Moments later, at the house, Beau followed them onto the porch and before Rebecca could open it, the dog stuck his nose in the crack of the screen door.
With a wry smile, she looked up at Jake. “Do you mind if Beau joins us? He’ll be a good boy and lie on the floor, out of the way.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Jake followed her into the kitchen and was instantly struck by the delicious smell of just-cooked food. Glancing around the small room, he could see she’d made major headway in cleaning the piled cabinets and dusty linoleum.
The evidence of her hard work surprised him somewhat. That first day he’d laid eyes on her at Gertie’s funeral, she’d seemed like the last sort to pick up a mop or broom or manhandle heavy feed sacks. But then, he’d not known her any more that day than he really knew her now.
“Is cooking something you do regularly?” he asked.She laughed softly. “Not in Houston. I don’t have time for it. And I’m not really that good at it. I can do a few certain dishes. But now that I’ve moved out here, I’m trying to get the hang of making regular meals. It’s not like I can walk down the road to a deli or restaurant.”
“No,” he agreed, while thinking what a drastic change in lifestyle this must be for her. About as drastic as him trying to survive in Houston.
Gesturing toward an open doorway on the opposite side of the room, she said, “I’m sure you’d like to wash Starr’s hair from your hands. The bathroom is right down that hallway on the left. There should be soap and towels and whatever else you might need.”
He nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Since the house was very small, it was no problem finding the bathroom. Along the way, Jake caught glimpses of the two bedrooms branching off the short hallway. In one, cardboard boxes and clothing were piled and strewn every which way. The other was neat and clean with a double bed made up with a white bedspread.
As he washed his hands, he tried not to think about her lying upon that white bed, the night breeze blowing gently across her body. No. Those were thoughts he shouldn’t be dwelling on. Those were the kind of thoughts that could only get him into trouble. Yet he couldn’t quite shove them aside or quit wondering what it would be like to kiss her, make love to her.
You can forget that, Jake. Rebecca might want you to share her supper table. But that’s a far leap away from her bed. Remember, you told Quint she’s not a barfly. So don’t expect her to behave like one. She’s a lady. A lady not likely to make love to rough-edged cowboys.
Downright annoyed by the mocking voice in his head, Jake switched off the bathroom light and hurried to the kitchen. He’d told Quint that he knew how to be a gentleman. So now was the time for him to prove it.
He found Rebecca setting the table with big red plates that were chipped around the rims and tea glasses foggy from years of handling. Even though Rebecca came from an easier life, he thought, her aunt certainly hadn’t lived one.
“What can I do?” he offered.
“Nothing. It’s all ready.”
She plucked a bowl of tossed salad from the cabinet counter and placed it in the middle of the small table alongside the casserole dish containing the enchiladas.
As she made a move to take one of the chairs, Jake quickly pulled it out for her, then helped her onto the seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done such a thing for a woman, but somehow it felt right with Rebecca.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you, Jake.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured, forcing himself to drop the loose hold he had on her forearm and take a seat in the chair kitty-cornered to hers.
“I have all the windows open,” she said, “but the oven has made it very hot in here. I hope the heat doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
The heat he was feeling had everything to do with her. Not the oven. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
She picked up a spatula, then motioning for him to hold out his plate, she ladled a hefty portion of the meat and tortillas concoction onto the surface, then did the same for herself.
A few feet behind them, Beau had curled up on the floor and now had one eye cocked curiously on their movements.
“For a girl who never was around animals, you sure seemed to take to them,” Jake commented as he glanced at the contented dog.
Smiling faintly, she said, “I guess you could say I feel like a child let loose in a toy store. I’m so enjoying Beau and the cats and Starr.”
“You never had pets when you were a kid?” he asked curiously.
Her gaze avoided his as she shook her head. “Not one. Mother wouldn’t allow it. She said they were messy and costly and would require too much care.”
“Sounds like she’s not an animal lover.”
Looking over at him, Rebecca grimaced. “Not hardly. She—uh—is not the outdoor sort.”
“And you are?” he asked with an impish grin.
She shrugged. “I’ve always thought I could be.” Her blue eyes caught hold of his. “You’ll probably laugh when I tell you this, Jake, but when I was young, I desperately wanted to become a veterinarian.”
His fork paused in midair as he looked at her. A sheen of sweat dampened her forehead and her cheeks were flushed from the heat. She looked beautiful and sad and sexy all at the same time, he realized.
“What happened? Why did you change your mind?”
Her lips pursed together. “I didn’t change it. Mother changed it for me.”
“Oh.”
She helped herself to the salad bowl. “You see,” she began, “when my father, Vance, was still alive my life was fairly rounded. He understood that I needed and wanted to do things other than what my mother had planned out for me. But after he died, I didn’t have him to back me up on anything. And when it came to me wanting to become a vet, she thought doctoring sick animals was too primitive for her daughter. That it was just a childish whim on my part.”
“Was it?”
She sighed and Jake sensed there was something lost in her, some missing piece that she was yet to find. But then he supposed most people were that way to some degree. For years now his father’s leaving had left an empty spot in him and he’d often wondered how he would feel if he ever found the man and stood face-to-face with him. Yeah, he figured everyone was a little lost at some time in their life.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Being here with Beau and the rest of the animals makes me wonder if I should have stuck to my guns and gone after my own wishes.”
“You’re still very young,” he pointed out. “You have plenty of time left to go after your wishes.”
She looked at him with faint dismay. “You make it sound so simple. But it’s not. I have a job that pays extremely well. I’ve worked hard to build my career to this point. In fact, it’s taken years. Throwing all that away and going back to college would be a huge change in my life, not to mention a whole lot more work.”
“Work isn’t work if you like what you’re doing.”
She remained silent for a long moment and then she grinned at him. Jake felt his heart begin to kick like a trapped pony.
“And do you like what you’re doing?” she countered.
He chuckled. “We were talking about you.”
“Yes, but that’s all we seem to do is talk about me. I want to hear about you.”
“I’m not that interesting, Rebecca. I live a boring, everyday life.”
“I don’t believe that. Tell me about your ranch. What do you call it?”
“The Rafter R. That’s my brand, too. A gable of rafters with an R beneath it.”
“Abe says the property is a very pretty piece of land.”
“Abe did, did he?”
“Yes. He says it’s near an old fort that the cavalry used years ago.”
“That’s right. The Rafter R is out in the middle of nowhere. But the majority of the ranches around here have to be in the middle of nowhere. You need lots of acreage to run cattle in New Mexico. Forage is a scarce commodity. It’s not like the area you live in where the Bermuda grows knee-deep.”
“I see. So do you like being a rancher?”
Did he? There were many aspects of the job that he loved. Working outdoors, tending to the livestock, seeing the results of his handiwork. But working for Quint or managing the training stables at the Downs had been much easier. At those jobs, the responsibility of making major decisions had lain on someone else’s shoulders, not his.
“For the most part. It’s the sort of work I’ve done all my life. I went to college for a couple of years thinking I might eventually do something different in the agriculture field. I even got an associate degree, ’cause I believe everybody ought to learn. But doing a thing is sometimes better learning than what books can tell you. And it just isn’t in me to be anything else besides a cowboy. Horses, cattle. They’re what I know.”
He didn’t go on to tell her that he’d been born into ranching, that his father had taught him all he knew about raising cattle and horses. Even his ability to become one of the best farriers in Lincoln County had come from Lee Rollins.
You’re like your daddy in every way, Jake. The good and the bad.
His mother had spoken those words to him more times than Jake could count. And he supposed Clara was right. He did take after Lee in plenty of ways. But Jake didn’t want to believe he was exactly the same man as his father. He didn’t want to think he was the sort of guy who could callously walk away from his own child, from the woman he’d sworn to love and cherish.
“And I’m sure you’re very good at what you do.”
Her reply broke into his roaming thoughts and he looked over just in time to see her cast him a furtive glance.
“I’d love to see the Rafter R sometime,” she quietly suggested. “Whenever you’re not too tied up with work.”
Did she really want to see his ranch or was she simply trying to be sociable because he’d gone out of his way to help her with Starr?
Jake quickly decided to keep the questions to himself. He didn’t want to take the chance of offending her. Especially if she really meant what she was saying.
“I’d be happy to drive you over to see it some evening,” he said. “Just don’t expect too much, though. I’ve only been working on the place for the past couple of years. It’s coming along. But it’s not quite where I want it to be yet.”
“So it wasn’t in tip-top condition when you purchased it?”
He grunted with amusement. “If it had been I could have never afforded it.”
Her smile was gentle. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be rightly impressed.”
Impressed? With him? What was wrong with this woman? Couldn’t she see he was just a regular Joe?
After that their conversation turned to less personal things. She asked him about the winters in Lincoln County and other local interests. As they talked and enjoyed the food, Jake tried to think of another time he’d had such an evening. But he couldn’t recall even one.
He’d never really had many meaningful conversations with women he dated. Not that Rebecca could be considered a date. But she was definitely a woman and they were alone together. If this evening wasn’t a date, it was pretty close to being one. Yet nothing about it felt like anything he’d experienced in the past. Most of those encounters had been spent throwing out sexual innuendos and nonsensical jokes, while subtly maneuvering his date to the bedroom. Getting to know his companion had never been important to Jake
So why did it seem important now?
“I’m so full I don’t think I can eat another bite,” Rebecca announced as she pushed back her plate. “Would you like something else? Dessert? I have chocolate cake that I purchased from a bakery in Ruidoso. I’ll make coffee to go with it.”
Jake wasn’t sure he could eat another bite either, but the cake and coffee would prolong the evening. And he wasn’t ready to leave. Not by a long shot.
“That sounds good,” he told her. “While you make the coffee, I’ll clear off the table.”
Rising to her feet, she looked at him with surprise. “That’s not necessary. I’ll deal with the mess later.”
Ignoring her, he got to his feet and reached for the dirty plates. “I insist,” he said. “It’s the least I can do.”
As they moved around the kitchen, the close quarters caused their shoulders to inadvertently brush each other more than once. Each time it happened Jake warred with the idea of grabbing her and whirling her into his arms. If Rebecca had been any other woman, he would have already made his move and showed her just what her presence was doing to his libido.
But Rebecca wasn’t any woman and even though his body was yelling at him to shift to a faster gear, his mind was telling him he had to take things slowly. If he didn’t, he might scare her off and ruin the easy companionship that had developed between them.
When the coffee finally finished brewing, Rebecca filled two cups and placed a hefty serving of chocolate cake on a small plate.
“If you’d like, we could take our coffee and sit out on the back steps,” she suggested. “It’s much cooler than this kitchen.”
And much safer, she thought, as she poured a dollop of cream into her cup. From the moment they’d entered the house and sat down to supper, she’d felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. She’d hardly been able to keep her eyes off him. And the more she’d looked at him, the more her mind had wandered to things she had no business thinking. Like how it would be to kiss him, to have him hold her the way a man holds a woman whenever he wants her.
“I’m good with that,” he agreed.
Releasing an inaudible sigh, she called to Beau and the three of them passed through the door and onto the back porch.
“I apologize for not having a porch swing or lawn furniture,” she told him. “I couldn’t find any around the place and I’ve not taken the time to shop for much more than groceries and pet supplies.”
“The steps are fine,” he assured her. “I’m not used to doing a lot of chair sitting anyway. Most of my sitting is done in the saddle.”
He waited until she’d eased down on the top step before he joined her and as he stretched his long lean legs out in front of him, Rebecca immediately wondered if she’d made a mistake by leaving the kitchen. At least in there their chairs had been a respectable distance apart. Now that they were sitting side by side on the wooden step, there wasn’t a hand’s width of space between them.
What are you whining about, Rebecca? You’ve been itching to get close to the man. Now that you are, you want to run like a scared cat.
She wasn’t feeling scared, she mentally argued with the mocking voice in her head. She was only trying to be cautious. Jake was obviously a love ’em and leave ’em sort of guy. He’d never taken a wife, or as far as she knew a fiancée, but she’d be ready to bet he’d taken plenty of prisoners of the heart. Would she be willing to become one more?
Sipping her coffee, she tried not to sigh, to let him see that just sitting here close to him was shaking her like the winds of a hurricane. “I’m ashamed to admit that a lot of my work is done sitting behind a desk. I have so much reading to do, so many photos and catalogs to view, I don’t get to exercise as much as I’d like.”
“You look like you get plenty of exercise.”
She’d not been fishing for a compliment and the fact that he’d noticed such a personal thing about her sent a flash of pink color to her face.
“At the gym,” she explained. “I meant natural exercise.”
Between bites of cake, he glanced at her, his mouth curved in a suggestive grin. “What sort of exercise do you consider natural?”
She cleared her throat and wondered again why he made her feel so naive and inexperienced. She’d had plenty of boyfriends, even a few lovers. This one shouldn’t be causing a flash fire of heat to rush from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. This one shouldn’t be making her heart pitter-patter like those first few drops of rain right before a storm.
Dating had never been simple or easy for Rebecca. Losing her father had taught her that loving someone with all her heart also carried risks. And for a long time after she’d first started dating, she’d kept everything simple and platonic as a way to keep her emotions protected. But then, as she’d grown older, she’d realized if she never allowed a relationship to grow between herself and a man, she’d always be living alone. Unfortunately, each time she’d let a man into her life, he’d found a reason to leave. Now Jake was knocking on the door of her heart and, crazy or not, she was desperately wanting to open it up and let him in.
“I meant like...riding a horse.”
“Oh. So tell me, Rebecca, back in Houston what did you do for play?”
The question brought her up short and for long moments her mind was stuttering, searching wildly back through her regular routine. To her dismay, the days and nights of the past few years were mostly an uneventful blur of work and travel, exhaustion and sleep.
“Well—I go to the movies,” she finally said. She didn’t add that the outing was mostly a form of work, a chance to see what types of fashions were being worn on the big screen and how the more popular movies would influence the next round of designs to be introduced to the buying public.
“Is that it?”
She thought for another long moment. “I like going to the beach down at Galveston—whenever I get the chance. But that’s not often.”
His gaze slipped over her face and she could feel her lips tingling, burning beneath his lazy inspection.
“No dining, dancing?”
She looked away from him to focus her gaze on the open field sweeping away to the left of the property. Twilight had fallen and in the gloaming she could see a pair of nighthawks circling over the desert brush. As she watched the birds dip and dive for insects, she wondered how Jake’s simple questions could make her see herself more plainly than looking at her image in the mirror.
“On occasions. I stay very busy with my work, you see.”
“Yes. I am beginning to see,” he replied.
He placed his plate and cup aside, then reached for her hand. Rebecca tried not to outwardly shiver as the pads of his fingers slid gently back and forth over the top.
“And I’m thinking it’s a good thing that you decided to stay on here for a while. For me, ’cause I like your company. And for you, ’cause I get the feeling that you needed some time away.”
Her throat was suddenly thick and she tried to swallow the sensation away. “I hadn’t planned on staying. Not at first. But I—well, I decided that my aunt deserved a little of my time. God knows she didn’t have any of it while she was alive. And now—well, everything she had in her life, she left to me. It’s—”
She was suddenly too choked to speak and she looked down at her feet as she tried to regain her composure. Finally, she spoke in a broken voice. “It’s hard for me to bear, Jake. I don’t deserve anything from her. None of it.”
“Rebecca, why would you say such a thing?”
“Because I never visited her. Never spoke to her.” She looked at him, her expression full of despair. “Jake, this is going to sound crazy, but I never even knew I had an aunt! I didn’t find out about Gertrude until a few days before her funeral.”
Clearly stunned by her admission, he stared at her. Then finally, he said, “I understood that you’d never been out here to visit. But I thought—well, sometimes people have good intentions that never come through and I figured you were busy with your own life.”
Her head swung shamefully back and forth. “I wish it were that simple. But it’s not. My family—everything feels like a lie—a sham!”
“Whoa now, Rebecca. That’s a pretty harsh way of putting things. Maybe you ought to back up and explain from the beginning,” he gently suggested.
Realizing half of what she’d just said probably hadn’t made sense to him, she nodded. “You’re right. I should start at the beginning. So I’ll begin by saying that I’ve always been from a small family. I never knew my maternal grandparents. My mother had been born to them in their latter years. By the time she’d grown to adulthood they were both suffering from age-related health problems. They passed away before I was born.”
“What about your paternal grandparents?” he asked. “During the time I was a very young child they lived in Florida and came for short visits. But a few years before my father lost his life, they were killed in an automobile accident.”
“That’s hard,” he said softly.
Her lips took on a wry slant. “That’s life. At least, that’s the way it is in mine.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy rush. “So neither of my parents had siblings. Or that’s what I was led to believe. So I had no aunts or uncles or cousins. For most of my life it’s just been my mother and me.”
His forehead puckered in a frown, he squared around to face her. “How did you find out about Gertrude?”
“A lawyer from Ruidoso called me at the department store where I work. He explained that Gertrude had left strict instructions to notify me of her death, but not before. And that all of her belongings, including the land and mineral rights, go to me.”
As she talked he rested their entwined hands upon his knee and Rebecca was amazed at how one minute his touch could be so exciting and the next comfort her like nothing had before.
“Dear God, that must have been a wham in the gut.”
She sighed. “At first I thought someone was playing a tasteless joke. I even argued with the lawyer and told him that I ought to know my own family.” The faint noise she made in her throat was something between a self-mocking groan and a sob. “Can you imagine how I felt when I learned that I didn’t know my own family? Initially I was in denial. Then when I realized he was serious, I was stunned and embarrassed.”
He stared thoughtfully out to the stand of aspens and the barn partially hidden by their branches. “I can’t imagine what any of it must have felt like. You learn you have an aunt at the same time you learn that she’s already died.” He focused his gaze back on her face. “How did all this happen, Rebecca?”
Shaking her head with defeat, she tried to keep her emotions in check. Yet her voice quivered when she finally answered, “I don’t yet know, Jake. I’ve asked my mother to explain, but she’s told me very little. She and Gertrude were twins. But at some point, after they became adults, they parted ways and lived totally separate lives.”
“And she hasn’t explained why?”
The dismay in his voice matched the disbelief she was still feeling. After years of believing her mother was a morally upright person, she now had to face the fact that Gwyn was deceptive. Not only deceptive, but unfeeling along with it.
“The only thing she says is that they were entirely different people and they simply chose to live different lives.”
“Do you believe that’s all there was to it?”
Rebecca let out an unladylike snort. “Of course I don’t believe it! If it was all that simple, there would have been no need for my mother to keep Gertrude a secret from me.”
“Hmm. Maybe she thought the woman would be a bad influence on you and didn’t want you to be acquainted with her.”
“Jake! Gertrude was the only other blood connection I could possibly have for most of my life. Even if she had been a bad person, that didn’t give my mother the right to keep her existence from me! Every family has a misfit or two, but that doesn’t make them any less a relative. Besides, I don’t believe Gertrude was a bad person. Do you?”
He appeared surprised that she’d asked him such a thing.
“Why, no. I don’t,” he answered. “How could she have been bad? She kept to herself and as far as I know never caused anyone a problem. Did your mother try to paint her sister as a bad person?”
Rebecca grimaced. “Not really. She refused to say much at all. And that infuriates me. I can hardly bring myself to speak to my mother. Most days I don’t bother answering her calls. It’s always the same. Begging me to come home, but refusing to explain anything.”
His hold tightened slightly on her hand. “The Cantrells noticed you were the only relative attending Gertie’s funeral. They wondered why and frankly I did, too,” he admitted. “Your mother didn’t want to see her own sister laid to rest?”
Anger, frustration and an enormous sense of loss swept over Rebecca and for a moment she closed her eyes. “Mother refused to come out here. Said she wanted to remember Gertrude in her own way.” Opening her eyes, she looked at him with all the pain and betrayal she was feeling. “I’m ashamed to tell you this, Jake, but I honestly believe the death of a stranger living down the street would have affected her more. She doesn’t want to remember her sister in any way. Much less talk about her.”
His head swung back and forth in contemplation. “You being her daughter, I’m sure you know more about that than anyone else. What I’m wondering is why Gertrude never tried to contact you. You say she told the lawyer not to contact you before her death, only afterward?”
Rebecca nodded, then stared at him as her thoughts took his direction. “That’s right. And I’ve been so busy wondering about my mother’s motives, that I’ve not stopped to think about Gertrude’s. Why didn’t she try to contact me? Why did she live here in New Mexico, when I know for certain that my mother was born and raised in Houston? So that means Gertrude once lived there, too.” Wiping a hand over her face, she said in a strained voice, “Oh, Jake, maybe my aunt didn’t want to know me. After all, she knew where I lived—where I worked. I can only believe that she wasn’t that interested in spending time with her niece.”
His expression full of empathy, he curled his arm around her shoulder and snuggled her close to his side. “Rebecca, you’re agonizing over things that might not even be true. I didn’t know Gertie, but I can’t imagine her keeping you out of her life on purpose.”
It felt wonderful to have his strong shoulder supporting her, to have the heat of his body seeping into hers, warming the empty chill inside her.
“You’re just being kind, Jake.”
“I’m being sensible.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid I’ll never get the answers I need to know about my aunt—my family.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time, so long in fact that Rebecca finally tipped her head back to glance up at him. She barely had time to catch the faint smile on his face when he tucked her head beneath his chin.
“Don’t feel badly, Rebecca. I’ve wanted answers about my own family for years.”
As he stroked fingers through her hair, Rebecca realized she was probably allowing herself to get too close to the man. She also realized she couldn’t resist him. At this moment, she didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break the sweetness of his touch.
“What sort of answers?” she asked quietly.
“Do you remember me telling you that I don’t have a father?”
Her mind whirled back to the day of the funeral. As he’d driven her back to her car, she’d asked him about his father and the answer he’d given her had been curt and evasive. At the time, she’d been too upset with her own problems to think much about it. Now she was wondering and wanting to discover more about this man who’d quickly stepped into her life.
“Yes. I remember.”
She felt his body move slightly as he let out a heavy breath and the idea that this man could be troubled about anything took her by surprise. From the moment she’d first met him, he’d seemed like a happy, carefree guy.
“Well, the reason I don’t have a father is not because he died in an accident, like yours.”
He turned his gaze on the open meadow, but Rebecca knew he wasn’t looking at the waning twilight or the busy nighthawks. His thoughts were somewhere far away.
“Oh. Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never had a father? That your mother raised you single-handedly?”
“No. I had a father up until I was thirteen years old. Then he packed up and left us,” he said flatly.
Pulling her head from beneath his chin, she stared up at him. “Oh, Jake, why?”
His arm dropped from her shoulder and he rose restlessly to his feet. Unwittingly, Rebecca also stood as she waited for him to answer.
“He found another woman that he wanted to make a life with—more than he did my mother.”
“So your mother and father divorced?”
“Yeah, they broke up,” he said, his voice heavy with cynicism. “Just like thousands of marriages break up every year.”
Puzzled, she watched him lean a hand against a porch post. “I don’t understand, Jake. What sort of answers don’t you have about your family? Your father cheated on your mother and they ended their marriage.”
“It’s not that cut-and-dried. Maybe for them. But not for me.” He looked at her and for the first time since she’d met him, she saw cold hardness in his eyes. The emotion didn’t match the man she’d come to know and the sight of it left her chilled.
“What do you mean?” she asked softly.
“Before Lee—that was my dad’s name—left home we had a long talk. He told me that he loved me and that I had nothing to do with the reason he and my mother were getting a divorce. He promised that I would always remain his son and he would call and come back to visit as often as he could.”
“So what happened?”
“That was eighteen years ago and I never heard from him since.”
When he answered his voice was flat, yet in spite of that Rebecca could pick up on his pain, the sense of betrayal he’d been living with for so long now.
“So you see, you and I have something in common, Rebecca. Neither of us knows why our parents lied to us. Or why they made the choices that they did.”
Moving forward, she placed a hand against his back. “I’m sorry about your father, Jake. But I’ll tell you like you told me a few minutes ago. I can’t imagine the man keeping you out of his life on purpose.”
He turned toward her and this time there was a rueful twist to his lips, a sad acceptance in his eyes. The idea that he’d been hurt as she’d been, that he’d lived with it for so many years, touched her deeply, drew her to him in a way she hadn’t expected.
He said, “Well, I tell myself it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“But it does,” she added softly.
“Yeah. Deep down, I guess it does. Just like this thing with your aunt matters to you.”
Her eyes met his and it seemed like the natural thing to reach for his hands and move closer to him.
“Thank you, Jake.”
His brows lifted ever so slightly. “For what?”
“Just for...being here.”
She squeezed his hands and for long moments they simply looked at each other. And then Rebecca realized his head was bending down to hers and she was rising up on her tiptoes to meet him.
When their lips finally made contact, the jolt was electric. As his hard lips gently moved against hers, she lost her breath and a rushing noise sounded in her ears. She was wilting, she thought wildly, drowning in a wave of heat.
A tiny moan sounded in her throat and then she felt his hands moving to her back, anchoring a supportive hold just beneath her shoulder blades.
He thinks I’m going to faint! And maybe I will if he doesn’t stop soon!
The thoughts sent her hands crawling up his chest and curling desperate holds on both shoulders. The movement pressed the fronts of their bodies even closer and, as it did, his mouth turned urgent, hungry.
She clung to him, her heart pounding fast, her lips a throbbing prisoner to his.
And then, just as her senses began to reel off into some heady place, he tore his mouth from hers and stepped backward.
“I—I’d better go, Rebecca. Now.”
Before she could catch her breath to utter a word, he was already down the steps and rounding the back of the house.
Dazed, Rebecca stared after him. What had happened? Why was he leaving?
She didn’t stop to think about the answers. Instead, she leaped off the porch and raced after him.