Hallie's Destiny (The Donovans of the Delta) (8 page)

Curbing his impatience, he watched the event in progress. Bull riding, from the looks of things. The bull in the ring was a white Brahman. It was a small bull, not one of the sixteen hundred pound behemoths, but still it plunged around the ring, bucking and snorting, trying its best to unseat the slim rider on its back. The rider hung on, one leather-gloved hand tight on the rope, the other waving triumphantly in the air. Josh saw that even though the rider wore spurs, he never used them. He seemed to generate an energy that communicated itself to the bull, who plunged and reared in a magnificent display of rage.

The loudspeaker squawked to life. “And the rider is two-time champ in the category of . . .”

The announcer’s voice was drowned out by a roar from the crowd. The rider’s Stetson had sailed into the air, releasing a wild mane of black hair.

The man next to Josh jumped up, clapping and whistling, “Good lord, no wonder she’s the women’s champ.”

“It’s Hallie,” he whispered. Shock held him in his seat for a second, then he was up and running. His only thought was to get her away from the bull before she got herself killed. Halfway down the bleachers he realized how foolhardy going into the ring would be. What defense would he have against a bucking, snorting bull? He’d only make matters worse. His steps slowed as he made his way to the bottom. All he could do was wait and pray she’d survive.

He leaned against the fence, close enough now to see her face. She was wearing a daredevil grin. He almost could hear her chuckling. Suddenly the snorting bull twisted in the air and came down with a jolt that almost unseated Hallie. Josh gripped the rail as she hung on. Behind him the crowd rose to its feet, whistling and cheering.

“Eight seconds!” the announcer yelled into the speakers. “She stayed up for the whole ride! Let’s hear it for H. M. Donovan!”

Hallie bailed off the bull, landing on her feet behind two expert cowboys dressed as clowns whose sole purpose was to protect her while she made her exit. Josh watched until she was safely over the fence, then he started running.

“Excuse me . . . pardon me . . . excuse me,” he said periodically as he made his way toward Hallie.

She was leaving the arena, heading toward the deserted parking lot, still wearing her chaps and spurs.

“Hallie!” She looked over her shoulder when he yelled her name. For an instant her face lit, then the smile faded. She spun back around and swiftly walked away.

Josh sprinted, closing the distance between them. With both hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. Fear for her safety made him react like a parent scolding a naughty child.

“You might have gotten killed out there. What in the hell were you doing?”

Her chin stubbornly came up. “I was riding a bull.”

“I know that. But why?”

“That’s what I do. I compete in women’s bull riding. It has nothing to do with you.”

She turned to pull away, but he kept her in an iron grip.

“I have to talk to you, Hallie.”

“Let go of me, Josh. You had your fun at the lake.”

“Is that what you think? That I was toying with you?”

“Weren’t you?”

She twisted one arm free and drew back her fist. Josh caught her arm and hauled her tightly against his chest.

“No.” He hadn’t meant to shout, and her reaction was swift. Her eyes got stormy and her face flushed with fury.

“Toying with you never entered my mind, Hallie. I’m so sorry you feel that way.”

Even after what he hoped was a very sincere apology, she never moderated her anger. She glowed with it, vibrated with it.

And he was beguiled. Without warning desire assaulted him, insistent and demanding. Without thinking, he kissed her.

She bucked against him in a brief show of resistance, but her mouth was as hungry as his. Their coming together was thunderous. They battled with their lips, attacking and retreating, tongues thrusting and counterthrusting. The love battle served to increase the heat of passion between them.

There in the deserted parking lot, with their lips still locked in dual, he had the crazy sensation that he was still at the rodeo, watching Hallie ride a bull with consummate ease, one spur dug into the ground and one jingling in the air as she wrapped her right leg around his left.

Josh’s dizzy, mad hunger drove him on, and he could only imagine what damage he was doing to his chances of ever appearing sincere and honest to Hallie after this display in a public parking lot. He even wondered if he were losing his mind, if somehow the years of being immersed in taking care of broken family members had taken its toll and he was slowly coming unhinged.

There was so much he should be saying to her, so many deep feeling he wanted to express, and yet he was trapped, under the spell of the intoxicating woman who responded to him as if the two of them had invented kissing.

With a mighty effort, Josh found the bit of sanity he was seeking and finally pulled apart. They stood for a while, dazed, two mavericks who were almost adversaries, almost friends, almost lovers, both of them hungering for what they felt they couldn’t have.

“One taste of you is never enough.” Josh reached out and tenderly lifted a curl off her damp forehead.

“No. It never seemed to be enough between us.”

Hallie suppressed the urge to go back into his arms. The ancient knowledge of her past and the recent knowledge of his deception bound her. The rage to feel, to touch and be touched, made two bright spots of color ride high on her cheekbones.

Josh’s hand was gentle as he touched one passion-flushed cheek. She dug her spurs deeper into the ground and tossed her head back proudly, like a spirited, unbroken filly.

“What do you want of me, Josh?”

“Forgiveness.”

The appeal in his golden eyes made her heart weep. Big silent tears of agony seemed to form in that wildly fluttering organ and flow outward into every part of her body. She was liquid with the feeling of tears and regret.

Reaching out, she took his hand. “Come.”

“Thank you, Hallie.”

She led him to her car. Josh opened the door, and they slid onto the front seat. The steamy heat from a relentless Texas sun had been captured by the leather seats and held inside by the raised top of the El Dorado.

In the closeness Josh was acutely aware of the heady fragrance of honeysuckle that drifted from her hair. A great primitive desire took hold of him again. He fought the impulse to kiss her again. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled her scent. Hallie . . . Hallie. Her name sang through his mind like a song begging to be written, and he realized she’d become his obsession. No matter what he said, no matter how far away he ran, he would never be free of her.

“I’m waiting, Josh.”

He shook his head like a lion trying to deny his instincts. His hand reached out and captured hers.

“Don’t.” She pulled away, backing so close against her side of the car, the door handle bit into her ribs. She was glad for the small discomfort. “How did you find me?”

“Raymond gave me directions to the ranch, and Hannah told me how to get here.”

“Hannah would. She loves to be in charge. But why did Raymond tell you?”

His smile just missed being debonair. “I suppose I appealed to his Good Samaritan side.”

Her smile just missed being gay. “You would. You appealed to mine.”

“Past tense?”

“Yes.”

With the air between them practically steaming from the heat of their suppressed passion, they both knew her answer was a lie. He gave her a long, deep look.

“We could play this cat and mouse game forever,” he said.

“We could. We’ve had lots of practice.”

“On the other hand . . . I could tell you the truth.”

“The truth? Josh Butler, owner of Silken Moments. One of the richest men in America.” Her voice was flat and toneless as she quoted from
Fortune
magazine.

“I’m so sorry you saw that magazine. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

But he had, she thought. Whether he’d meant to or not, Josh Butler had dallied with her affections, betrayed her trust. She knew she would forgive him. His sins of omission could never outweigh the goodness she instinctively knew he possessed. But she had the very basic human need to lick her wounds, to vent her anger, to wallow in her pain, even to inflict some of her own before she allowed the healing power of forgiveness to restore her.

“You must have found my offer to pay for the steak very amusing.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“And all my talk about the freedom of the open road. You secretly must have been chuckling at my gullibility.”

He didn’t respond to her accusation, merely sat like a great golden jungle cat, with tense body and watchful eyes.

“I called you my poetic trucking man . . . and you let me.”

She balled her hand into a fist to stop its trembling. Quietly Josh reached over and loosened her fingers, one by one. “I’m so sorry, my gypsy angel.” Ever so gently he lifted her hand to his mouth. His breath was hot as he kissed her palm, a long, slow kiss that eloquently begged her forgiveness.

Hallie melted. With her free hand she touched the bright golden hair that dipped across his forehead, smoothed it back tenderly.

“Please tell me, Josh.” Slowly she took her hands away, folded them in her lap, and faced him. “Why did you deceive me?”

He settled back into his side of the car and prepared to bare his soul, something he’d never done with a woman.

“At first, Hallie, the deceit was unintentional. When you showed up in the lake, I could tell you didn’t recognize me. That meant you hadn’t read or didn’t remember any of the stories written about me.

“You knew me, of course.”

“Yes. Although I’d had nothing to do with hiring you for the ad campaign, I certainly was aware of it. While you were at Silken Moments, I walked by the studio where you were filming. I hadn’t come to see you. I had another matter of business on my mind.” He paused, smiling as he remembered. “The door to the studio was open. You were in that red dress, your head thrown back, laughing. You were stunning.”

“Thank you. I always look good in red.”

He chuckled at her lack of false modesty. Her admission was too charming and forthright to be based on conceit. “I’d meant to keep going, but Herb Williams turned the fan on under your skirt, and I was mesmerized. I actually forgot what my errand was as I watched you.”

“Why didn’t you come in and introduce yourself?”

“I started to, but Buford Ellis, my director of marketing, walked by and asked for a word with me. That was the last time I ever saw you . . . until I hooked your bra at the lake.”

A shadow came across his face again. She waited quietly for him to continue.

“I let you believe what you saw to protect myself.”

“From what?”

“I’ll get to that part later. First, you have to know that trucking is something I do to escape the pressures of my business . . . and of my life. When I’m on the open road, I enjoy the freedom of anonymity.”

“You said you owned the truck.”

“I do. My company owns a fleet of trucks. I find it more efficient and cost effective to deliver my own merchandise. When I feel the need—and can get away, which isn’t often—all I have to do is climb into one of the trucks and hit the road.”

While they talked, the sun disappeared in the western sky and the air became cooler. Sounds of spring drifted in the open windows of the car— the song of the cicada, the whisper of a May breeze, the distant mating call of a meadowlark.

“I understand your reasons for the initial deceit, Josh. But why did you continue the charade? Especially after . . .” She paused, seeking the right words.

“. . . after the bluebonnets?”

His voice was like a caress. She could feel its velvety texture on her skin.

“Yes, the bluebonnets.” She was glad that he’d intuitively known what she was talking about. If he’d said ‘after the kiss,’ she’d have been disappointed. Certainly their first kiss had been intimate . . . and explosive. But the day he’d brought the bluebonnets to her had been the beginning of something beautiful between them.

“There were moments when I wanted to tell you the truth, Hallie. Especially after our day in the meadow. But I rationalized to myself that the truth would serve no purpose, since both of us had vowed our intentions of not making any commitments. The blame is entirely mine—and the guilt.”

“So you let me believe you were a trucker for the sake of freedom?”

“Not freedom alone.” He turned away from her for a moment and gazed into the deepening evening shadows as if he could find answers there. Slowly, he turned back to her.

“My mother was a beautiful woman. Vital, full of life. Her name was Margaret.”

As Josh resumed talking, Hallie realized he was telling her something that was extremely hard for him. She leaned toward him in an attitude of sympathetic understanding.

“And?” she prompted softly.

“My father doted on her, almost to the exclusion of his sons—George and me. I was eight and George thirteen, when a new baseball coach, Jim MacHanson, arrived at our school. Coach Mac, we called him. He was big and handsome and personable. Mother became more and more interested in our baseball games. A year later she ran off with Coach Mac. The scandal rocked the town. Dad tried for two years to get her back. I don’t know if he ever would have given up. Mac got another coaching job at a school in North Carolina. He and Mother were killed on the way to the new job.”

Hallie reached for his hand. “How awful for you.” She couldn’t imagine life without the stability of her own loving parents.

“Dad simply resigned from life. Until the day she was killed, I think he really believed he could somehow get her back.”

“Where is your father now?”

“Living with me. He’s sad and bitter, a completely broken man.”

“Hearing me brag about the Donovan clan must have been hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Although your family sounds like the invention of Walt Disney, it was refreshing to hear that not all families conduct themselves in the way of the Butlers.”