Wild Mustang Man (7 page)

“No kids, no husband,” Bridget said. “Advertising is a tough, competitive field. It takes a lot of time and effort to make it. I just started out on my own this year. No time for marriage now. Maybe someday when I’m ready to retire and take it easy. I just read about two eighty-year-olds who met in a nursing home and fell in love. That’ll be me,” she said lightly, as if she didn’t care about getting married anytime soon. Which was the truth. It would probably take her about fifty years to get over her fears of letting herself love anyone again. Which would take her right up into her eighties.

“Maybe that’s what I should do,” Suzy said. “Of course it will be too late for me to have kids.” She sighed loudly.

“Anybody who’s as bright and cute as you are will find somebody any day now,” Tally said. “You too, Bridget Don’t tell me there aren’t men beating down your door in San Francisco?”

“Not exactly,” Bridget said. “And I must admit after attending the wild horse sale the other day and getting a look at the men around here, it makes city men look awfully effete, if you know what I mean.”

Tally and Suzy exchanged a brief, meaningful look. Bridget hoped she hadn’t given anything away. With gossip spreading like wildfire in this town she didn’t want anyone saying or even thinking she was even moderately interested in Josh or anyone else. Which she wasn’t. She was just curious. About him, about his former wife and any other detail that contributed to her understanding of her Wild Mustang Man. Not hers, she reminded herself. If all went well, soon he’d belong to the world.

“Anyway,” Suzy continued, “even with the money, I’m surprised he agreed to do it. So is everybody in town.”

“So am I,” Bridget confessed. “But I promised to make it as painless as possible. Just taking pictures of him at work. No posing. Nothing artificial.”

“I can’t wait to see the pictures,” Tally said.

“And smell the cologne,” Suzy added. “I’ve got to get back to work now, ladies. It was good meeting you, Bridget. Let’s do this again. If you have time, that is.”

“I will. I won’t be able to spend all day photographing,” Bridget said. As much as she’d like to, Josh would never permit it.

From the diner they each went their separate ways. Bridget went back to the Laundromat to stare thoughtfully at the clothes flopping around in the dryer, to think about Josh Gentry, his son and his former wife. The hours dragged, but somehow she got through the day, and the next day she called Kate to find out what was happening.

“Your pictures are great, just great,” Kate said. “I finally had a chance to run them by the client this morning and they loved them. They want some closeups, though, before they sign the contract. They say they need to see his face, from all angles. I need to see it, too. This guy is really something.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Bridget asked. Then she sighed loudly. “His face from all angles. Okay, okay. I’ll go out there right now.” She crossed her fingers on both hands that he’d be home.

“We’re close, Bridgie,” Kate said. “We’re getting close. I can feel it, can’t you?”

“I think so,” she said. But standing on the quiet street of this small town in a remote corner of Nevada, she felt far removed from the frantic world of advertising. Not that she wasn’t eager to succeed. She was. She wanted to show Scott he was wrong about her, that she was good at what she did. She could write copy, take pictures and sell products. She could support herself. Which was fortunate because nobody else was going to support her.

It was a hard idea to get used to, but she would. She couldn’t have the husband, house and family she’d always wanted. She’d have to be content with money, prestige, independence, and professional accolades. Provided for herself and by herself. There was only one person she could depend upon, and that was Bridget McCloud.

She uncrossed her fingers, hung up the phone and headed back to the ranch to face Josh Gentry once again and to shove a camera into his handsome face. Because if she didn’t do it, who would?

Josh had been busy yesterday. Very busy. There was no reason to feel guilty because he had things to do and didn’t want to be interrupted. That woman was just going to have to realize he had work to do and couldn’t spend all his time posing for pictures. Or teaching her how to shoot a slingshot. He kept thinking of the look on her face when he told her not to come by. A brief look of surprise, then a quick cover-up, a proud tilt of the chin, and low and behold she was busy, too. In the high desert dawn, he leaned against the narrow chute next to his corral and steadied his newest wild horse.

“Come on, babe. Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured waiting his chance to throw a halter on her. She was a proud little critter, with excellent possibilities. Just like Bridget.

Dammit, why couldn’t he get that woman out of his mind? Why did everything remind him of her? He’d even dreamed about her the past two nights. One night was understandable. After all, she was the first woman who’d penetrated his home and his defenses since Molly died. But two nights in a row? And each dream more erotic than the last.

Then Max had to ask about her every day. Where was she, when was she coming back. He wanted to show her how good he was with his slingshot, how he could ride his bike no-handed down the driveway. He wanted her to see Barney, his pet rat. Fortunately Max had gone to play with a friend today, so he could finally get some peace and quiet and get to work. But he couldn’t concentrate on haltering the horse.

Instead he was standing there staring off into space, thinking about Bridget. Remembering her sitting across the dinner table from him, not knowing what to say to her. Wanting her to go, yet wanting her to stay. Wondering when she was going to show up again with her camera around her neck, her tawny, windblown hair and her nonstop questions.

He looked around. Except for sound of hoof beats as his horses raced across the field in the distance, there was absolute silence. Just the way he liked it. But more than the silence, there was a hush in the air this morning. As if something was about to happen. Even his horse stopped stomping her hooves and pointed her ears forward, listening, waiting and watching. They were sensitive, the best of the wild mustangs, and this one was no exception. He smiled to himself. Yes, he’d made the right choice and got himself one hell of a good horse.

Why couldn’t he be content with that? He’d been perfectly happy these past two years, raising Max and horses on his own. Well, maybe not happy, but content Now, since she’d arrived, he wanted more. What exactly he wanted he refused to think about.

His mind drifted back to the other evening out on the grass when he’d seized an excuse to put his arms around her. He couldn’t get over how soft and sweet she was. How she’d melted into his arms like warm taffy and stayed there. If it weren’t for Max they might still be there, locked together, watching the sun set and rise and set again. Because he didn’t want to let her go. He might be wrong but he didn’t think she wanted to go, either. All the more reason not to encourage her. All the more reason to ignore her. Ignore a feisty package of guts and determination who at a moment’s notice could turn deliciously sweet and supple in his arms? No way.

He glanced at the sky as if he could see Molly’s puzzled face in the clouds. Talk about guilt. She’d never forgive him for such traitorous thoughts. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered to himself, and to Molly, too, if she was listening.

As if Molly was testing him, or maybe he was just testing himself, he heard the sound of a car in the distance. His horse heard it, too. It could have been anybody. But it wasn’t. It was her. She pulled into his driveway and slammed her car door. He turned back to his horse, trying once again to halter her. But his horse was as jumpy as he was and refused his attempts.

When he glanced up she was there. Backlit against the sun, her body was outlined in gold sunlight He shaded his eyes with his hand and stared at her as if she’d stepped out of his dream. But she was real, just as real as she’d been the other evening. Just as sexy and just as desirable and just as big a threat to his peace of mind.

She never got to finish her sentence. He threw the halter on the ground and jerked her Nikon from around her neck and set it on the fence post. She sucked in a sharp breath as his hands brushed against her breasts. Then with a ragged sound in the back of his throat, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her. She didn’t resist. It was inevitable. She knew it as well as he did. This energy that flowed between them, that had been there since the first day she walked into his house, was too real to be ignored.

She kissed him back. He kissed her again and again. Each time deeper. Until their lips were fused and neither wanted to break apart They clung to each other, wordlessly, mindlessly. Taking only a moment to come up for air, she parted her lips and welcomed him in. Their tongues met and tangled. He plunged deeper, looking for heaven knew what—fulfillment warmth, acceptance....

He got all that and more. She was as warm and generous and passionate as in his dreams. She wound her arms around his neck, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him down, bringing him closer still. Their bodies meshed as if they were made for each other. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, his arousal pressed against her belly. His heart thundered, drowning out the warning signals, drowning out the voice in his head that told him this was wrong. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. He was shocked at how badly he wanted her. So badly that in a far corner of his mind he considered taking her to the barn or to a haystack.

He slid his hands under her shirt to cup her breasts. So full, they fit so perfectly in his hands. She gasped and tugged at his shirt. Impatient, he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist just like she’d done in his dreams. She caught her breath, then she kissed him again, this time light, feathery kisses along his jawline that made him so crazy with lust and longing that he actually started in the direction of the barn with her wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his neck.

If it hadn’t been for his horse, whinnying and pawing the ground in a desperate attempt to get back into the corral, he didn’t know what might have happened. Reluctantly he set Bridget on the top rail of the fence. She was breathing hard. His gaze dropped to her breasts where her nipples pressed against her shirt and gave away her body’s response. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from lifting her right off that fence—the horse and the whole world be damned.

“Because...that’s the way it is. We get one chance at love, and I had mine. I was married to the most wonderful woman in the world. And then I lost her. It was the most painful experience anyone could ever go through. I would never... I could never take a chance on love again, never marry anyone again. Because you never know how fast things can change. How cruel life can be. I had everything, then in the blink of an eye, I had nothing. Except Max, of course. If it hadn’t been for him, I couldn’t have gone on living.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s been two years or twenty. I’ll never forget the emptiness, the deep hole I couldn’t climb out of.” He shook his head, knowing he couldn’t make her understand. No one could who hadn’t gone through it

“Is that what Molly would have wanted?” she asked, her eyes boring into his. “That you stay single and raise Max on your own?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Probably not. It’s not about Molly. It’s about me and how I’ve pulled out of that black hole and how I never want to fall into it again. Do you know you sound like my father? But it’s no good playing “what if.” What if I’d died first? I’d want Molly to marry again. But the fact is she’s dead and I’m here. I have to do what I have to do.”

He clenched his hands into fists. Of course he would have wanted Molly to marry again, to find someone else. He wouldn’t have wanted her to grow old alone. It was different for him. He liked being alone. He could almost see the years stretching ahead of him like a straight, four-lane highway. Imagined Max growing up, moving away and leaving him alone on the ranch. For some strange reason he felt an unexpected emptiness around his heart What in the hell was wrong with him today? All this talk about the past and the tragedy that had left him alone had made him question his future, the future he thought held no surprises. Now he was starting to wonder.