Lone Tree (14 page)

While she worked on the trim, the less experienced
Lainie was rolling the wall. Fortunately, the floor was covered with a plastic
tarp; at first glance, one might think Lainie was painting the tarp instead of
the wall.

“Got too much on your roller,” Jackie told her.
“Roll off the excess at the top of the pan there.” Putting her tub of paint
down, she walked over, took the instrument from Lainie and demonstrated. “You
want just enough to cover the roller. Not enough to drip. See?”

Lainie saw, nodded without enthusiasm.

“By the way, got an invitation for you,” Jackie said
as she went back to her own job. “My mama and daddy have been wantin’ to meet
you so they invited us both over for Sunday dinner.”

“Oh.” Lainie’s mood brightened. After seeing the
picture of Elizabeth and Margene, she’d been wondering how to wrangle an
invitation out to the Cooper place in order to meet the person who might have
been her mother’s best friend. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

“Can pretty much guarantee Randy will also be
around. He doesn’t miss many Sunday dinners with his intended.”

Lainie’s roller was again dry, and she frowned. She
had an AA in business administration, knew how to run and read spreadsheets,
amortization tables and balance sheets didn’t intimidate her, but that pan of
paint did. “Can I bring something next Sunday? Dessert, maybe?”

“Nope. Mama’s not gonna let you lift a finger. You
need help over there?”

“No, I got it.” She dipped the roller into the
paint, barely coated it, and rolled it back up over the ribbing. It was getting
easier, but she was grateful they were only doing one wall. She stepped back to
get the contrast of the teal wall in the otherwise ivory room. Not bad. “You’ve
got a designer streak in you.”

“It’s fun. And doing my own upkeep saves a bundle.
The Winslows knock fifty off the rent, but it doesn’t cost me that much to
plunge my toilet when it needs it and paint my walls.” She straightened, gave
the door a slow up-and-down look, then knelt to touch up a spot near the floor.
“They didn’t think a woman could do it on her own, but I showed them I could.”

After a pause, she went on. “Getting back to Sunday,
I should warn you my folks are retired. And, as Bobbie puts it, ‘have entered
reminiscence.’”

“Remembering the good ol’ days? Nothing wrong with
that. They’re entitled.”

“Yeah? Let’s see how gracious you are after your
ears get so tired your eyes turn glassy.” Jackie gave her a you’re-in-for-it
grin. “Ever since I told them you’re working at Lone Tree, Mama’s been talking
about Elizabeth Ann Auburn, Miles’s daughter. They were also friends and Mama
says it’s like history repeating itself.”

“Yeah? Well, put that way, I have to agree.”

That night, as sleep eluded her, Lainie’s speech
resounded through her mind. Her statement had been lighthearted, but made her
feel heavy. She’d worn guilt like a weighty coat, it seemed, ever since she’d
first sat down to write the resume she’d then delivered to her grandfather.

Although she suspected that on some level she would
always harbor mistrust of Miles Auburn, she was veering toward acknowledging
their familial relationship. If he were a more forgiving soul, she’d have
already done so. They could start over again with a clean slate, give them each
a chance to be family to the other. But along with his southern, good ol’ boy
charm, Miles had an exacting side. He wouldn’t suffer a dissembling
granddaughter with grace; once she admitted her identity, she just might have
to be ready to head for home, and she wasn’t yet ready to clear out.

Too often, Lainie felt like a hamster running in one
of those bubbles and never getting anywhere.

In resignation, she punched her pillow, and then
rolled over and got out of bed.

She pulled the drapes aside, looked outside at the
still night, and wondered if a walk might clear her head. She slipped into
jeans, pulled on a sweatshirt and put her sneakers on. Stepping outside, she
breathed deeply. The night air was clean, fresh, invigorating, exactly what she
needed. Hugging her arms she looked at the sky, starlit and endless, unmarked
by even an airplane, then she slipped her palms into her front jeans pockets
and walked.

When she reached the elm outside the stable, she
stopped and stared at the sky. Big country, tranquil night, brilliant moon
lighting up the darkness. Tilting her head, she looked for star formations. The
big dipper should be—

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” The voice was
male, exasperated, and almost on top of her.

She whirled. “What—”

Reed clamped one hand over her mouth and the other
around her arm. “You don’t have to yell. You want to wake up the whole
bunkhouse?”

She tried to jerk away. He held on just long enough
to show her who was boss, then let go. She staggered backward, then stomped
right back to get in his face.

“Just what,” she demanded, keeping her voice down,
“do you think you’re doing?”

“I asked first. You got a sudden hankering for a
midnight stroll?”

His hair was wet. He must’ve gotten out of the
shower, seen someone out here, and had to get dressed all over again in order
to investigate. No wonder he was in a bad mood. But she still didn’t like being
manhandled, physically or verbally.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean no. It’s not even eleven
o’clock yet. And it’s none of your business anyway.”

“It’s not? You’d best rethink—”

“You told me yourself nobody ever bothers anybody
out here.”

“Lainie—”

“Back off, cowboy. If I want to take a walk, I’ll
take a walk. What harm is there in that?”

He drew in a controlled breath. “I’m thinking the
greatest harm you’re facing right now is from me. But I’ll try to control
myself. Now I want you to—”

“I’m fine, thank you very much. And I’m not afraid
of you.”

“You’re not, huh. Well, you’re half right. It’s not
a two-legged creature you should be afraid of.”

“Oh. Cougar?” She was suddenly very glad of his
company.

“Well, now, that’s one possibility.”

Her gaze darted everywhere before she realized he
wasn’t carrying a rifle and that he appeared more aggravated with her than
worried about wildlife. She straightened her shoulders. “They don’t come this
close to the house.”

“Really. Well, now, as long as you’re sure. And have
you given any thought, I wonder, to the legless variety of varmint?”

“Oh.” So that was it.

“What’s with you, anyway?” he said, and she wondered
if he was aware his voice was steadily rising and he was now the one in danger
of waking up the bunkhouse. “You think I’m making this up?”

“Snakes...are nocturnal?”

“You want to count on it that they’re not?”

Oh. Well...

“Or maybe you’re interested in finding out what a
scorpion sting feels like?”

Though she tried not to, she dropped her gaze to the
ground, as if she could actually tell if something were slithering or crawling
toward her in the dark.

“Ahh. It dawns on her.” He ran his hand down his
face. “It’s been a long day. Okay, Lainie, you can go on back now.”

Really? How nice of him to give her permission like
that. Oh, yeah, she was heading back—as fast as she could—but not on his orders.
Her chin lifted. “There’s nothing keeping you out here that I can see.”

“Lainie,” he said wearily, then his body jerked up
straight. “We are through discussing this. You are going inside...now...under
your power or mine.”

“I will walk all by myself, thank you very much,
when I’m ready. And I’m not quite ready yet.”

“Really,” he said slowly, dragging out the word.
Then he nodded. “Guess that’s just fine by me after all. Considering I’ve been
wanting to get my hands on you for a long time now.”

The purr in his voice warned her, yet she remained
still. Something about Reed Smith in a bossy mood made her dig her heels in.
“One of these days, cowboy, you’re going to go too far.”

“Too far?” he echoed.

In the silence that followed, the air itself seemed
to alter. Electricity charged through it, sexual electricity as sudden and
powerful as a bolt of lightning. His eyes, taking on a hint of cobalt in the
moonlit night, locked with hers. Tugging, pulling, drawing. Lainie swallowed, her
nerves tightening, and her breath quickening until it seemed she had none left.

“Too far, huh.” His voice was a mere whisper, and it
carried an undercurrent, one as old as time. When his hands closed around her
shoulders she felt his heat, but it was no longer heat born out of anger.

“Reed...”

“Yes?” Now his voice was like a caress, and she
suspected she might’ve been safer with his previous mood. She searched for a
subject, anything, not caring what they talked about as long as they were busy
talking.

“How did you know I was out here?”

His gaze lit on her hair, eyes, settled on her lips.
“I saw a shadow, too short and slight to be anyone but you.” He pulled her
closer, fingers flexing gently around her shoulders.

Her senses were filled with his height and breadth,
those brilliant eyes, his hands resting lightly on her, the scent of soap and
shampoo. The night, the stars, the moon...

“Uhh, Nelly’s not any taller than I am.”

“Nelly’s too smart to be roaming around this time of
night.” His hands traced her torso to her waist. “And his hair doesn’t glint in
the moonlight like yours does, either.” He leaned in, rested his forehead on
hers. “You do something to me, Lainie Sue. You touch something deep inside me.
Even the first time I laid eyes on you way back in that café.”

His mouth was warm and moist as he kissed her
forehead. Then his lips traveled to the tip of her nose, the sides of her
mouth, settled on her lips. It took all her will power not to wrap herself
around him. He was so solid, so appealing, more compelling than any man who’d ever
touched her.

He broke the kiss, yet didn’t. His mouth was on its
way to her ear. Her whole body, every nerve ending, was tuned to his mouth and
where it was. His fingers kneaded her waist. She shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

“Uh...no.”

His hands found the curve of her hips, traveled from
waist to thigh and back again.

“It wouldn’t take much right about now,” he
whispered, “for me to sweep you up and carry you off.” His hands slipped
beneath her sweatshirt to bare skin and his lips moved to her neck.

“No.”

“No?” His hands stilled, then withdrew to rest
safely outside her clothes. He drew back and gave her a knowing look. “Appears
I have a strong effect on you, too, Lainie Sue. First you had your back up,
then you responded to me, whether you’ll admit it or not, and now you’ve turned
skittish and want to run.”

She merely nodded, incapable of debating the point.

“But you’re not fighting me,” he added. His thumbs
were massaging her shoulders, lightly and sensually. If he hadn’t already
figured out she’d forgotten her bra, he knew it now with his thumbs up there
where the straps should be. His breath stirred her bangs. He smelled like Dial
soap and coffee. And there was no reason why that combination should make her
insides as quivery as a bowl of Jell-O.

“I...um, I’ll go on back to my house now,” she said.
Why had she argued with him in the first place and got this whole thing
started? Didn’t she have a lick of sense?

“I’d rather you come to mine,” he whispered,
nuzzling her neck. “It’s closer.”

A breeze sprang up, rustling the leaves of the giant
elm. Their shadows fused together on the ground. When she tried to pull away,
his hold tightened.

“Reed?”

“Shh.” He lifted her hand, smoothed out the fingers
and buried his mouth in her palm. A tremulous shock surged through her.

“Reed.” Her voice was shaky, and it held warning,
but for herself or for him she wasn’t sure.

“Well,” he whispered, glancing up at her with his
lips still touching her palm. “Clearly this is not one-sided.”

“Yeah? Well...well...for someone so concerned about
nighttime safety, it seems you’re taking a big chance keeping me out here.”

She pulled back, he held on and she struggled
harder. Her senses had finally made a comeback. She’d been perilously close to
losing the war with herself, and she figured he knew that because he wasn’t
taking her resistance seriously. As he maneuvered to get a more secure grip,
she stamped on his toe. Her tennis shoe wasn’t going to do much damage to that
block-hard boot, but it was the thought that counted.

“You don’t let me go right now,” she warned, “I’ll
wake up the whole bunkhouse, the main house, Miles, Rosalie, the horses—”

He clamped a hand over her mouth. “You’re not
fooling me,” he shot back. “I felt that shiver run through you. What’s with
you, anyway?”

She twisted her head and his hand dropped from her
mouth. “I don’t...want...romance.”