Shannon’s dark-brown eyes glistened as she fought valiantly for control.
A woman’s tears didn’t affect Rafe much anymore. They’d been common with Nancy. Whenever she’d been scared or upset, she’d let them fall freely, and he would have had to calm her down or console her before they could deal with the problem. He’d also dealt with theatrical tears and desperate ones with witnesses. But Shannon’s tears twisted his gut because he guessed they were rare.
“Hey,” he said gently as one slid down her cheek. “This wasn’t the effect I was going for.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, ducking her head and looking down at the flowers.
This woman had gotten up with the sun to do chores, had seen clients until she’d ridden off on her horse and been thrown, walked about forty-five minutes in the midday sun with her body aching and had then returned to her professional duties for the rest of the day, hardly taking a breath. If anyone deserved to let off a little stress, she did. He couldn’t help wrapping his arms around her and bringing her close to his chest, flowers and all.
For a few moments he felt resistance, then with a sigh she laid her head against his shoulder.
His chin settled in her hair as if it belonged there, and he said in a low voice, “You’ve had a very long day.”
The click of the ceramic teapot clock on the wall was the only sound in the kitchen. Shannon’s silky curls brushed over the top of Rafe’s hand, and his fingertips tingled as he realized how much he wanted to stroke them. Stroke her. Her terry cloth romper felt like less than a towel between their lower bodies. One of her thighs was pressed against his. The scent of the roses and greens between them reminded him why she was in his arms. He wanted it to be for another reason—not one of gratitude, but because she needed him as much as he needed her.
Without unwrapping his arm from around her, he took the flowers from her hand and laid them on the counter.
“Rafe…” The word was a plea and a protest.
As she looked up at him, the certainty of what he was going to do was mirrored in her liquid brown eyes. He wanted to hold on to the anticipation of kissing her again. He wanted to hold on to the arousal that made him believe he was alive again. He wanted to hold on to Shannon until he took her someplace private…someplace where they could explore each other and forget responsibilities—experience only pleasure.
When he bent his head slowly, he felt her tense as if she was preparing herself. But she didn’t pull away. She just kept looking at him with as many questions as he had. He was ignoring them and hoped she would, too, at least for a few minutes.
This time he didn’t take her right away. He rubbed his lips across hers, back and forth, until she parted hers with a soft sigh. He opened his mouth, giving her his breath and taking hers. The sheer sensuality of it fully aroused him. Since she’d just taken a shower, the honeysuckle scent of her soap was strong and intoxicating, winding around him. While Shannon swayed into him, he leaned against the counter to support both of them. A woman’s kiss had never made him shake before. What was it about Shannon Collins that pushed every button of his libido…that made him envision sinking into her and having her legs wrap around him?
Just the thought of it made him open his mouth wider over hers so he could explore her more fully. When his tongue delved into her mouth, she grabbed on to him as if her world, too, was spinning.
He realized he wanted elemental and primitive with Shannon—not satin sheets and fake dim lights and slow, increasingly pleasurable arousal. He wanted earth and moon and grass and night. He wanted fast and furious.
Shannon’s hands moved restlessly on his shoulders as their tongues mated.
He was getting lost in the thrill of her hands on him when the screen door banged. The sound didn’t belong…the sound shattered everything that had been happening between them. Shannon practically jumped away.
He was a bit slower to respond, needing to subjugate his body’s desire to his will, needing to take a deep breath and pull himself together before either Cora or his daughter appeared.
Thank goodness it was only Cora who breezed into the kitchen, hardly giving either of them a second glance. “I offered Janine some of that leftover ice cream, and she decided to take me up on it. How about you two?”
Quickly Shannon gathered up her ice bag and the flowers on the counter, her cheeks flushed dark rose. “I’m…” Her voice was whispery, and she tried again. “I’m going to turn in.”
Cora set the plastic container of ice cream on the table, then opened an upper cabinet and took out a vase. “You’ll need this.” She glanced at Rafe. “Ice cream for you?”
He would probably be better off with a cold shower. “Sure.” Then he couldn’t help taunting Shannon. “If you want a dish, I’ll bring it back to you.”
For a moment their gazes connected, and he realized she was still living the kiss, too. Her bedroom would have been a great place to take it. But anger flashed in her eyes at his mere suggestion of it. “No, thanks. You enjoy the ice cream with your daughter. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her mention of Janine put a barricade between them, and apparently that’s exactly what Shannon wanted. Okay, so she wasn’t the kind of woman to enjoy flings. But they certainly could have a hell of a good time with one.
After Shannon said good-night to her aunt and left the kitchen, Cora eyed him curiously. “Did I interrupt something?” There was a hint of amusement in her voice.
He felt like a teenager who’d gotten caught necking in someone else’s backyard. “Yes, you did,” he said honestly.
Cora let out a whoop of a laugh. “Well, good. Maybe next time you two will know to go someplace more private.”
The following afternoon, Janine drew a picture at the small table and chairs in Shannon’s office while the air-conditioning unit hummed in the background. That morning, as they’d worked with Marigold, Rafe’s daughter had seemed distracted. Soon Shannon would try to put Janine on Marigold’s back. She wanted to make sure the little girl was ready.
It was getting more and more difficult for Shannon to keep perspective with Janine. Their silent connection was almost more binding than a vocal one. Shannon knew, not only was Janine becoming attached to her, but she was becoming attached to Janine. Was that because of her growing feelings for Rafe?
She couldn’t be sure. She was sure that the slightest thing could trigger Janine’s talking again…or send her further into her shell. Just as those flowers last night had touched Shannon so much she hadn’t been able to hold back the tears.
How long had it been since she’d actually cried?
How long had it been since she’d kissed a man three times in a week? A man she wasn’t even sure she should be getting involved with.
Janine laid down her crayon and pushed the piece of paper toward Shannon.
Rising from her desk, Shannon went over to the small table and sat on one of the little chairs. When she looked at the picture, she knew exactly what it was.
She pointed to a stick drawing of a gray horse. “Is that Gray Lady?”
Janine nodded.
The picture depicted grass and trees and another stick figure that looked broken as it lay on the ground. “Is that me?” Shannon asked.
Janine nodded again.
Shannon had tried to get Janine to write out answers to her questions, but the child had seemed as unwilling to do that as she was to talk. So they relied on this “yes” and “no” system, with Shannon following her instincts and reading between the lines. “Were you scared yesterday when Gray Lady came back without me?”
Janine’s eyes grew wide and she gave a small but perceptible nod. Then she stood, as if she’d had enough of all of this, and went to the door, signaling that she wanted to leave.
But Shannon knew it was time to push a little more. “Janine, it’s all right to be scared. It’s all right to show other people that you’re scared. Especially your dad and me.”
Janine turned the knob on the door and opened it.
With a sigh Shannon stood, went over to the little girl and crouched down beside her. “If you let me or your dad know how you feel in here—” Shannon tapped Janine’s heart “—we can help you be not so scared and not so worried.”
After a long look into Shannon’s eyes, Janine shrugged and slipped out the door.
Shannon knew all about wanting to escape pain and feelings. In the long run, the escape didn’t help. In spite of that, she followed Janine, hoping Marigold was the key. There was something she wanted to try, but she needed Rafe’s permission.
As soon as she and Janine stepped outside, she said to her, “Let’s go see how your dad’s doing with the pavilion.”
The lumber had been delivered early that morning, and already Rafe was sawing. He’d said something about mixing up concrete to anchor the support beams later in the day.
She stopped when she spotted him. He’d taken off his shirt. It hung over a cedar about ten feet from him. He needed to do the sawing at the back of the house where the extension cord could reach.
Uninterested in what her dad was doing, Janine ran to the old swing, sat on it and gave herself a push.
Shannon had made conversation with Rafe at breakfast, but she was still embarrassed over what had happened last night. The sight of his furred chest didn’t make her feel any more at ease.
When he spied her, he swiped his wrist across his sweaty forehead. “I think I’ll take a break until after supper. Is there anyplace around where Janine and I can go swimming?”
“The community center in town has an outdoor pool, but it gets pretty crowded. I don’t know how Janine would take to that. If you want privacy, I can show you to our neighbor’s pond. You get there by a back road. It’s only about a half mile.”
“I could keep working now, and we could all go tonight,” Rafe suggested with a hint of a smile.
The thought of seeing Rafe in a bathing suit, the thought of her being in a bathing suit anywhere near him, sent shivers up and down her back despite the heat. “I can’t go this evening. I’m meeting Nolan for dinner to talk about setting up the press conference.”
Rafe eyed her with a scowl. “You’re still going to do that?”
“Yes. Nolan’s donation will make the indoor ring a reality. I might even be able to have it finished before winter.”
Rafe’s gaze went to his daughter, who was swinging as easily as any child would. She was gazing up at the sky, trying to touch her toes to the clouds. “Are you seeing progress with Janine?” he asked, as if the thought of an indoor ring had led him to the subject of his daughter’s therapy.
Instead of answering, Shannon asked, “Are you?”
His eyes narrowed as he swung his gaze back to hers. “You’re the therapist, Shannon. I’m asking for your expert opinion.”
“And I’m asking for your opinion as a father. Sometimes that counts more.”
He took a full, patient breath. “I’m not sure. I think I feel a difference, if that makes any sense. For months before we came here, she wouldn’t even look at me directly. Now, I catch her smiling. But those things aren’t a tangible indication that she’s going to talk again anytime soon.”
“Those things are a start,” Shannon insisted. She’d never told him about coming across Janine giggling with the pony. She didn’t want to give him false hope. “You asked for my opinion. I think she is making progress. Today when I asked her to draw what was on her mind, she actually did. She was upset about Gray Lady coming back without me. I think her fear was that I wouldn’t come back, or that I’d gotten hurt. Up until today, when she drew pictures, they were superficial—things she’d seen around the farm, her house back in Salinas. Getting Janine to talk again is what you want, but there’s a lot of healing that has to go on both before and after that happens.”
“And you think it is?”
“I think she’s letting down her guard, little by little, and she’s beginning to trust me.”
“Will she ever trust me again?” he asked, the strain of everything that had happened over the past eighteen months etched around his eyes.
“You’ve got to give her time. Although you don’t think there have been any results from her seeing other therapists, I believe you’re wrong about that. Janine’s been absorbing and analyzing and thinking all this time. Maybe healing, too. When she feels safe enough, she’ll let us all in again. I’d like to videotape her tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“So you have a case study for your book?” he asked suspiciously.
“How do you know about my book?”
“Cora mentioned it. And I don’t want Janine to be—” he paused “—a guinea pig.”
Shannon supposed Rafe’s work made him suspicious by nature, but she resented the idea that she’d use Janine’s therapy for her own gain. “I want to videotape Janine to give her a chance to see herself on tape. I want her to see how good she is with Marigold, how she can lead her when she asserts herself, how the pony relates to her. When she sees that, she might understand she has more control over her world than she thinks she does. That’s why I want to videotape her.”
After he gave Shannon a thoroughly prolonged perusal, he came a few steps closer to her. “Is Janine just another client to you?”
His question took her aback. “What do you mean?”
“She’s becoming attached to you, Shannon. I can see that even better than I can see anything else.”
“That happens with therapists. If I didn’t bond with her, she wouldn’t learn to trust me.”
“That’s all fine and dandy. I just don’t want my daughter hurt even more if we leave here because the ranch and horses and you weren’t enough.”
Shannon squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Although her attraction to Rafe was more powerful than it had ever been, she ignored it. “Your daughter’s well-being is my first priority. If you decide to take her away from here before the therapy has a chance to work, I’ll prepare her for that. If anything’s going to hurt your daughter, it will be your impatience.” Shannon checked her watch as an excuse to end the conversation. “I have to get back to my office.”
As she turned to walk away, Rafe’s words stopped her. “While you’re having dinner with Constantine tonight, just remember nothing in this life is free, Shannon. Not even a donation to a good cause.”
Shannon didn’t deign to respond. As she walked back toward her office, she wondered if Rafe simply didn’t like Nolan, or if he didn’t like the idea of her having anything to do with him.
It didn’t matter. Rafe would be leaving by August fifth, the deadline he’d set. She was sure of it. When he left, she’d have her work and the Rocky R. What more did she need?
It was almost ten o’clock when Shannon got home that night. Nolan had taken her to dinner at the finest restaurant in town, and their reservations hadn’t been until eight. They’d taken their time with coffee afterward. She was glad she’d met Nolan at the restaurant instead of having him pick her up. That way there were no awkward goodbyes. Not that Nolan had been anything more than friendly. They had discussed the press conference and who would be there and what Nolan would say, who Shannon would contact for bids to build the ring and the possibility of finishing it before winter.
Shannon parked her car and went into the house entrance nearest to her room. As she let herself inside, everything was quiet. From outside she hadn’t seen lights, so Rafe had probably gone to bed shortly after Janine.
Shannon stopped in her room and stripped off her nylons and dress, pulling her nightshirt over her head. On her way to the kitchen, she didn’t hear the hum of the fan upstairs. The heat of the day hadn’t cooled much. It would be warm up there.
She turned on a small table lamp in the living room and ascended the stairs by the glow of the night-light in the hall on the second floor. Janine’s door was usually open. She didn’t want a brighter light to wake her. When Shannon reached the upstairs, she switched on the fan and saw that Rafe’s door was open, too. Going to Janine’s room, she peeked inside. When she stopped at the foot of the bed, she looked down on the sleeping child and the slumbering dog beside her. Shannon had to smile. Buster would make a terrible watchdog. If a burglar ever tried to break in, he’d sleep through the entire robbery.
Janine looked so peaceful, sleeping on her side, a doll cuddled close to her. Shannon felt much more than she should for one of her clients. She was so tempted to go to the side of the bed, brush Janine’s hair from her brow, kiss her on the cheek. She knew what was happening. Janine needed a mother, and she longed to be a mother. She felt as if she were walking a tightrope. But she had to make sure Janine’s interests came first. That meant putting her own needs aside to do what was best for the little girl.
Just like a mother would do, a small voice whispered inside her head.
Lost in that thought, Shannon was startled when she heard a noise come from the room beside Janine’s. There was a thump, the creaking of the bed and then another thump.
Rafe’s room had been dark, and she’d assumed he was asleep.
Janine and Buster still slept soundly as Shannon went out into the hall, listening carefully. No more thumps, but she heard muttering.
The muttering grew louder and sounded…anguished. She couldn’t help peeking into Rafe’s room. He was tossing and turning in the bed. He’d knocked a book and notepad off the nightstand. She could make out his words now. “No. Don’t shoot!” and she knew he was having a nightmare.
She understood nightmares and how they stole sleep. She’d had them often into her teenage years.
Wanting to help, wanting to end the bad dream for Rafe, she hurried to the side of his bed.
Sweat beaded on his brow, and he tossed and turned.
Without hesitating a moment longer, she gently pressed her hand to his shoulder, feeling the slick sweat on his skin. “Rafe. Rafe, wake up. It’s just a dream.”
For a moment she thought she might have to shake him harder…might have to physically enter whatever world he was in. Then his eyes flew open, and it only took him an instant to orient himself. “What’s wrong? Why are you—”
“I came upstairs to turn on the fan and I heard you. You were having a nightmare.”
Grimacing, he pushed himself to a sitting position against the headboard and switched on the bedside lamp. Then he ran his hand through his hair slowly, avoiding her gaze. “It’s always the same one,” he mumbled.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head and gave her a weary look that said he’d been dealing with this for many, many months. “It won’t do any good.”
“Have you ever told anyone what the nightmare is about?”
“I’m sure not going to inflict it on anybody else.”
Nothing could keep her from sitting on the edge of the bed by his knee. “You won’t be inflicting anything on me. Tell me what happens in your dream.”
Silence grew between them until he took a deep breath, then let it out. “I wasn’t at the fast-food restaurant when Nancy was shot, but I saw the pictures of what happened there. A reporter who happened to be nearby was on the scene before the police. He took photographs and—” Rafe just shook his head again. “In the nightmare I’m there. I can see it all happening. But I’m in chains and I can’t do anything about it.” Sliding his legs over the side of the bed, he picked up the book and notepad that had fallen to the floor, placing them once more on the nightstand.
“Rafe.”
His gaze collided with hers then, and she saw the torment there.
“You’ve got to make the conscious decision to let it go. You’ve got to forgive yourself for not being there.”
His eyes looked haunted. “I don’t know if I can ever do that.”
She waited, and then he said in a raspy voice, “Some things a man just has to live with.”
Shannon wondered if Rafe was holding on to the guilt in order to hold on to his wife.
Moments ticked by until his gaze traveled down Shannon’s nightshirt to her knees and bare legs and feet. She was equally aware that he was in his sleeping shorts, and that this was his bedroom. She’d been foolish to come in, but she couldn’t stand to see him suffer…
“How was your dinner with Constantine?” he asked abruptly.
There was an edge to Rafe’s voice and she proceeded carefully. “Fine. The press conference is going to be on Monday.”
“So soon?”
“Nolan has already set it up tentatively with the TV station.”
“I see. And you’re going to let him use you like this?”
She should have known better than to discuss Nolan’s donation with Rafe again. She knew how he felt. “It’s a small price to pay to get the ring built. Life’s about trade-offs.”
His brows arched. “I think the dreamer has a practical side.”
When he called her a dreamer, it didn’t sound like a compliment. “I’m sure you deal with trade-offs every day in your job. That’s what plea agreements are all about, aren’t they?”
“What do you know about plea agreements?” he asked with wry amusement.
“Not a lot. But you want criminals behind bars, and sometimes you have to cut a deal to get them there. We can’t always get what we want. Sometimes, to get even part of it, we have to take what we can get.”
“A half loaf is better than none?”
“Sometimes.”
“What if Constantine decides this donation is going to get him more than friendship with you?”
“He’d be wrong. He can have his picture taken in front of the building and next to the plaque as often as he wants, but that’s the extent of what his donation will get him. At least as far as I’m concerned.”
Rafe studied her steadily, then asked, “You said your engagement ended because you were spending too much time at the Rocky R. Is that the only reason?”