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He heard a cough, then a tortured cry, and he whirled toward the tack room. God, were his parents trapped inside? Hold on, he thought, I’m coming. Just hold on!
As he stepped forward, a blast ripped through the stables, throwing him off his feet. His hands scrabbled in the air, catching on the bit of a bridle still dangling from the wall. The scorched leather snapped and he fell to the floor. In his last few seconds of consciousness he knew he would die.
* * *
“Denver?”
He whirled, the old memories fading as he stared into Tessa’s worried eyes. Standing only inches from him, her golden hair catching in the breeze, a small smile quivering on her lips, she whispered, “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he muttered, praying silently that he would become immune to the fragrance of her perfume and the tenderness in her perfect features. The vision had been so real—so ghastly—that once again he remembered how she’d betrayed him. He swiped at his forehead with a shaking hand and noticed the beads of sweat lingering at his hairline.
“You . . . seem . . .”
“I said I’m fine!” he growled. If she would only go away so that he wouldn’t notice the way the hem of her skirt flirted around her knees or the shapely length of her calf. Right now, when his emotions were still raw, he couldn’t talk to her objectively, couldn’t slow the thundering rush of adrenaline in his blood. As much from her nearness as from the horrifying memory, his heart was hammering crazily, pumping blood in a rush that echoed through his brain.
She glanced at the ruins of what had been one of the grandest stables in the county. “It’s not easy,” she said softly—her voice as gentle as a lazy summer breeze. “I know. But it’s over. It was over a long time ago.”
“I only wish to God it were,” he said through clenched teeth. The memory of his parents seared through his mind until he willfully shut the agonizing thoughts aside.
Tessa swallowed hard. “I never said I was sorry,” she said quietly. “About what happened. But I am. You know that I cared for your father and mo—”
“It wasn’t your fault, remember?” His voice was like a whip cracking with sarcasm.
“Empathy has nothing to do with blame!” Her eyes blazed with gray-green fire and her small chin wobbled. “Hide it from everyone else and hide it from yourself, damn you, but don’t try to hide it from me! I know you too well.”
His eyes narrowed maliciously. “Knew me. Past tense. You don’t know me at all anymore.”
“You think not? You think I can’t see past that hard shell you’ve covered yourself with? Think again, Denver. Think back to what we meant to each other!”
“I already told you what we meant.”
Flushing furiously, she jabbed a finger at his chest. “So you did. You tried to hurt me, Denver, and you did one hell of a job at it. But I knew you then, and I can’t believe—no matter what’s happened—that you don’t have one shred of the decency, one ounce of the kindness and moral fiber you once did. I won’t accept that you have become a callous, jaded cynic who wants nothing more from life than enough money to keep him comfortable!”
His skin tightened menacingly. “You’re deluding yourself, Tess.”
“Am I? Then what about last night? Was that all my imagination, my delusions, or was that you?”
“I was drunk.”
“Not that drunk.”
“It was the booze talking.”
“I don’t think so,” she said fiercely. “Tell me, is it just me or the world in general that infuriates you?” Tossing her head proudly, she turned and strode back to the house.
Denver’s fists coiled. He watched her stomp up the steps to the back porch and heard the door bang shut. Swearing angrily under his breath, he slammed one clenched hand into the side of the machinery shed, sending splinters of siding flying through the dry air.
* * *
Flinging her skirt onto the bed, Tessa wondered why she bothered dealing with Denver. “. . . insufferable, arrogant bastard!” She kicked her shoes into the closet. Why had she even bothered trying to reach him? The man was the most temperamental, moody beast on the ranch!
One minute she thought he wanted to make love to her, the next strangle her. “Just the way you feel about him,” she reminded herself angrily.
She’d found him standing near the ruins of the stables, his face drawn with pain, his eyes focused on some private horror that only he could see, and she’d been foolish enough to try to comfort him.
“That’s what you get,” she muttered, flinging herself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and feeling like an utter fool. If only he would leave, end the turmoil, let her life return to its normal state.
But the thought of his actually packing his bags and walking out of her life again settled like a rock in her stomach. She threw one arm over her eyes and whispered, “You’re out of your mind, Tessa!”
