Rosita came home around noon, surprising Maggie. “I have the afternoon off,” Rosita declared with a big smile.
“That’s wonderful, Mama! Why don’t you put on your house slippers and get comfortable in the living room?”
“What do you think I am, an old lady?” Rosita said with a derisive snort. “I’m going visiting. I haven’t seen my friend Emma Field in a while, and I phoned her from the big house. She was thrilled with the idea of a get-together. Maggie, Emma also has one of her grandsons staying with her—he’s six, Emma said—so I told her I would bring Travis with me. The boys can play, and Emma and I can catch up. You can come along, too, if you’d like. I know Emma would be delighted to see you.”
Maggie remembered Emma Field very well. Rosita and Emma had been close friends even when Maggie had been a child, and one of Maggie’s memories of the woman was of her pinching Maggie’s cheeks until they hurt, and gushing over Rosita’s darling little daughter. Emma was also as nosy as a person could be. Rosita might like her, and that was just fine, but Maggie had no desire to answer a bunch of questions that were none of Emma Field’s business.
“Would you mind if I didn’t go with you?” Maggie asked her mother. “I’m in the middle of baking a cake, and it would hold you up for at least an hour.”
“Oh, dear, Emma’s expecting me before then.”
“Then you go along and have a good visit,” Maggie said, immensely thankful that she’d started mixing the cake.
“Is it all right if I take Travis with me?” Rosita asked.
“Of course it is. He probably needs his face and hands washed. I’ll go get him. He’s in the backyard with his lasso.” Maggie dashed outside for her son.
“Grandma wants to take you visiting with her. You’ll get to play with a boy around your age. Won’t that be fun?”
Travis looked doubtful, though Maggie could see in his eyes that the prospect of playing with a boy his age had his wheels turning. “Can I take my hat and lasso?”
“I don’t see why not. Come inside, son. We need to wash your face and—” Maggie eyed her son’s T-shirt, which wasn’t nearly as clean as when he’d put it on that morning “—change your shirt.”
Ten minutes later Maggie waved goodbye to her mother and son, then returned to the kitchen to finish the cake. Being entirely alone—a rare occurrence for Maggie—was a pleasant feeling. She didn’t have to check on Travis every five or ten minutes, and, in all honesty, she felt an unusual and quite lovely sense of freedom. Humming to herself, she slid the cake in the oven. While it was baking she stirred up a bowl of icing.
When the cake was done, Maggie placed it on a trivet to cool, then tidied the kitchen. An idea kept running through her mind while she worked: with Travis under his grandmother’s wing, she could take a horseback ride. Her father owned a small remuda, and Maggie knew he wouldn’t mind if she took one of the horses out for a ride.
She changed into jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and boots, stuck one of her dad’s old hats on her head, then hurriedly frosted the cake. Becoming more excited by the minute, she left the house, took a saddle and the other things she would need from her father’s storage shed, and then headed for the small fenced pasture where Ruben kept his horses separated from the Fortune’s fine stock.
It took about ten minutes for Maggie to sweet-talk one of the horses into permitting her to get close enough to lead her out of the enclosure. Then she swung the heavy saddle up and onto the mare’s back. Once Maggie was mounted, the mare pranced around nervously for a minute or so, then calmed down and accepted her unfamiliar rider.
Maggie leaned forward and stroked and patted the mare’s neck. “You’re a fine horse, yes, you are,” she crooned until the mare became even more docile. Finally feeling in control, Maggie headed the horse into the rolling hills of open country.
This is fantastic, she thought with a song in her heart. Out there by herself and on a horse she felt young and carefree. It was a wonderful sensation that had eluded her for a very long time, and she savored it to the fullest.
That marvelous feeling lasted until she started thinking again of her current situation. Marrying the wrong man could really mess up a woman’s life. The only good thing that had come out of her ill-fated marriage was her son. Now, here she was, living off her parents and hoarding her very small cache of money for the day when she could finally make the move to Houston. She had mailed her résumé to a dozen banks this morning, and now it was a waiting game. She could only hope that someone in authority at one of the banks would recognize her potential.
Disturbed by circumstances she could do nothing about, Maggie forced her thoughts back to the pleasure of being on horseback. She really should see to it that Travis learned to ride on his own. There was no reason why she couldn’t teach him herself.
She was miles from the main ranch, determined to recapture the sensation of freedom and youth she’d felt before, when a cloud passed over the sun. Glancing up, Maggie frowned. It wasn’t just a lazily moving, fluffy white cloud blocking the sun; it was a huge black cloud that seemed to be speeding across the sky. And the wind—it had been a lovely little breeze only moments ago—was suddenly tearing at her clothes.
The very first show of lightning was an ear-splitting, jagged streak from cloud to earth, followed almost instantly by a deafening roll of thunder. “Oh, no,” Maggie whispered. Electrical storms could be killers in this part of Texas. Everyone knew it, and anyone with a lick of sense got themselves under cover at the onset of such a storm.
But for her there was no cover; she was out in the open and miles from the house. Lightning was suddenly striking all around her— Maggie could even smell it. And her horse was getting spooked! Maggie tried to maintain control of the mare, but she feared she was fighting a losing battle. The horse kept pulling against the bit in its mouth and wildly rolling its eyes. Lightning struck too close for comfort—and the frightened animal reared violently.
Maggie felt herself falling, and she kicked her right foot free of the stirrup so she wouldn’t be hung up when the mare bolted. In the next fearful beat of her own heart, Maggie found herself on the ground with the wind knocked out of her. Trying to catch her breath, Maggie sat up and watched the mare gallop around and around in a wide circle. Obviously the animal was too disoriented by fear to even know which direction to run.
Maggie’s own fear had her heart pounding like a jackhammer. But there was no one to help her, and if she was going to live to see tonight, she had to catch that mare and make tracks for home.
She really didn’t want to stand up. There were no trees in the immediate vicinity, and she would be the tallest object on the landscape—a sure target for lightning that just kept getting more fierce.
On her hands and knees, Maggie started crawling toward the mare’s circular path, praying the animal would maintain its same panicked pattern. The wind howled around her, throwing dirt and dry grass into her face. She had seen storms as bad as this one before, but she’d never been caught outside when one struck, and she was sick-to-her-stomach afraid. Her only hope was to catch the mare and try to calm her enough to let Maggie get on her back again.
Maggie knew that the second phase of the storm would be a drenching rainfall. She’d seen rainfalls so dense one couldn’t see through them, and if she didn’t catch the mare before it started raining, she never would.
Driven by utter terror, Maggie reached the path the mare had been running and prepared herself to stand up and grab some portion of the horse when it came galloping by again. If she could get hold of the bridle or the flying reins, she would at least have a chance of stopping the mare.
The mare’s frantic hoof beats grew louder, and Maggie launched herself to her feet just as the animal flew by. All sense of reason suddenly fled Maggie’s mind, and she ran after the mare, yelling, “Wait! Stop!”
Dallas and his horse, Vic, were heading for one of the line shacks that dotted the huge ranch. They were on a ridge, and Dallas suddenly caught sight of the strangest thing going on in the valley below. It looked as though someone was chasing a horse! In a circle, no less.
He was too far away to recognize the horse or the person, but whoever it was running insanely after that horse stood a damn good chance of getting himself struck by lightning. If he’d been thrown, he should be lying flat on the ground. Which one of his men didn’t know that?
“They all know it,” Dallas muttered under his breath, and turned Vic’s head toward the valley. “But whoever is down there isn’t thinking clearly. Probably got spooked when his horse did.”
Dallas knew that he was risking getting struck by the almost constant bolts of lightning, but he couldn’t just ride off to the line shack and ignore the man running in circles in the valley, trying to catch a horse that was obviously scared out of its wits. Dallas recognized blind panic when he saw it.
Once down the ridge, Dallas urged Vic into a full gallop. The big horse ate up the ground, and it was only minutes before Dallas saw the man’s hat go flying in the fierce wind. It was then that he realized who was chasing that horse: Maggie! Freed of the hat, her long dark hair was being tossed around like a paper boat on white-water rap-ids. What in hell was she doing out here alone in this kind of storm? And where was Travis? God, please don’t let that boy be on another horse somewhere in this melee!
Dallas shouted as loudly as he could, “Maggie! Maggie, get down on the ground!”
But the storm’s violence was all that she heard, and she kept running after the mare. Suddenly, as though born of the storm itself, there was another horse, and its rider leaned over and plucked her off the ground.
She shrieked as though the devil himself had grabbed her, and Dallas shouted, “Calm down and get yourself settled behind me! We’ve got to get the hell out of here!”
An improbable rescue coming out of nowhere destroyed the last of Maggie’s strength. Tears ran unchecked down her dirty cheeks, and she weakly laid her head against Dallas’s back and held on to his shirt. Vic ran like the wind, and Maggie paid no attention to direction.
“Where’s Travis?” Dallas shouted.
“Thank God,” Dallas muttered.
Within minutes the deluge started, and it was as though someone or something had punched a hole in the massive cloud and spilled its contents. The dirt on Maggie’s face and in her hair ran into the dirt on her clothes, and the whole muddy mess kept running until it hit the ground. She was saturated in seconds, and so was Dallas. Along with the rain came a drastic drop in temperature, and she shivered and nestled closer to the natural warmth of Dallas’s body.
When Vic stopped abruptly, Maggie became more alert. Dallas was off his horse in one fluid movement and reaching up for her. She let him take her down to the ground, and then tried to make sense of surroundings she could just barely make out through the blinding rain.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“At a line shack. Come on, I’ll lead you in, then come back and see to Vic.” Dallas took her hand, and she stumbled over unfamiliar ground to the door of a small cabin. Dallas merely opened the door for her to go in and then left again.
An enormous bolt of lightning and an explosive roll of thunder shook the earth. Shivering, Maggie sank onto a chair and wrapped her arms around herself. She was still sitting there when Dallas came in.
“You’re white as a sheet. You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes,” he said gruffly, and walked over to the bed and pulled off its top blanket. “Use this as a cover-up. That door over there opens onto a wood shed. You can change in there. As soon as I do the same in here, I’ll build a fire in that stove and make us some coffee.”
Holding the blanket, she got up, felt her knees buckle and fell back to the chair. “I— I can’t seem to get my bearings,” she stammered.
Dallas studied her pale face and wildly dilated pupils. He’d seen people in shock before, and that was what Maggie looked like—dazed and barely aware of what was going on around her.
He gentled his voice. “Will you let me help you undress? You have to get warm and dry, Maggie.”
Even through the numbness gripping her brain, Maggie felt embarrassment. “I— I’m sure I can manage…if I stay sitting down.”
Dallas hesitated, then nodded. “All right, if you’re sure. I’ll use the wood shed and you change in here.” Plucking another blanket from the bed, he went through the door to the wood shed.
Maggie picked at the buttons on her shirt. Her fingers seemed to be no more cooperative than her legs, and she worried that Dallas might come back with her half in and half out of the blanket. Impatiently she gave up on the buttons and tore her shirt open, strewing buttons right and left. Taking off her soaked boots was a terribly time-consuming chore, but finally she was down to her wet jeans and bra. Pulling the blanket over her shoulders, she managed to inch the drenched jeans down her legs. Her panties and bra felt like ice on her skin, and, throwing caution to the wind, she got rid of her underwear, too.
Completely encased in the blanket, she began to warm up. It felt wonderful. The storm was still raging outside, but the interior of the little cabin was dry and cozy. She was just starting to take note of what it contained when Dallas called through the door, “Is it all right if I come in now?”
“Yes,” she called back.
Dallas walked in, and Maggie’s eyes widened. He had wrapped the blanket around his waist and secured it with his belt! His upper body was completely nude, and the unexpected sight of so much male brawn nearly undid Maggie. She quickly looked away and clutched her own blanket even more tightly around herself to make sure that no part of her was on display.
“Are you feeling better now?” Dallas asked as he started building a fire in the iron stove.
“Much better,” Maggie replied. She suddenly remembered Dallas asking her where Travis was, and her heart softened considerably. Not only had Dallas rescued her from God only knew what fate, but he’d been concerned that Travis might be out in that storm with her.
She could no longer tell herself that Dallas Fortune was using her son to get to her; Dallas truly cared about the boy. It was an eye-opening moment for Maggie, even though it had disturbing aspects. Her son had a real friend in this man, and how could she deny Travis the emotional benefits of friendship with an adult male who had only been kind to the boy?
The other side of that coin, of course, was how affected Travis would be over leaving that sort of relationship behind when they finally moved to Houston. Maggie’s hands clenched nervously under her blanket as she pictured herself explaining the facts of their lives to her five-year-old son. We have to leave the ranch, sweetheart. Mama has to work to support us.
But I don’t want to leave Dallas, Mama. He’s my friend.
She groaned silently and took a peek at Dallas, who had the fire going nicely and was now preparing a pot of coffee. It seemed she was in a frame of mind to torture herself, because she started thinking of that kiss in Dallas’s gazebo. To rid herself of that memory she tried to concentrate on his crude behavior the first time he’d come to the house. But that, too, was a form of self-torture, she soon realized, because Dallas had made it so plain that he wanted to make love to her. Did he still feel that way? They were so alone out here in this little cabin. If he had another pass in mind, wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity? And since she had responded so heatedly to him in the gazebo—for a few moments, at least—would she react in the same impassioned way if he kissed her again?
She swallowed hard and with a shake of her head drove the sexual cobwebs from her brain.
“How did you happen to come along at exactly the right moment?” she asked quietly.
Dallas looked at her and shrugged. “Fate, I guess.” Then he smiled at her. “Obviously you were not destined to be struck down by lightning today.”
His mentioning fate made Maggie uneasy. If fate had conjured up a person to snatch her from death’s door today, why not her father or brother? Why not one of the dozens of ranch hands on the place? Why had fate sent Dallas Fortune?
Dallas’s observation was not one with which Maggie could agree, but she didn’t say so. Instead she said, “Well, I thank you for saving my life. And I also thank you for asking about Travis.”
Dallas placed the coffeepot on the stove to brew. “You said he’s with your mother?”
“Yes, Mama had the afternoon off and she took Travis with her to see a friend.” Maggie glanced out a window and saw how fierce the storm still was. “I hope they’re all right.”
“I’m sure they are. Rosita has weathered many storms of this velocity. She knows the drill.”
The aroma of perking coffee filled the cabin. “That smells good,” Maggie commented.
“Sure does,” Dallas agreed as he got two mugs from a cupboard.
“Are all the line shacks so well-equipped?” She’d always known about the line shacks, but she’d never been in one before. “A person could actually live in this cabin.”
“That’s the idea, although they’re really designed for roundup. And for emergency situations like today’s storm, of course,” he added. “I’m sure some of the other line shacks, too, are being used as cover until the storm passes, same as we’re doing.” Dallas’s gaze fell on Maggie’s pile of wet clothes. “I hung my things over a line in the wood shed. I’d better do the same with yours, or you’ll have to put them on again still soaked.” Dallas grinned. “Unless you don’t mind going home wrapped in a blanket, that is.”
“I shudder to think of the raised eyebrows that would cause,” Maggie said dryly.
“Yeah, if anyone saw us riding in wrapped in blankets, they might think you and I had been up to something.” Dallas calmly walked over to pick up her wet clothes, but then, when he was close enough to touch her, he sent her another grin. “Your face is red, Maggie.”
“It is not!” she denied sharply, but she knew he was right. She could feel the heat of a full-blown blush even on her ears.
Chuckling, Dallas walked away with her clothes and went into the wood shed.
“Damn conceited man,” Maggie sputtered. With Dallas in the next room, she chanced exposure by moving her hands from under the blanket and finger-combing her wet hair back from her face. I must look a fright, she thought, and then asked herself why she would care how she looked.
It was probably because Dallas looked utterly gorgeous in that stupid blanket. His wet hair looked appealingly sexy, while hers was undoubtedly hanging in stringy strips. It was totally unjust that getting drenched didn’t damage a man’s looks one iota. It completely destroyed a woman’s—certainly the makeup she’d put on that morning had to be gone.
God, she was stark naked under this blanket! Naked and plain as dishwater with stringy hair and no makeup. Since there wasn’t a man alive who would find anything attractive about a woman in her condition, she should stop thinking silly thoughts about Dallas making another pass. Disgusted over her own wild imagination, Maggie heaved a sigh.
When Dallas returned, she was staring out the window.
“Is it slowing down any?” he asked.
“What? Oh, the storm. No, it doesn’t appear to be. It shouldn’t last this long, should it?”
“Never can tell,” he said. “The coffee’s done. Ready for a cup?”
“Very ready.” The problem with that idea was that when he brought a mug of steaming coffee to her, she had to slip a hand from under the blanket and take it.
Dallas laughed at how cautiously she maneuvered the blanket and herself to stay covered from her throat to her feet.
His laughter irritated her. “I’m glad you find this whole thing so amusing,” she snapped, while taking the mug of coffee from his hand.
“The whole thing isn’t amusing—but you are. What do you think I’m going to do, jump your bones if I catch a glimpse of bare skin? Aw, heck, now your face is red again.”
“Are you deliberately trying to make me angry?”
“Why would I do that? I’d much rather that you and I became good friends.” Dallas’s eyes darkened perceptibly as his amusement vanished. “In fact, I think you know that I’d like us to be a lot more than just friends.”
For heaven’s sake, don’t blush again! “That is a subject I’d rather not talk about!” Maggie brought the mug to her lips, and realized that her hand wasn’t as steady as it should be. Dammit, he was getting to her with innuendo alone! Stay cool, stay calm, or at least act as though you are!
“Hmm, good coffee,” she said in the most casual way possible.
“Glad you like it, but be careful, it’s hot enough to melt the iciest resistance.”
She couldn’t stop herself from flaring. “Are you saying that I’m a cold person?”
“You are with me.”
“What do you expect me to do—throw off this blanket and parade around naked?”
A slow-burning grin formed on Dallas’s face. “That is the most incredible idea I’ve ever heard. Beats any fantasy I could think up.”
“Yeah, I’d just bet,” Maggie scoffed. “Well, don’t hold your breath.” She suddenly felt something hot and burning on her thigh. She had inadvertently let the mug in her hand tip to spill some of the scalding hot coffee on the blanket! She panicked, yelped and jumped off the chair at the same moment. The blanket fell away and the mug slipped completely from her hand, crashing on the floor and splashing hot coffee on her feet.
“Maggie!” Dallas shouted in dread, and set his own mug down to free his hands. He saw the tears in her eyes and took her by the shoulders. “Are you burned?”
“My—my right thigh…and my feet,” she whispered tremulously. Her nudity was so humiliating that she couldn’t look him in the eye. How could she have been so careless with hot coffee?
“I’m going to take a look,” Dallas said firmly. “And don’t be embarrassed, for God’s sake. If you’re burned badly, you need attention.” He got down on the floor and checked her feet. Pink blotches had appeared wherever the coffee had landed, but there were no blisters. Her feet might hurt a little, but they would be fine.
“You said your right thigh?” he asked, and got on his knees, which put his face only inches from the triangle of dark hair at the base of her belly. His heart raced as blood rushed to his groin, and he almost forgot the reason he was on his knees in the first place, especially when he thought of what he’d really like to do at this particular moment.
He gruffly cleared his throat and got his mind back on track. There was a pink blotch on her thigh, but again there was no blistering.
He spoke hoarsely. “I think the burns are minor. You’re going to be just fine.”
“They—they’re not hurting as much as they were,” Maggie volunteered in a voice that matched Dallas’s for huskiness. Standing naked before a man on his knees was a startlingly new experience, and it was turning her inside out. The pit of her stomach burned much hotter than the blotches on her feet and thigh, and the acute urgency she felt could not be construed as anything but what it was: sexual desire, so strong and powerful that she felt weak from it. Did she have the willpower to stop this before it really got started?
“Good… I’m glad,” Dallas whispered, and put his hands on the back of her thighs and laid his head on that tormenting triangle of hair.
Maggie sucked in a breath, but she didn’t back away from him or tell him to get up. Even though she knew exactly what this kind of intimacy led to, she stood there and basked in Dallas’s adoration of her body.