. “No one's been asking for you that I know of.”

“That's a relief.”

Leslie gave her big sister a probing study. “So Violet convinced you the Flying Aces would be a safe place?”

Jessica nodded. Her heart beat with a hard thud, impatient to be back on the ranch, to see Clyde and to discover the results of the test kit she'd bought. As much as she loved her sister, she couldn't explain any of these complications at present.

Leslie rolled her eyes, then laughed softly. “If I remember correctly, no place near the Fortune bachelors, either those from Texas or those from New York, was considered safe for young, impressionable females.”

“Well, I'm neither young nor impressionable,” Jessica said with droll humor.

“Mmm, I think you had a crush on one of the New York cousins once, but I wasn't sure which one.”

“Ha,” Jessica said, as if this was a ridiculous idea.

“Whatever,” Leslie said equably. “It's so good to see you. I didn't realize how much I've missed you until this surprise meeting. Were you going to leave without letting us know? Mom will kill you if you do.”

“Actually there's a wedding coming up—”

“Steven Fortune and Amy somebody. He's crazy about her, or so I heard. She's been working with the governor.”

“Right. It's at the end of the month. I thought I'd go stay with Mom and Dad after that. I think I'm just paranoid about Roy stalking me.”

“You've had no trouble since you arrived?”

Jessica hesitated, then shook her head. “None.”

Their food arrived. While they ate, they discussed family happenings. The hardware store was doing more business than they could handle. Marty was thinking of hiring another clerk. The girls, one in third and one in first grade, liked school and their teachers. They were into Girl Scouts and soccer. Both took piano lessons.