A Town Called Valentine(9)

He set down the suitcase and turned to leave.

“Nate!” She caught his arm, and he stopped, looking down at her. Her mouth seemed to dry up every time those green eyes captured her, and such weakness made her furious. She’d conquer it if it were the last thing she did. “Thank you, but your grandmother—”

“I’ll leave her a note. She’ll be tickled pink.”

She almost smiled. “ ‘Tickled pink’?”

“Her words, not mine. We’re only about a mile from Main Street, so you’ll be able to come and go until your car is fixed.”

When he turned away, she called to him once again. “Nate, please!”

He stopped, but only glanced over his shoulder.

“You don’t know me,” she said tensely. “Why are you doing this?”

“For the sex, of course.”

Her mouth fell open.

He sighed and shook his head, looking amused for the first time in several hours. “You’re gullible. Hard to believe you’re the one from the big city.”

“Be serious,” she said harshly.

His smile faded. “If my sister found herself in this predicament, I’d want someone to help her. Now go to sleep. You look exhausted.”

And, like a stupid teenager, she put a hand to her hair in distress, but he was already gone.

After preparing for bed, she lay a long time staring into the darkness. She didn’t want to remember the evening, but every time her eyes drifted closed, she saw the intensity in Nate’s face, the hungry way he’d looked at her, like she was the only one who would satisfy him. She could still remember his hand cupping her breast and the pleasurable ache he’d roused in her.

Even though she was ashamed by her drunken behavior, part of her was relieved. At least her ability to feel passion hadn’t died with her marriage.





Chapter Three



Nate loved the privacy of the log cabin he’d renovated on the edge of the Silver Creek Ranch, which had been owned by his family for generations. He’d torn down walls, creating a large open living space with a bedroom at the back, and a loft above for his office. Though he spent most of each day at the ranch, his free evenings were in his own private sanctuary, where he seldom invited women.

But the cabin had one drawback: it was within a half mile of the boardinghouse, and tonight that was too close. He was already imagining Emily getting ready for bed, and wondered what she wore, or if she wore anything at all . . .

Stop it, he told himself.

Scout took up his customary perch on the back of a couch up against the window, where he could look out over his domain. Nate smiled and ruffled between the dog’s ears, making Scout pant and look up at him with adoration. A dog only wanted affection, and that was so easy to return.

With a sigh, Nate turned away. He should get to bed, for the next day would be another long one. He was getting less and less sleep each night. Preparations for the Silver Creek Rodeo, run by his family, were heating up, and there were always the day’s chores at a cattle ranch. Instead, he paced, remembering Emily, and the way she’d insisted on going to her building instead of a motel. She really would have stayed in that unheated mess if he hadn’t insisted she leave. And all of that told him she was desperate, with little money and nowhere else to go. When he felt his sympathy being churned up again, he should have run the other way.

Instead, he’d put her with his grandmother and her friends, the town busybodies. They knew everything and everyone. Certainly, they could inform Emily all about her mother’s family. But they could also discuss Nate. And he didn’t want to be a topic of conversation, especially not after the way he’d behaved tonight at Tony’s Tavern.

After undressing, he stepped into the shower to remove the tantalizing scent of Emily still on his clothes, on his skin. If only cold water could remove memories.

It was still dark when Emily awoke at the beep of her cell-phone alarm. She didn’t hit snooze but sat right up. For just a moment, she’d thought she was at home, but she didn’t have a home anymore. Greg had remained in their elegant apartment in San Francisco, close to his law firm in Nob Hill, and she’d found a temporary little sublet across the bay. She’d been so furious with him, so disappointed and heartbroken at his betrayal, she hadn’t wanted to be tied to him in any way, so she’d refused alimony—his guilt money.

Sometimes it seemed like every decision she made led to a mistake. She’d fallen in love with Greg, a law student, while she’d been in college, and when he graduated, she quit school to marry him. She’d never enjoyed school although she’d gotten good grades, and had only gone to college because it seemed the thing to do. After her crazy upbringing, all she’d ever wanted was to be a wife, to make a home, to have a family. She still had warm memories of her father, Jacob Strong, the scent of his aftershave when he hugged her, how special she felt when he exclaimed over every art project she brought home from school. She’d dreamed of re-creating those simple but heartfelt moments for her own family.