Wild Mustang Man (12 page)

Bridget nodded. She heard the back door close behind Josh, and she looked out Max’s bedroom window to watch him stride purposefully across the field toward the barn. So tall, so strong, so sure of himself. And yet this morning when he took her in his arms, and she felt his heart beat against hers, she felt for the first time that she had something to offer him. She had a fleeting feeling that he needed her. It only lasted for a moment And it was only because Max was sick and he had to go outside to do his chores. She wished it was more than that. She wished she had something she could give him. Something besides sympathy, understanding and comfort. Those he would accept. But what about love? Would he accept love? Not from her.

Too restless to sit at Max’s bedside and watch him sleep, she picked up a dozen toy cars from the floor and put them in a plastic container where they joined many other miniature cars and trucks. She stashed a pile of dirty T-shirts and blue jeans in a basket in his closet Then she walked around the room, looking at the pictures Max had pinned to his bulletin board, crayon drawings he’d made of motorcycles, pictures he’d cut from magazines of dinosaurs and a photograph of him with his mother and father.

Bridget studied the photo, noting that Max’s smile matched his mother’s smile, and his blue eyes were the same color as his father’s. She felt the warmth radiating from the picture and sensed their love for each other. Envy and longing filled her heart And jealousy—a most unbecoming emotion. And despair. Would she ever be a part of a family like that? The answer was No, never.

She moved on to his bookcase. Peered into the rat’s cage but didn’t see Barney. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look into his beady eyes. She knew she didn’t want to feel his sharp little claws on her hand. Not this morning. Not before lunch. Under the cage were Max’s books. Books about animals, books about monsters and goblins. Some books she remembered from her own childhood and some she didn’t She picked out one she’d always loved and sat down in the chair next to his bed to read his book.

“Bridget,” he mumbled, startling her out of her reverie. In his excitement to see her he sat up too quickly, had a dizzy spell and fell back down on his pillow. “You came. I knew you’d come.”

“How are you?” she asked, putting her arms around his feverish little body.

“I’m too hot,” he complained, trying to push the blankets off his bed.

Gently she tucked them around him again. “I brought you something to drink.” She reached in her bag for a can of ginger ale, popped it open, stuck a straw in it and handed it to him.

“The bubbles tickle my nose,” he said after he’d taken a big gulp. She set the can on his bedside table. “I got chicken pox,” he said proudly.

“Oh. Well, I had bangs, like this.” She drew a straight line across her forehead. “And short hair, about to here.” She pointed to her jawbone.

“Okay, how about something else?” She reached into her shopping bag and brought out a white sock which she put on her hand. “I brought a friend with me.”

“Looks like a sock.”

“It is a sock, but I’m going to make a puppet out of it.” She drew a red mouth and blue eyes with felt-tip pens, so it looked like the sock had a face. “Hi, little boy.” she said moving her hand so it looked like the sock was talking.

Max didn’t look up. Bridget didn’t turn around, but she was suddenly aware that they weren’t alone in the room. Josh was in the doorway, or just outside the door. She couldn’t see him there, but she felt his presence just as surely as if he’d touched her with his hand.

Bridget took the sock off her hand and soothed his brow with her hand. “I remember lots of things, but right now I’m remembering once when I was little and my mom took me to get my first pair of fancy shoes. I might have been about five or six. They were black patent-leather with one strap. Here.” She drew a line across her foot. “Anyway, I loved those shoes so much. I felt like a princess in those shoes. I didn’t want to take them off. I wanted to wear them home. But my mother said I might scuff them or something, so we carried them home in a box.”

Max’s eyes drifted shut. His head fell back onto the pillow. “You’re as beautiful as a princess, Bridget,” he muttered, and then he fell asleep.

She sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep. Josh came up behind her and put his hand on the nape of her neck. Tremors went up and down her spine. She reached for his hand and held it tight, fighting back tears for a sick little boy who couldn’t remember his mother.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Max, she got up off the bed. When she met Josh’s gaze, she saw such sadness there she wanted to tell him he was a good father, a great father. That he’d done a fantastic job with his son. That it was normal for Max to have a hard time remembering his mother. He’d been so young when she died. But she knew instinctively it was not her place to say these things.

She followed Josh silently down the stairs into the kitchen where he poured them each a cup of coffee. “Did you get anything done?” she asked lightly.

“Yes, thanks to you.” He gave her a long look. “You look tired. Even when Max’s sick, he can run the average adult ragged. How on earth do you know what to say to him, what to do with him? Where did you get that magic touch of yours?” He reached for her hand and pressed her palm to his lips.

His mouth was warm, so warm his lips seared her palm. She took a step backward until she hit the refrigerator. His gaze held hers for a long, breathless moment. She had begun to think those sizzling kisses they’d shared had been a fantasy. Until now. Until something flared in his eyes, something she’d never seen before. She’d expected gratitude. It wasn’t gratitude. She didn’t want gratitude. She didn’t know what she wanted until it happened. Until he took her hands and pinned her against the gleaming white refrigerator.

She was trapped. With the smell of coffee in the air and the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, she saw the desire in his dazzling blue gaze. White-hot desire that matched her own. He bent his head, but before he kissed her he said, “He’s right, you are beautiful.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “So beautiful.”

His words made her melt inside. She was ready for passion, but not for tenderness. He gave her both. Hard, fierce, wild kisses that left her breathless and dying for more. Soft, wet, deep kisses that touched her all the way to her soul. She returned them, kiss for kiss. Wanting to show him that he had too much to give to live his life alone. That it wasn’t wrong to love again, to live again. But she knew what he’d say. It was wrong to love again. He wasn’t going to love again. This wasn’t love.

Damn it, he could have fooled her. It felt like love, it looked like love and that was the problem. She was falling in love all over again. All by herself. She should know better, too. Kate’s words came rushing back. You’re in a vulnerable state. You’11 fall for the first guy who smiles at you. She’d fallen for Josh Gentry before he’d ever smiled at her. Way before. And if she didn’t back off, she’d be rushing headlong for disaster, once again. Giving her heart away to somebody who didn’t want it Who didn’t know what to do with it.

She broke the kiss and came up to take a breath of air— a breath of air and a dose of reality. Josh gave her a dazed, quizzical look. The truth was she needed a lot more than air or reality. She needed a stern reminder of her goals in life.

She mumbled something incoherent and untangled herself from his arms. Somehow she found the back door, walked out and across the field without hearing the birds, without seeing the wild poppies waving in the breeze. She got all the way to the barn when she turned around and went back. More than needing a reminder of her goals, she needed to explain them to Josh. He was standing in the doorway watching her walk toward him.

“I’d like to...I need to tell you something,” she said, brushing past him on her way into the kitchen.

He motioned her to a chair and sat down across from her.

“I was an only child, see,” she said. The words tumbled out so fast she couldn’t stop them. “You can’t know what it’s like, but believe me, it’s lonely. So I thought, when I grow up I’m going to have a big family. And a career. Why not? Why not have it all? I got into advertising right after college. It was exciting, fun and challenging. I’m very competitive, and I was good at it. I ended up at one of the biggest agencies, and I fell in love with the boss’s son. But not because he was the boss’s son. Because he wanted the same things I wanted. Success. Marriage. Kids. It was like a dream come true.”

“You felt like a princess,” he said.

She gave him a wry smile. “Yes. But I wasn’t. It all fell apart. After years of planning how I’d juggle a career with a family, and looking for a man who wanted the same things, to share it all with me, everything went wrong. We lost an account. He thought it was my fault. Maybe it was. Maybe it was his. In any case, he blamed me for it to save his hide. I got fired. He got promoted.”

Josh got up and filled her cup with fresh coffee. “Because his father was the boss?”

“That didn’t hurt his chances. But actually he’s very good at what he does. That’s why I’ve got to succeed at this Wild Mustang account.”

“To prove to him that you’re as good as he is?”

She took a sip of coffee. “To prove to myself. Though I can’t deny I have a desire to show him I can do it. He told me I was too tough and too competitive to be a wife and mother, but I wasn’t good enough and didn’t have the talent to succeed in advertising.” Just repeating the words that once hurt so badly took some of the sting out of them.

“Did you believe him?”

“Not about advertising. I understand the business. I really do. I know I can do it. I am doing it. I have my own business, and now this Wild Mustang account. About being a wife and mother... Well, you can’t have everything. I know that now. I’ve decided to concentrate on one thing at a time. That one thing is advertising.”

She took a deep breath. “What I want to say is, you don’t have to worry about me. About my trying to worm my way into your life or be some kind of substitute mom to Max or anything, as much as I like...love him. Because after the film crew comes and goes, I’m out of here. Back to my real life. I’ve got plans, big plans. This Wild Mustang thing is just the beginning.” She smiled then, a little forced, but it was the best she could do.

Over soup and crackers they talked some more about her life. He asked questions about her past and her plans for the future and about what she did every day when she was at home. She hadn’t talked so much since she’d given a speech on career day at her old high school. Nobody had ever listened with such rapt attention as he did. Certainly not the high school kids.

“I’ve talked your ear off,” she said, breaking a cracker in two. “You’re a good listener.”

He reached for her hand for the second time that day and covered it with his. “You’re a good talker,” he said.

At that moment Max called from his room down the hall. He was hot, hungry and thirsty. Josh told Bridget he’d take care of him, that she should go outside and get some air. She protested, but he shoved her out the door. This time she smelled the roses that climbed the trellis, picked some poppies, felt the sun on her skin, listened to the birds and headed for the corral to look at the wild mustang and note her progress.

She leaned against the fence and watched the mare kick up her heels and whinny. “Hello, girl,” she called. “Remember me? I haven’t seen you for a while. Not since the day...” Oh, lord, the day Josh told her how much she bothered him, then proceeded to show her just how much. The day she’d lost her head and thrown herself at him. The day he’d cut her off by telling her about Molly and how he’d never love again. The day his mother appeared on the scene and asked her to the birthday party. Yes, that was the day all right. The day she realized this, whatever it was she felt for Josh, was a hopeless cause.