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With each jagged streak of lightning, she saw that the drenching rain hadn’t let up. The puddles had spread, increasing her concerns that she might be stranded in the morning.
Assuring her aunt she was fine, Megan put away her phone and rejoined Jared in the kitchen. Asking about his work, she perched on a bar stool and watched him set yellow china mugs on a large tray. Her gaze traveled over his features, so familiar to her. If he ever saw Ethan …
Her heart did a flip at the thought. With brown eyes and black hair, Ethan looked as much like his dad as a child could, even down to the cleft in his chin.
Another clap of thunder boomed and lights dimmed. Jared glanced toward the windows. “I’ll get candles, in case,” he said, crossing to disappear into a walk-in pantry.
“All I need,” she mumbled softly, hoping she didn’t spend the evening in candlelight with him. He had too many things going for him already.
Still focusing conversation on his work, she followed him into the living area, where she curled up in a chair. Lights were low and Jared had switched on soft music, while rain still drummed outside and poured off the porch roof. He took the nearby sofa and placed a tray with their steaming cups of tea and coffee on the glass table in front of both of them. Usually, such surroundings would lend a cozy intimacy to the evening, but she planned to have her drink and get back to the bedroom and close the door on Jared for the night.
As he answered her inquiries about his Dallas and Paris offices, his traveling and his houses, she wondered if she had made the mistake of her life. Should she have revealed to Jared long ago that he was the father of her son?
Had she erred by never contacting Jared through the intervening years? The minute the question came, she knew if she had to do it all over again, she would do the same. Jared had walked out on her without a word, never contacting her until their encounter this morning.
The simmering resentment boiled momentarily as she remembered her joy and his declarations of love, the wild passion between them and then … desertion. He didn’t contact her, give her any indication that anything was wrong—he left, and when she began to look for him, she discovered from his parents that he’d gone to Texas, where he’d taken a new job. They gave her his phone number, but she had no intention of calling him. The hurt had been monumental, compounded when she’d learned she was pregnant.
To forgive and forget was impossible. Tonight, he wanted something from her, and therefore was flirting and charming once again; but there was a solid, lasting bedrock of pain that he’d caused.
Still, guilt nagged and worry plagued her. Had she cut her son out of a relationship that would have enriched his life? Yet, how could a man who left like that have been that role model? He might not have paid any attention to him, which would have multiplied hurts.
Again, she hated the painful memories—agonizing ones of Jared, hurtful moments with her father, who was enraged when he discovered her pregnancy. Jared had been gone two months by the time her father learned the truth, and from the first moment when the doctor had given her the news, she’d known that she would be alone when she had her baby.
It hadn’t turned out that way, thanks to her aunt and uncle in Sioux Falls, who stood by her through Ethan’s birth.
Jared tilted his head to give her another one of those quizzical looks that was so familiar. How often had she seen the same look from her son?
“I think I’m talking far too much about my life. Tell me about yours,” Jared said. He sat back with one foot on his knee. A brilliant flash was followed by a window-rattling clap of thunder, and the lights dimmed and then went out.
“Sit tight,” Jared said in the darkness. “We’re ready for the emergency.”
With the next flash of lightning, she saw him standing, holding a candle. He began to light candles and place them in holders on the table.
The hiss of rain could be heard clearly, since music no longer played. Candlelight flickered and bathed Jared in a golden glow, highlighting his prominent cheekbones, his thickly-lashed eyes, the cleft in his chin and the sheen in his well-trimmed black hair. Unbidden thoughts came, of running her hands through that thick hair which had a tendency to curl, particularly in damp weather. Most of the time, Jared fought the curls and kept them combed out as much as he could, taming them into slight waves. He sat again, closer to the end of the sofa and her chair. “You look gorgeous, especially in candlelight.”
“Thank you,” she answered, hating the stab of pleasure his compliment gave her. “In candlelight everyone looks appealing. And on another topic—do you work more in the U.S. or abroad?”
He looked amused as he answered. “A safer topic, as you wish. Far less interesting,” he said. “I’m in the U.S. the majority of the time. Did you move to Santa Fe when you started making pottery?”
“Not right away,” she answered. She couldn’t imagine that he really cared what she’d done. “I worked for a decorator in Sioux Falls as well as on my own,” she continued. “I marketed through a Web site, and through the decorator. I thought it would be good to work in Santa Fe, so I moved and eventually went out on my own.”
“I doubt if your dad liked you leaving here.”
“No, he didn’t, but he decided it would be a good experience for me. I think he thought I’d fail and come home, despite the fact I’d even bought a house,” she replied, remembering how frightening it had been to move and go on her own with a small son. She had worried about Ethan and if the change would hurt him. The early years she’d lived with constant worry.
“Did he ever recognize your talent?”
She smiled. “Once I began to make sufficient money, my dad’s attitude changed.”
“It usually does,” Jared said. “Nothing succeeds like success. It’s difficult to imagine you working in clay, though,” he said, taking her hands in his warm ones. “These hands don’t look like you’re a potter.”
He turned her hands in his, intensifying a smoldering desire that she couldn’t extinguish with either anger or logic. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled her hands away.
“I liked holding your hands,” Jared said in a husky voice.
“It’s the storm and candlelight—and wine you had with dinner. I suspect you like holding the hand of almost any woman you spend the evening with.”
He ran his finger along her cheek and studied her with a somber, intent look as he shook his head. “Perhaps, but this is different. I didn’t know when I came back here and saw you that it would be this way.”
Her heart drummed along with her annoyance at him. She had no intention of letting him rekindle an unwanted physical attraction. To her dismay, he still held appeal, but her emotions battled it.
Beyond her physical response to him, there was not only her smoldering rage over the hurt he’d inflicted by leaving but also icy fear over what he might discover about her now. To be in close proximity to him set her nerves on edge.
“Jared, this isn’t a special moment, other than we may be having the rain of the year. Don’t pour on the compliments because I have something you want. You have a captive audience tonight, but don’t overdo it,” she said, thankful she could sound detached. Anything to keep an emotional distance between them. Yet her heart raced and his words weren’t going to be easily forgotten.
He gave her a crooked smile. “That wasn’t the reason for the compliments, I promise you. Buying your ranch was the last thing on my mind,” he added, in that same husky voice that was a caress in itself.
She finished her tea and stood. “I’ll turn in. I rise early.”
He stood. “It’s early to turn in, Megan.”
“Times change, Jared. We’re different people. I’ll take a candle.” When she reached to pick up her dishes, his hand closed around her wrist. The touch was light and casual, but the outcome was an unwanted skip of her heartbeat. Warmth suffused her beyond anything the hot tea had accomplished. Startled, she glanced up.
“You know that’s not true. Leave the dishes,” he said, his husky voice revealing his reaction to the contact. She was bending over the table and he had leaned close to take her wrist. Now they were only inches apart, closer than before. Candlelight flickered with pinpoints of light reflected in his brown eyes.
Once again she was captive, as she’d been beneath his volatile kisses—those kisses that had always set her ablaze.
“Megan,” he said softly.
“No,” she answered with little force. A pang of yearning tore her, instantly followed by anger that he could still have such an impact on her. Worse, she knew he was on the verge of a kiss she very much wanted. “No,” she repeated more firmly. She straightened and he dropped his hand, still watching her with searing fire in the depths of his eyes.
“We could declare a truce,” he suggested softly. “That was long ago, Megan.”
Holding back a seething retort, she glared at him. “This is a useless discussion,” she said, hating that she couldn’t appear more poised. Appear as if what he’d done years ago no longer mattered. She reached to light another candle, but he steadied her hand and they lit a candle together.
Once more, he was holding her wrist. His slight touch increased her awareness of him more. And he was taking his own sweet time getting the candle burning. She was tempted to yank away from his grasp, but she’d already been foolish enough to reveal how much she reacted to the past. Over the flickering light, she looked up to meet his hot gaze trained on her mouth. She couldn’t get her breath. Her lips parted and she wanted him in spite of what was sensible.
“Light the candle, Jared,” she whispered.
His thumb moved back and forth slowly, a feathery touch on her wrist, until he paused and she knew he was fully aware that she always reacted to the slightest contact.
Desire magnified, pounding with each heartbeat. Setting aside the candle, he slid his hand behind her head.
“Jared,” she whispered, a protest that came out a breathless invitation.
He drew her the last few inches and his mouth covered hers.
His warm lips moved caressingly, his tongue touching hers and then sliding deep into her mouth. Longing, physical and emotional, tugged at her even as she returned his passion. His other arm went around her waist and he stepped around the corner of the table to pull her body against his.
Once again, she was in his arms. How often had she dreamed of this moment, only to wake and discover it had been a fantasy. That Jared had still broken her heart so ruthlessly. Amazingly, here she was, actually kissing him, held in his strong embrace, finding him even sexier than she’d remembered.
Heat became fire. She fought the urge to wind her arms around him and press closer against him. Half of her longed for him desperately and the other half screamed to step away, to prevent what was happening.
His kisses burned wisdom to ashes. She kissed him hungrily, aching for more, knowing she was tumbling to disaster. Each second compounded her years-old need. Finally, she pushed against his chest.
He released her slowly, opening his eyes to study her in a heated silence.
“We’re not going back there, Jared,” she declared with a gasp. “I didn’t want that to happen. Don’t make anything of it. It meant nothing, except I haven’t kissed a man in a long time.”
“Don’t be so angry, Meg. I like kissing you,” he said in a husky voice that held such warmth she tingled from head to toe. “No harm intended and no damage done,” he added in unruffled assurance.
“Don’t!” she cried. “I’m turning in,” she said, circling the table in the opposite direction from Jared.
“You don’t have to escort me to the bedroom door,” she said, when he started toward her.
“Good night, Jared,” she stated firmly.
“I wish I could take away your anger. We were young, Megan.” His dark shirt was open at the throat and locks of hair had fallen over his forehead. Because of the rain, the natural curl in his hair had tightened and black curls framed his face.
She shook her head. “Good night,” she repeated.
Emotionally exhausted, she entered her bedroom.
Her lips were still warm from his kisses and she was on fire with craving. The manner in which she had responded to him tore at her. He had opened Pandora’s Box for her. She blamed it on not dating, but she kept busy and didn’t miss having a man in her life. Between work and taking care of Ethan and his activities, her life was full, busy, so she fell exhausted into bed at night. But with a kiss, Jared had effortlessly demolished all her defenses. One touch, one kiss and she had been mush, melting and kissing him back. He’d made her yearn for his kisses and the feel of his warm, muscular body.
All yearnings she didn’t want.
Crossing the room, she tried to forget that Jared was close, that he was soon to be undressed and stretched in bed. He used to sleep in the nude and she suspected he still did. Images plagued her, driving any chance of sleep away.
Why couldn’t she have remained aloof and showed him that he couldn’t stir her? Instead, she had responded passionately. She couldn’t stop going over it, even though thinking about it made her hot. How could she have responded like that to a man whom she despised?
And his one million …
Sell him the ranch and she’d never see or hear from him again. Logic said to sell. She would get an incredible price, be rid of something she didn’t care for anyway, She would sever most ties with South Dakota and only run a risk of seeing Jared when she visited her aunt and uncle. She would narrow the chances of Jared discovering what she had done.
On the other hand, she couldn’t bear to deed the ranch to him. Fury over the hurts he’d inflicted tempted her to strike out at him in any way she could. Retribution was too enticing, something she had dreamed about for the first years after Jared’s disappearance.
Plus, her father would never sell Jared the ranch. Her dad had hated the Daltons, despising Jared’s father because of their continual fights over water. Each one had accused the other of taking too much. Water fights had always spilled over into every other contact. If a fence went down, each man blamed the other.
She knew, too, her father had viewed Jared’s dad’s simple background with disdain, as if he were a peasant. When Jared had walked out on her, her father had hated him for hurting her, even though he had been doing his best to talk her out of marrying Jared when Jared had vanished. Many issues fueled the family feud.
Both sides of her argument were strong. Money versus emotional satisfaction.
When her father’s health began to fail, he had deeded the ranch to her. Upon his death, that decision became a safety net for her. It saved her time and money to have the ranch already in her possession, and left her free to sell it.
Each time she thought about Jared walking out on her and now coming back to buy the ranch, she felt as if she couldn’t bear to sell—at any price.
Was she harming herself and Ethan by her refusal to let Jared buy the ranch? The money would be more than enough to provide for Ethan’s education and a comfortable lifestyle they could never have otherwise. If she refused Jared, she might not get anywhere near her asking price from other buyers.
She was certain she would sell, but it could take a while—time she really didn’t want to devote to the care of the ranch. It took money to keep it running smoothly, and with her father’s failing health the past year, there were areas that had been neglected. The sensible business and professional approach was to sell to Jared or counter for an even higher amount—something she suspected he would agree to, to get what he wanted.
She knew she would pore over the arguments all night long. So far, the only person interested in the ranch had been Jared. She curled up in a chair near the window, watching the rain and flashes of lightning. Hopefully, once the rain stopped, the river would drop rapidly.
She rubbed her temples. Sleep would likely elude her for hours. To sell or not to sell? Stop remembering his touch and being aggravated with herself for succumbing to his slightest touch.
She paced to the window to stare outside, blowing out the candle to depend on lightning flashes for illumination.
If she would agree to sell the ranch, it would be the quickest way to get Jared out of her life. She stood at the window watching rivulets of water zigzag their way along the glass. Flashes of lightning revealed small rivers running through the yard and large silver puddles. The river would be high and impossible to cross, and the rain hadn’t slacked off any.
She returned to a chair to stare outside while her thoughts churned over her predicament. Far into the night, she fell asleep in the chair.
Dawn was streaked with rays of the rising sun, lifting her spirits and giving her hope that she could leave soon.
She still struggled with her decision. Because of her fury at Jared, and her father’s memory, she didn’t want to sell. Keeping the ranch when Jared wanted it would give her immense satisfaction and a bit of revenge.
At the same time, the argument to sell couldn’t be dismissed lightly.
She fell asleep in the chair, and woke undecided in the morning. Gathering her things, she headed to the bathroom to shower and dress in what she had worn the evening before. After combing her hair, she went to the kitchen, where she found Jared with a cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved, gray Western shirt and boots, he looked irresistible.
“Good morning,” he said easily, walking over to her, his gaze roaming over her appreciatively. “You’re gorgeous—as you were last night,” he said, curling a lock of her hair around his fingers. “This is the way I like your hair best.” Catching the scent of his masculine aftershave, she felt her pulse kick up.
“Thank you for your compliment,” she replied, wishing she had done something else with her hair. She didn’t care to wear it in the style he liked best. “I’m a little overdressed for breakfast, but so be it.”
“I could loan you my jeans,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.
“No, thanks,” she answered quickly.
“I didn’t think you’d accept, but they wouldn’t fit you anyway. I cooked breakfast—help yourself to whatever you like,” he said, waving his hand toward covered dishes and pans on a stove. “Fruit is on the table. Would you like orange juice or tomato juice, milk, coffee—you can have all if you’d like.”
“Orange juice and coffee please,” she said, picking up a plate and looking at the many dishes. She helped herself to scrambled eggs, slices of kiwi and a bowl of blackberries. She had lost her appetite. As she watched him serve her juice and coffee, she knew she couldn’t bear to sell him the ranch, no matter how much refusing him cost her. She would get a bit of satisfying retaliation here.
“This is a huge breakfast. Do you cook often?”
“Not unless there’s no alternative. This morning we’re cut off from my kitchen help.”
“Looks like I’m here longer.” She carried her plate to the table where he sat facing her.
“There are all sorts of things we could do to fill the day,” he stated, causing her to look up sharply. When he gave her a disarming smile, she shook her head, smiling in return.
“I think simple conversation is the most likely. Or if you have business you can transact, you go right ahead.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. If you don’t sell your ranch to me, we’ll be neighbors, so we might as well get reacquainted.”
“I see no point in that,” she said quickly.
“You surely don’t plan for us to go through the future fighting, the way our fathers did.”
“No … but reacquainted—I don’t think so.”
“So what’s it going to be? To sell or not to sell?” he asked.
Three
Jared’s pulse drummed as she faced him. Intuition hinted she would refuse him. Using logic, he couldn’t imagine her rejecting his money.
“You made me a generous offer. One that kept me up almost all night,” she said.
“A shame. I can think of other ways we could have spent the time,” he said, unable to avoid flirting in spite of the tension between them. She was breathtaking, and he wanted to reach for her. Sunlight spilled through the windows and highlighted strands in her cascade of black hair. Her eyelashes were a thick, dark fringe that were a startling contrast with the crystal turquoise of her eyes. He waited in silence until she shook her head, dismissing his remark.
“I won’t sell the Sorenson ranch to you,” she answered.
His insides knotted and he curbed the urge to swear, instead remaining impassive, smiling at her as he shrugged. “That’s what you want to do. You’re turning down an extra one million.”
“You received that well, Jared. Too well. I pulled the ranch off the market and decided to keep it.”
“Even with your son to consider?”
Her face flushed and something flickered in her eyes and he knew he’d hit a nerve. “Yes, Ethan and I will get along without your money. We have thus far.”
He was disappointed, but the world held countless opportunities. “Win some, lose some,” he repeated the old saying. “Maybe you’ll change your mind about selling after you spend a few years going back and forth and maintaining the ranch and your Santa Fe home.”
“I’ll manage, Jared.”
“Well, I’m disappointed, but if you’re not going to sell to me and go hurrying back to New Mexico,” he said, approaching, “there’s a bright side.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, sliding one hand under the large bow that fastened her dress over her shoulder. “We’ll be neighbors,” he said in a warm voice. Undeniably, he wanted her more than her ranch. “You’ll have to come home more often … I’ll certainly spend more time here.”
Drawing a deep breath, she frowned. “We’ll be neighbors, not seeing each other.”
“You opposed anything concerning me, Meg,” he said in a husky voice. “We’re bound to see each other, and why not? Why cling to the past? I told you I was sorry. Your refusal to sell guarantees I’ll be around,” he said.
“That wasn’t my intention,” she said. Her words were unfriendly but her tone wasn’t. Her protests were light, almost halting, and contradictory to what she was saying—an unspoken invitation to him. “Not at all, Jared.”
“Well, that’s the result you’ve achieved. You’ve put me back into your life. I’m looking forward to being your neighbor.”
“Go back to Texas, Jared. You know this is going nowhere.”
“If you really want me out of your life so badly, maybe you should think some more about this answer you’ve given me. I can’t help but feel that there’s some part of you that wants to keep me here.”
She twisted out of his grasp as his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket. “Excuse me, Megan,” he said, answering his phone and talking briefly.
“That was one of the hands,” he said when he was finished. “The river is still as the bridge level—some water washing over, but you can get through.”
“Great!” she cried. “I’m going home.”
She was clearly combating the physical attraction with all her being, a battle he felt she would eventually lose. He knew how to be patient, and the bet had been the most exciting thing he had going. Until she came along.
“I’ll go first, Megan,” he said as they walked to the door. He took a wide-brimmed, black Stetson off a hat rack and put it on. They stepped out into warm sunshine and a day that was crisp and clear, with a deep blue sky. A vast difference from the stormy night.
At her SUV door, he paused. “Wait and let me go ahead. I’ll cross the bridge to make sure it’ll hold. After I get to the other side, you can cross.”
“I know I’m wasting my breath when I say you don’t have to accompany me.”
“Stop cutting off your nose to spite your pretty face, Megan.”