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A few weeks later, his father had died. Alone. A heart attack that Cole could easily blame on himself. His pride had meant nothing then. He’d come home to try to inch his way back into being a man his dad could’ve been proud of. Cole owed him that, at least.
He shook his head.
Madeline made a soothing noise and slid her hand back to his cock. “You didn’t love me, you know.”
He let her hand stay where it was this time, because he wanted her to feel that her touch wasn’t working anymore. But he should have known better. She just stroked him and pressed her breasts against his back.
“You didn’t love me,” she repeated. “You loved the excitement. The newness. The adventure and the sex. You didn’t know me well enough to love me. So whatever you tell yourself about what happened, know this—when you whispered that to me, it wasn’t true, and that’s what I had to live with. That’s what I’ve always had to live with, whether it was you or someone else. People want things from me, Cole. Even when I was a little girl, my friends knew who my father was. And their parents knew.”
She stroked him the whole time she spoke, and when he finally swelled against her hand, she hummed approvingly.
“People want things from me. Sex, excitement, money, power, fame, glamour. And you weren’t different from anyone else. But you were sweet, at least. I’ve never forgotten that.”
He finally admitted to himself that he couldn’t steel his body against her touch, and he moved her hand away again in defense. “I wasn’t using you,” he said, but her words had changed his certainty.
“You were,” she said softly. “But I liked you. And I have to admit, I half hoped you’d turn down my offer to come to L.A. that time. I kind of wanted you to say no. To tell me it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t what you wanted from me. But you did come. And it was fun. But it wasn’t love.”
Cole wasn’t ready to concede anything yet. He’d been damn sure he loved her, but when she put it like that… What exactly had he known about the woman? “If it didn’t mean much, what is it you want from me? Just sex?”
“Well, the sex was good, make no mistake. But it’s not just that. I know you. Money can buy a lot of things. It can buy sex. But it can’t make it good. And it can’t make it sweet. You were sweet, Cole. I want that again for a few weeks. That’s all.”
“I’m not sweet anymore, Madeline.”
“Yes, you are. Look how you came out to rescue me, a woman you have every reason to hate. You’re sweet.” She kissed his shoulder. “And strong.” Then his neck. “And big.”
This time when she cupped him, Cole closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. Sex with Madeline again. He could do it. But did he want to? After what he’d had with Grace… Hell, brief as it had been, that affair had rocked his idea of what intensity was.
With Madeline, it wouldn’t be the best sex he’d ever had, but sex was sex, and it couldn’t all be the best. He knew it wouldn’t be bad with Madeline, it would be fine. But afterward—there was the problem. Afterward, could he live with himself?
It wasn’t as if he’d be betraying anyone. But Grace immediately invaded his brain. Her face, her dark eyes, her body melting into him. Except there’d be no more melting in Vancouver. Not with him, anyway.
And there was the real truth. The reason he hadn’t said no out of hand. Because Grace was going to leave him behind. In a few weeks, she was going to walk away while he watched. But her memory would stay here. At the ranch. In his bed. In the saloon. She’d leave, but she wouldn’t take her ghost with her. She’d leave that behind, tucked up against Cole like a shadow.
But in L.A., he could forget her. Just for a while. Long enough to ease this need for her, maybe.
Madeli
ne’s hand slid up to his belly and she kissed the back of his neck again. “Think about it,” she murmured.
That was the terrible part: he already was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HE WAS HAVING AN AFFAIR with Madeline Beckingham.
Grace watched as Madeline slid off the horse and immediately turned back to smile up at Cole. Her hand went to his knee, then a little higher. She touched him as though she’d touched him before. As if touching was the least of what they’d done.
Grace couldn’t see Cole’s expression beneath the hat, but he didn’t edge the horse away or move the woman’s hand. In fact, he nodded at whatever she said, and Madeline laughed.
Something shifted inside Grace’s chest, something swelled and twisted and burned a hole inside her. She’d thought the sex between her and Cole had been honest. Not meaningful, maybe. Not tender. But honest. She’d understood it, and she’d trusted it.
But no.
No. Of course not. Of course it hadn’t been any more honest than the rest of this fucked-up world. He’d been sleeping with Madeline, too. Probably holding her like some cherished china doll while he did her.
Grace felt herself sneering in his direction and made her mouth relax. She didn’t care. She didn’t care enough to show him anything.
It’d just been sex. She’d told him that over and over again. Just sex. He hadn’t owed her anything. He certainly didn’t owe her anything now.
