“Well, that went well, Tally,” she said softly.
Two steps forward, two steps back. They were right where they started. He had a chip on his shoulder and she was as unsure around him as she had been on day one.
Entering the house and locking up, she paused in the kitchen. Should she knock on his door and make sure—
Make sure what? That he wasn’t interested in a good-night kiss? That he truly wanted to be alone. She was aching and tired. Time to go to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday. She had the weekend ahead with Jed and Brad arguing about the proper way to breed horses, Ariel flitting around complaining about her job, and Kat throwing sultry glances at Devon. Life would resume its normal beat.
Monday morning Tally received a call from Alan Peters, the coordinator for Fresh Start. She had a responsibility to report on all her charges once a month. After scheduling a meeting for Tuesday, Tally hung up the phone feeling a twinge of guilt. So caught up in the day-to-day living, with the emotions she felt around Devon, she’d almost forgotten why he was there.
Reviewing her progress with each of her guests, she feared she was shortchanging them. Especially Devon. She dreaded the meeting. What if Alan suspected her feelings for Devon? What if he reassigned him?
She’d have to mention the appointment at dinner. Ask if any of the guests had any concerns, or wished to speak with Alan individually. So far no one ever had, but she always asked.
Fretting did no good, except to make the day seem endless. She took her paints and rode to one of the tallest hills on the ranch. Trying to capture the view soothed her, but in the back of her mind hovered the worry about Devon’s reaction to her reporting in.
Bottom line he could handle it. He was a grown man.
Tally felt awkward for the first time discussing her appointment at dinner. Devon handled it all right, he shut down and refused to look at her, nor say another word. The others shrugged off the announcement; it was not the first time they’d heard it. None of them wished to speak to Alan Peters. No one had any topics to discuss.
Alberta had made chocolate cream pie and they were more interested in that than Tally’s appointment.
Immediately after dinner, Devon left without a word and shut himself in his bedroom.
Later, Tally lay awake long into the night. She should have told everyone individually. That way she could have explained things better to Devon. Darn it, she wished he was more the type to talk things through. Though what man was?
Tossing and turning wasn’t getting her sleepy. She did not want to show up at the office the next morning looking haggard and worried. Tossing off the sheet, she pulled on her robe. She’d see if some milk would help her sleep.
Quietly Tally entered the kitchen, her bare feet making no sound. Devon’s door was slightly ajar. His light still on. Couldn’t he sleep, either? Flicking on the overhead light, she quickly poured herself a large glass.
She heard nothing from Devon’s room. Slowly she walked over and pushed it farther open with one finger.
Devon had pushed off his shoes, but otherwise lay fully clothed against his pillows, sound asleep. A pen and stack of papers rested against his chest.
Tally remembered the night he’d caught her asleep with the light on. She’d been reading—what had he been doing?
Curious, Tally slipped inside, quietly tiptoeing across the room. There were papers scattered all over his bed, a small stack on the table beside the lamp. Neatly typed sheets of paper. She drew closer, her eyes on Devon. His chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. The dark lashes were long and thick, curling slightly against his cheek as he slept. He looked younger asleep, almost vulnerable. Tally’s heart lurched in her chest and she stared down at him for a long moment. She wanted to brush back his hair, watch him sleep, then watch him waken slowly and smile at her as if she were the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
You’ve been hanging out with Jimmie May too long, she admonished.
Looking at the papers on his bed, she was puzzled. What were they? She leaned over to try to read the top sheet and lost her balance, splashing a few drops of cold milk on Devon’s hand.
He came instantly awake. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, pouring half the glass of milk onto the bed.
“Oh, watch it.”
“What are you doing here?”
He glared at her, noticing the thin cotton robe over her. He felt the silky softness of her wrist where his hand gripped.
Tally swallowed and tried to pull her hand away, but he didn’t release her.
“I came down for a glass of milk and saw your light. Your door was opened so I peeked in to see if you were awake. When I saw you were asleep, I was going to turn off the light.”
He sat up, looked down at the work in his lap, the pages scattered across his bed, the small puddle of milk, then back to Tally. His eyes narrowed as he released her wrist and took the glass of milk from her. He put it on the table and looked back at her. Tally’s eyes were wide as she stared at Devon.
“I’ll get a towel.”
She whirled and started for the kitchen.
“I thought you told me this room was off-limits to you,” he said through gritted teeth, conscious of the sweet spring scent that was hers alone.
Despite the surge of desire that seemed to come from nowhere, he knew he had to resist. He knew he couldn’t trust a woman, and she’d just proved it. So much for her glorious talk about his privacy.
“I was just going to turn off your light. I wasn’t prying,” she said evenly a moment later, blotting the damp spot on the spread. “Don’t get paranoid.”
Sighing heavily, Devon leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He wanted her. His body clamored for her. His senses filled with her. Her skin had been warm and silky beneath his fingers. Her scent reminded him of sunshine and flowers, spring and laughter.
Blast it, he had to hold on to his sanity or he’d be lost.
He snapped open his eyes, steely in his determination.
“So now you know. Your curiosity is satisfied.”
“Know what? That you sleep with the light on?”
“This.”
He motioned to the papers.
“Writing?” she guessed studying the pages.
He nodded, looking directly at her, anger glinting in his eyes.
“That explains a lot, doesn’t it?” she said, almost as if to herself. “The long solitary walks, the hours you spend silently in your room. You’re working all the time, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“I never heard a typewriter.”
“I write longhand, have it typed by someone else.”
“The package in today’s mail?” she guessed again.
He nodded. “I’m proofing the pages, then will mail it in.”
She stared at him. “You’re writing a book? Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve wondered what you did in here for hours on end. What kind of book?”
“It’s a mystery novel. I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your darn business.”
He began to gather up the scattered pages.
“Based on your experiences?” Tally asked, moving away slightly from the bed, suddenly conscious of her scanty attire.
“The first one was, to a degree, only it was a murder mystery.”
“The first one?”
Her curiosity rose.
He flicked her a dark look. “I was almost six months in jail awaiting trial, another two weeks during the trial, then prison. I almost went stir crazy at the beginning. Steve suggested I develop some activity that would take my mind off my incarceration.”
He rose, putting the pages on the table.
“If there’s nothing else, I’d like to go to bed,” he said.
Tally shook her head, backing toward the door.
“Nothing else. But I’m curious about the book. Did you sell it?”
He nodded curtly.
“And?”
“And what, Tally? It’s late.”
“If I wrote a book, I’d shout it from the rooftops. Aren’t you excited? Has it been published? Can I buy a copy?”
He hesitated a moment, then leaned against the wall with one shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I was lucky first time out. A publisher bought it, revised the heck out of it. It’ll be on sale soon.”
“What did you call it?”
Tally was fascinated by this revelation. She had never suspected.
“Trust No One. Appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Why didn’t you mention this when you first came? Why pretend you wanted to learn more about the ranching or get experience in construction? Why not just up and say you had something else lined up? For that matter, why did you even go in the Fresh Start program? You really don’t need it. From what I gather, you have a condo, investments, and a future as a writer. You have no reason to commit another crime. You’re not exactly high risk.”
“For starters, I got out of prison three months early by joining. That’s worth anything I have to put up with. For another thing, I’m not going back to San Francisco. I’ve instructed Matt to sell the condo. And nothing is assured. I wanted to finish this book to see if it sells. If it does, maybe I have a career choice. Not that there’s a lot of money in a single book. There are no guarantees. If this one doesn’t sell, I’ll have to find something else. In the meantime, Fresh Start is buying me time.”
He fell silent, his face closed, as if he resented telling her. He was shutting her out again.
“If it’s a secret, I won’t tell anyone,” she said softly.
“Right—trust a woman? Ha. It’s not possible.”
She tightened her lips. She was trustworthy. If he didn’t want to believe that, it was his problem.
“I’ll say good-night,” she replied primly and shivered a little in the cool night air. “And I won’t mention this to anyone if you don’t want me to. But I think the others would be thrilled to know this. Think how much that would show them there is a lot to expect in life.”
Devon reached out and took her upper arms in his warm hands. He wanted more, but stopped.
“I’m not some saint. I’m not a role model for your kids. I’m in the same boat as they are. And I don’t want anyone looking up to me.”
“You could be an outstanding role model.”
“Yeah, right. Some model, an embezzler.”
“Devon, you were never an embezzler. You tried to help someone who convinced you she was sorry for committing a crime. Because it backfired doesn’t mean your intentions were wrong. Just misplaced.”
“Misplaced? Try explaining that to Harold Roberts.”
“Who?”
“My boss.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“Maybe you should explain it to him.”
“Like I could.”
“Why not?”
“In the first place, he wouldn’t even let me in the building. In the second, there is no excuse.”
“No excuse, maybe, but an explanation.”
Devon stared into her eyes, his bleak and barren.
“You don’t understand, Tally. Harold gave me a break. He pushed a promotion that happened years before I might have expected it. I was in that position of trust that I violated because of him I sometimes think that was the worst part of the whole mess—letting him down.”
“So tell him. It might make him feel better to know everything.”
“Everything came out in the trial.”
“Not how you felt, I bet. Not that you regret losing his trust. Maybe you need to do that for yourself, too, Devon. Forgive yourself. You made a mistake. It is unfortunate, but not life threatening. Forgive yourself for being human, for trying to do the right thing for someone you loved. Then move on. You can’t change the past, don’t dwell in it.”
“I’m doing all right.” He refused to look at her.
“Doing all right means having done all you could to make amends, to explain. Then plan for a bright future.”
“Pollyanna.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“I don’t think so. But I’m doing the best I can to make things better for others. And for myself. I have my work, my ranch and am doing some good for these kids.”
“I’m not one of your kids.”
She shook her head, very aware of the difference.
“I want to know more about your book. Can I read it?”
“Get real.”
“Is that a yes or a no?” she asked, smiling shyly up at him.
Fascinating as the conversation was, she couldn’t ignore the sensations sweeping through her while he held her arms, while she felt the radiant heat from his body counter the cooling air. His hair was in disarray from sleeping, his jaw looked rough with his beard. To her he looked dangerous and dramatic and as enticing as a hot-fudge sundae.
Suddenly the bleakness faded from his gaze. His eyes focused on her mouth and grew silvery.
His hand reached out for and flipped off the lamp and they were plunged into darkness.
“Don’t go back to your bed, Tally. Stay in mine, and I’ll let you read the book,” he said in the velvet night.
She laughed softly, nervously. “Bribing me to stay?”
“Why not? Don’t you feel something between us?”
“Devon, you’re a guest in my ranch. I can’t—”
“Stay,” he interrupted. “I’ll let you read the book either way, if you want. But stay.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. She could feel his warm breath fan her cheek as he exhaled slowly.
“Stay,” he said before his mouth came down on her
His lips were persuasive as he moved them gently across hers, firming slightly as the kiss deepened. His tongue touched the corner of her mouth and Tally parted her lips to meet him and find the delight and pleasure she’d found before.
He tilted her head and kissed her jaw, the soft sensitive skin beneath her jaw, trailing hot kisses down her throat, licking the fluttering pulse at its base.
Feeling herself respond to his touch, she wanted more. The sensations churning through her, spreading heat through her body were new and exciting and exhilarating. How had she lived so long without this man’s touch? Without the passion he evoked in her?
Every inch of her skin tingled with delight. She craved his touch. The mixed sensations confused, delighted engulfed her.
He raised his head and stared down at her, his breathing as erratic as her own. He should have left the light on. She wanted to see him, see his chest muscles ripple and move beneath her hand. See his eyes turn molten silver with emotion. Wanted to see caring and desire when he kissed her.
“You are so soft, so incredibly soft,” he whispered as his fingers traced her skin, over the gentle swell of her hips, learning her.
“And you feel like iron sheathed in hot velvet,” she said against his neck, shyly kissing him there. “Hot iron,” she whispered as her fingers touched his heated skin.
“Wait,” she said, suddenly fully aware of what they were doing. For a moment the desire and longings faded and she was scared. She had no business being here. No business kissing and caressing this man.
“For?” He looked at her. The light from the outside made it possible to see his silhouette, nothing more.
Tally took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Yet nothing about this felt like a mistake. She loved being with Devon. Yearned for his touch. Wanted more with him than anyone else.
But this was wrong. He was in her care. She owed it to Devon, and the others, to hold on to her honor.
“I have to go.”
She pulled away and hurried out of the room. She could not afford to compromise her integrity. If nothing else, she had to do what was right. Her entire future with Fresh Start could be in jeopardy.
Tally waited the next morning until she heard Kat and Ariel descend before leaving her room. The usual rambunctious commotion filled the large kitchen when she walked in. That made it easier to avoid a direct confrontation with Devon.
Helping serve the meal, Tally kept her distance and gratefully sank into her seat when everyone was served. Her knees felt like jelly. She’d never considered how to face him once daylight came. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to repeat the event or just savor the memory. Reminding herself nothing could come of it, she tried to focus on what everyone was saying. Was it always so hectic in the morning?
“I’m working today,” Kat said. “Yvonne asked me if I could help out because the other girl couldn’t come in today.”
The pride in her voice warmed Tally’s heart. This young girl would never go back to life on the street—she was building her own pride and assurance. With her natural fashion instinct and sales ability, she’d have something to build a life on. One with a much better chance of succeeding because of her stay at the ranch.
Gus was assigning tasks for the day when the phone rang. Alberta hurried to answer it, calling Devon. The level of noise diminished a little while he was on the phone. Everyone stared at him when he returned to the table. While each one was entitled to make and receive calls, the younger guests had never done so.
He looked around the table, ending with Tally.
“I need to go to the city one day this week to take care of some business with the sale of my place. Will you go with me?”
“San Francisco?” Kat asked, her frown quickly replacing the pride that had so recently shown itself.
Devon nodded, his gaze still on Tally.
“If I weren’t working, I’d like to go to the city,” Kat muttered, darting a dark look at Tally.
“Not me,” Jed said. “I like it here better.”
“Yeah, man, there ain’t no horses in the city,” Brad added.
“Aren’t,” Tally corrected automatically.
A dozen excuses hovered. She should refuse. He could go on his own. She’d trust him. Prove she trusted him. She didn’t need to spend the day with Devon.
But how could she refuse?
She nodded. “Sure, I’ll take you.”
On Thursday Devon drove the ranch truck to San Francisco. Tally kept quiet during most of the trip. She’d argued with herself all week about coming with him. About keeping her distance. And about telling him how much she’d loved his manuscript.
Devon had given her a copy of his manuscript Tuesday night after dinner. He said nothing to her about their time together in his room, merely placed it beside her when she’d been watching TV with Ariel and the boys.
She’d read it Wednesday, spending hours engrossed when she should have met with Jimmie May. The book was gripping, exciting. And cynical. But that last bit wouldn’t matter. It gave the book an edge that she felt would rocket it to the top of the bestseller lists.
Did Devon realize how compelling his characters were, how their ultimate faith saved them from giving up and allowed them to triumph? Somehow that was a surprise to find in the cynical theme.
“You never said why Matt needed you to come in today. Is there a problem?” Tally asked as she settled herself beside him.
“He called to tell me my tenants are moving out. I wanted to sell the place and thought they were interested. But apparently they’re having a baby and want a house. I need to list it and get the sale going.”
“Don’t you want to hold on to it in case you decide to move back?”
“No. I didn’t want to hold it this long, but Matt insisted. I don’t want to even see it again. I certainly have no intentions of living in it.”
“I loved your story,” she said shyly.
She should have told him last night. Or first thing this morning. But they hadn’t been alone before and she wasn’t sure he truly wanted the rest to know he was writing.
He slanted her a glance.
“Thanks.”
“I mean it, I’m not just being nice. I did nothing yesterday but read it. Which puts me behind on my schedule.”
“Which going with me today doesn’t help.”
She shrugged and said, “It doesn’t matter. Schedules aren’t set in concrete. Have you been writing long?”
“I told you it was something to do to while away the tedious hours in prison.”
“I think you’re talented.”
He made a muffled noise, but said nothing.
“I’d like to read the first book. I bet your editor will snap this one right up.”
“Time will tell, won’t it?”
The cool tone ended the discussion. Tally gave up and began gazing out the window. The closer they drove toward San Francisco, the more the scenery changed. It had been years since she’d been to the city. Would it look very different?
Devon stopped at a real estate office that had handled the rental and listed the condo with the woman on duty. They discussed prices, how soon he’d want to close, and financing. Tally thought it took surprisingly little time to put his home on the market.
“Could we drive by?” she asked when they left.
She was curious about where Devon had lived before, and this was likely her only chance to see it.
He hesitated, gazing out the front window. Then he started the truck.
“Why not?” he said.
He turned to the right and before long slowed his speed while they passed a modern two-story condo complex. The neat, postage stamp yards all looked the same, every window had the same color curtain. The uniformity depressed Tally and she studied the complex in bewilderment. Why did people live in a home that was identical to seventy-five adjacent ones?
There were few trees, and those that had been planted were young, with scrawny branches and sparse leaves. The pristine grass, dainty flower gardens with regimented rows of flowers did little to improve the setting in Tally’s eyes. She remembered how she first felt when she’d seen the ranch. The wide-open spaces, the quirky old farmhouse, the gravel driveway had felt like home.
Glad she no longer lived in the city, she glanced at Devon.
“Which one is yours?”
“Third in from the left.”
She looked at it, but it had no distinguishable features. Nothing to show his personality. Of course, Devon hadn’t lived there for the last three years. She looked away, around the neighborhood and then back at Devon.
“Matt doesn’t think you should sell it?”
“No, but I’ve made up my mind. We can stop by Matt’s place and give him the bad news. He has a few other papers for me to sign. I can get that taken care of while we’re here. I’m glad you came with me, Tally. I wasn’t sure if I could come by myself.”
She nodded but remained silent as he drove. He wouldn’t have been allowed so far from the ranch without supervision. But she didn’t need to tell him that, unless he particularly asked.
After Devon finished signing the necessary papers at Matt’s law office, he told Matt he was going to stop by Steve and Sally’s place before he and Tally headed back. Tally hadn’t known Devon planned to stop by to see them. She was surprised to learn Matt was also a friend of the Davises when he said he’d join Devon and Tally. Slowly she tried to relax. So far Devon had said nothing about the other night. A few hours with his friends would ensure he couldn’t bring it up.
At least she hoped he didn’t plan to bring it up. That would put her in a very awkward situation. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about things. The last thing she wanted was a discussion on the topic.