Maggie's Mountain (18 page)

The bottom line was it didn't matter what sort of woman Hale Warrick married. She had her business, her friends, her entire life, and he, no matter how hard he tried, wasn't going to be a part of it.

Determinedly she twisted on the taps of the claw footed tub. She’d been good at keeping her heart shielded for this long. She just had to continue doing so until he got tired of his game, which would be soon.

She hoped.

****

When she came back down she had the small hope that Hale would be gone. Instead he was standing in her kitchen, all six foot odd of him, cooking what smelled like steak. She stood for a moment and watched him, quietly appreciating his deft movements. Her mind made an instant snapshot, the cherished heir cooking in her humble kitchen, so she could recall it later. She doubted she would ever have the opportunity to see him like this again.

“Are you going to stand and stare all night?”

She jumped at his question. “I was…um…”

He gave her a quick look before turning back to the stove. “I would ask you if you feel better, but I’m not sure if you’ll admit I was right.”

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her well loved robe and shifted her weight. “My ego isn’t that fragile.”

“I was right.”

“You were right.”

He grunted, a guttural sound of approval, and lifted a beautifully seared steak to a plate. “You’re hungry, too, so don’t argue.”

She went cautiously to the bar, easing onto a stool as he slipped her dinner onto the surface. Steak, baked potato, glazed carrots, a glass of iced tea; her mouth began to water. He was right again, of course. She was hungry and hadn’t known it. She watched in her periphery as he put the small butter dish beside her along with a bottle of steak sauce.

“I had no idea you were so domestic,” she said without thinking.

He speared her with curious eyes before the corners of his mouth began to twitch. “I lived on my own for years, Maggie. Take out and restaurants lose their appeal after a few weeks.”

“I’m sure your girlfriends wouldn’t have minded cooking for you,” she blurted, then was quick to cram a forkful of carrots into her mouth.

He shrugged as if the statement hadn’t bothered him. “To be honest, I didn’t want any of them to cook for me.”

“You wanted to spoil them,” she surmised and studied the pat of butter she plopped on her potato.

“No, it’s just that none of them were special enough.”

All she could do was nod as he picked up his own plate and sat down beside her. She tried to keep herself occupied dressing her potato, cutting her steak, pouring sauce, anything to distract her from his presence. Not that it worked.

“It couldn’t be that strange having someone else make dinner. I’m sure your husband cooked for you.”

She paused at the inflection in his voice. It sounded…odd. “Chris liked to grill when he wasn’t busy. He wasn’t very good at it, but he tried.”

She watched Hale roll his shoulders and spear a piece of meat. As conversations went she supposed it was fairly innocuous. Yet somehow it felt fraught with tension she couldn’t name. It was more than what had happened this morning; there was a fine sheen of some unnamable strain hanging like gossamer cobwebs in the air. Well, unless she said something to convince Hale that she was fine she had a feeling he would stay and the tension would never ease. She took a long swallow of her tea to ease the knot in her throat.

“We could have eaten in the dining room,” she said, determined to sound strong.

He cut his gaze to her and stared for a long moment. “I’m sure other people might believe that, but I know you’re lying.”

“I am not!”

He ignored her outburst and shoveled steak into his mouth. A moment later he said, “You don’t have to worry about the mess. I cleaned it up while you were bathing.”

Tears threatened to gather in her eyes and she quickly batted them back. He’d thought of her. He’d done it without prodding, making sure to wait until she was well occupied before he cleaned the porch. She was sure now that had been the motive for his demand that she bathe. And here she sat, crying because he’d been kind. If she wasn’t careful he would notice and question her.

Before her heart could jump again, she turned to him, her back going as straight as a broomstick. “You and I both know this is all nonsense.”

“It is
not
nonsense!” His voice rang out like a brimstone and hellfire preacher on a revival tour as his fork clattered onto his plate. “Damn it, woman, what if you’d been awake? What if you had heard them and gone out to confront them? You could have been hurt!”

The possibility had been on her mind most of the day, but she couldn’t allow him to see just how upsetting that idea was. “No one has ever physically assaulted me.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He sprang from the stool and began to pace back and forth. “I hate that you’re going through this; I hate even more to think that it could be my fault.”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Hale, I’ve told you before, this isn’t your fault.”

He paused and fixed her with his intense eyes. “As you reluctantly pointed out not too long ago, it all started when I came back into town.”

“Maybe, but unless you’re the one who killed my plants, or shattered my windows, or instigated the stringing up of a poor squirrel, it isn’t your fault.” She slid to the floor and watched as he began to move again. His agitation worried her and touched her at the same time. “I don’t blame you, Hale. I never have.”

“I blame myself.”

“Don’t.”

He stopped at her softly spoken word, lifting his head and leveling his gaze on her again. “It would be so easy to love you.”

His words literally set her back on her heels. Her head swam in giddy detail while a dozen small voices inside screamed denial. Her heart stopped, stumbled, sped into a rapid pace. She thought she should say something but couldn’t summon up anything more than, “Hale—”

“Your husband was a lucky man, Maggie. You have a way about you, as stubborn as you are. You make people want to be better, do better, when they’re around you. Half the time I don’t know if I want to turn you over my knee or kiss you until neither of us can see straight. Most of the time I’d like to do both. If you were any other woman I would have already talked you into an affair.” He gave a harsh, quick laugh. “But you aren’t just any woman, are you? You’re the type who loves deep and strong and fierce. The hell of it is, that’s one of your most appealing qualities, but it’s the very one that keeps us apart.”

Her voice was raw and bare as she laid a hand over her heart. “You—you can’t mean that.”

“You like to use that word ‘can’t’. The fact is I’m beginning to wonder if you’re saying it more to remind yourself than to warn me off.” He took a small step closer and she stumbled back. “Today, when Jolene came in and said you were in the hospital, it felt like the whole world was falling down around me. I didn’t think about our families’ feud, what Royce did to your mother and father, what my mother believes or how she feels, or what the town might say when they found out I was racing over to be with you. It took everything I had not to go tearing out of town like a maniac, ranting and screaming and begging God. So yes, Maggie, I
can
fall in love with you.”

“I…we’re…” She wet her lips, struggling to find an argument while his declarations played like angel songs in her ears. “Your mother…”

“Isn’t standing here. I care about her, and Lord knows I’ve done everything I could to make her life easier after the way my father treated her. But she has never dictated how I feel, and she never will.” He stepped forward and swallowed the gap between them, cupping her shoulders in his palms. “The only things between us right now are ghosts. My father, your parents…and Chris Brannon.”

“Chris?” His name surprised her and she shook her head to stop the swirling of her thoughts.

“I know you loved your husband…still love him. I accept that. You wouldn’t be the woman you are if you didn’t. I’m glad you had someone who cared for you, who made your life a little easier for a time.” He squeezed her shoulders tighter as he dared her with his eyes to look away. “But he’s dead, Maggie. He’s gone. You’re still here, alive, beautiful, young. Mourning him for the rest of your life, refusing to let yourself move on, it’s not healthy.”

“Wait, you think I’m pining for Chris?” She couldn’t help the note of disbelief that bled into her words. “You think I’m using him as an excuse to hide?”

“You told me you love him, you keep his shirts in your closet, for Pete’s sake.”

“I told you I used them for warmth.”

“That might be part of it, but can you honestly say you don’t wear them to feel closer to him?”

She took a long, steadying breath before she replied. “I’ll admit that just after Chris died I wore them for comfort. I needed it. He was my best friend and my biggest supporter. Momma was sick and I knew I couldn’t ask anyone else to help me care for her. But the day after I buried her I stopped wearing them, at least for that reason. Until the first day you came to see me. I felt like I needed…I don’t know, like I needed some sort of armor.”

His brows slanted down as he watched her. “You felt like you needed protection from me?”

She nodded and he gave a soft curse. “He loved me, Hale. He stood up for me, he helped me, he cheered me on, and he never, ever judged me. I loved him for that.”

There was a long pause as he watched her; then he pulled her to him, cradling her gently in his arms, his heartbeat loud and quick underneath her ear. “Maggie…oh Maggie. If you’d let me…if you’d just let me….”

It was a plea, one that echoed deep down in her being. She had set out to keep him at arm’s length, to convince him that they were an impossibility. There was too much to overcome; not just their families’ past, but their own needs. She wanted forever, but she’d never believe he could see her in his future even though she’d shared the truth about his father, since exposing Royce would be at best a fruitless endeavor. The present was all they would have. She couldn’t trust him with the truth of her heart, not when he could use it against her. It would too easy for him to maneuver her into the spot of mistress if he knew how deep her feelings ran. Or worse, if he was unintentionally careless with her love. Yet he’d run to her, flinging all rational thought aside. In that moment she hadn’t been a secret, and he hadn’t cared who’d known.

All those valid arguments she’d used to keep her distance now felt like so much smoke. They wanted each other. If it was a day, or a week, or a year before he left, at least she would have their private moments to carry with her. She wouldn’t fool herself into thinking he was in love with her; the heady flush of desire would eventually fade and they would be left with the same problems as before. But she could be careful, she could play the situation as it unfolded, letting Hale take the lead. If she were honest, she knew she didn’t have much choice in the matter, not when her mind, soul, and body were in accord in their upheaval.

“I’ll let you.”

He became utterly still after she whispered the words. His hands, which were splayed across her back, began to shake with fine tremors. She felt him turn his head and nuzzle his way to the delicate shell of her ear.

His voice was whiskey rough when he spoke. “Say it again, Maggie. I don’t think I’ll believe it unless you do.”

She turned her own head, her nose brushing his cheek, her jaw just touching his. “Yes, Hale. Yes.”

Chapter Fifteen

His reaction was instantaneous. He pulled her up, studied her face with intense eyes, then lowered his mouth to hers. She had been expecting a savage kiss; instead, he savored her lips, caressing them, almost as if he were cherishing each brush of their lips. He completely undid her.

He was gentle as he touched her, stroking over her old robe, skimming down her arms, linking his fingers with hers. Every nerve in her body tingled with banked excitement, filling her with vibrant electricity that jumped from muscle to bone. Where she might have rushed, he forced her to slow, nipping at her bottom lip, trailing down her jaw, laving the rapid pulse point on her neck. Shivers shook her but he held her steady even as she heard his ragged breathing.

“Us, Maggie.” He looked up, speared her with a hot, predatory look. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart. No ghosts. No pasts. Just us.”

She might have answered if she’d been able to form a coherent thought. She nodded, drawing out a long groan from his chest. The next instant she was in his arms again, her lips being gently assaulted while he pulled her closer. She could feel every piece of his body, every corded muscle, every hard bone, every part of his heated flesh. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sank her fingers into his thick hair, stretched herself out against him, and marveled at the feeling.

Then the world was tilting, her feet floating in midair. It took her a moment to realize he was carrying her while he seduced her with his kisses. The slight creak of the third step was a vague sound that drowned in the maelstrom of her pounding blood. Everything outside of her body was mere haze, a smoke and mirror trick of elusion. This man was her only reality; the feelings he evoked the only truth she could ever need.

“Which door, Maggie?” His gruff whisper sent another volley of electric spikes through her system.

“Second…second on the right.” She sounded like smoky wind and couldn’t bring herself to care.

He nodded and hurried to the doorway, only to hesitate. “Are you sure?”

The uncertainty in his eyes only endeared him to her more. He’d wanted no more ghosts, but they were standing just a few feet from the bed she’d shared with her husband. Hale, the man she wanted, the man who had been afraid that Chris was standing between them, was still unsure. She stroked his stubbled cheek.

“You and me, Hale. I’m sure.”

He let out a long, heavy sigh before he strode to the bed and carefully laid her down. His heavy weight came down on her, a weight she gratefully accepted. He kissed her again and again, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, drawing the fire up from her belly and out to her quivering limbs. She gave back to him what he gave to her, pulling him down into the boiling eddies that cascaded, unseen, over her body.