High-Stakes Passion (7 page)

Of course, that had never stopped Mark's mom. She'd paraded so many men through their house, it's a wonder he'd ever gotten any sleep.

A vivid memory flashed through him. It was winter and he was small, around five. He remembered her stubbing out her cigarette and leaving him alone in the back seat of the car.

He'd asked her where she was going, and she'd told him to shut up and stay there. He was cold and scared, but he'd known better than to complain. They were supposed to be at the grocery store, but he'd seen his mama kissing a man as she went inside the small house.

What the hell? He was shaking like a rookie on his first bull. Mark wiped the sweat off his upper lip with his sleeve. Audrey had better not be sneaking around with Pete. If she were, it'd kill him. He didn't want to think about why. But a small voice said it was because he had started to trust her.

The hell he had! He'd never trust any woman.

Good thing the scrawny kid was leaving tomorrow. He'd have a little talk with the punk and make sure he left tonight. And if he knew what was good for him, he'd never come back.

And tomorrow morning, Mark would put the rest of his plan into action.

M
ark got up early Sunday morning and cornered John and Dalt in the stables, feeding the horses. “Hey, John. Thought maybe we'd have a picnic today.”

John's mouth hung open as he dropped the scoop of oats and stared at Mark.

Mark scowled. “What?”

“You're catching flies, John,” Dalt said.

John closed his mouth. “You wanna go on a picnic?”

“Roundup's over.” Mark shrugged. “Thought we'd take a break. Could you invite Helen? I'll bring the food.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Thanks.” Mark slapped him on the back and headed toward the house.

 

“Good morning, Audrey.”

Audrey stumbled, and grabbed the banister to stop a potentially dangerous fall down the stairs.

Mark raced up the stairs to catch her. “Be careful!” he snapped as he slid his arm around her waist, holding her snugly against him.

For the past two weeks she'd made her way downstairs at this ungodly hour without one misstep. Even the shock of being addressed by Mark at this time of the morning didn't account for her clumsiness. It was the sexy, seductive tone oozing from those little words. He may have said, “Good morning,” but to Audrey it had sounded more like, “I want you.”

No, she must be imagining things. She was still half asleep, hearing what she wanted to hear, the words she heard in her dreams.

Turning to look at him was a mistake. He'd lowered his head close to hers, and their mouths were only inches apart. He'd already shaved, and his musky cologne filled her nostrils, sending waves of heat through her body to pool between her thighs. How was she supposed to be careful when his hand on her waist made her incapable of logical thought?

“Thank you,” she whispered when they reached the bottom.

Mark's gaze lingered on her lips. She wanted to lean close and press them to his.

“We're goin' on a picnic. Be ready to leave by noon,” he said in a raspy voice.

Audrey's heart filled with dread. She should leave now, call Mr. Burke and straighten things out.

She could turn in her story, get her promotion and get
on with her life. Mark couldn't possibly be interested in someone like her. He probably knew who she was, and was playing some cruel game. If she stayed she'd only get hurt. “I can't. Y'all go on.”

“Of course you can. It's all been arranged.”

He looked so earnest, a hint of something in his eyes. Imploring? Well, why not?

You know why not, Audrey. The longer you stay, the greater the chance he'll discover why you came here.
And the harder it will be to leave, her heart whispered.

But the thought tempted her. One more day. One day to pretend. She'd treasure this last day with him. As long as she remembered it was only make-believe.

She exhaled loudly. “All right.”

 

At exactly twelve o'clock, John and Helen rode up to the back porch. Mark rode behind them on Lone Star, leading a dappled gray mare. Wearing the usual jeans and boots, his black cowboy hat pulled low over his forehead, Mark made a commanding and compelling figure.

“Oh, she's beautiful.” Audrey approached the gray, crooning soothing words. She held her hand out slowly, and then stroked the mare's nose. “Isn't anybody else coming?” she asked Helen.

“Most of them left this morning. Jim took Ruth into Tyler, and I don't know where Dalt went. Guess it's just us,” Helen answered with a wink.

Audrey took the reins to lead the mare to the mounting block by the corral, but Mark came up behind her and leaned close, extending his arm to rub the mare's neck.

His chest brushed against Audrey's shoulder as he whispered in her ear. “Her name's Starlight. She's gentle as a lamb.” Grabbing Audrey around the waist, he lifted her up to the saddle. “Swing your right leg over.”

“Oh, you don't have to do that!” Audrey protested. She struggled to be let down, but she might as well have been fighting a machine.

“Damn it, swing your leg over!”

After she'd complied and settled into the saddle, she looked down.

Mark glared at her, his hands on his hips. “What the hell was that about?”

“I'm, um, I've always been… I'm too heavy.”

“Too heavy for a cripple like me, you mean.”

How could he even think that? “No! I mean too heavy for anyone!” She looked away. “I'm fat, okay? I just didn't want you to strain your back.”

Mark stepped back. “Darlin', don't you know you're just perfect?”

He sounded so sincere. Did he honestly not see how big her butt and thighs looked in her jeans?

She shouldn't have come today. Her heart ached just being near Mark. This was her last day with him, and now she'd insulted him.

“We're burnin' daylight, folks,” John broke in.

Mark shot her a glance before mounting Lone Star, and they set out across the west field.

The warm sun combined with the cool breeze to produce perfect weather. Mark was right about Starlight. The mare responded beautifully and had a smooth gait. Audrey had always loved horses. Her father had made sure all his girls could ride.

Mark cantered up next to Audrey. “I'm gonna have to buy you some boots, woman.” He grimaced at her sneakers.

“Mark, I told you—I'm not staying. Thank you for the offer, but I—”

“If you think,” he began, his voice lowered, his tone threatening but promising, too, “I'll let you go now, you'd better think again, darlin'.”

She had to stop herself from calling to Helen and John, who had ridden ahead.

She desperately searched for something, anything, to divert the conversation. “So, you've probably traveled everywhere on the rodeo circuit. What's your favorite place to visit? I've always wanted to see the Rocky Mountains.”

He held her gaze captive, controlling his stallion with the ease of an expert. He was quiet for so long she didn't think he would answer. Finally, he shrugged and looked thoughtful as he said, “Yeah, the Rockies are beautiful, especially in Canada. But I guess my favorite place is the Grand Canyon. You just can't imagine how big it is until you're standing on the edge and looking out. You feel so insignificant. Like you're only a drop of rain in the whole big ocean, you know? And what you do on this earth doesn't really matter.”

She had a hard time concealing her astonishment. She'd expected a sightseeing conversation, not philosophy. Intrigued, she asked, “Do you really think what you do doesn't matter?”

He shot her a brief, panic-stricken look, and sidestepped the question with one of his own. “What about you? Have you always lived in Dallas?”

She blinked and paused before answering. She could take a hint. There'd be no soul sharing today—or any day.

“I grew up in Fort Worth. My dad owns a horse farm. Mom used to take us downtown for lunch, and we'd play at the Water Gardens. You've been there before, haven't you?”

“No.”

Again, she was shocked. He'd grown up in Fort Worth and never been to the Water Gardens? She longed to ask him about his childhood, but she knew he'd avoid any personal questions.

So she told him all about her family: her mother dying of breast cancer at thirty-nine, leaving Audrey at fourteen to help care for her two younger sisters, Claire and Miranda; her brother-in-law's illness; and her nephew, Devon, who was three. And finally she talked of her daddy, the champion bronc rider.

“My God! You're Glenn Tyson's daughter?”

He was frowning. Why should that bother him? “Do you know him?”

Mark nodded, then looked away, silent.

They finally came to the creek, and Audrey gazed in awe at what had to be one of the most beautiful sights in the world. The vast meadow in front of them was covered with a dense blanket of bluebonnets. The color reminded her of the deep sapphire blue of Mark's eyes. Audrey sat reverently, stunned and speechless at the splendor before her.

John broke the spell. “Well, I don't know about y'all, but my stomach thinks my throat's been cut!”

Helen chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Leave it to John to think of food at a time like this.”

John helped Helen dismount, and with a face of stone, Mark helped Audrey. The men took care of the horses while Audrey helped Helen unpack the food and spread the blankets under an old, gnarled oak tree close to the creek.

Audrey tried to ignore Mark as he lowered himself to the ground with a grimace. He and John discussed the beef market while Helen told Audrey about her son and grandkids, who lived in California.

After the meal, John stood, held his hand out to Helen and asked, “Helen, my love, would you care to take a stroll with me along the banks?”

In an exaggerated southern accent, Helen replied, “Why suh. Ah thought you'd nevah ask!” John pulled her to her feet and they walked hand in hand toward the creek.

Mark cursed silently and vowed to kill John for leaving him alone with Audrey. Earlier, he'd have given John a raise for thinking of such a ploy, but he'd just discovered that she wasn't just Audrey, she was Glenn Tyson's daughter.

The afternoon had been torturous bliss. Spending time with Audrey, watching the sunlight play in her hair as the breeze blew wisps of it across her cheek. The way her face lit up when she smiled at him, and hearing her infectious laughter when she described her nephew's antics. He'd admired the love and concern in her voice when she talked of her family, especially her brother-in-law.

Every time he glanced at her shapely legs spread around the horse, he pictured them wrapped around his hips as he plunged into her. But how could he seduce his hero's daughter?

He decided to stand up to put some distance between him and temptation. But getting to his feet was easier said than done. Aware of how awkward he would look trying to stand, he put plan B into action. He lay down, pulled his hat over his eyes, and stuck his hands behind his head.

Irritated at Mark's rudeness, Audrey barely resisted the urge to dump a glass of iced tea on his chest. Of course, if his cotton shirt was wet, it would only make it harder to resist staring at all those hard planes and slopes. He'd rolled up his sleeves, and his biceps bulged as he stretched his arms above his head. She lost her fight with temptation as her gaze traveled down to his concave stom
ach, and even farther to the other bulge beneath his zippered jeans.

Mercy!
It sure was hot for April. Audrey had to pull her blouse away at the neckline and use it to fan her heated face.

She must've sighed out loud. Mark removed his hat and trained his blue eyes on her. She expected a comment, but he only looked at her in stony silence.

It was times like these she wished she was more witty. But he had the power to render her speechless.

He rose up on one elbow to face her. “You ever been to the Grand Canyon?” he asked.

This time, she didn't bother to hide her surprise. She'd thought they'd spend the rest of the afternoon in silence. “No. But I'd love to see it someday. I guess it would probably make me feel insignificant, too.”

“Not you.” His gaze bored into her.

“Why do you say that? I'm nobody. You've done so much with your life. Think of all the children you've helped with your Stay in School campaign, and all the happy memories you gave to kids who wouldn't normally get to go to the rodeo and meet a celebrity like you.” The words gushed from her mouth before she could stop them.

His lip curled in a sneer. “I'm no hero. I needed the tax deductions.”

“I don't believe that. I used to dre—”

When she didn't continue, he glanced up sharply and prodded, “You used to dream what?”

She couldn't believe she'd almost told him about her youthful crush. Since she couldn't make herself magically disappear, she decided her best bet was to make something up. “I used to dream of, um, flying on an airplane to anywhere. Tell me more about traveling.”

He stared at her a moment. She could tell he debated
whether to believe her or not. Finally, he looked past her into the distance, as if he were seeing a different vista.

He talked of Calgary and Vegas, Tucson and Tulsa. He described the mountains and the deep banks of snow in Canada, the endangered tundra of Alaska and the tall redwoods of California. He lay back as he spoke, waving his arms and using his hands to depict certain images.

Lost in his beautiful portrayal of the places she'd always wanted to see, Audrey lay down, too. Getting comfortable, she rolled over to lie on her side, bending one elbow to hold her head in her hand. Her other hand sifted through the new spring grass and dry pine needles past the blanket's edge.

As his voice died away, she became conscious of how close they were. She lay beside him, only a few inches separating their upper bodies. Their gazes locked and held. His breathing grew heavy. His eyes darkened. He looked like a starving man peering through the window at a feast.

Without thinking, she brought her hand to his cheek and caressed the rough texture with her fingertips.

Mark closed his eyes and turned his face into her hand.

Encouraged to risk more, she smoothed his brow and raked her fingers through the hair at his temple.

He let out a low groan and turned to face her again. Opening his eyes, he whispered, “Audrey.”

Tentatively, he reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand dropped to her shoulder and pulled her to him. Gripping the back of her head, he brought her lips to his. A brief touch, a gentle pressure, then he pulled her closer for a deeper joining. When she didn't resist, he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her chest to his.

While he plundered her mouth, he ran his hands down her back to her bottom, to squeeze and caress. She moaned, and combed her fingers through his hair, releasing the pas
sion she'd saved all these years for him. Her other hand slid down to find his racing heartbeat.