“Sit,” he suggested, kicking a bale toward her.
“You’ve got something you want to say,” she guessed, smoothing her coat before perching on the edge of the bale.
“Yeah. I do.” He sat next to her, his hands clasped between his knees. “I enjoyed myself this afternoon.”
Worry clouded her eyes. “Oh.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Well, yes. The girls were so excited, and it’s been years since I was out in the wilderness to cut a tree. I usually get a small one from a lot in town.”
“That wasn’t what I was talking about, and you know it.”
She glanced up at him, then let her gaze slide away as if she were suddenly interested in the rafters and the feathers and droppings from an owl that had once roosted near the small round window high above.
The barest hint of her perfume tickled his nostrils, and he couldn’t help but notice the slope of her cheek and the way her lips folded in on themselves.
“I was talking about being with you,” he admitted when she didn’t say a word. “Yes, I know it sounds corny.”
“Like a line out of a sappy romantic movie,” she said, but her voice had changed, deepened.
“Yeah, maybe.” He snorted a laugh, his fingers laced with hers. “But I meant it.” He tipped her chin up with one gloved finger, gazed into her incredible eyes for just a second, then pressed his lips to hers. She uttered the tiniest moan of protest, then sighed against him. His blood heated. He wrapped one arm around her, pushing closer, feeling her mouth part slightly as his tongue touched the sexy seam of her lips.
Don’t do this, his mind screamed. But he didn’t listen. Wouldn’t. He’d spent the past week waking up in the middle of the night so hard he couldn’t think straight, drenched in sweat from the vivid dreams he’d had of kissing her, touching her, making love to her, and now they were alone and he felt the heat throb between them, the passion she denied just beneath the surface. He pressed harder, his tongue sliding along the slick ridges of the roof of her mouth, her tongue playing with his, her breathing shallow. Rapid. Warm. “Slade,” she whispered as he pulled back to look at her flushed face and to smooth a lock of hair from her cheek.
“What, darlin’?”
“This isn’t a good idea.”
“You got that right.”
“I mean...I think it’s a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“We’re going to regret this.”
“Never.” He nuzzled her cheek and she quivered, her fingers tracing the slopes of his shoulders. Horses moved and nickered beneath them and in the muted light Slade worked at the buttons of her coat, pressed her down until they tumbled off the bale onto the loose hay.
“Please, listen...” She looked up at him and he was lost in that troubled hazel gaze.
He levered himself on one elbow. “I’m listening.”
“This...you and me...it’s dangerous...we’d better leave it alone.”
“Because of the other guy.”
“‘Other guy’?” she repeated, and those two sexy little lines appeared between her eyebrows again.
“Your boss.”
“Oh. Chuck.”
“Yeah. Chuck.” The guy’s name even tasted bad.
“It’s not about Chuck,” she admitted honestly as he plucked a piece of straw from her hair.
“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t give a damn. Right now, Jamie, it’s just you and me,” he said, and kissed her again, his mouth slanting over hers as a wave of possession washed over him. He didn’t want to talk about the past or her boyfriend or anything else. They were here. Together. Alone. A man and woman. He wanted her. More than he’d wanted a woman in a long, long time. For the first time since Rebecca...squeezing his eyes shut, he concentrated on Jamie. The touch and feel of her. Old memories reawakened, long-forgotten emotions surfaced. He heard her sigh, felt the sweet pressure of her lips on his, sensed her shift from denial to need.
His jeans were suddenly too restricting, the thickness in his crotch beginning to ache as he tossed off his jacket. He stretched out over her, unbuttoned her coat and reached beneath the hem of her sweater. Her skin was warm and smooth to his touch. She gasped as his hands scaled her ribs to dip inside her bra.
“I don’t... I don’t know...”
“Shh,” he breathed into her mouth, kissing her, his tongue mating with hers as he stroked her breast.
“Oo-oh,” she moaned as the tip of his finger scraped her nipple. She bucked beneath him, held on tight, kissed him back. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he kissed the side of her neck, then, lifting the sweater over her head, pressed urgent lips to that warm, dusky hollow of her throat. Her pulse jumped beneath the ministrations of his tongue and her fingernails dug deep into his muscles.
Slowly he lowered himself, kissing the tops of her breasts, touching the lacy edge of her bra with his tongue. Her fingers curled in his hair and she guided him to one nipple. Gently he lifted the breast from its bonds and tentatively tasted of her, his tongue tickling the very tip of her nipple, his lips just brushing that puckering little bud.
“Slade,” she moaned insistently, pulling his head closer.
“Oh, darlin’, there’s no need to rush,” he breathed across her wet skin. But she was ready. Hot. Anxious. He saw it in her eyes. She wanted him, damn it.
He slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her slacks and she sucked in her stomach and began working at the buttons of his shirt. “You want me,” he said, and she didn’t answer. “Come on, Counselor, admit it.”
“You want me,” she said, telling herself that she was about to make a mistake of epic proportions.
“Oh, baby, yes.” He unbuttoned her slacks, pulled them down over her hips and kissed his way along her abdomen. His tongue was moist and warm in the cold air. Tantalizing. Tempting.
She told herself she couldn’t do this, not again. Yet the words of denial slipped away from her as he slowly slid her panty hose down her legs, the tips of his fingers tickling her, his lips following the same sensual path.
No! No! No! What was she thinking? This was a mistake of epic proportions. His hands were kneading her buttocks and the stubble of his beard grazed the skin of her inner thighs. She wiggled. He held her fast. Hot fingers dug into her flesh. Warm breath steamed against her skin. Inside she throbbed, felt moist. Wet. His lips and tongue skimmed closer.
Skilled hands massaged her hips.
This is so dangerous...a big mistake...remember how he hurt you, her mind screamed from some distant, far-off shore. But her bones were melting, her breathing difficult, and her entire being seemed to center where he touched her, at that private place where her legs joined. They parted of their own accord.
“That’s a girl,” he said as she arched upward and felt air from his lungs whisper over the curls down below. “Let me in, Jamie.”
She wriggled, desire beating through her, need burning in her blood. She closed her eyes, felt the warmth of her coat beneath her and the cool air above. And Slade, she felt Slade kiss her, his lips caressing her so gently tears burned behind her eyelids and her throat caught. She couldn’t stop, didn’t want to. She craved more of him. She thought she’d go mad with his slow, deliberate ministrations. “Slade,” she cried, lifting her eager hips to meet him, arching as she felt the slick penetration of his tongue.
“Oh,” she cried, her fingers curling in the loose straw. “Oh, oh, oooooohhhh.” She shuddered, her eyes opening to see the timbers of the hayloft swirl above her. The hayloft spun and she convulsed, sweat running down her body.
Then he was upon her, kicking off his jeans, stretching his long, lean body against hers, rubbing his flesh against her fevered skin. He kissed her hard. With purpose. His hands were no longer gentle, but firm as they kneaded her flesh. He pressed his hungry mouth to hers and kissed her as if he would never stop.
Her arms wound around his neck. She felt his hard, sinewy muscles as she kissed him wildly. Madly.
> She threw all her inhibitions to the raw Montana wind. This is all that mattered. Here. Now. Slade McCafferty.
“You’re so incredible,” he breathed, voice raspy, face flushed. He prodded her legs apart, used his hands to lift her buttocks and, thrusting hard, stared straight into her eyes. She gasped.
He slid out, then drove forward again.
“Oh...Slade...”
Again.
She clung to him, her neck bowed as she met each hard stroke. Again and again, faster and faster, until the center of the universe seemed to spin within that sensual spot where their bodies joined, until she could think of nothing but the pure animal pleasure of his body melding with hers, until sweat drizzled down their fused bodies despite the cold winter air. He kissed her. Hard. Desperately.
“Jamie,” he whispered in a rush. “Jamie, oh...woman... Oh...”
She spasmed. Cried out. The stables whirled around them, the sound of horses far off as he collapsed against her, breathing hard, his body dripping with sweat, his arms surrounding her.
Tears threatened her eyes as he held her. How many times had she thought of making love to him, of feeling his hard body pressed against hers, or kissing him until her lips were raw? It had been her dream, long ago, one she’d tried determinedly to forget.
And here she was. In the hayloft of the Flying M ranch, feeling Slade’s warm breath ruffle her hair and knowing she’d probably made the second worst mistake of her life. The first had been falling in love with him all those years ago.
Oh, what had she done?
She blinked hard. She wouldn’t break down. No...what was done, was done...she would have to live with it.
He levered himself up on one elbow and, grinning widely, looked down at her. “Well, well, well.”
“My thoughts exactly,” she lied, trying to slide away from him, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “I...I don’t know what got into me—”
“I do.”
“I wasn’t talking about that.”
“Neither was I.”
“Right. Look, this has been fun and all—” Oh, dear, listen to her ramble on. “But I really should be going.”
His blue eyes gleamed wickedly. “So soon?”
“You know my motto—‘Love ’em and leave ’em.’ Oh, no, wait, that was yours.” She regretted the words the second they tripped over her tongue.
His eyes darkened. His smile disappeared. “I tried to explain—”
“And I wouldn’t let you.” She held up a hand and reached for her panties. “I know.”
“That’s right. You wouldn’t.” Quickly he lunged, his hands grabbing her wrists, his weight pinning her down.
“Okay, okay, I give,” she said, regretting the bad joke. “I made a mistake.”
“No. I did. When I left you.”
Her throat thickened. A lump formed. Oh, for the love of Pete, she couldn’t break down. Not now. Not after all the years of bearing the pain alone. “You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t. I’m just tellin’ you what I feel. Isn’t that what women always complain about men? That they aren’t in touch with their feelings? That they never say what’s on their mind? Well, I’m tellin’ you. I made a mistake. I didn’t know it at the time. Hell, I didn’t know it for years. But I know it now, okay?” Intense eyes stared down at her and not a trace of the amusement she’d seen in his expression only seconds before lingered. “Jamie, do you hear me?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes filled and she blinked hard. This couldn’t be happening. She thought of the summer they’d been together, the lovemaking...their baby.
“What?”
“It’s...it’s nothing.”
“The hell it is.” He released one wrist and wiped a tear that had begun to drizzle from her eye.
“Damn.”
“What’s this all about?” he demanded, glaring at her. “You’re holding back.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She brushed the tears quickly aside with her free hand.
“It sure as hell matters to you.”
“It was a long time ago.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he stared down at her and she bit her lower lip, refusing to break down. “What is it? There’s something else, isn’t there? Something I don’t know about.”
She tried to wriggle free, but his hands were like manacles, his weight immovable.
“What?”
Why not tell him the truth? Let him deal with it?
Because it would serve no purpose. Only open old wounds.
“Come on, there’s something, Counselor, some deep dark secret that you’re hiding from me.”
Taking a deep breath, certain that her voice would fail her, she braced herself. “All right,” she finally acquiesced. “If you want to know the truth, it’s pretty simple. When you left me, I was pregnant.”
“What?” The color seeped from his face in one instant. He released her wrists. “Pregnant?” he repeated in a hoarse whisper.
“That’s right.”
“But the baby? Where is...”
In for a penny, in for a pound. There was no turning back now. “I miscarried, Slade. Right off the bat. One month it was confirmed I was pregnant, the next...” Her throat closed and she felt another tear slide down her face before she was able to pull herself together. “The next month...I wasn’t.”
“Why?” His eyes were dark as the night.
“I don’t know,” she said, then saw the hardness of his jaw, the anger in the lines of his face. “Don’t you even suggest that it was anything other than natural,” she said, reading the unspoken message in his gaze, “because that’s just what happened, okay? And it really isn’t any of your business.”
“My child isn’t my business?”
“You were already gone, remember? You’d walked out on me and so it wasn’t your concern. Did you ever call? Ever stop by? Ever write?” she challenged, her chin trembling as he rolled off her and stared in disbelief. She scooped up her clothes and started struggling into them, her fingernails ripping through her panty hose in her haste. “No. You didn’t. Why? Because you didn’t give a damn.”
“That’s not how it was.” But his words lacked conviction, and her stupid heart tore again.
“No?” She yanked her slacks over her hips. “Then tell me, how was it? Hmm? Because from where I sat, alone, pregnant, not knowing what to do, it sure felt like you left me for another woman.”
His face flushed a deep, angry scarlet as he reached for his clothes. “If you had told me—”
“About the baby? Would that have made a difference in how you felt? Is that what you’re trying to say? I wasn’t good enough, but, gee, if I had your baby, then suddenly I was?” she stormed, tossing on her sweater and stuffing her arms angrily down the sleeves.
Slade had pulled on his jeans as she reached for her coat. “I made a mistake.”
“That makes two of us, and now...now we’ve made another, but let’s just forget it, okay? We’ve literally had our roll in the hay, and now we can go back to our normal, regular lives.” She cast a glance down at the mussed straw, then rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and marched to the ladder. She was down the rungs and out the door of the stables in less than a minute.
The cold air hit her with the force of a northern gale. What was she thinking, confiding in Slade? She’d read the accusations in his eyes. Damn it all, she should never have told him. Never.
She strode through the snow as best she could, made her way to the car, reached for the handle and realized her purse and briefcase were at the house. Well, fine. Turning on her heel she started for the snow-covered walk. In the living room window stood the Christmas tree. The two little girls were dancing around it, holding up tinsel and glittering decorations, laughing and giggling as Nicole and Randi strung lights around the branches. Through the panes, she saw Thorne. His face was relaxed, a wide, adoring smile on his face as he gazed at his wife.
Jamie’s heart sh
attered into a million pieces. The scene through the frosted windowpanes was something right out of Currier and Ives, everything she’d once hoped for, everything she’d thought, naively, that she might have with Slade and their child... She bit her lip, fought tears. From the corner of her eye she saw Matt walking General to the stables. He and Kelly were about to be married, to increase the McCafferty family.
Jamie had to leave. Now. She couldn’t take another minute of this perfect family holiday scene.
Slade burst out of the stables. Furious eyes focused on Jamie, he hitched his way through the drifts. Great. Just what she didn’t need. She couldn’t face another showdown, not now. She was too raw.
She started for the house.
“Jamie! Wait!”
No way in hell.
She marched up the steps to the front door and without knocking and disturbing the decorating party, eased into the front hallway. Music and the smells of apples and cinnamon greeted her. Burl Ives was singing some lighthearted Christmas carol from the CD player and the twins’ high-pitched voices chirped above the song.
“I want to puts it on,” one little voice insisted on the other side of the wall in the living room.
“You can, honey, just let me get the lights in place.” Nicole seemed always the voice of reason.
Thorne said, “That’s right...here ya go. Why don’t you try the switch, now, then put the ornament on? Here let me get the main lights.”
Jamie thought of the baby she’d lost and fought tears. She slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and reached for her briefcase. She cast a final glance to the archway separating the landing at the base of the stairs and the living room.
“Okay, now,” Thorne said as the house lights dimmed.
“Ohhh,” one of the girls said.
“Ith’s be-you-ti-ful,” the other agreed, and Jamie saw the reflection of colored Christmas lights on the wall. They’d turned on the tree.