AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He sighed. “If you only knew,” he muttered, picking at a dry blade of grass and watching it float on the breeze. “Nothing’s the same, Tessa. Nothing will ever be.” He sat up then, dusting his knees. “We both better face it.”
But she wasn’t through. She had to settle things with him. Reaching forward, she caught the front of his shirt, crushing the fabric in her fingers. “I’ll never be afraid of you. You could have stripped off all my clothes and forced yourself on me, and I wouldn’t have been scared.”
His head snapped around quickly, his eyes filled with self-loathing. “Don’t you know what just happened, Tess? Couldn’t you feel it?” Trembling, he held up his hand, his finger and thumb close together. “I was this far from raping you.”
“No!” She shook her head violently. “You would never force me.”
His jaw set in revulsion, he muttered, “I guess we’ll never know, will we?” Rolling to his feet, he reached for the reins dangling from his horse’s bridle, then climbed into the saddle.
Digging his heels mercilessly into the gelding’s sides, he leaned forward. The gray leaped away, leaving a plume of dust that sparkled in the moonlight as horse and rider disappeared.
Tessa wrapped her arms around her knees and refused to cry. What had happened to her? Why couldn’t she tell Denver the truth about her relationship with John, that she’d only been his nurse after his heart condition had been diagnosed?
“Because he wouldn’t believe you anyway,” she whispered, kicking disgustedly at a clod of dirt with the toe of her boot. Denver didn’t trust her. He wanted to believe the worst of her, and her pride had held her tongue.
She could argue her virtue until she was blue in the face and Denver wouldn’t listen. “Think what you want,” she muttered, as if he could still hear her. She grabbed the reins and swung onto Brigadier’s broad back. “Go right ahead!”
By the time she’d ridden back to the ranch and cooled Brigadier, Denver was gone. His rental car wasn’t parked near the garage and the house was empty. She should have been relieved, but she wasn’t. There were still a few things she’d like to set straight with him, one of which was that she intended to buy the ranch. She’d already started the wheels in motion. She had an appointment with the loan officer at the bank the following morning, and she planned to stop by the Edwards ranch. Nate Edwards, the owner, had always been interested in Brigadier, and he’d once told her to contact him first if she ever wanted to sell the stallion. Tomorrow, she thought sadly as she climbed the stairs to the second floor, she’d take Nate up on his offer.
Once in her bedroom, she stripped out of her clothes and tossed her blouse and jeans into a hamper near the bureau. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, her lean, strong limbs, slender hips and waist, small, high breasts. Her hair was a wild cloud of untamed strawberry-blond curls that fell past her shoulders.
How did she compare to the women Denver usually saw, the sophisticated women in Los Angeles? she wondered.
“Who cares?” she muttered, angry at herself. She found her robe and dashed toward the bathroom. Intending to sit in a hot bath until the water turned tepid, she turned on the spigots and started brushing the tangles from her hair. With swift strokes, she tugged the brush through the twisted strands and tried not to think about Denver and how much she’d wanted him to kiss her—to make love to her. The urge had been undeniable, and even though he’d intended to degrade her, she’d wanted him.
“You don’t love him,” she told her hazel-eyed reflection. “You can’t!”
Still arguing with herself, she lowered herself into the tub, sucking in her breath as her rear touched the hot water. Closing her eyes, she sank even deeper, still trying to convince herself that her feelings for Denver had died with the years.
* * *
Three Falls, Montana, wasn’t much of a town in comparison with the cities and towns fanning out from Los Angeles. Denver drove down the main street, past a small college campus and into the business district. Most of the buildings were one or two stories, with neon lights blazing against the darkness.
The town had grown, he decided, noting a bank, motel, strip mall and two fast food restaurants that hadn’t been around when he’d lived at the ranch.
He pulled into the rutted parking lot of a tavern on the south end of town. The weathered plank building looked the same as it had years before. Once a livery stable, it was now the local watering hole and boasted a live band on the weekends.
The interior was dark. A smoky haze lingered over the crowd despite the noisy attempts of an old air conditioner to recirculate and freshen the air.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked. A burly man with a ruddy complexion, flat nose and world-weary expression, he stared straight at Denver, then grinned. “McLean?” he asked, his sandy brows lifting. “Well, I’ll be damned!”
Denver recognized him as soon as he spoke. He’d gone to school with Ben Haley. “How’re you?”
“Can’t complain. And yourself?” Ben’s gaze narrow
ed, as if he were looking for the scars from the fire.
“I’m all right.”
“What’ll it be?”
“A draft.”
Ben poured quickly and slid the mug over to Denver. “On the house. I own the place these days.” He swiped at the scratched bar with a white towel. “I heard you were back at the ranch.”
“Just for a week or two.”
“Rumor has it that you intend to sell.”
