Reckless Promise (23 page)

He collapsed beside her, dragging in great
gulping breaths and seeing that forbidden word, forever, shining in
his mind like neon on a black night.

Poppy propped herself on her elbows and
looked at him. "Wow! It hasn't been like that before."

Mac shaded his eyes with one hand and looked
up at her. He could only shake his head. The forever thing sure
made a difference.

"I don't think my clothes had time to dry,"
she said, but took any sting out of the words by curling into him
with a kiss.

He gathered her close and rested his chin
against her hair, too shaken to do anything but hold her until she
dozed, marveling at the new, primitive feelings that filled him to
bursting until he slid easily into sleep.

The sun had sunk low in the sky when he woke
and gathered the still-damp clothes. "Much more fun taking things
off," he grumbled, watching her shimmy into her jeans. "But we'd
better get back."

"There's always tomorrow," Poppy said. Her
gaze met his and he saw in her eyes the same thought that filled
his mind—not many tomorrows remained. He knew in his bones that he
wanted forever with her. A lifetime of caution kept him from saying
the words, but he couldn't let her go back to Boston.

* * *

Of course they got to the main lodge just as
a carload of new guests arrived. Poppy smoothed a hand over her
wild, uncombed hair and tried to ignore her muddy, wrinkled
clothes.

Just as she started for her cabin, Alice came
out onto the veranda. "Oh," she said. "You're back. I'd like you to
meet one of our new guests. Jason Cunningham."

Poppy's startled gaze flew to the man behind
Alice. Jase. Her Jase. Her very own roommate, Jase.

Without a flicker of recognition, he said,
"How do you do."

"H-hello," Poppy stammered.

Mac's hand lay possessively on her shoulder,
and he leaned around her to shake hands with Jase. "I'd better go
help Moses," he said. "I'll see you both at dinner."

Poppy followed Alice and Jase down the path.
Jase behaved like every other guest. Jase had the cabin next to
hers. But why was he here?

And what would Mr. Suspicious think when he
found out she had a male, albeit platonic, roommate?

Chapter
14

Mac ran into Tom by the barn before
dinner.

"You took her where?" Tom bellowed.

"You heard me."

"We don't take guests up there."

"I know." He glared at Tom, turned, and
marched into the barn where he fiddled with tack, checking cinch
buckles and reins until his temper faded. He didn't understand
Tom's relationship with Poppy, and he wanted, needed, to know. And
if truth be told, feared what he might learn.

And there was the new guy. The way he'd
looked at her—as though he knew her. Proprietary, that's what it
had been, and it made Mac's hands curl into fists.

Before that could go too far, he realized he
still had Poppy's sapphires in his pocket. What better excuse to
drop by to see her? Not that he needed an excuse. He sauntered
along the path to her cabin, whistling and turning the little vial
of gems in his fingers. A man couldn't do anything finer on a fine
summer evening than take a handful of jewels to his lady.

He bounded up the steps to Poppy's cabin,
about to call out—"Honey, I'm home," seemed appropriate—but the
words froze in his throat when he saw her just inside the open
door, standing too close to that citified idiot, Jason Whatever.
Saw her standing with his arm around her and her head tilted to
listen to the words—the honeyed words, probably—he whispered in her
ear.

Every muscle in Mac's body went rigid. His
fists clenched and the glass vial of sapphires dropped to the floor
of the porch and rolled into a corner. He sucked in air through
flared nostrils and counted to ten in every language he knew. Rule
number one, 'Don't kill the paying guests', didn't seem real
important now that he'd come face to face with this woman-stealing,
egg-sucking, good-for-nothing—

"Mac! I didn't expect you," Poppy said.

"I can see that." His face felt stiff, his
mouth barely moved with the words.

Jase dropped his arm from her shoulder and
stood up straight, like he'd stuck his finger in a light socket.
"Hey, Mac," he said, his attempt at casual camaraderie unbelievably
feeble.

Mac focused his glare on Poppy. "That's fast
work. You just met him."

Temper flashed in her eyes. She opened her
mouth, but no words came out and she glanced at Jase as if for
help.

"Don't look at him. I'm asking you," Mac said
through clenched teeth.

"Jase and his sister Kate are friends of
mine. Kate is my attorney." She paused, and he knew she had
something worse in store. "Jase is my roommate."

"Roommate." Mac inhaled deeply. "As in, you
live with him."

"Roommate," she said firmly. "As in platonic
relationship undertaken to save rent money. Rents in Boston are
unbelievable. Astronomical. And associate professors are not well
paid."

"And why would I believe he could keep his
hands off of you?" Mac asked. God knew he wouldn't be able to.

"Platonic is possible even with a woman like
Poppy because I'm gay," Jase said. "Jerry wouldn't like it."

"Jerry." The word left a bitter taste in his
mouth. "And just where might Jerry be?"

"At work, probably. In New York. He didn't
come with me because I thought that it might be—ah, difficult.
Perhaps even dangerous."

He had a point, Mac had to give him that,
given the homophobic attitudes of some of the locals. But Poppy
sharing an apartment with a guy...

"A two bedroom apartment," Jase assured him
gravely after a look at his expression. "Separate bathrooms,
too."

"You're friends. Good friends." Mac had to
get it clear in his head.

She nodded. "Yes, we are. I have lots of
friends. Is that a problem?" She faced him like a gunfighter, her
shoulders squared militantly.

Mac sighed, anger bleeding out of him. "No,
that's not a problem. I suppose you're actually safer with a male
roommate, even one..."

Jase smiled. Smirked.

Mac noted the flex of muscle in Jase's arm.
Ah, hell, let it go. "But why?" He had to ask. "I'll grant you that
you didn't want to come here as a couple with what's his name, but
why come at all? Not that we're not happy to have your business,
you understand, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"I was worried about Poppy."

"Why? The stagecoaches run almost every day,
we have telephones, and the Indians are friendly. We haven't had a
massacre in years."

Poppy and Jase exchanged a glance that
excluded Mac and had him seeing red. "I see. Jase is in on the
secret too. In fact, every one is except me. And Alice."

"That's about it," Jase said.

"And I suppose you're under a vow of silence
too?"

Jase nodded.

Mac looked from Jase to Poppy and back again.
Suddenly the whole situation tickled his funny bone. He'd seen
plays that seemed less staged than this. "It's only a matter of
time before I find out what's going on. We still hang rustlers out
here, you know. That could include rustling husbands as well as
cows."

Poppy looked as if she might faint until she
caught the twinkle in his eye. "You think this is funny."

"It's beginning to feel that way, honey. I
feel like I'm in some kind of stage play. Now tell me again just
why you won't tell me what's going on?"

* * *

She wanted to. But she'd been sworn to
secrecy and a promise was a promise. "I can't. I promised and I—"
Mac echoed the words as she said them. "Oh, stop that! What a time
for you to regress to grade school."

The humor faded from his face. "I guess we'd
better get Tom down here and find out just what's going on." He
moved toward the phone.

Well, thank goodness. She smiled at him, a
smile of pure relief. If she couldn't talk Tom out of the secrecy,
maybe Mac could. And then everything would be out in the open and
she'd be free to— Free to what? She hadn't factored what she felt
for Mac into her plans for the future. She had to go back to
Boston, back to the university, back to her career.

Back to having nothing in her life except a
job.

Wonderful.

"Maybe I'd better just be going along—" Jase
began, his voice tentative.

"Maybe you'd better just stay here, since you
seem to be part of whatever this is," Mac interrupted. He threw the
phone back in its cradle. "No answer. We'll—"

"Poppy?" Tom's footsteps rang against the
wooden steps.

"Good timing," Mac said. "Come in. I was just
trying to call you."

"What's up?" Tom came in and looked around.
He nodded to Jase and looked at Poppy, his expression
self-consciously innocent.

"The jig," Mac said.

"You told him." Tom wheeled to confront
Poppy. "You told him."

"No," she said reluctantly. If Tom believed
she'd told, he'd stop stonewalling Mac, but she couldn't lie. She
could only hope. "I didn't, but you have to," she said. "Tom, for
heaven's sake, tell him."

"Yeah, Tom. Tell me."

Tom's expression set in a mutinous glare.
"It's none of your business. I keep telling you that what goes on
inside a marriage is private."

"I think you've overstepped the bounds of
privacy when you bring another woman here." Comprehension dawned on
Mac's face. "I'll be damned. That's it, isn't it?" He looked from
Tom to Jase to Poppy and back to Tom. "And you're part of it." This
time his glare skewered Jase. "I get it. Tom knows you somehow, and
I'll bet he heard a bundle about your gorgeous roommate." He
rounded on Tom. "You son of a bitch. You asked Poppy to come out
here and make my sister jealous. What were you thinking, you damned
pea brain?"

"Yes, Tom. What ever were you thinking?"
Alice's cool voice spread silence over the room.

"Come on in," Mac said. "Shall we continue,
or do you think we should wait for Moses and Chickie?"

"Why would we wait for them?" Alice looked
puzzled.

"Everyone else is here," Mac said. "And I had
the impression that the final scene of a good farce required all
the characters to be on stage."

"Is that what you think this is? A farce?
Glad we've been able to amuse you." Anger simmered through Tom's
words and his expression twisted in torment.

"It's beginning to feel like one," Mac
said.

"Anyway, Moses took Chickie to town," Tom
said. "You'll have to do your little stage play without them. And
without me. I don't think this is funny."

"Nor do I," said Alice. "Before you get on
with whatever you're doing, perhaps you'd like to explain just what
you meant about Tom asking Poppy to make me jealous." Her voice had
gone from cool to sub-zero, and she directed an instant icicle
glare at Poppy.

Poppy couldn't blame her.

"We're waiting for Tom to do the explaining,"
Mac said.

Alice's face froze in a mask that tried to
reveal nothing, but the pain in her eyes made Poppy sick. She
looked at Mac, but he had his gaze fixed on Tom.

Alice raised one eyebrow at her husband. "I
can scarcely wait," she said, her politeness a thin veneer over
sarcasm.

"That's why, dammit," Tom burst out. "Listen
to yourself. You sound like you don't care any more than if we were
talking about—about the color of a guest's shirt. What the hell did
you expect I'd do when you turned into an ice cube? Keep bringing
you flowers?"

"You—"

Tom rode right over her words. "Well, I
brought you flowers. Flowers didn't work. Take you out? I did that.
It didn't work. Romantic vacation? Remember Hawaii? That didn't
work. Nothing worked. You've been bouncing me around like a tennis
ball since last winter, all lovey one minute, and then the old deep
freeze the next. I figured—I don't know what I figured." His shout
faded to a soft thread of pain. "Another man, maybe."

Alice went white. "Of course not."

"What else could I think when you were so
distant? I figured you were bored with me." Every line in his face
expressed naked anguish. "So I asked Poppy to make you jealous. I
hoped that if you thought a beautiful woman wanted me, you'd be
interested again."

Alice's mouth dropped open.

Poppy smiled. "Short and straight to the
point."

"But there are always women wanting you."

"Guests. No way would I get tangled up with a
guest, and you know it."

"But Poppy's a guest. Why should I believe
you'd get tangled up with her?"

"For starters, she's a little more attractive
than the average guest. And since she was in on the plot, I could
really lay it on her." Alice flinched, and he added, "Pretend
to."

Alice drew a shaky breath.

"And I figured maybe you'd think I'd just
gotten fed up and had started to roam," he finished.

"Fine," Alice said. "But what kind of woman
would—"

"A very nice woman. What would you rather
forgive," Tom said shrewdly, "a pretend flirtation with Poppy or a
real affair with someone else?"

"Tom." Tears stood in Alice's eyes. "Oh,
Tom."

Tom rounded on Mac. "So are you happy now?
You couldn't be more in the middle of something private if you'd
stood at the altar and taken vows along with us."

Poppy felt more than heard the swift intake
of Mac's breath. "You're right," he said quietly to Tom. "I owe you
an apology."

"So you weren't really interested in Poppy?"
Alice said. "You were only trying to—"

"Get my wife's attention. Yeah. Silly
me."

"Not silly." The tear that slipped down
Alice's cheek gave Poppy hope.

"On that note," Tom said, "I think we'll move
this discussion to a more private venue." He wrapped an arm around
his wife and led her out the door.