At Home in His Heart (17 page)

“You know what?” He took a long, slow breath, his gaze never leaving hers.

She swallowed, her own breath labored. “What?”

“I’m going to kiss you, Sandi Bradshaw.”

“I think you just did.” She forced a teasing lilt into her soft words. But her heart beat faster.

“No, I mean
really
kiss you.”

Her eyes widened and he chuckled.

“You heard me.”

“Bryce—” This shouldn’t be happening. She should pull
away. Run even. But she stood as if paralyzed, relaxing into the touch of his hands still cradling her face.

Then he leaned in, lowering his head.

She closed her eyes. Parted her lips in anticipation. Waited for the moment his lips made contact with hers.

But they didn’t.

Heart still laboring after an embarrassingly long moment, she opened one eye to peek.

He’d pulled back slightly, gazing at her with longing. “You’re so beautiful, Sandi. So good. I have no right to kiss you.”

He was debating this?

She placed her hand on his chest. Big guy. Strong. Solid.

Taking a ragged breath, she gazed up at him. She
wanted
him to kiss her. Wanted to kiss him back. Which was insane. This was the man who—

She gripped the front of his shirt, her gaze drowning in his. “Maybe you don’t have the right. But don’t let that stop you.”

The surprise reflected in his eyes swiftly transformed to resolve. “I hope we don’t regret this, Sandi.”

Tugging on his shirtfront, she tossed caution to the wind, her voice husky. “Me, too.”

He leaned in again, his mustache softly tickling as he gently pressed his lips to hers.

A
t long last, Bryce finally drew back, his heart almost pounding its way right out of his chest.

He’d just kissed Sandi Bradshaw.

Keith’s wife.

And lightning hadn’t struck him.

Or at least not the kind that literally knocked him off his feet and fried him to a crisp. No, not physically struck, but emotionally it was another story. When had he ever felt this way about a woman? Not just the physical attraction, but the rest of the package people always talked about. Where you wanted to scoop her into your arms and keep her by your side forever.

Sandi looked up at him, wide eyes searching his. He smoothed her hair with his hand. Soft. Silky. She smelled good, too. He squinted one eye and peered cautiously skyward with an exaggerated wariness. “Well, at least we didn’t get hit by a bolt out of the blue.”

“Speak for yourself, Sergeant.”

So she felt it, too? Whoever would have thought?

He stared down at her, trying to read every nuance of her expression. “I have to confess something, Sandi.”

Her dubious look said she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear
it, but he proceeded anyway. “I think I’ve been wanting to do that since the first day I ran into you at the Warehouse.”

Her cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink.

He chuckled. “Didn’t figure it was a real good idea at the time, though. You know, considering.”

“Yeah, considering.” She tightened her grip on the front of his shirt. “I thought you probably wanted to strangle me.”

“That, too.”

She punched him playfully in the chest, but it felt like no more than a butterfly’s nudge. He chuckled again and stroked her hair, still staring at her in amazement.

Sandi. He’d just kissed Sandi.

Wanting to do it again, he leaned in once more.

With a startled gasp she jerked away, her fearful gaze fixed on something behind him. He swung around, adrenaline pumping to take on whatever threatened her safety.

For a moment he wasn’t sure what she’d seen. His eyes searched the perimeter of the lake for an elk. Bear. Mountain lion. Then came to rest on a small group of female hikers he hadn’t noticed before, lounging under one of the pine-shaded picnic ramadas. He focused on one woman in particular who stared right at them.

Lightning had struck after all.

LeAnne Bradshaw.

“You have to listen to me,” Sandi insisted an hour later, back at her trailer and clutching the cell phone to her ear. “Please, LeAnne, let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. I saw it with my own eyes. You and that, that, Harding fellow in a lip-lock. Hands all over each other in broad daylight. Right in front of me and my friends. Friends who’ve met you before. Who recognized you. I don’t know when I’ve been so humiliated.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not what happened and not what you saw, LeAnne. It was very chaste and innocent.”

“My land, Sandi. There’s never been anything innocent about Bryce Harding. Surely Keith didn’t keep you in the dark about him. About his background. His lifestyle.”

“He’s a changed man.”

“I certainly saw evidence of that today, didn’t I? Now he thinks he has a right to maul Keith’s wife. And why would he think that, Sandi, unless you’d led him to believe it?”

“I didn’t—”

Or did she? The flood of sensations she’d felt when Bryce’s lips had touched hers washed through her again. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Had told him so.

“It started with not wearing your wedding ring a few years ago,” her mother-in-law continued. “I told you that would lead to trouble, didn’t I? It signals to men that you’re a woman alone. Available. Looking.”

She
was
a woman alone, wasn’t she? For five long, guilt-ridden years. But she hadn’t been “looking.” Wasn’t looking now.

Sandi paced the floor of her trailer. “The ring led to too many misunderstandings. Uncomfortable explanations when people assumed I was married. They’d ask about my husband, invite me
and my husband
to social events. Then they’d be embarrassed when I said I was a widow. It confused Gina, too, when she overheard those conversations.”

“Nonsense.”

“LeAnne—” Why wouldn’t she listen? Why was she assuming the worst of her? Of Bryce? Making those sweet, too-brief moments out to be some ugly, dirty thing? “I was upset. He was comforting me.”

“That was quite the comfort my friends and I saw.”

“Please, just listen. I’m in the doghouse with the historical
society members because we have to relocate. Bryce offered his support, promised to talk to them.”

“I didn’t see much talking going on. And I certainly don’t understand how you could let that man touch you, let alone kiss you. Not after being married to my son. The finest young man on the face of the earth. How can you so quickly forget the father of your child? Toss him in the trash heap and take up with a man far his inferior?”

Sandi’s attention focused on Keith’s photo in the bookcase, the very blood in her veins turning to ice. “I haven’t tossed my husband in any trash heap.”

Her mother-in-law sighed. “I wouldn’t say these things if I weren’t concerned. Deeply concerned. A man like Bryce Harding can bring nothing but misery to you. To Gina. She’s your priority, Sandi. Don’t forget that.”

“I haven’t.”

“Oh, honey, things were so good between us before this man came back to town.” LeAnne’s strident tone shifted to a more persuasive one. “Can’t you see what he’s doing to you? To us? Please don’t let this man come between us, let him snatch away the friendship we’ve shared since Keith’s passing. Bryce is using you, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”

He hadn’t seen her for days.

Not since LeAnne spied them at the lake and marched off with her friends, climbed into her big Cadillac and hit the gas. A stricken Sandi had pushed him away and hurried to her own vehicle with not even a glance in his direction.

Lousy way to end a kiss.

He pulled out his cell phone for at least the twentieth time that day alone, prepared to punch in Sandi’s number. But what would he say? Besides, if she wanted to talk to him, wouldn’t she call?

He pocketed it again, then put the empty stock truck in gear
and backed it up to the loading dock of one of the outbuildings at the High Country Equine Center. Afternoon storm clouds gathered overhead and he could smell rain in the air. Feel a cool front moving in that would soon drop the temperatures from the upper eighties into the sixties.

Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. Wouldn’t be long.

Inside the building where Trey stored hay apart from the stable area, he strode to a side room to dig out a pair of gloves. Some hay hooks. With Trey out of town, he’d promised Kara he’d transfer a load of bales to the main facility this afternoon.

He found the gloves easily enough. Now where’d those hay hooks go?

As he searched, his mind again drifted to Sandi. Couldn’t help but smile. Yeah, he’d sure enough kissed her all right. Enjoyed it, too. Not to brag, but he thought she took some pleasure in it, as well. But leave it to Keith’s mom to show up. Spook her off.

He didn’t think it any coincidence, after seeing the look on her face when she spied her mother-in-law, that Sandi had kept herself scarce. Just as with her son, LeAnne had a direction she intended her daughter-in-law to go—and if Keith’s mom had any say about it, Bryce would be abducted by aliens and held hostage for a few millennia. Keith asserted himself early on, shook off her controlling ways.

But how sturdy was Sandi’s backbone?

What the kiss meant to her, if anything, he hadn’t a clue. And on his own part, had that been Old Bryce sneaking out for a taste of a pretty woman? Or New Bryce, opening blinded eyes to a lady God wanted him to see in a different light?

If nothing else, he owed her an apology for his rampant misconceptions. His interference in her and Keith’s courtship. Their marriage. Planting doubts. Pointing out her shortcomings. Determined not to allow his buddy to succumb to yet another controlling female.

Thunder shook the ground, sounding as if it meant business, and he renewed his efforts to locate the hay hooks. If he didn’t get that load transferred before the storm broke, he’d be stuck here until it passed on by. Horses had to eat.

Ah. There they were. He snagged a pair of handled, foot-long curved-steel tools from the top shelf just as, without further prelude, the sky let loose, rain hammering the steel expanse over his head with a deafening roar.

Well, that sealed the deal.

He tossed the hooks and gloves to a nearby workbench and looked around for something with which to occupy himself.

“Kara!”

Over the pounding rain he heard the shriek. Quickly he stepped into the hay-filled main part of the building to investigate—just as a sopping-wet someone shot through the outside door and plowed into him. He staggered, instinctively reaching out to steady the form while managing not to fall over a bucket on the floor behind him.

Sandi.

Her startled eyes met his, her sodden wetness soaking his shirtfront where she pressed against him. She pulled away, her face contorted with disgust.

At the cold, drenching rain, he hoped—not at him.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her dripping hair as her expression transformed to one of apology. “I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going. And now look at the mess I’ve made of you.”

She brushed at the dark, spreading spots on his shirt, but he caught her hand. Eased it away.

“No problem. I’ve been wet before.”

She slipped her hand from his, then stepped well away from him. Shook herself like some cute little hound dog, sending water droplets flying. Her gaze met his as he took in her eye-catching performance, and she laughed. Fluffed her hair.

“I must look like something a cat would drag in.”

“Don’t have a cat.” He winked. “May have to get one.”

Her face flushed as she concentrated on pulling her sweatshirt’s wet fabric away from her skin. She finally unzipped and peeled out of it, revealing a still-dry camp shirt.

He took the fleece-lined jacket from her and spread it on the rung of a ladder which leaned against the wall.

“Where’s Kara?” She rubbed her hands together, glancing around the interior of the metal-sided building. “Mike said he thought she’d come down here for a load of hay.”

“She was late for a meeting. I said I’d take care of it.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence yawned between them.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he ventured. “You off work this afternoon?”

“Yeah. Gina’s at her grandma’s, so I’m catching up on errands.” She darted a look at him. “Got a letter from an attorney in Utah. An anonymous benefactor—a fan of the museum—wants to make regular substantial donations. Perfect timing to help with the rent.”

“That’s great.”

“I suspect it’s one of the Salt Lake ladies I met Memorial Day. They loved Canyon Springs and our museum, so I’ve asked the attorney to confirm that any donations are approved for a future location as well as the current one. We’re looking at alternate properties.”

“So everything’s smoothed out with the historical society?” That would mean a load off his shoulders.

“For the time being. I learned that as soon as I was out the door that day, several of the members lined out Sharlene. Which took guts considering her family’s standing in the community. Anyway, they begged me not to resign, so I’m back in—unless election day changes that.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, even though Old Bryce might
have enjoyed tossing Sharlene and her cohorts out on their fannies come the last day of July.

Lightning crackled, followed by an earthshaking rumble. Sandi turned to the open door. “Quite the storm.”

“Sure is.” He moved to her side, careful not to stand too close. She seemed ready to bolt if it weren’t for the rain coming down in solid, windblown sheets.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” She gave him a quick, questioning glance.

“Sure does.”

“I had no idea there were seasonal monsoons in Arizona until I moved here. This part of the country wasn’t anything like I thought it would be. I always pictured Arizona more like the Sahara, only with saguaro cactus.”

They stood for some moments, watching the rain. Listening to it echo on the roof. He scuffed a booted toe on the concrete floor and took a steadying breath. Well, guess there was no time like the present to say what he needed to say. No telling when he’d find another opportunity to get her alone.