His Texas Wildflower (12 page)

Five minutes later, Jake steered the truck off the highway and passed beneath an arched entrance made of iron pipe. Sheet metal, cut in the shape of the ranch's brand, hung from the center of the arch and swung slightly in the dusty breeze.

They traveled at least a half a mile on down the red dirt road when a sprawling log house with a green tin roof appeared beyond a stand of aspen and willow trees. As they grew closer she could see the structure was surrounded with a wooden fence painted brown, while massive blue spruce trees shaded a long, ground level portico.

“How lovely!” she exclaimed, then when he failed to pull into the short drive, her head whipped around in surprise. “Aren't we going to stop? Or is this someone else's home?”

A wry grin slanted his lips. “It's mine. I thought I'd show you some of the other parts of the ranch while we still had daylight. You can always see the house later,” he reasoned. “Unless you need to make a restroom stop before we go on?”

“No. I'm fine,” she assured him. “I was just confused. For a moment I thought that perhaps other people lived on your property. Do they?”

“No. My hired hands live on their own places near Ruidoso and my nearest neighbor is about six miles
from here. The closest town, Capitan, is about twenty minutes away. “

“Do you go there often?” she asked.

“I go over there on occasions, to see a few friends. It's more of a village than a town. So if I need supplies for the ranch, I drive into Ruidoso.”

“I see,” she murmured, as he turned right, onto what appeared to be little more than a two-rutted track with short, stubby grass growing down the middle.

Straightening the steering wheel, Jake glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Did she actually see and understand just how isolated his home really was? he wondered. It was true that Rebecca's place wasn't exactly in the middle of a metropolis, but at least Ruidoso was a heck of a lot closer to her place than to his. And compared to Houston, even Ruidoso was a little tadpole of a city.

“There's not much out here except the wildlife and my cattle and horses,” he told her.

“Yes. But it's very beautiful. I wasn't expecting to see this many trees.” She gestured toward a band of trees lining the riverbanks. “I thought it was going to look like the desert area we passed through. And those mountains to our left! Does your property include part of them?”

“No. It runs right up to the foothills. Next to me on that side is protected national forestland. And on the right I butt up to Fort Stanton, which was turned into a museum several years ago. So I have a little strip of property running between federal lands. But the strip crosses the river. And best of all, it's mine,” he added.

She smiled at him and Jake found it damned hard to keep his eyes on the bumpy track. In that simple little
dress she looked every inch a woman and every inch of him wanted her.

“Where are the cows?” she asked, her gaze scanning the horizon.

“All over the place. But I'm sure we'll probably find some down by the river. The grazing is better there.”

Five minutes later, a few yards away from the river, Jake parked the truck in a flat, shady spot and helped Rebecca to the ground. Then with his hand wrapped firmly around hers, he led her through a tangle of waist-high sage and drooping willow limbs until they were standing at the water's edge.

“Oh, my! There's a little waterfall. How perfectly beautiful!” She turned a grateful smile on him. “And how sweet of you to show it to me.”

Sweet? Hell, he'd never been called sweet before. And though it should have made him feel like a sap, it somehow made him feel warm and wanted. Quint would definitely get a laugh out of that, he thought.

Hoping he didn't look as goofy as he felt, he grinned at her. “I thought you might like it. Want to get a closer look?”

“I'd love to.”

They walked several yards upstream to where a ledge of boulders had created a tiny dam. The crystal-clear water rushed over the rocky rim and fell at least ten feet before joining the rest of the river.

“Is the water always this clear and deep?” she asked as they stopped just short of the bank's edge.

“No. Later on in the summer, the level will drop considerably. It's always clear then. But in the spring, the snow runoff sometimes makes it muddy.”

She turned her head to look at him and as their eyes met he felt as though something had punched him in
the stomach. She was so fresh and pretty. Like a bright bird flying through a blue, blue sky. He wanted to touch her. Desperately.

“Do you fish for trout?” she asked.

“Once in a while. But I go to the lake to do that.”

“Is the lake far from here?”

He didn't know why he couldn't quit looking at her lips. Why he kept remembering the taste of her kiss. After all, she was just another woman, he tried to tell himself.

He said, “A few miles. Quint and I used to camp there together from time to time. But that was—before he got married.”

“Does that bother you? That Quint got married? You two probably spent lots of time together before he became a family man.”

“Yeah, we did,” he admitted. “But Maura and the babies make him happy. That's what counts.”

She sighed. “I don't have any married friends. Most of them are like me, I suppose. Too busy to have a family.”

Jake's gaze lingered on her face as he tried to read what was behind her pensive expression. “That's too bad. I'd bet you'd make a good wife and mother.”

Her short laugh was threaded with cynicism. “No one has ever told me that before.”

She gave him a faint smile and Jake was surprised at the sadness he saw in her eyes. “That's hard to believe. Surely there've been men in your life that have mentioned marriage to you before.”

Shaking her head, she looked away from him and across the river to where a herd of black cattle were idly grazing. “Not really. With me and men—well, things never get that far. It's hard to have a relationship when
I'm packing up every two or three weeks to travel to some far-off city.”

For some reason, Jake wanted to wrap his hands over her shoulders and pull her back against his chest. He wanted to press his lips against the curve of her neck and tell her that she was a woman meant for loving, not packing. But that would be insinuating that he wanted to keep her at his side, wanted her to consider him more important than her job. And he was in no position to do that now. Maybe he never would be.

Worry is all a man ever does when he loves a beautiful woman. First he frets about catching her. And then when he does get his hands on her, he worries himself silly wondering if he'll be able to keep her.

Jake had told Quint those very words more than once. And he'd meant them. Having a taste of a smart, beautiful woman like Rebecca could only cause problems. But with her standing so close that he could see the fine pores of her soft skin, smell her flowery scent and gaze upon the moist curves of her lips, he could only think she'd almost be worth the risk.

“Well, your job is important to you. Isn't it?”

From the corner of her eye, she darted a dubious glance at him. “More important than what, Jake? Right now my job is all I have.”

Why did he want to tell her that she—that the two of them—could have so much more if they were together? What was the matter with him, anyway? When it came to women he didn't think in terms of “together.” And he damned sure never let the word
forever
enter his mind.

Clearing away an uncomfortable knot in his throat, he said, “I see what you mean.”

She didn't reply and after a moment he reached for
her arm. “We're losing daylight,” he told her. “We'd better be on our way.”

For the next hour, he drove to random spots on the ranch where he'd made vast improvements in the fences and grazing land. Jake tried to keep the conversation light, yet something between them had changed while they were standing at the river. He didn't know exactly what or why, except that there was a strained sort of tension between them. As though both of them were trying hard to avoid making eye contact or say anything that could be construed as personal.

By the time they arrived back at the ranch yard and entered the huge barn, Jake was ready to give in and say to hell with being a gentleman and worrying about tomorrow.

“Did you have to do much repair work to the barn?” she asked as the two of them meandered slowly down the alleyway.

On the left side of the structure, ten tons of alfalfa hay were stacked to the rafters. On the right, horse stalls were standing empty. Jake stopped at one of the huge posts that supported the roof and gently thumped the heel of his palm against the creosoted wood.

“Shoring up the support and a new roof. I've spent more money on this barn than I have everything else put together.”

She was standing next to him now and in the dim lighting, the angles of her face were softened, the curve of her lips even more inviting. The aching tension deep inside him coiled even tighter.

“You don't have any horses in the stalls. Why is that?”

“When the weather is nice and I don't need to use
them the next day, I turn them out. They like being free—to do whatever they want,” he added lowly.

She slanted him a glance and he watched her lips suddenly begin to quiver. “And you do, too, don't you?” she asked softly.

Jake didn't bother trying to summon up any resistance. His hands reached for her so quickly they were a blur.

With her breasts crushed against his chest, he bent her head back over one arm. “Hell yes,” he muttered, his lips poised over hers. “And right now I'm damned tired of not doing what I want to do. And I want to do this more than I want to breathe.”

He heard her suck in a sharp little breath just as his lips were settling over hers and then his mind went blank as his arms tightened around her and he deepened the kiss.

She tasted just as good or better than Jake remembered and when her arms slipped around his neck and drew her body closer to his, he realized this was something she wanted as much as he. It was a heady notion, one that fueled his rampant hunger.

Long seconds ticked by as their mouths fed upon each other's, their hands began to roam and seek, clench and cling. Jake's senses began to slip to some foggy place he'd never been before where there were no sights or sounds, just warm, velvety heat.

If not for the fiery pain in his lungs, he would have kept kissing her forever. But the need for oxygen finally tore his lips from hers. Yet even then he couldn't quit touching her. Between ragged breaths, he kissed a trail down the side of her neck, then onto the fragile bones of her shoulder.

Her skin was like the petal of a flower. Satiny and
soft and so precious beneath his lips. And the more they explored and tasted, the more he wanted. At the back of his neck, he could feel her fingers digging into his flesh while at the same time her body was arching forward, pressing her breasts and the juncture of her thighs tightly against him. The silent invitation, one that he'd never dreamed he'd be getting from this woman, sent blood roaring to his head, making him almost forget where they were and why. She wanted to make love to him and there was no way he could disappoint her or himself.

“Jake,” she whispered hoarsely. “I want you. Really want you.”

Her words were enough to lift his head and as his heart continued to pound wildly, he looked into her eyes. Desire wrapped around his voice, strangling his question. “Are you sure?”

One hand lifted to trace the pads of her fingers across his cheek. The tender gesture was like nothing any woman had ever given him before and he felt an odd swelling in his chest, the urge to simply hold her and worship having her close.

“Very sure,” she answered in a breathy rush.

“Then not here,” he said brusquely and reached for her hand.

As he led her out of the barn and across the ranch yard toward the house, sundown arrived, sending slivers of pink across the lengthening shadows. The air was cool and quiet and he half expected the serenity of the evening to dash her ardor and make her think twice about becoming intimate with him.

But her fingers remained curled tightly around his and when they reached the porch and entered the house, she turned to him and smiled. And if Jake lived to be a
hundred, he knew he would never forget the tenderness, the utter longing on her face.

If she'd looked at him with lust, Jake would have understood and felt at ease with her and himself. But this was something different, something deeper and sweeter. The realization shook him right down to the heels of his boots and for one wild second he considered telling her that he couldn't go through with it.

Jake Rollins couldn't make love to a woman! What a hell of a note that would be!

“Jake,” she murmured softly. “Is something wrong?”

She stepped closer and as she placed her palm against his chest, his doubts slipped and the aching heat he'd been feeling in the barn returned twofold.

“Not one thing,” he said with a growl of pleasure, then swinging her up into his arms, he carried her to the bedroom.

W
hen Jake eased Rebecca onto a queen-size bed covered with a smooth blue spread, she wondered how things between them had escalated so quickly. One moment she'd been kissing him and the next she'd felt certain her whole body would go up in flames if he didn't make love to her.

Had she gone crazy? Or just now come to her senses?

He didn't give her the opportunity to answer those questions as he followed her down onto the mattress and gathered her into his arms. And when his mouth latched onto hers in a deep, mindless kiss, she realized the answers didn't matter. All that mattered was the moment and the pleasure of being close to him, of tasting his lips, feeling the hard band of his arms holding her tight against him.

Eventually, he ended the contact of their lips and nuzzled his cheek against hers. “Oh, Rebecca,” he
whispered rawly, “I never thought I'd have you here. Like this.”

The wonder in his voice surprised her. Didn't he know his own sex appeal? Didn't he realize from the first time she'd met him, she'd thought of this very moment, of how it would be to make love to him?

“I never truly thought I'd be here like this. With you,” she replied.

His shoulders were broad and the muscles surrounding them corded and hard. She ran her fingers along the strong slopes then down his arms until she reached the bulge of his biceps. There her fingers curled inward, until she was hanging on tightly.

He eased his head back just far enough to look at her. “Why?” he asked with a hint of wry acceptance. “Because you never dreamed you'd lie in a cowboy's bed?”

She smiled as her eyes dreamily scanned his dark features. “You say that like there's something wrong with cowboys.”

“Only some of us.”

“Meaning you have faults?”

He grunted with cynical amusement. “Faults? Look, Rebecca, I can't pretend. I like women.”

She sighed with the sheer contentment of having his body next to hers. “That's good. Otherwise, you might not have ever looked at me.”

He rolled his eyes. “That's only a part of my flaws, pretty lady. I like beer. And loafing. And I don't like being serious. And—”

“You talk way too much,” she interrupted.

Bringing one hand to the back of his neck, she drew his mouth down to hers and that was all it took to end
his litany. After that, she went to work showing him just how much she wanted to be in his arms and his bed.

Almost immediately the contact of their lips turned desperate and rough as they both tried to give and take more and more. As their tongues mated, Rebecca's hands wedged between them and began to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. By the time she'd reached the last one, her lungs were on fire, forcing her to drag her lips from his and draw in long, ragged breaths.

As she resupplied her oxygen, she shoved the fronts of his shirt aside and planted whisper-light kisses across his collarbone, down the middle of his chest and on to his flat stomach. His skin was hot and its masculine scent sparked the heat that was simmering low in her belly. Above her head, she could hear his breathing turn to quick, sharp intakes. Beneath the search of her hands, she could feel his heartbeat and the rapid rhythm matched the pounding in her own ears.

Ever since he'd first kissed her that night on the porch, she'd wanted him. Yet she'd not understood just how deep that wanting was until this moment. It was more than having the unbridled privilege to touch and taste him. It was being connected to him in any and every way.

When her tongue traced a wet circle around his navel, he gasped and thrust his hands in her hair and lifted her face up and away from him.

“Come here,” he whispered.

She brought her face back to his and this time as their lips met his fingers left her hair to splay across her cheeks, his thumbs anchored beneath her jawline. He kissed her until she was moaning with need and then he went to work lowering the zipper at the back of her
dress and pulling the fabric over her shoulders until it fell to a bunched heap around her waist.

Drunk with desire, her head fell limply back as she savored the sensation of his open mouth sliding slowly, deliciously down the front of her throat, then lower to where pink lace barely covered the tips of her breasts. With his tongue, he laved the open valley between them, then moved on to a peak, where he bit gently through the fabric and around one hard nipple.

Crying out, Rebecca arched toward the pleasure and tangled her legs through his. By now her breaths were coming in rapid pants and she almost screamed with relief when he finally lifted his head and began to remove the remainder of her clothing.

Once he'd tossed the garments out of the way, he quickly shrugged out of his shirt and kicked off his boots. Her gaze followed his every movement until he reached to unbutton his jeans and then their gazes met. And clung.

She could see a last-minute question in his eyes, as though he felt it was only right to give her one last chance to change her mind about this and him. The idea that he was thinking solely of her wants filled her heart with a wave of warm emotions.

Her lips parted to speak, to assure him she had no doubts or desire to end the path they were racing down. But her throat was too tight to utter a word. All she could do to convey her feelings was rise from the bed and wrap her arms around him.

As she buried her face against his chest, she heard him groan. But whether it was a sound of delight or reluctant surrender, she didn't know. Nor did it matter. At this moment he was hers and only hers.

His arms came around her and they stood like that
until the heat between them became unbearable and the need to be connected on a deeper level took over their actions. Jake removed his jeans in hurried jerks and pressed Rebecca back onto the bed.

When he left her long enough to fish a packet from the nightstand and start to tear it open, she finally found her voice. “You don't need that, Jake,” she said softly. “I'm protected with oral birth control. Unless—there's something else we should be extrasafe about?”

Extrasafe? With her? He would make love to her even if there was the possibility of a pregnancy hanging over his head. That was how much he wanted her. Needed her. And he'd never taken that chance with another woman. Even as a randy teenager he'd always had the forethought to wear his own protection. Thankfully, she didn't realize how reckless she made him, he thought. Thankfully she hadn't figured out that the mere thought of making love to her was making him tremble in places where he wasn't supposed to be feeling anything.

He tossed the unopened condom back onto the nightstand and joined her on the bed. Then dragging her naked body close to his, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. The scent of wildflowers and woman met his nostrils and swirled around in his head like the drunken whirl of a carnival ride.

He gripped her waist to steady his senses. “Nothing about this—about you and me—is safe. But I can't help myself. I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you.”

“And I want you,” she whispered. “That's all that matters.”

The urgency in her voice was his undoing. He'd passed the point of taking things slowly, of being a
gentleman even with her naked and in his arms. Passion had taken over and now all he could do was love her.

Rolling her onto her back, he parted her legs, then entered her with one smooth thrust. The sensation of being inside her was so potent, so new, it snapped his head back and snatched the air from his lungs.

Struggling to hang on to his control, he sucked in several deep breaths and began to move against her. She was soft. Oh, so soft. And the moist heat of her was searing his body, his mind. He'd never wanted a woman like this before. Desire was blinding him, threatening to send him flying into the dark sky.

Beneath him, he could hear her soft whimpers, feel her long, smooth legs wrapping around his, her hands racing over his chest and belly. Sensations were rushing at him at such an incredible speed he couldn't take them in fast enough. And though he wanted to slow everything down, to make the pleasure last forever, the frantic ache inside him made it impossible.

And then suddenly she was crying out his name, her whole body arching desperately toward his and all he wanted to do was give to her. Anything and everything she wanted. Bending his head, he latched his lips over hers and the link of their mouths was the last sweet nudge that pushed them both to a high-flying cloud. Clutching her tightly, he thrust deeply, mindlessly into her.

“Becca. Becca.”

Her name slipped from his throat just as he felt himself pouring into her and his body shuddered uncontrollably as he rode out wave after wave of incredible ecstasy.

By the time his body slumped to a depleted sprawl over hers, his heart was hammering out of control and
sweat had slicked his skin. The roar in his ears made it impossible to hear his own labored breathing, much less hers.

He wasn't certain how long it took him to come back to earth, but eventually he became aware of her shifting beneath him and though she felt soft and warm and totally luscious, he forced himself to roll to one side to give her breathing space.

When he finally turned his head in her direction, he saw that her eyes were closed, her blond hair tousled in wild disarray around her head. The quick rise and fall of her breasts told him her breathing hadn't yet returned to normal. But then nothing about him had returned to normal, either. He wasn't sure if it ever would.

Leaning toward her, he reached out and gently lifted a heavy tendril of hair from her cheek. The movement caused her eyes to flutter open and when she saw him looking down at her, the corners of her lips slowly lifted in a weak smile.

“Jake.”

The murmur of his name was all she said, but that one word was more than enough to thicken his throat with emotions he didn't quite understand, or even wished to acknowledge.

Giggles. Dirty pillow talk. Silly platitudes. Down through the years he'd heard plenty of responses from women after a round of sex with him. None of it had meant anything more than empty noises to fill an awkward moment. But that had been sex. This thing that had just happened with Rebecca was something else, something that had, quite honestly, blindsided him.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers, while wondering how such small, fragile things could have such a potent effect on his body.

“Do you have any idea of how beautiful you are to me?”

For a moment he thought he saw a glaze of moisture fill her eyes. But the room had grown dusky dark and he couldn't be sure. Or maybe he didn't want to believe anything he did or said could touch her that much. It wasn't as though he was trying to ingrain himself in her heart. Oh, no. He didn't want her to love him. Like him, yes. But not love. She needed to save that for a worthy man. Yet to imagine her lying with another man, giving him the most intimate part of her was so repulsive to Jake that his mind refused to form the image.

Sighing, she shifted to her side so that she was facing him head-on. “I've never thought about it,” she replied. “But I'm nothing special to look at. Especially like this.”

“
Especially
like this, you are.”

She closed her eyes and he leaned forward and placed his lips upon her forehead. It was damp and salty and her hair tickled his nose. With one hand, he pushed the long strands away from her face and onto the blue pillowcase. Her eyes fluttered open and this time they were dark and hesitant.

“Jake, I—”

She didn't go on and though he was almost afraid to hear the thoughts she had yet to put into words, he knew he had to hear them. Otherwise, he would always wonder.

“Go on, Rebecca,” he said softly. “I'm listening.”

A smile slanted her lips. “A few minutes ago you called me Becca. Did you know that?”

Barely, Jake thought. He'd been drunk on her and the shortened name had just slipped out, like a breath he could no longer hold on to.

“Yes. I remember. That's how I think of you,” he admitted.

The smile fell from her face and her palm came to rest alongside his cheek. “Before I was only going to say that I'm so glad that I'm here with you. So glad that I came to New Mexico.”

Suddenly there was an ache in his chest, as though two hands were reaching in and wringing his heart.

Closing his eyes against the unexpected pain, he murmured, “I'm glad you're here, too.”

 

Two days later, Rebecca decided she could no longer put off going through Gertrude's correspondence. The task was slow and meticulous and with the phone ringing several times this afternoon her progress had been reduced to a snail's pace.

A few times throughout the day she'd been tempted to ignore the intrusive ring and let whoever was calling leave a message on her voice mail. But each time she'd snatched up the phone, hoping she would see Jake's number illuminated on the face of the instrument.

Instead the callers had been friends and coworkers from Houston and so far Rebecca had forced herself to talk with each of them. But she'd not given them any concrete reasons or hinted at a date when she might be returning to Texas. She didn't want to explain to any of them that she was presently living from day to day as she tried to come to terms, not only with Gertrude and her death, but also her newfound relationship with Jake.

Lincoln County was beginning to feel like home to her. And now that she and Jake had become intimate, she didn't want to think about leaving. If anything real and solid could develop between them, she wanted to
give it a chance and the time to grow. Maybe that was foolish of her. After all, he'd told her that he was not the sort of man who wanted to get serious about her or any woman. And he'd not said a word to her to imply otherwise.

But he'd touched you like he loved you. He'd kissed you as though you were precious to him. More precious than anything.