Reckless Promise (28 page)

Small wonder. She hugged him hard, wishing
she could take all the sickening memories away.

"So now you know my deepest, darkest
secret."

"And Alice never guessed?"

"She knows I asked our father to take Roxie
to the airport. Not—the rest of it."

"What a horrible man he must be." She could
scarcely imagine a man who would do such a thing, much less to his
own son.

"Not exactly your ideal poster boy for
fatherhood, no."

"And that's why you've never let anyone close
to you."

"Until you." He put a finger under her chin.
"Look at me, honey."

His face shimmered through the tears she'd
tried not to shed. She blinked, and they spilled down her
cheeks.

"Don't cry, Poppy. You've gotten close to me.
If you leave, it'll hurt a million times more than what she did or
what my father did, but I'll understand. Even if you can't love me,
at least let me hope you'll forgive me for last night." He stood
without moving, looking at her with a world of hurt in his
eyes.

Everything inside her went mushy with love
and empathy. "You know I love you. How can I not forgive you?" she
whispered.

His arms came around her as if she were the
last hope of a drowning man. She held him until he had stopped
shaking. "I suppose we have to go be sociable," he said eventually.
"I'd be willing to bet they're all standing in the hall."

"No, they're right by the fireplace." She
didn't move. "I think the MacLeans don't have a lot of secrets any
more.

"You got that right," Tom said as he ushered
Alice and Jase out the door. "But some things still ought to be
private."

Mac tilted her chin up to look into her eyes.
"I may be pushing my luck here, but will you—would you consider—"
He stammered to silence.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I—oh, dammit,
I’llloveyouforeverwillyoumarryme?"

Her heart unfurled like a rosebud opening to
full bloom. He looked like a man facing a firing squad. "Yes," she
said simply.

He let out a triumphant yell and the door
crashed open. Jase and Tom and Alice looked in with anxious
expressions.

"Dammit," Mac said.

"You wanted family," Poppy said, swallowing a
smile.

"Is this the happy ending?" Jase asked.

Mac nodded and held Poppy tighter.

Alice pushed past Jase and Tom and set a tray
with champagne and glasses on the desk. "I think we have a lot to
celebrate."

"Right," Tom said. "Happily ever after and
Poppy's got her job back."

Poppy felt Mac go rigid.

"She even got early tenure," Jase added.

* * *

Tenure. The word speared through Mac like
steel. Tenure meant Poppy staying in Boston, and he'd imagined them
living on the ranch. Everything he wanted, everything he cared
about centered right here on the ranch. His home. Everything except
Poppy, and he couldn't give her up.

He tightened his arms around her and felt her
warm and soft against him, and knew that from now on his home lay
with her, wherever that might be.

It wasn't just sex. Yesterday, when she
stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel, blotting crystal
droplets of water from that creamy skin, maybe that had been about
nothing but sex. He didn't believe it. He knew that ten years from
now, twenty years from now, when that flush of passion had
tempered, little as he could imagine such a thing right now, he'd
still want Poppy in his life.

He tried to imagine Poppy with gray dimming
that torch of red curls, with a thickened waist, and smiled. She'd
still be a firecracker exploding across his senses. In his
imagination, he frosted his own hair with gray, added a few
arthritic aches, subtracted some testosterone. He'd still rather be
with Poppy than anywhere else in the world. Mountain meadows would
be damned lonely without Poppy, pine-scented breezes wouldn't be
worth anything without Poppy's spice for contrast, and he could
manage a few horses even in a city.

So why make such a fuss? He knew he wanted
Poppy all the way. "Congratulations, Professor," he said when the
lump in his throat had subsided. "When do you go back to work? Do
we have time for a honeymoon?"

She pulled out of his arms and stared at him.
"Back to work? What are you talking about?"

"You got tenure. I thought you'd want to
start—well, preparing for classes and that kind of stuff. Whatever
professors do."

Poppy had gone pale. "You want to move to
Boston?"

"As long as you're there, yeah."

"But I thought we'd—" He watched her swallow
hard. "Of course," she said. "Classes start in another few weeks,
so we'll have to make our plans right away." The radiance leaked
out of her as he watched, just as though someone had opened a
valve.

Definitely not making sense. "Do we have a
communication failure here?"

She looked at him uncertainly.

"Truth time. Were you thinking we'd live on
the ranch?" He gripped her shoulders and held her so that he could
watch her expression.

She swallowed. "Yes."

"What about your job? Your tenured job, the
one you've been fighting for."

"It'll be on my resume that I got tenure.
That's all I wanted," she said. "But if you want to move, I
can—"

He quit listening and stopped her words with
his lips. When he lifted his head, he asked, "So it's the
ranch?"

She nodded. "I have some ideas about horse
genetics, if I could find someone with a breeding herd that I could
use. And with a clean record, I can apply for grants through the
university here. People who bring in grant money are generally
pretty welcome to use office and lab space."

"Well," Mac said, hoping he didn't sound as
breathless as he felt. "Sounds like you have it all planned. I
suppose I could let you have one or two of the herd." He touched
her cheek, ran his finger down along the side of her neck and
watched pleasure ripple in her eyes.

She leaned into him. "I want it all," she
said, and looked up at him with love and laughter brimming in her
eyes.

He'd give her every horse in the world if
she'd keep looking at him like that. "I think we can work a deal
here," he said, and accepted a glass of champagne from Jase. "And
here I thought you were a city girl."

"And a home wrecker," Tom added.

"And a wicked woman." Alice grinned at
Poppy.

Mac lifted his glass to Poppy. And Alice. And
Tom. And—he sighed—Jase. "To seeing things the way they really
are," he said.

EPILOGUE

"Are you sure you want to spend our honeymoon
here?" Mac thumped two suitcases down inside the door of his
almost-complete house.

Poppy Grayson MacLean turned a slow circle
and surveyed the house. "I can't imagine a better place." She
opened the window and drew in a deep breath of sage-scented air.
Lush pasture and rolling hills stretched as far as the eye could
see, backed by majestic mountains, everything gilded by the setting
sun. Quiet. So quiet she could hear the little stream rushing over
rocks instead of the grind of traffic.

Definitely not Boston, and she couldn't be
happier.

Mac came up behind her. She leaned back and
covered his hands with hers, admiring the spectacular orange
sapphire that glinted like sunset on her finger—the gem they'd
found together the day he'd first said he loved her. He'd had it
set in an amazing Art Nouveau poppy-shaped swirl of gold, and she'd
wear it always as a symbol of their love.

He looked down into her eyes, his expression
so tender it almost stopped her heart. "All those promises," he
said. "Are you really going to love, honor, and cherish me?"

"Forever. And you know I always keep my
promises."

# # # # #

A Word [or several] from Jenny

I hope you've enjoyed your time with Poppy
and Mac and will think of them, as I do, living long and happy
lives, raising horses, grant money for research, and babies, I
don't have another story about the MacLeans in progress, but there
will be more stories of horses and dogs and cats and hunky men and
the women who can handle them.

About Jenny Andersen

I have always been a day dreamer. I grew up
splitting my time between a farm and a big city, always dreaming
about horses, working with them, or reading about them. In high
school, I worked at a local store—as a soda jerk. How yesterday can
you get?—until I saved enough to buy a horse of my very own. Being
a typical teen, I never stopped to think how much it would cost to
support him. Fortunately, I had nice parents who saved him from
starvation.

Reversing the usual pattern, my life was
marriage and children, then college and a number of weird jobs
[field camp cook, mineral museum curator, geologist, materials
analyst] and strange experiences [dropping a student off a dry
waterfall, riding a horse that tried to jump a cement truck].

I live in California now with the world's
most wonderful husband and a herd of dust bunnies. In addition to
writing, I play the Celtic harp, sell antique jewelry, and enjoy
needlepoint. In my copious spare time.

Connect with Jenny Andersen

I love to hear from readers!

Email me at [email protected]

Write to me at P.O. Box 5515, San Jose CA
95150.

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Visit my website,
http://www.jennysfiction.com
.

Other books by Jenny
Andersen

If you've enjoyed Poppy and Mac's story, you
might also like to read:

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