The Harder They Fall (12 page)

“They’re just jealous,” he said, tossing the towel into a corner and reaching for her. “Want me to rinse off at the pump out back?” he murmured, nuzzling her.

“No,” she whispered, clutching him. His earthy smell, the product of hard work in the full sun, only made him more attractive. She slipped her arms around his waist and put her head on his shoulder. His skin there always startled her with its softness; today it still held the warmth of the sun and she snuggled against him shamelessly.

“Your body is so strong,” she murmured. “I always feel that you could snap me like a twig.”

“I have other, more pleasurable plans for you,” he replied, amusement in his voice.

She looked up at him. “Did you always want me, from the beginning?” she asked.

“Always,” he answered.

“Then why didn’t you come up for lunch?” she demanded, pretending to pout. “I finally couldn’t wait anymore.”

“I really should have paid attention to the time,” he said, rocking her slightly. “Are you mad at me?”

“Just kiss me and I’ll forgive you,” she said.

He complied, pulling her closer and sliding his hands under her sweater. Then he took her hand and led her into an empty stall, lifting her onto a pile of fresh hay that had been forked into it in readiness for a new horse.

“Stay there,” he said.

“What are you doing?” Helene inquired, peering over the top of the stall. She watched him close the door of the barn and then drop the crossbar into place to prevent entrance. Outside, Sam looked up sharply at the sound and registered its meaning. He shook his head and grinned.

“Chris, for heaven’s sake, everybody will know what we’re doing in here!” Helene protested when he rejoined her.

“So what? The hell with them,” he said amiably, flinging himself down next to her and reaching for her again.

“Can’t we at least go up to the house?” she asked.

“Oh, and they’re not going to figure that’s a matinee?” he said, laughing, baffled by her logic. “Or maybe you just don’t like the idea of the proverbial ‘roll in the hay’?”

“I’m not that provincial,” she said airily.

“No?” he countered, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” she confirmed, seizing him and pulling him firmly down on top of her.

“Now this is more like it,” he muttered, gasping as she pressed herself to him, fitting her curves to his lean, hard body. He lowered his head and kissed her throat, running his tongue down into the neck of her blouse, trying to unbutton it with clumsy, impatient fingers.

“Let me do it,” she said.

“Why can’t you just walk around naked all the time?” he asked. “It would be much easier.”

“I don’t think either one of us would get any work done,” she replied, tossing her blouse aside.

“I can handle this,” he said, reaching for her bra and popping the catch with his thumb. The lacy material caught in his hand and he bent to take her nipple in his mouth, pulling the bra off in the same motion. She held his head against her, closing her eyes, then turned his face up, bending to kiss him again.

“I love to kiss you,” she whispered, overcome with emotion, stroking the soft hair at his nape.

He drew back to look at her. “Good,” he said, smiling. “I love to kiss you too.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “Before, when we were always fighting, I wanted you so badly and couldn’t do anything about it. I used to look at your mouth, your lips, and wonder what it would be like to kiss you.”

He said nothing, staring at her, his expression serious.

“And then when I did, that first time, afterward I couldn’t think about anything else.”

He smiled slightly.

“I thought you were so beautiful. Your lower lip has a little dent in the middle, right here.” She touched it with her tongue. “I wanted to feel it again, like this....” She kissed him and he took her fully in his arms, rolling her under him.

“I wish you had told me,” he said, his face buried in the side of her neck.

“While you were insulting me?” she asked.

“I thought... oh, it doesn’t matter now. I thought a lot of damn stupid things that really don’t bear repeating,” he said, his voice muffled against her.

“Forget about all that,” she said soothingly. “It’s over, it’s in the past. Let’s concentrate on now.”

“I’m for that.” He lifted up and unzipped her slacks, tugging them down her legs in one motion, then pulling his jeans off at almost the same moment.

“We’ve wasted too much time,” he said tenderly, positioning himself above her.

“No more,” she whispered.

“No more,” he repeated as he entered her.

“I love you, Chris.”

“Me too,” he responded huskily, as the animals stirred and stamped around them.

* * * *

“At some point I have to go back to work,” he said a while later, rolling onto his back and throwing his arm across his eyes.

“Oh, can’t we just stay in here forever?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I think the hay would make you a little itchy after a while,” he observed wryly, standing and looking around for his jeans. “And you might get hungry.” He stepped into his pants and zipped them up, then combed his hair with his fingers.

“Be right back,” he said and she heard him go out, then come back shortly afterward while she lolled in a state of sated lethargy.

“Are you planning to take a nap?” he asked when he returned. His hair was damp from the pump and he was buttoning the shirt he had retrieved from somewhere.

“Do you think the horses would mind?”

“Come on, lazybones, get up and get dressed. You’re holding up the works.”

She rose and fumbled into her clothes, remembering the sandwich she had stashed in her purse before leaving the house.

“I brought your lunch,” she said, finding it in her bag and handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he said shortly, his mind already on what he had to do that afternoon.

“What time will you be coming back to the house?” she asked, dusting the sticks of hay from her sleeves.

“Insatiable, aren’t you?” he said, grinning.

“I was just wondering when to make dinner, for your information,” she said piously.

“Isn’t Maria coming back?”

“I was thinking about giving her the night off.”

“Don’t want any witnesses to the orgy?”

“Something like that,” she conceded, trying not to smile.

“I’ll be back at six,” he said in a stage whisper.

“I’ll be ready,” she tossed over her shoulder, and she could hear him laughing behind her as she left the barn.

Sam was gone, but as she passed the paddock and started on the path up to the house she heard his voice calling out loudly behind her, “Mrs. Murdock.”

She turned and saw him leading a pony past the corral.

“You have hay in your hair,” he said.

She grinned, waved and ran up to the house.

 
* * * *
 

A week of perfect bliss went by and at the end of it Helene found herself shopping for a dress. Chris had said that he wanted to take her back to the Spanish restaurant they’d visited with Martin—it was as if he wanted to exorcise his brother’s ghost. At first Helene thought about objecting, but then she realized that for the rest of their lives they would be encountering things that reminded them of Martin. It was painful, but they had better start facing his loss now.

The clerk in the town’s single ladies’ boutique tried to be helpful, but nothing in Helene’s former size fit and she finally settled on a pale blue dress one size larger. It had a blouson top, full skirt and elasticized waist. She didn’t look bad, but she didn’t look fantastic, either. Oh, well. Chris might as well get used to it. She was going to look this way and more so for some time.

She was standing in her slip when Chris came in from the ranch. He paused to kiss the back of her neck as he headed into the shower.

“Don’t bother with a dress—you should go just like that,” he said teasingly, catching her eye in the mirror.

“That would cause quite a stir in the restaurant,” she replied, admiring his trim form as he disappeared through the door and into the bathroom.

By the time he emerged in a cloud of steam, she was ready. He dressed quickly in pearl gray raw silk slacks with a charcoal gray sweater, banded at the neck and cuffs with a wide navy stripe—he seemed to know instinctively what colors looked best on him. For a man who devoted no time to shopping or clothes, when he departed from his customary jeans he always looked just right, not fashion conscious, just simple and masculine—sensational. Helene sighed inwardly. It was going to be some job keeping up with him, but then again, she didn’t want anyone else to fill the position.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, putting his wallet and keys in his pocket.

“Why?” she asked, startled.

“You looked worried. Is something wrong?”

“Not a thing,” she said, smiling.

He stretched out his hand and she took it. “Good,” he said. “I want you to have a nice time tonight.”

“How can I not have a nice time?” she inquired, moving into the protective curve of his arm. “I’m with you.”

Once they got to the restaurant, however, she understood why he had been concerned. They were led to a small secluded room, where a round table was laid with an ivory linen tablecloth and set with heavily carved silver and delicate, dazzling crystal. Their own private waiter was standing ready with a snowy napkin folded over his arm, and a huge bouquet of camellias and carnations sat on a sideboard, adding a lovely perfume to the ambience.

“Did you arrange all this?” Helene asked dazedly, taken aback by the elaborate preparations.

“No,” he said seriously, “my best information is that the tooth fairy did it.”

“Chris, I...” she swallowed. “It’s such a beautiful surprise. Thank you.”

He smiled, as pleased as a six-year-old who had made a birthday present at camp.

The waiter approached them and held out a chair for Helene. She sank into it, noticing her own reflection in the shining dinner plate. When Chris sat opposite her he said to the waiter, “Bring a pitcher of
sangria, por favor
.”

“And some mineral water for me,” Helene added.

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot. No booze for you.” He picked up a sheet of paper next to her place setting and handed it to her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Your menu.”

“What happened to the regular one?”

“I designed this specially for us.”

“It’s all in Spanish.”

“Very observant. I’ll translate.”

There was a silence.

“Well?” she said impatiently.

“Chorizos for an appetizer. That’s Spanish sausage with peas and corn.”

“Okay. What else?”

“Langostinos in garlic sauce.’‘

“Oh-oh.”

“We’ll breathe on each other.”

“What’s a langostino?”
 

“Kind of a cross between a big shrimp and a small lobster.”

“Sounds good.”

“And for the main course—mariscada.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

“It’s not like snails or eels or anything like that, is it?”

“I promise it’s not, you’ll like it.”

The waiter then brought their drinks and the food followed shortly afterward. Helene had to admit that everything was wonderful. Chris had obviously taken a lot of time and care in planning this meal and she loved him for it. They were having dessert, a delicate flan smothered in caramel sauce, when Chris produced a blue velvet jeweler’s box from his pocket with a flourish.

“What’s that?” Helene asked, her cup of herbal tea halfway to her mouth.

“A surprise,” he replied.

“Another one?”

“Open it.”

Helene took the box and looked at him curiously as she pressed the hinge. The top lifted to reveal a band of gold studded with diamonds set on a bed of white satin.

“It’s a ring,” she said.

“Very astute.”

“For me?”
 

“No, it’s for Maria. I’m just showing it to you to hear your opinion on it before I give it to her,” he said dryly.

“I’m sorry. I guess I must sound stupid. I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“Well, it was a little late for an engagement ring, so I thought a wedding ring would be a better idea. I got a plain one for me, too. I want us to have a real wedding soon, in church. Okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. Please don’t let me cry, she thought.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently.

“Yes, I’m just so happy,” she said, wiping her eyes with her napkin. “How did you know what size for the ring?”

“I took a ring from your jewelry box with me, and then replaced it that night. You never missed it. Try it on.”