The Quiet Seduction (19 page)

“Functioning properly? Evidently not. Yeah, let me give you a hand. Where do you want it, in the tack room?”

Leaving the puppy food on the hood of the pickup, he manhandled the awkward cargo out of the larger duel-wheeled truck. If he was any judge, Pete would outgrow it within the year. Still, it was a sturdy
model—nothing fancy, but serviceable. He wheeled it into the barn. Late-afternoon sunlight slanted through the door, picking up dust motes. The place felt good. Felt familiar. Felt like home.

Unaccustomed to being at a disadvantage, he said, “I might as well help you get the stock in as long as I'm here.”

“You're not dressed for it.”

I can undress. The errant thought popped into his head before he could help himself. Fortunately, he didn't let on that he'd had a momentary vision of the two of them lying naked, limbs entwined on a couple of hundred-pound bales of hay. Be scratchy as the devil, but he had a feeling he wouldn't even notice.

“Spence, do you have time to come in for a minute? I won't keep you long.”

If she were a witness, he might have been able to read her, but she wasn't a witness, she was the woman he loved more than he had ever loved anyone or anything in his life. And for the first time he was beginning to realize the gaping hole that would be left in his life if she refused to be a part of it.

“Sure, I'm in no hurry to leave.” He leaned the bike against the wall and Ellen reached for a faded horse blanket and moved to cover the Christmas surprise in case Pete got curious when they brought in the stock.

The motion brought her close to where Spence was standing, so close he could inhale the distinctive fragrance of her hair, her soap, the baby powder she used after her shower.

Tucking a corner of the blanket over the handlebar, she said, “Pete made a surprise for you.”

“I love you.”

“We were going to mail it, but we didn't know your address.”

“Did you hear me?”

“You can pretend you think it's great. You don't have to frame it or anything like that….” Her voice trailed off. In the dim light, he caught a glimpse of wetness on her cheek. That was all it took.

“Oh, Ellen, Ellen, don't cry, sweetheart. It's all right. I know I don't have any right to expect— That is, if you did, it would've been great, but since you don't, we can still be friends.”

She hit him on the shoulder. Smacked him with her open palm hard enough to rock him back on his heels. “You…you idiot! What's wrong with you? Why didn't you let me know you were all right? It's been five days, and you didn't even call to—”

When he hauled her into his arms and pressed her face against his shoulder, she sobbed out her anger, her fears, her frustrations. He made soft, soothing sounds, things like, “There, there, now. Shh, it's all right.”

“Well, why didn't you call?” Lifting her face, she glared at him, wet, red-rimmed eyes, pink-tipped nose and all. Never had he seen a face more beautiful, more beloved.

“I wanted to call at least a hundred times, but, sweetheart, I had to be sure. Del Brio's out on bond, still capable of pulling strings, unfortunately, but not for long. Aside from another mission I've been involved in—I'll tell you about that later—I had to be sure you and Pete were completely safe, and that meant waiting until anyone who thought they could get to me through you was taken care of.”

“Taken care of?”

“One way or another. Remember your tattooed
friend, one of Del Brio's goons? He had the misfortune of being involved in a fatal accident. It happened just before he could be called on to testify against his boss.”

“You mean, he was murdered.”

“The terminology varies, but yeah, that's about the size of it. His partner, Silent Sal, apparently fled the country.”

She took it pretty well. Cool, seemingly composed. Then her chin gave one small wobble, and he caught her to him again, pressing her face against his shoulder. Any excuse to hold her in his arms. For a guy who was supposed to be fairly intelligent, fairly well-educated, reasonably experienced in social matters, he was at a complete loss.

For several moments he simply held her there, rocking her gently, savoring the experience while he still could. He'd told her how he felt and she'd ignored him. Case closed.

Damn it, case reopened! “Look, I don't know if you're interested or not, but I've resigned.”

She gave him a startled look. “Resigned? What on earth are you going to do?”

“Honey, it was time. Besides, I didn't have a whole lot of choice. Malone, the puppet Del Brio put in place as soon as I was out of the picture, has agreed to testify. That means Frankie is in too much trouble to worry about me, so you see, he's no longer a threat to you or Pete. Now that I've resigned I'm no threat to him, either, and whatever else he is, nobody's ever accused Frank Del Brio of being stupid.”

She was toying with the silver tips of his string tie. At least she hadn't pulled away completely. “I don't
understand. You resigned so that this man wouldn't be able to put pressure on you?”

“Using you and Pete. Right. Honey, it was the only way.”

“You resigned because of us. That's not right. You could have gone on to be…well, maybe attorney general, if not governor.”

He had to laugh at that. “Whoa! I appreciate the confidence, but believe me, I've never had any political ambitions. Retirement suits me just fine. Besides, I've got other ideas.”

“Spence, a minute ago you said…” Her voice trailed off. Her fingers were moving now on the pearl studs fastening the front of his Western-style shirt. “You said something a few minutes ago—”

His pulses ratcheted up a notch. “I did?”

“About—” She broke off and sighed. “I'm just no good at this.”

“You're not? I mean, what are you no good at?”

“I don't know how to handle this kind of thing gracefully. I mean, I've been married, for heaven's sake, but I'm still not…I mean, I'm really not very…”

“Experienced. Know something? Neither am I.” He was beginning to feel a distinct sensation of warmth creeping into the region of his heart. Other regions, as well. “I know a cure for that.”

“For what?” Her face was now pressed against his throat, her hands moving inside his coat, fingers creeping around his waist.

“A lack of experience.”

 

The experience had to wait until much later. Even then, they were aware of the fact that no household was safe from intrusion from an eight-year-old boy on
Christmas Eve. Long after midnight, after the two pups had decided to accept each other's presence in the household as long as Lady was top dog—after an exhausted Pete had shown Spence the drawing he had done for him and accepted Spence's sincere thanks—Spence and Ellen lay in each other's arms on the couch.

“Your ranch is probably so much nicer,” Ellen said. He'd told her something about it, not that he'd spent much time there. He'd bought it from a couple of old friends who had wanted to move east to be closer to their children.

“Nah, yours is bigger than mine, if you include your leased acreage. Anyhow, I thought maybe we could keep both, operate them sort of together. Before you know it Pete will be grown up and ready for a place of his own.”

“Unless he decides to become a veterinarian or a fighter pilot.”

“Even so, he'll need a home base. This can be Pete's. When he's old enough we'll let him decide.”

In her chenille bathrobe, her hair still damp from the shower and smelling of green apple shampoo, Ellen traced his features. “I was so afraid to hope,” she whispered. “You didn't say you loved me before you left.”

“I couldn't afford to take the chance. Sweetheart, you've already lost so much. If I'd told you how I felt and then something had happened so that I couldn't make it back, that would only have made things worse.”

“No, it wouldn't.”

“You want to fight?”

Eyes gleaming, she shook her head. “You know what I want to do, as soon as we're sure it's safe.”

What she was doing to him now was anything but safe, but he didn't have the heart to tell her so. Pete was just going to have to get used to the fact that men and women—daddies and mamas, in particular—needed privacy.

He brought her hand up from his naked chest and kissed her fingertips. In desperation, he rasped, “Want a piece of chocolate pie?”

“Uh-uh. I want a piece of former district attorney, soon-to-be private law consultant, J. Spencer Harrison.”

“Sooner than that to be husband of Ellen Wagner, well-known horse breeder, and stepfather to one future artist-astronaut-veterinarian.”

From a corner of the cluttered room, a Christmas tree, only slightly lopsided, glowed colorfully. Underneath were packages to be distributed in a few hours. There were still things that had to be worked out, but Spence had no doubt they could do it. Together, they could handle whatever the future brought.

They went into the bedroom but left the radio on in the living room, softly playing Christmas carols as a seasonal cover-up for whatever sounds they might make. Spence would prefer Pete to sleep through the remainder of the night. For a guy who had never known his own father, whose mother had disappeared when he was fifteen, he was surprisingly comfortable with the idea of helping to raise a son, only he'd just as soon get started tomorrow. Tonight belonged to Ellen.

The last carol faded, followed by an advertisement for Hogg's Hardware Emporium, followed by a familiar nasal tenor singing something about an angel flying too close to the earth.

Spence frowned as a half-forgotten memory tripped
a switch in his mind, but then Ellen spoke and everything else disappeared.

“Babies,” she said, quietly using her hands to send him into cardiac arrest. “Did I happen to mention I might want some more babies before I get too old?”

He managed to catch his breath sharply as she touched a sensitive place in the crease of his groin. “Just might?” he gasped. “Better make up your mind fast unless you want to wait until I can retrieve something out of the bedside table.”

Ellen laughed, a sound that was more beautiful than any song Willie Nelson had ever sung, and then Spence was laughing, too.

Oh, yeah. Retirement was going to suit him just fine.