If You Don't Know By Now

Chapter 2

Maggie had a kid? A little girl.

Jack wasn’t sure why that surprised him, but it did. He’d thought about her over the years. Visions of her red curls and hazel eyes had crept into his mind at the weirdest times. Not to mention her sweet, lush lips that had done things to him he would never forget.

But he wasn’t a dope. She’d hardly been more than a girl when he’d left. He’d known she would grow up, and grow up fine, but he’d never pictured her with a kid.

“This is my daughter, Faith,” she said, hesitating slightly.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed that she missed a beat. But he wasn’t most people. He was a career soldier whose life and the lives of his men depended on him noticing even the slightest twitch. He was the computer expert, a military operative in the field who got the job done. So he noticed that Maggie was nervous and trying to hide it.

“Sweetie,” she said to the girl, “this is Jack Riley—G.G. Dot’s grandson. He’s an old friend of mine.”

“He doesn’t look old,” the little girl commented, glancing shyly at him.

Maggie slid him a slightly un com fort able look. “I meant that I’ve known him for a long time.”

“Then how come I never met him before?”

“I’ve been gone,” Jack said. In more ways than one, he thought. G.G. Dot? Must be some nickname she’d come up with for Gran. “Hi, Faith. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

The child put her smaller one in his. “Nice to meet you. Why did you go away?”

“Sweetie, it’s not polite to ask questions.”

Since when? A few minutes ago Maggie had asked whatever popped into her mind. Grilled him like a raw hamburger. If he had a dollar for every time she’d said the word why, he would be on his way to financial security. He studied the two—the kid’s hair and eyes were different. But she had Maggie’s stubborn, confident stance. And curiosity. She was definitely a Maggie in the making. Like mother, like daughter.

Faith’s beautifully shaped little mouth puckered in a familiar pout. It looked suspiciously like an expression he remembered from her mother, a decade ago.

“How am I s’posed to get to know him if I don’t ask questions?” the kid asked.

“She has a point,” he said to Maggie. Although he wondered if he should tell the girl that when she actually got to know him, she wouldn’t like what she found. Nah. He wouldn’t be here that long. What could it hurt to let her keep looking at him as if he were a hero? “I joined the army,” he explained. “I’m on leave.” When she turned a puzzled frown on him, he added, “It’s like vacation.”

“Do you hafta go back?”

“Yes.”

For some reason he felt compelled to answer her questions. Was it those big blue eyes looking at him as if he was ten feet tall? Or was it something about being back in Destiny? Something that brought out memories he’d tried to forget.

Like Maggie. And the way she’d felt in his arms with her mouth soft against his.

“So you’re officially still in the military?” Maggie asked.

He nodded. “I’m here to sell Gran’s house.”

“You’re leaving soon, then,” she said.

“Probably.”

Did he see relief in her eyes? Why would she care if he stayed or left? She had once, but that was a long time ago. He hadn’t intended to look her up while he was in town. As he’d passed by earlier, hidden in the milling crowd, he’d spotted her bright-red curls. Speaking to her had been the furthest thing from his mind, but something about her had drawn him like a beacon. She was a beckoning spot of color in his black, white and gray world.

Was it her hair, the shade of stub born ness? Her huge eyes—not quite green or brown, but with flecks of gold tossed into the mix. Maybe it was that tempting little body any red-blooded man would yearn to hold. She was compact and curvy. And her snug white T-shirt with the rodeo logo didn’t hide much. He hadn’t missed the way she’d crossed her arms over her chest earlier. It was the first time in a long time he was grateful he had an eye for detail.

What had compelled him to walk over to say hello? Maybe the way she caught her full bottom lip between her teeth—he remembered she did that when she was nervous—and she was doing it now. But none of the above explained why a man trained to endure and deflect interrogation had felt compelled to answer a little girl’s questions. Not one training session had included techniques on resisting a child with big blue eyes and her mother’s curls.

“Where did you go?” Faith asked him.

With an effort he pulled his thoughts from Maggie’s sweet little shape and full sexy mouth to look at the girl. “Hmm?”

“You said you’ve been gone. Where?”

He stuck his fingertips into the pockets of his denims. “Every where.”

Maggie turned a stern look on the girl. “Faith, the rodeo is almost over. I need you to help me pack up. Then it’s home for you and bed.”

“But, Mo-om, I’m not ready.”

“I don’t recall asking if you were ready. It’s time to go.”

“But school’s out.”

“I have to work tomorrow. And you’ve got to go to camp.”

Jack wanted to tell the kid to just do it. In the army, a soldier never argued with a direct order. But this wasn’t the military. Civilian life made him feel like a hick at a tea party.

Faith kicked the dirt and defiantly looked at her mother. “But I didn’t get to thank Jack yet. He saved my life.”

That reminded him. Right after he’d plucked her out of the stock pen, the kid had said something odd. “What are ‘dire consequences’?” he asked her mother.

“What?” Maggie looked at him as if he had two heads. “I think you know what the words mean.”

“Yeah. But what specifically. When I picked her up, she saw you and said it was time to suffer dire con sequences.”

Maggie laughed, a merry, musical, sound that bumped up against his ice-cold soul. He swore he could almost hear the sound of breaking glass, and the sensation of fresh, cool air against his hot skin. He must be losing his mind—along with the rest of himself.

Amused, Maggie shook her head. “The last thing I said to her was that if she didn’t stay within sight of the booth, she was going to suffer dire consequences,” she explained.

“So what is that?” he asked. Just curious, he told himself. It wasn’t like he felt any sympathy for the kid. He’d just met her. And she’d argued with a direct order from her commanding officer. He supposed that was normal for a kid. But he wouldn’t know about that; he didn’t do the kid thing.

But he did do consequences and he’d seen too many since he’d left Destiny. Enough to last him two life times. Pain, suffering and death. He could never forget. He couldn’t help wondering what this beautiful, innocent little girl considered dire—as far as consequences in her safe world were concerned.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Maggie met his gaze as she caught the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth—again. She was pretty nervous about something, he thought. “But thanks for reminding me.”

“I couldn’t have reminded you if Faith hadn’t mentioned it,” he pointed out. He was trying to help the kid while at the same time struggling to ignore the way Maggie’s nervous habit made him want to taste her mouth.

Would she cut the kid some slack for voluntarily bringing it up? What kind of disciplinarian was she? He’d heard that when people who broke the rules as kids had kids of their own, they tended to act like a dictator trying to prevent a military takeover. He remembered teenage Maggie sneaking out to meet him. She’d been a good kid and he’d been her walk on the wild side. Her chance at defiance. But it had meant a lot to him. It was personal. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made a loner like him personal.

They’d gone to the same high school, and both rodeoed. Her parents had for bid den her to see him because of his bad-boy reputation. They’d been right, but that hadn’t stopped stubborn, hard headed Maggie Benson. And he still couldn’t help being glad about that. Did Maggie’s daughter take after her? Or her father?

That pulled him up short as a lassoed calf. Who was Faith’s father?

The question stirred something inside him, the ashes of feelings that had burned out a long time ago.

Maggie put her hands on her hips. “Faith Elizabeth, go stay with Jensen Stevens until I come and get you. If you don’t—”

“I know,” the girl mumbled, digging the toe of her grungy white sneaker into the red dirt. “Dire con sequences.”

“That’s right,” Maggie con firmed. “Don’t make me tell you what they are.”

With head hanging and her hands in her pockets, the kid started to walk away. Stopping suddenly, she turned and smiled, a punch-to-the-gut beautiful smile that was one hundred percent her mother. “Thanks, Jack—”

“Mr. Riley,” her mother corrected.

“Captain Riley,” he clarified. “But Jack is okay.”

Faith slid her mother a slightly rebellious look. “It was nice to meet you, Jack. Thanks for saving me. I hope I see you again. ’Bye.”

“’Bye,” he answered.

He watched Maggie watch her daughter. “How old is she?” he asked.

Her shoulders visibly tensed. She took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Nine.”

He did the math and his heart stuttered for a moment. Then he shook his head. Maggie would have told him. He remembered her saying she’d gotten over him. Must have been right away. Because up until then, she’d filled every letter with how much she loved and missed him. She must have met someone who’d made her forget about him right after she’d gotten her letter back, the one he’d marked Return to Sender. He’d wanted her to forget about him and move on. He had no right to feel anything because she’d done just that.

So why did he have to remember that just before he’d left, they’d been as physically close as a man and woman could be? She’d insisted on giving herself to him even though he’d tried to make her see that she was too young. In his gut he’d known being with her that way was wrong. But stubborn Maggie had dug in her heels and wouldn’t take no for an answer. It would have taken more will power than he possessed to turn away from the temptation she was back then. Still was, he corrected.

He found it oddly comforting that some things didn’t change. She was a unique combination of spirit, sex appeal and sass.

And she’d written that she loved him and always would. Now he’d discovered that her declarations had been short-lived. But, even if he wished it could have been different, he wasn’t entitled to regrets. He’d made his bed ten years ago and he had to suffer the con sequences. A woman like Maggie and a child like Faith would never be possible for an empty-hearted man like him.

But he couldn’t help wondering where the girl’s father was. Maggie had asked him what he’d been up to for the past ten years. He’d wanted to know if there was anyone special in her life. But he hadn’t inquired.

His training hadn’t included polite social skills. It had been more along the lines of three hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands. Or how to fit in without drawing attention to himself.

“Nine years old,” he repeated. He catalogued the expression on Maggie’s face and figured she probably didn’t even realize she looked defensive. The expression was identical to Faith’s when she’d decided her back was against the wall and she’d best do what her mother said. “She reminds me of you.”

“Really?” She looked surprised, and relieved. “How?”

“Spirited. Willful. beautiful.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d said anything without calculating first.

Pink deepened in her cheeks, but she met his gaze dead-on. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t think you were married.”

“I don’t recall you asking,” she countered.

He nodded toward her left hand. “No wedding band.”

“Ah,” she said. “You thought right. I’m not married.”

“Divorced?”

She hesitated. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s got to be one or the other, Maggie.”

“No, it doesn’t. Not if I’ve never been married.” She didn’t look away and her small, pointed chin lifted slightly in the same rebellious gesture that he’d just seen on her daughter.

So she’d had Faith outside of marriage vows. That must have fried her folks, as protective as they were. What about the rest of the people in town? Had they been rough on her? She’d said her business had been around for five years, so if they had been, it was ancient history.

But damn it, that thinking was all a smoke screen. Typical of the cold hearted man he’d become, he couldn’t stop the feeling of satisfaction that she’d never married. But that meant she’d done it alone—not the conceiving part, the raising part. And it ticked him off that a guy would use Maggie, then walk out on her.

“Do I know her father?” It was none of his business, but he couldn’t stop the question.

Her face went white. “No one knows her father.”

“Not exactly. You do.”

“I’ll clarify. I’ve never told anyone who her father is.” Her hands were shaking.

“Not ever? Not even your folks?” He found that hard to believe.

“Not a soul.” Color flushed back into her cheeks, but again he admired the fact that she didn’t look away.

He wanted to ask why she’d kept such sensitive information to herself. He wanted to demand that she tell him the guy’s name so he could make the creep sorry for deserting her. But he didn’t ask questions. If anyone under stood the necessity of keeping a secret, it was him.

“Guess you’ve got your reasons” was all he could say.

The whole time they’d been talking, spectators had been wandering by. Jack had been aware of announcements over the public address system. From time to time, static crackled in the night air. Now he heard a female voice say, “I love you, Mitch.”

“That sounded like Taylor,” Maggie said.

Jack glanced at the bleachers and noticed that all the spectators were turned to watch Mitch Rafferty and Taylor Stevens in the corral. He recognized them from the news pa per photo he’d told Maggie about. A buzz started in the crowd. After several moments it got louder and more wide spread. Finally he figured out what they were repeating over and over— “Kiss her.”

At that moment a big burly cowboy lugging a saddle walked behind Maggie and pushed her forward. Automatically Jack’s arms went around her to keep her from falling. The man’s mumbled apology penetrated part of Jack’s consciousness. But it was the very small part not taken up with wondering if an all-grown-up Maggie tasted different. The crowd was chanting even louder now and far be it from him to singlehandedly curb mob rule.

He stared into Maggie’s wide eyes. She swallowed once, and ran her tongue along her top lip. The movement was like kerosene to the sparks of his aware ness. He went hot all over. Discipline had been his middle name for the last ten years. But a short time with Maggie had sent his self-restraint into the dumper. For the life of him, he couldn’t seem to care.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he lowered his mouth to hers. The sweet ness of it mustered a moan deep in his chest. He slid his arm around her waist and settled her more securely against him. He traced her bottom lip and her mouth opened, allowing him access.

He dipped inside the moist, honeyed interior. With her breasts pressed against him, he felt the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Satisfaction sluiced through him. This was a replay from all those years ago and felt even better now than it had then. He could still turn her warm and willing in his arms with just a touch. He lifted his head and opened his eyes in time to see that Faith had disobeyed orders.

“I guess that’s how you thank him for saving me,” she said.

“Faith,” Maggie gasped, then pushed against his chest, urging him to release her.

He let her go and side by side they both met the gaze of her daughter.

“I—I thought I told you to stay at my booth,” Maggie managed to get out.

Jack heard the slightly breath less quality to her voice and, God help him, couldn’t stop the intense feeling of pleasure that coursed through him at the sound.

“Mo-om, you said to stay with Jensen.”

“She’s at the booth,” Maggie said.

“No, she’s not,” the child answered.

“Who’s manning the booth?”

“Ronnie Slyder’s mom.”

“Where’s Jensen?” Maggie demanded.

Faith rolled her eyes. “In the stands.”

Maggie rested her hands on her hips. “Why aren’t you with her as ordered?”

“I was. But now she’s talking prudence with Sheriff O’Connor,” she said.

“Juris prudence?” Maggie asked.

“Yeah. That’s what Jensen called it.” She frowned. “But the sheriff is mad about something.”

“What?” Maggie asked.

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. He said something about being served. But he didn’t have any food.”

“Was it about papers?”

“Yeah, I think he mentioned some papers.”

“How did you figure that out?” Jack questioned.

Maggie met his gaze. “Some times you have to read between the lines. Jensen is an attorney now. I understand she’s taking some time off from her Dallas job and is staying with her sister Taylor on the ranch.”

“Good information. I’m going to need some legal help with Gran’s estate,” he said. “Although I don’t think it’s complicated and wouldn’t take much of her time.”

“She’d probably be happy to give you a hand.”

“I want to go home, Mom.”

“Okay.”

“Then I guess this is goodbye.” Again, he thought. And probably for the best after that kiss. She’d given him a cheap lesson. She always could make him forget himself before he could say damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. Which was why he’d returned her letter ten years ago. He’d had an opportunity to be good at something and needed to cut any personal ties that weren’t family. He hadn’t trusted himself to resist any request she would make to get back together.

A feeling of loneliness surrounded him, a sensation he hadn’t ever felt before. The last time he’d said goodbye to Maggie, he’d had high hopes for making something of his life. Now he couldn’t shake the feeling he should have grabbed hold of her and hung on for all he was worth.

“Where are you staying, Jack?” Maggie put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder and her knuckles went white.

“Gran’s house.”

“Then it’s not goodbye.”

“What do you mean?”

“Faith and I live next door. It’s more like, ‘Howdy, neighbor.’”

Chapter 3

Maggie rubbed her gritty, sleep-deprived eyes then stared for the umpteenth time at her stalled computer monitor. If she could have frozen her mind as solid as that screen, she’d have slept like a baby last night instead of tossing and turning and thinking about Jack Riley. Worrying the tie of her light weight cotton robe, she decided having this technical problem to focus on was a blessing in disguise. The silver lining to her Jack Riley cloud. Technical glitches almost took her mind off the fact that Wild Jack was back. She was nearly frustrated enough to overlook all the possible ramifications of that fact.

“Control, Alt, Delete works for everything,” she said to the screen and put action to the words. When there was no change, she sighed and shook her head. “Why should this be different from the rest of my life? I’m so together even my computer is frozen.”

Then, being Maggie, she went from the general to the specific. Specifically that kiss. Why had he done it?

She’d heard nothing from the man for ten years, then he shows up and kisses her. What’s she supposed to do with that? For one thing, she had to tell him the truth about Faith.

There was a soft tap on the front door and she figured her hearing must be as tired as her eyes. It was the crack of dawn—way too early for anyone to show up at her door. Even her daughter the early bird was still asleep.

Maggie padded barefoot to the front door. Standing on tiptoe, she peeked through the peephole and recognized Jack. Instantly she moved out of sight, as if he could see her, and pressed her back to the door, trying to control her hammering heart. What was he doing here? For several moments she toyed with the idea of not answering. He didn’t know her routine. For all he knew, she and Faith could be gone. Then she remembered the evidence of her presence was parked in the driveway. Real soon she was going to have to clean out her garage so she could get her car in there.

But she could still be asleep for all he knew. Then she sighed. Cowardice wasn’t her stock in trade. Sooner or later she had to face him. Wouldn’t it be best to get it over with?

She removed the chain lock and dead bolt and opened the door. Smiling she said, “Good morning, Jack.”

“Maggie.”

“You’re up early.”

He nodded. “I don’t need much sleep.”

“Wish I could say that.” She looked up at him—way up—and pulled her cotton robe more snugly across her bosom. For a man who got by on little sleep, he looked awfully good. His hair was short and she couldn’t tell if he’d combed it or not. She tried to picture him in uniform, but the thought wouldn’t focus. She’d only ever seen him dressed as he was now—smooth worn jeans and a white T-shirt. The sleeves snugly surrounded his bulging biceps, the soft clingy material molded to the muscles and contours of his impressive chest.

“How did you know I was awake?” she asked.

“Heard your slider open a little while ago.”

The man must have ears like one of those very perceptive wild animals whose survival depended on their keen sense of hearing. She’d have to remember that. “What can I do for you?”

Tell him, the good angel perched on her right shoulder insisted. He has a right to know.

The devil on her left shoulder chimed in, It isn’t your fault he never received your letter. He dropped out of sight.

True, she thought, very much liking that left-shoulder devil. The problem was, he was in her sight now, and he had a right to know.

“Can I borrow some coffee? If you’ve got extra?”

It would be so easy to give him enough grounds for a pot and send him on his way. But for the life of her, Maggie couldn’t do it. Before she thought it to death, or turned into one of those scary characters who answered the voices in her head, she made up her mind.

“I can do better than that. Would you like a cup of already brewed coffee?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Come on in.” After he did, she closed the door and locked it again. “Follow me. The kitchen is this way.”

Feeling self-conscious in her flimsy night clothes, she led the way through her living room to her kitchen at the back of the house. Shorty pajamas barely concealed by a thin cotton robe wasn’t exactly proper attire for receiving gentle man guests. Then again, Jack had seen her in a lot less ten years ago. Did that really count now?