A Cowboy Comes Home (10 page)

She might have been swept off her feet in his bed this morning. But she’d had plenty of time to reframe her mind-set. Caleb had been right to suggest some sober second thought on the matter. Making love with him would have been a colossal mistake. One she had no intention of making.

Seven

A
ll the way back from Lyndon, Caleb told himself he had done the right thing by giving Mandy the option to change her mind. It was the honorable thing to do, and he didn’t regret it for one minute. Though he’d desired her beyond reason, he couldn’t ignore the fact that she wasn’t worldly, she was a family friend, and compared to the women he normally dated, she was quite innocent—in a fresh, compelling way that even now had him wishing he could have thrown caution to the wind.

Damn it.

He had to get her out of his head.

He pushed the door to the Terrell ranch house open, forcing himself to walk into the quiet gloom. Without Mandy or Danielle here, the place seemed to echo around him. He dropped the small duffel bag he’d bought in Lyndon onto the floor of the hall, flipped on a light and made his way into the living room.

Ghosts of his memories hovered in every room, in every knickknack, in every piece of furniture. He’d liked it in Lyndon. It had been a long time since he’d worked that hard physically, longer still since he’d had that sense of community and accomplishment.

He wondered what was going on at the Jacobses’ place. He pictured Mandy, imagined her voice, her laughter, her jokes and the convoluted rationale for her contrary opinions. He missed her arguments most of all.

The vision disappeared, and the silence of the house closed in around him. A small, family portrait propped up on the mantel, seemed to mock his presence.

He moved closer, squinting at it.

The picture had been taken when Caleb and Reed were about fifteen. His father had dressed them up, gathered them together in the living room and insisted on wide, happy-looking smiles. Seeing it now, all Caleb could remember was that his father had screamed at Reed earlier that day, pushing him to the ground and demanding he resand an entire section of fence because of some perceived flaw.

He lifted the photo. If he looked closely, he could see that Reed’s hands had been bleeding. Closer, still, and he could see his and Reed’s brittle eyes. His mother had the haunted look that Caleb remembered so vividly. Though he’d pushed the memories away after he’d left, the fear that he hadn’t known the half of his mother’s anguish rushed back now.

If he’d known back then what he knew now, he’d might have taken a shotgun to his father. He should have taken a shotgun to his father. He’d have spent the rest of his life in jail, but his mother would have lived, and his brother would have been spared ten years of hell.

He glared at his father’s expression, the false smile, the ham fists, the mouth that had spewed abuse, sending fear into the hearts of everyone around him.

Caleb’s hand tightened on the frame.

Before the impulse turned into a conscious thought, he reflexively smashed the picture into the stone hearth. Glass shattered in all directions, the wooden frame splintered into three pieces, mangling the photo. He gripped the mantel with both hands, closing his eyes, concentrating on obliterating the memories.

“And you really think selling the place will bring you closure?” Mandy’s voice was soft but implacable from the entryway.

Caleb straightened and squared his shoulders. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No kidding.”

“I need a shower.” He turned on his heel, heading for the staircase, stripping off his shirt as he crossed the room. He wasn’t fit company right now. And he wasn’t going to let himself take his temper out on Mandy. What he needed was to scald some of his anger away.

Hopefully, when he finished, she’d have the sense to be gone.

He hit the top of the stairs, and pivoted around the corner, tossing his shirt to the ground and reaching for the snap of his jeans. He passed his brother’s room; a shiver ran up his spine. His feet came to a halt, and he stood still for a long moment, gritting his teeth, his fists clenched, a sharp pain pounding through the center of his forehead. He swallowed hard, then kept walking, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

He twisted the taps full on and finished stripping off his grimy clothes. Then he wrestled the shower curtain out of the way and stepped into the deep tub. Under the pulsing spray, he scrubbed his body, shampooed his hair, then he stood there, staring at the familiar tile pattern until the water finally turned cold.

He turned the taps to Off, and the nozzle dripped to a stop while he valiantly tried to stuff his memories back into their box. He was beginning to realize he never should have come here.

There was a tentative rap on the bathroom door. “Caleb? You okay?”

He flung the curtain aside in frustration. “Go home, Mandy.”

There was silence on the other side.

“I mean it,” he shouted. The gentleman in him was exhausted, and he didn’t have the fight left to keep his hands off her. She needed to get far away.

“Right,” came a short, angry response. It was followed by a few footfalls and then silence.

Thank goodness.

He methodically toweled off, then rubbed a circle in the steam of the mirror. Once again, he borrowed his brother’s shaving gear, telling himself that getting cleaned up, eating a decent meal and getting a good night’s sleep would give him some perspective. The memories were from ten years ago, not from yesterday. It would be easier to get rid of them this time.

Finished shaving, he wiped his face and tossed the towel into the hamper in the corner of the bathroom. Naked, he turned and opened the door, and found Mandy sitting cross-legged on the floor across the hall.

He barked out a pithy swearword, while she quickly turned her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“I didn’t want to leave,” she squeaked, coming to her feet, face turned to the side, eyes still squeezed shut. “You seemed really upset downstairs.”

“And you couldn’t have foreseen
this?
” He wrapped a towel tightly around his waist, stuffing in the loose end.

“At our house, we don’t… I mean, there are six of us living there.”

“Well, there’s nobody else living here.” There was no need for him to cover up to cross the hall.

“Sorry.”

Her contrite voice took the fight right out of him. It wasn’t her fault. What the hell was the matter with him, anyway?

“Don’t worry about it.” Truth be told, he was more sorry about giving her an eyeful than he was about being seen naked. He couldn’t care less about that.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he offered.

She opened one eye and cautiously peeked back at him.

He propped his bare shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here, Mandy?”

“We haven’t had a chance to talk. You know, alone. Since…”

“Since you turned me down that morning in Lyndon?” It had been the topmost thing on his mind, too.

Her brows went up. “You mean, since
you
turned
me
down.”

That sure as hell wasn’t the way he remembered it. “You were the one who said you preferred breakfast.”

“You were the one who said I should think about it.”

“So?”

Her voice rose. “So, who tells a girl who’s kissing him back to
think about it?
”

“Someone who’s a gentleman and not a frat boy.”

“I thought you’d changed your mind.”

“I thought you’d changed yours.”

She took a step toward him. “So, what you meant was…”

He straightened away from the doorjamb and met her in the middle of the hall, letting his desire for her pulse free once more. “What I meant was that you needed to be sure.”

“I’m definitely not sure,” she admitted.

“That’s what I thought.” He swallowed his disappointment, and he told himself he had no right to be annoyed.

In the silence that followed, she lifted her index finger and pushed it tentatively toward his bare chest. Before she could touch him, he snagged her wrist and held it fast. His gaze bore into hers. “I’m not going to let you do this to me again.” He was a man, not a saint. And she’d have to practice her little seduction games somewhere else.

She took a step in, brushing up against him, her eyes going smoky, her lips slightly parted in an invitation that was clear as day. “So, your answer is no?”

He gave his head a little shake. “Maybe you’d better make sure I understand the question.”

She tossed her thick, chestnut-colored hair, tipping her chin to gaze up at him, pressing closer still, and he braced himself to hold them both steady.

“The question, Caleb Terrell, is do you want to make love with me?”

Before he could form a conscious thought, his lips swooped down on hers, kissing her deeply, drinking in her sweet, fresh taste. He bracketed her face with his hands, backing her against the hallway wall, letting his fingertips explore the satin of her skin, the softness of her hair. He kissed her a second time, and a third and a fourth, desperately wishing the moment could last forever.

When he finally forced himself to stop, all but shaking with the effort, he breathed deeply and drew back a few inches, gazing into her eyes. With the pad of his thumb, he smoothed her flushed cheek, drinking in her extraordinary beauty. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a husky whisper. “The answer, Mandy Jacobs, is yes.”

She smiled. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Her arms twined around his neck. He hugged her close, lifting her from the floor, kissing her deeply, crossing the short distance to his bedroom.

Moonlight filtered through the window, while a glow of light cascaded in from the hallway. Caleb set her gently on her feet. She was wearing a plain, hunter-green T-shirt and soft, faded jeans. She’d discarded her boots, and her sock feet made her seem shorter than normal.

He pulled up from the hem of her T-shirt, slowly peeling it away from her body, popping it over her head to reveal a lacy, mauve bra.

“I love your underwear,” he breathed.

She smiled, and her eyes glowed moss-green in the soft light.

He flicked open the snap of her jeans. “I want to see more of it.” He slipped his hand beneath her waistband, leaning in for a gentle kiss, stroking his thumbs along the smooth softness of her skin. Her abdomen was flat, waist indented, hips gently rounded.

One palm strayed to the mound of her breast, cupping it through her bra, feeling the distinctive pebble beneath the wispy fabric.

She gasped in response, thrusting forward, and he circled the sensitive spot with his fingertip.

He tasted her neck, kissed his way along her shoulder, sliding her bra strap out of the way.

Her palms pressed against his bare chest, smoothing their way down to his belly, as he used his free hand to push down her zipper.

“You’re overdressed.” He tugged down her jeans, slipping them off along with her socks, tossing them all to the floor. Then he stared at her for a long minute, unable to drag his gaze from her perfection.

“You’re making me self-conscious,” she complained.

He reached out, grazing his knuckles over her navel. “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

“I’m a sturdy, little workhorse.”

He grinned. “Not hardly.” He slipped his hand beneath the low waist of her panties. “You’re a sexy, sculpted fantasy come to life.”

She met his gaze, and he could see her skepticism.

“That’s not a line, Mandy.” He toyed with the other bra strap, pushing it off her shoulder, staring at the picture she made, not quite believing it could be real.

With anticipation killing him, he drew her back into his arms, kissing her hot mouth, probing with his tongue, bending her backward. He tugged off the towel, then moved his hands to her bottom, pressing her close, feeling the silk of her panties against his bare skin.

Her hands went to his hairline at the back of his neck, her fingers burrowing their way upward. She kissed him back, deeply and thoroughly, small purrs forming deep in her throat.

He flicked the clasp of her bra, discarding it with the rest of her clothes, covering her bare breast with his palm, groaning at the intense sensation of her spiked nipple and the softness that molded to his fingertip.

“Tell me you have condoms,” she breathed.

“Oh, yeah.” There was no way he was stopping this time.

Her small fingers stroked the length of his chest, over his belly, across his thighs, closer and closer, until he hissed in a breath. “You are definitely killing me now.”

He hooked his thumb in her panties, stripping them down, getting them off at least one ankle before he reveled in her nakedness pressed against his. His mouth zeroed in on her breasts, feasting on one and then the other.

She whispered his name, her hands convulsing against his hair. He lifted her, pressed her back onto the bed and stretched out beside her. He kissed and caressed the length of her body. She dampened his neck, his shoulder, his chest, kissing her way down his abdomen, until he stopped her, pressing her onto her back, moving over her, letting his weight move between her spread legs.