Reckless Promise (27 page)

"She really suffered when she pretended to
come on to Tom, I could see that even if I didn't recognize it. I
heard her try to talk him out of it. She even offered to pay for
her stay here at the ranch. Pretty good for someone who's out of
work, hey?"

Trigger raised his head and snorted grass at
him.

"Yeah. You're right. But you know the
funniest thing? When I think about her, when I think about all the
stuff she did—and I mean out of bed too—all I can remember now is
the good stuff. She's bright and brave and funny and smart..." His
voice trailed off.

Trigger continued to graze.

Mac slumped against the saddle and thought
about Poppy. Dawn had almost arrived when stood and addressed
Trigger. "Yeah, you don't care, but what if I was wrong?" The words
beat louder and louder in his head.

He had been wrong.

"You know, horse, I think I really screwed up
back there. Every time I've mistrusted her, I was wrong, and this
time... This time she needed protecting and I didn't do it." With
sudden panic he grabbed the saddle, slapped it on the startled
horse, and yanked the hobbles free. "I blew it. We've got to get
back down there before she—before she leaves. She can't leave. I
love her."

* * *

Poppy knew she'd finally slept because a ray
of sun streaked across her pillow and woke her. Apparently she had
cried in her sleep because her eyes felt swollen, dried, and
boiled, all at the same time. She pulled the pillow over her head
and tried to remember what had happened. Mac. The picture of Mac
stalking away from her, slamming the door on her hopes, crashed in
on her and she realized she'd slept on Tom and Alice's sofa.

The scent of coffee crept under the pillow.
Poppy sat up and rubbed her face. Alice stood beside the couch, a
steaming mug in her hand and Tom and Jase right behind her. "Good
morning. Did you get any sleep?"

Poppy reached for the coffee. Tears prickled
at the back of her eyes at Alice's concern. She forced them away.
The armored shell she'd managed to erect around her feelings
somewhere in the middle of the night could shatter at just a word.
"Thanks," she said as soon as she could control her voice. "Some."
Her smile felt pitiful.

Alice sat on the end of the couch. "I'm glad
you stayed. Why don't you take a shower? I'll get Chickie to serve
us breakfast in here."

Poppy shook her head. "I'll shower when I go
down to the cabin and pack."

"Poppy, don't leave yet." Alice reached out
as if to stop her.

"No, you can't leave now," Tom said. "We
wouldn't feel right if you left when you were so upset. Stay with
us for a few days. You can keep the cabin, or move up here to the
main house. Just don't leave."

She tried to smile. "I'm not going to go off
and do anything stupid, if that's what you're worried about." She
didn't miss the quick glance Jase shot at Tom.

"No, of course not," Alice said.

"Never crossed our minds," Tom said at the
same instant.

Poppy folded her arms and looked at them.

"Okay, okay." Tom folded his arms and
returned her stare. "We're busted. Jase told us—"

She glared at Jase. "That I have a history of
doing stupid things when I'm hurt?"

"Well...yeah," Tom said. "And truth is, we've
gotten right fond of you. We need to be sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine." Poppy skirted the issue of
how she was at that moment. "I imagine Jase will take over guard
dog duty and make sure I don't jump out of the plane. Anyway, I'm
going to think of this as an opportunity."

Alice and Tom and Jase looked at her as if
she'd lost her mind.

"An opportunity to react sensibly no matter
how awful I feel," she explained. "All my life, whenever I've been
hurt, I've gone off like a rocket and done some stupid,
self-destructive thing that I've been sorry for. That's how I got
into this whole mess. I was so humiliated at being labeled The
Other Woman that I started pretending to be one."

Tom nodded. Alice didn't look surprised.

"I'm not running away. I am marching to. This
is my chance to do it right," she said, and her voice rang with
determination. Marching to loneliness, heartbreak, an endless
rehashing of the awful moment when Mac looked at her and— Nope. Not
going to let herself go there.

Alice leaned over and hugged her. "You mean
your job?"

Poppy nodded.

"I'm surely glad I don't work for that
university," Alice said. "You're going to trample them in the dust.
You go, girl."

"I can understand why you want to make them
eat dirt on the false charges business," Tom said slowly. "But do
you really want to spend the rest of your life in a city? You
really seem to like it here."

Poppy's heart twisted. "You can't always get
what you want. I've found something here that I never knew existed.
Even with all the padding and pampering of being your guest," she
bowed to Tom and Alice, "there's something larger than life here.
Something that's missing in a world that's paved and covered with
people."

"I think it's called nature," Tom said.

"Whatever it's called, I like it. I could
have been happy here, with Mac. I could have used what I know about
genetics to help him with his horse breeding, and—well, never mind.
I'll look for nature again someday." Someday when Mac had become
nothing but an old ache in her heart, like a joint that could
predict the weather, she'd leave the city for someplace with
mountains and peace and maybe even love.

"Here?" Alice suggested. "There's a
university in Missoula."

"There's also Mac. And I don't need to move
across the country to be near someone who thinks I'm a prostitute.
I can get that at—in Boston." At home, she'd started to say, but
Boston didn't feel like home anymore.

Tom slammed a fist into his cupped hand.
"This is the stupidest damn thing Mac has ever done."

"He'll realize how stupidly he behaved,"
Alice said.

"Yeah. He'll come to his senses. You should
wait, be here when he does. He'll want to go back with you and make
sure everything's okay with your reinstatement."

A healthy dose of anger sparked through
Poppy. "Does he work overtime at being an idiot?" she asked
Alice.

Alice gave a fleeting grin. "Comes
naturally."

Poppy turned on Tom. "Ever since I got here,
you've been complaining that Mac overdoes the 'taking care of'
thing."

"Ouch." Tom held up his hands. "Pax. Abject
apologies. You're right."

"Anyway, when push came to shove, and I could
have used defending, he just walked out. I don't need that."

Tom's gaze dropped. "Shock. He'll come to his
senses. You have to forgive him, Poppy. He's just an ignorant
westerner. Like me. You need to educate us."

"Phooey. I've watched. You treat your wife
like a human being. You don't need educating. It's your patriarchal
brother-in-law who needs a little work. And someone else gets to do
it."

The phone interrupted and Poppy sank back
against the cushions, grateful for the reprieve. But Tom held the
receiver out to her. "You want to talk to Kate Cunningham?"

She had forgotten Kate had promised to call
this morning after her meeting with the dean. Poppy took the phone
and braced herself. Kate undoubtedly had some more bad news.

She'd never been more wrong.

"We did it!" Kate's voice sang with
triumph.

"Did—?"

"Got you reinstated, dummy. With full back
pay and early tenure, thank you."

Kate had gotten everything Poppy had hoped
for and then some. So why did she feel hollow?

"Good news?" Alice asked when Poppy put the
phone down.

Poppy explained. "So now I really have
something to go back to," she said. "I'd better get packing." She
stood and started for the door.

It crashed open and Mac hurtled into the
room. He grabbed her by both arms, his grip so tight she knew there
would be bruises the next day. "Wait. Please. You have to—"

"No. I don't have to anything," she said,
relieved that her voice rang clear. Controlled. Firm.
Disinterested. Nothing like the churning confusion and misery
inside her.

"I know you're mad. You have every right to
be."

"How big of you." Controlled disinterest had
turned to sarcasm in a heartbeat and she mustn't go there. Sarcasm
would fuel anger, anger would melt her icy control, and Mac would
know how badly she hurt right now. She had nothing left but a shred
of pride, and if he knew, she wouldn't even have that. So no
sarcasm. Nothing but deliberate coolness.

"Please," he repeated. "Don't run. Let me
explain."

"Explain?" The anger she didn't want began to
burn somewhere under the layers of hurt.

"Apologize. I meant apologize. I was wrong."
He released his desperate grip on her arms when she took a step
back, away from him.

She looked at him. His clothes were rumpled
and dusty, his jaw darkly shadowed. He looked terrible. And
gorgeous. She squelched the urge to care.

"Oh, well then, that's all right, hmm?" There
was that sarcasm again.

"No, it isn't all right, damn it. It isn't
all right and you know it. What I did to you last night was
unforgivable." One lock of dark hair fell over his forehead. He
looked tired and desperate and Poppy wanted to put her arms around
him and make it all better. Until she remembered last night.

"But you're asking me to forgive you." Her
heart had slipped into that slow thud, the same thing it had done
that first time she'd seen Mac, and she knew she stood on the brink
of the most important moment of her life. She had a chance to do it
right this time. No more running, no more foolish mistakes.

She'd be calm and cool and collected. She'd
listen to him, and then she'd go on with her very sensible
plan.

"Yes, I am. I know what Millicent said last
night wasn't true."

"And you arrived at that conclusion by
crystal ball? Communication from outer space? Telegram from the
president?" Poppy arched one eyebrow, wondering where that deep
well of bitchiness had come from. It had to stop, even though she'd
think he'd ripped her heart out if it hadn't been for the pounding
in her chest.

"By remembering what I know about you. I went
up to the claim and thought about you, and I knew I was wrong."

Poppy lifted the brow again. "And now you
want to explain? By all means. Do please explain how it is that
after making love to me like there's no tomorrow, you took that
vitriolic old shrew's word over mine. And then explain how it is
that after almost two weeks of—ah—close interaction, you can
believe that I'm a hooker. Excuse me. A common streetwalker."

Mac crossed to the sofa and sat with his head
in his hands. "I have issues there, all right?"

"Fine. I have issues with people thinking I'm
a home-wrecker and a prostitute. So let's leave it at that. You
sweep your issues back under the bed, or wherever you keep them,
and I'll get on my way to the airport." Pain tasted like metal in
the back of her throat, but she was pulling it off. If she didn't
know better, she'd believe her cool, flippant attitude was
real.

Mac raised his head and riveted her with a
beleaguered gaze. "No." He rose and reached her with two powerful
strides, his hands gripping her shoulders. "No. Even if you never
forgive me, you've got to know why I reacted like that. It wasn't
you. It—" His voice choked off and he looked away for a moment, his
throat working. "It was me. Even Alice doesn't know all of this,
but you need to."

Poppy glanced at Tom, Alice, and Jase,
huddled by the fireplace. "You don't have to tell me family
secrets."

"I do. Yes, I do. Now shut up and let me tell
you. It's hard enough without you arguing."

That sounded like the Mac she knew and loved.
The one who knew best for everyone else in the family. She glanced
at her watch, tapped her foot. Gave up and let curiosity win. "All
right. I'm listening."

"I have to tell you about my ex-wife," he
said, and the last two words sounded like a bitter curse.

She nodded. Her heart thumped faster.

"I met her in Las Vegas, on a business trip.
I'd just pulled off my first big deal and went crazy with triumph.
Talk about your sitting ducks." He shook his head, and she saw
remembered disgust in his eyes. "So we were married before I left
Vegas, and I brought her home to my family. To Alice and my
father."

He'd never even mentioned his father before.
"You lived with him?"

Mac shook his head.

She looked into his eyes. What she saw there
turned her cold.

"Roxie and I had been married about six
months—six unbelievably miserable months—when I came home
unexpectedly."

She winced, knowing what was coming. "And
found her in bed?"

Mac shook his head. "Yes. So trite."

"With a stranger."

He shook his head.

She frowned. "Your best friend?

His expression had turned to stone. "My
father. He watched me come through the door. He lay there, in my
bed, and laughed at me."

Her mouth sagged open. "But that's—"

"Seems my dear wife hadn't been lying when
she told me she was a hard-working professional woman. She worked
hard, all right, at the world's oldest profession. My father
thought it was funny. 'Hell, boy, I thought you knew she was a
hooker. One of the best in Vegas.' He'd been one of her clients for
years. That's why I got a little upset when I heard you call Tom a
client."

Nausea churned in her stomach. "What did you
do?"

"I suggested that he leave, that she leave,
that perhaps he'd take her with him. Unbelievably civilized. I shut
the door behind them and started canceling credit cards. So
rational, so sensible, and underneath all the calm reason, I wanted
to kill both of them. I didn't care about her by that time, but the
lies hurt." He tightened his arms around her. "I think I went a
little crazy when Millicent said those things last night."