Unlikely Lover (12 page)

“Come for a ride with me,” Ward said suddenly.

She looked up at him. “Now?”

He shrugged. “Lillian can answer the phone. There’s nothing pressing for today. Why not?”

“No reason at all,” Lillian agreed quickly. “Go ahead. I’ll handle the home front.”

Mari submitted before she could begin to protest. Why pretend? She wanted to be alone with him, and he knew it. Her blue eyes searched his green ones longingly, everything plain and undisguised in her oval face. He felt explosive. Young. A boy again with a special girl.

He threw down his napkin and got to his feet, hoping his helpless urgency didn’t show too much. “Let’s go,” he bit off.

Mari followed him. She barely heard Lillian’s voice behind her saying something about having fun. Her eyes were on Ward’s strong back, her body moving as if she were a sleepwalker. She was on fire for him. Whatever happened now happened. She loved him. If he wanted her, she wasn’t going to stop him. He had to feel something for her, too. He had to care just a little!

He saddled two horses in stark silence, his hands deft and firm as he pulled cinches tight and checked bridles.

When he helped her into the saddle, his eyes were dark and possessive, his hand lingering when she was seated. “You look good on a horse, honey,” he said quietly.

She looked down at him and smiled, feeling the warmth of his chest against her leg. “Do I?” she asked gently, her voice soft with longing.

“I want you, Marianne,” he said half under his breath. “I’ve thought about nothing else all night. So go slow, will you? I want to talk today. Just talk. I want to get to know you.”

That was flattering and a little surprising. Maybe even disappointing. But she had to keep it from showing so she kept smiling. “I’d like that,” she said.

He didn’t answer her. He felt the same hunger she did, but he was more adept at hiding his yearnings. He didn’t want to frighten her off, not before he made a stab at establishing a relationship with her. He didn’t know how she was going to react to what he had in mind, but he knew they couldn’t go on like this. Things had to be settled—today. Business was going to suffer if he kept on mooning over that perfect young body. Physical attraction was a damnable inconvenience, he thought angrily. He’d thought he was too old to be this susceptible. Apparently he was more vulnerable than he’d ever realized.

He swung into the saddle and led the way down the long trail that ran around the ranch. His men were out working with the cattle, getting them moved to summer pasture, doing all the little things around the ranch that contributed to the huge cow-calf operation. Fixing machines. Planting feed. Cleaning out stalls. Checking supplies. Making lists of chores. It was a big task, running a ranch even this size, but Ty Wade’s, which adjoined it, was huge by comparison. The oil business was Ward’s main concern, but he did like the idea of running cattle, as his grandfather had done so many years before. Perhaps it got into a man’s blood. Not that he minded sinking wells under his cattle. He had one or two on his own property, and Tyson Wade’s spread was proving to be rich in the black gold. His instincts hadn’t failed him there, and he was glad. Ty would never have let him live it down if he’d been wrong and the oil hadn’t been there. As it was, the discovery on that leased land had saved Ty from some hard financial times. It had worked out well all the way around.

Mari glanced at him, curious about that satisfied look on his hard, dark face. She wondered what thoughts were giving him such pleasure.

He laughed out loud, staring ahead. “Those old instincts never seem to let me down,” he murmured. “I think I could find oil with my nose.”

“What?”

He looked over at her. “I was thinking about that oil I found on Ty Wade’s place. It was a hell of a gamble, but it sure paid off.”

So. It was business that made him feel so good, not her company. “Is business the only pleasure in your life?” she asked gently.

He shrugged. “The only lasting one, I guess.” He stared toward the horizon. “There were some pretty hard times around here when I was a kid. Oh, we always had plenty of food, you know—that’s one of the advantages of living on a ranch. But we didn’t have much in the way of material things. Clothes were all secondhand, and I wore boots with holes in the soles for most of my childhood. That wasn’t so bad, but I got ragged a lot about my mother.”

She could imagine that he had. “I guess I was pretty lucky,” she said. “My parents were good to me. We always got by.”

He studied her quietly. “I’ll bet you were a tomboy.”

She laughed, delighted. “I was. I played sandlot baseball and climbed trees and played war. There was only one other girl on my street, and she and I had to be tough to survive with all the boys. They didn’t pull their punches just because we were girls. We had a good time growing up all the same.”

He fingered the reins as they rode along to the musical squeak of saddle leather. “I liked playing cowboys and Indians,” he recalled. “Had my own horse.”

“Which were you?”

He chuckled. “Mostly I was the Indian. I had a Cherokee ancestor, they say.”

“You’re very dark,” she agreed.

“Honey, that’s sun, not inherited. I spent a lot of time working rigs when I was younger, and I still help out on occasion. The heat’s easier stripped to the waist.”

She’d noticed how dark his skin was when he’d stripped off his shirt the night before and let her touch him. Her eyes went involuntarily to the hard muscles of his torso and lingered there.

“You don’t do much sunbathing, do you?” he asked unexpectedly, and his eyes told her that he was remembering how pale she was.

Her face colored. “No. There’s no beach nearby, and I live upstairs in an apartment building. I don’t have any place to sunbathe.”

“It isn’t good for the skin. Mine’s like leather,” he commented. “Yours is silky soft….”

She urged her mount ahead, embarrassed because she knew what he was seeing in his mind.

His mount fell into easy step beside her. “Don’t be shy with me,” he said gently. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I guess I seem grass green to you,” she commented.

“Sure you do,” he replied and smiled. “I like it.”

Her eyes went to the flat horizon beyond, to the scant trees and the long fence lines and the red coats of the cattle. “I never had many boyfriends,” she told him, remembering. “My dad was very strict.”

“What was he like?”

“Oh, very tall and stubborn. And terrific,” she added. “I had great parents. I loved them both. Losing Mama was hard, but having both of them gone is really rough. I never missed having brothers or sisters until now.”

“I suppose it makes you feel alone.”

“I’ve felt that way for a long time,” she said. “My father wasn’t really an affectionate man, and he didn’t like close ties. He thought it was important that I stand alone. Perhaps he was right. I got used to being by myself after Mama died.”

He studied her averted features. “At least I had Grandmother and Belinda,” he said. “Although with Grandmother it’s been a fight all the way. She’s too much like me.”

She remembered him saying that the only women he cared about where those two. “What is your sister like?” she asked.

He grinned. “Like Grandmother and me. She’s another hardheaded Jessup.”

“Does she look like you?” she asked curiously.

“Not a lot. Same green eyes, but she’s prettier, and we’re built differently.”

She glared at him. “I do realize that.”

“No. She’s small. Petite,” he clarified. “I suppose I take after my father. He was a big man.”

“An oilman?”

He nodded. “Always looking for that big strike.” His eyes suddenly had a faraway look. “Right out there is where we found him, in that grove of trees.” He gestured to the horizon. “Hell of a shock. There was hardly a mark on him. He looked like he was asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He turned his horse, leaving her to follow where the trail led down to the river and a grove of trees. He dismounted, tying his horse to a small tree growing on a grassy knoll. He helped Mari down and tied hers nearby.

“Funny, I never thought of Texas being like this,” she mused as she watched the shallow river run over the rocks and listened to its serene bubbling. “It’s so bare except for occasional stands of timber. Along the streams, of course, there are more trees. But it’s not at all what I expected. It’s so…big.”

“Georgia doesn’t look like this?” he asked.

She watched him stretch out on the leaves under a big live oak tree, his body relaxed as he studied her. “Not a lot, no. We don’t have mesquite trees,” she said. “Although around Savannah we do have huge live oaks like these. Near Atlanta we have lots of dogwoods and maples and pines, but there’s not so much open land. There are always trees on the horizon, except in south Georgia. I guess southwest Georgia is a lot like here. I’ve even seen prickly pear cactus growing there, and there are diamondback rattlers in that part of the state. I had a great aunt there when I was a child. I still remember visiting her.”

He drew up a knee and crossed his arms, leaning back against the tree. “Homesick yet?”

“Not really,” she confessed shyly. “I always wanted to visit a real ranch. I guess I got my wish.” She turned. “Do you think Aunt Lillian will be all right now?”

“Yes, I do.” He laughed. “She’s having a hell of a good time with us. You haven’t told her that we know the truth about each other?”

“No,” she said. “I didn’t want to disappoint her. But we really ought to tell her.”

“Not yet.” He let his darkening eyes run down her body, and his blood began to run hot. “Come here.”

She gnawed her lower lip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she began half convincingly.

“Like hell you don’t,” he returned. “You didn’t sleep last night any more than I did, and I’ll bet your heart is doing the same tango mine is.”

It was, but she was apprehensive. Last night it had been so difficult to stop.

“You want me, Marianne,” he said under his breath. “And God knows, I want you. We’re alone. No prying eyes. No one to see or hear what we do together. Make love with me.”

Her mind kept saying no. So why did her legs carry her to him? She couldn’t hear reason through the wild slamming of her heart at her throat. She needed him like water in the desert, like warmth in the cold.

He opened his arms, and she went down into them. Coming home. Feeling his big body warm and close to hers, his arms protecting, his eyes possessive.

He rolled over, taking her with him until she was lying on her back under the shade of the big tree with its soft green leaves blowing in the warm breeze.

As she watched, his hand went to his shirt. He flicked open the buttons until his chest was bare, and then his hand went to the hem of her blouse. She caught his wrist, but it didn’t even slow him down. He slid his hand under it and around to the back, easily undoing the catch of her bra.

“Why bother with that thing?” he whispered, sliding his hand around to tease the side of her breast. “It just gets in my way.”

Her body trembled at the lazy brushing of his fingers. “Why can’t I fight you?” she whispered huskily.

“Because what we give each other defies reason,” he whispered. He looked down at her mouth as his fingers brushed closer and closer to the hard, aching tip of her breast. “Little virgin, you excite me beyond bearing, do you know that? I can feel what this does to you. Here…”

His forefinger touched the hard tip and she gasped, shuddering under him, her eyes huge and frightened.

“My God, you can’t imagine what it does to me,” he said curtly. “Feeling that and knowing that I’m causing it. Knowing how hungry you are for me. If I took you right now, you’d scream, Marianne. You’d writhe and cry out, and I wouldn’t be able to hold back a damned thing because you’ve already got me so aroused I don’t know where I am.”

As he spoke, he moved, letting her feel the proof of the statement as his weight settled against her. His big hand smoothed up, cupping her warm breast, and his mouth opened, taking her lips with it in a silence that shattered her resistance.

Her body lifted toward him as he slid both hands under it, taking her breasts, savoring them with his warm, callused hands. His mouth was taking a wild toll of hers, crushing against her parted lips, tasting the sweetness of them in a blazing hunger.

Her hips shifted and he groaned huskily. Her eyes opened, looking curiously up into his.

“What you feel is getting worse by the minute,” he whispered huskily. “If you start moving your hips, I’m going to lose control. Are you willing to take that risk?”

She almost was. Her body was crying out for fulfillment. She wanted his hands on all of her. She wanted his clothes out of the way so that she could touch his skin. She wanted to smooth her fingers down the hard muscles of his back and thighs and feel him in the most intimate embrace of all.

He groaned at the look in her eyes. His hand found hers, pulling it to his body, pressing it flat against him, letting her experience him.

She trembled and jerked away from that intimacy, and it brought him to his senses. He rolled over, bringing up his legs, covering his eyes with his forearms. He stiffened, groaning harshly.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, biting her lip. “Ward, I’m sorry!”

“Not your fault,” he managed roughly. His teeth clenched. “God, it hurts!”

She sat up, helpless. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. It must be horrible for him, and it was her fault, and she didn’t know how to ease that obvious pain.

He jackknifed to a sitting position, bent over his drawn-up legs, breathing unsteadily. His hands were clenched together, and the knuckles went white. He shuddered and let out an uneven breath.

“I never realized…it hurt men like that,” she faltered. “I’m so sorry!”

“I told you it’s not your fault,” he said curtly. He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t yet. His body was still in torment, but it was easing just a little. He sat quietly, waiting for the ache to go away. She was potent. He wondered if he was ever going to be able to stand up again. Damn his principles and damn hers!