Slow Waltz Across Texas

Megan huffed a breath and flopped back against the cushions, folding her arms stubbornly beneath her breasts. “Well, I think he does.”

Rena sputtered a laugh. “And why would you think that? You haven’t been around Clayton or talked to him in years.”

“I was there the night you met him,” Megan reminded her. “Remember?”

Rena turned her face away. “Yes, I remember.”

“And do you also remember how you two just seemed to click?” she asked, snapping two fingers together for emphasis. “I’ve never seen chemistry like that before, nor have I since.”

Rena fluttered a hand, dismissing her friend’s opinion. “Lust. Pure and simple.”

Megan jackknifed to a sitting position. “It was not just lust!” she cried, then clamped her lips together and stole a quick glance at the house to make sure that no one had overheard her. Though no faces appeared in any of the windows, she lowered her voice, obviously concerned that Rena’s mother was hovering on the other side of the doors, as she had when they were teenagers, eavesdropping on their conversation. “Two star-crossed lovers destined to meet,” she whispered furiously to Rena. “That’s what the two of you were. One look from Clayton, one touch, and you came alive.”

Even as her friend described the event, Rena felt the leap of nerves beneath her skin, the quickening of her breath, the heat racing through her veins. She could see Clayton as he’d stood that night, alone at the edge of the dance floor, his hands braced low on his hips. The sleeves of his black Western shirt had been rolled to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms dusted with dark hair, and his black cowboy hat had been shoved back on his head, revealing the sharp angles of an incredibly handsome face.

Black. The bad guys always wear black, she remembered thinking at the time, even as she’d smiled flirtatiously at him when he’d looked her way.

Furious with herself for even thinking about Clayton and the night they’d first met, she sat up impatiently. “Lust,” she repeated stubbornly and reached for the bottle of sunscreen sitting on the table. “It was nothing but lust.”

“How can you say that?” Megan cried. “You were crazy about him!”

Frowning, Rena smeared the cream over her legs. “Crazy being the operative word.”

“Uggh,” Megan groaned, obviously frustrated by having her words twisted around. “You weren’t crazy! In fact, accepting Clayton’s invitation to dance was probably the sanest and bravest thing you’d ever done in your life.”

When Rena humphed her disagreement, Megan swung her legs over the side of the chair and snatched the bottle of sunscreen from Rena’s hand. “You listen to me, Rena Rankin,” she ordered sternly. “Up until that night, you’d lived your entire life at your parents’ direction, being the dutiful daughter, the perfect little debutante, doing exactly what you were told, never daring to veer either left or right from the path they’d mapped out for you. But with Clayton you forgot all that, and you were simply you!”

“Me?” Rena sputtered a laugh. “I was twenty-one years old, extremely naive and looking for trouble. And I found it,” she added bitterly.

“You weren’t looking for trouble.”

“Wasn’t I?” Rena asked, arching a brow above the rim of her sunglasses as she peered at her friend. “Slumming. Isn’t that what you called it that night when you suggested that the three of us go inside that country-western dance hall in Oklahoma City? Three sorority girls from the University of Oklahoma mixing and mingling with the local yokels, I believe is how you described it.”

Megan’s cheeks reddened, but she lifted her chin defensively. “Okay. So maybe my intentions weren’t totally charitable, but I was proven wrong, wasn’t I? The cowboys we met that night treated us with more respect than any of the fraternity boys ever had, didn’t they?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t seem to want one. “They were gentlemen. Treated us like ladies. And we had fun, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Rena agreed, with a decisive nod of her head. “We definitely had fun. But I paid for the fun I had that night.”

Rena sighed heavily, weary from arguing with her friend. “Look, Megan,” she said patiently, hoping to make her friend understand. “I know my leaving Clayton seems impulsive, irrational, maybe even a mistake. And perhaps it is,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last few months. Not just about my relationship with Clayton, but about me, and I’ve discovered some things about myself that I don’t like very much.

“For years I allowed my parents to control my life, based my happiness on their approval. And when I married Clayton, I simply transferred that control to him. I don’t blame him,” she said quickly when Megan appeared as if she was about to argue. “Not totally, anyway. Although I do believe things might have been different if Clayton had been willing to be more of a husband to me and more of a father to the children, if he’d only loved us more and been willing to show his love for us. But I realized that nothing was going to change for us or me,” she added emphatically, “unless I made some changes myself.”

“And leaving Clayton is your answer to your problems?” Megan asked doubtfully.

“Partially. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet. To be independent.” Rena smiled softly, thinking of the steps she’d already taken in that direction. “I’ve bought a house in Salado, a wonderful old place that the twins and I can live in while I restore it. And I’m starting an interior design business, something I’ve always dreamed of doing but…” she smiled ruefully, not wanting to place blame. “Well, let’s just say I allowed others to keep me from pursuing that dream.”

“Oh, Rena,” Megan began sorrowfully.

But before she could say more a shrill voice called from the patio. “Rena! Rena, dear! You have a guest.”

Hearing the displeasure in her mother’s voice, Rena didn’t need to turn to see who her visitor was…but she did, anyway. And when she did, she saw that Clayton was already walking down the flagstone path that led to the pool, not waiting for an invitation to join her. His stride was long and loose, yet purposeful, his shoulders broad beneath a crisp black Western shirt. The jeans he wore hugged his hips and thighs and hung low over his boot heels, the starched denim fabric creating a soft whisking sound with each step he took on the uneven stone path.

Heat flooded her face at the sight of him, every nerve burning with awareness, and she was grateful that the sunglasses hid her eyes from him…without them she was certain he’d see the yearning in them.

“In fact, I’m still paying for that fun,” she murmured under her breath.

Megan rose, smiling. “Clayton!” she called, her pleasure obvious. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Clayton swept off his hat and stretched out a hand, his expression guarded. “Megan. It’s been a while.”

“More than a while. Years!” she exclaimed, laughing as she squeezed his hand between hers. “How are you?”

Clayton glanced quickly at Rena, one corner of his mouth dipping into a scowl. “I’ve been better.”

Megan glanced over her shoulder at Rena. “Yes,” she said sympathetically as she turned back to Clayton. “I would imagine you have.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and rose to her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “But the war’s not over, yet,” she whispered close to his ear.

She laughed when he ducked his head, his cheeks reddening. “Still the same shy cowboy, I see,” she teased.

“Clayton shy?” Rena snorted and rose from her chair. “That’ll be the day.”

“Sure he is,” Megan replied and shot Clayton a sly wink. “And he’s so cute when he blushes, don’t you think?”

Rena glanced at Clayton, then away, frowning. “If you say so,” she said, refusing to rise to the bait.

Clayton snugged his hat back over his head, irritated by his wife’s indifference. “If you’ll excuse us, Megan,” he said, glaring at Rena’s back. “Rena and I have some business to discuss.”

“Clayton!” Rena cried in dismay, whirling to look at him. “How rude. Megan only just arrived.”

“That’s okay,” Megan said, and scooped her purse from the patio table. “I need to go, anyway. I’m supposed to meet Harold at the club for lunch.” She gave Rena a quick hug. “I’ll call you later,” she said, giving Rena a meaningful look, then turned to leave, whispering to Clayton as she brushed past him, “Hang in there, cowboy. I’m on your side.”

Clayton waited until Megan was out of earshot before turning to Rena. “Where are the kids?”

Furious with him for the way he’d rushed Megan off, Rena dropped down onto the lounge chair and snatched up the bottle of sunscreen again. “With Dad.”

“I’d like to see them.”

“When?”

“Do I have to make an appointment to see my own kids?”

She heard the resentment in his voice and bit back her own caustic retort, knowing she wasn’t being fair. After all, they were his children, too. “No,” she replied as she spread the cream over her right calf. “But, in the future, you might want to call first to make certain they’re here before you drop by.”

Clayton watched her smooth the cream over her calf, then up her thigh, his gaze lingering on the sun-warmed flesh her skimpy bikini left exposed. Setting his jaw against the desire he felt rising, he dropped down on the foot of the chair Megan had vacated and braced his elbows on his thighs as he looked out across the pool. “When are we going to talk about this, Rena?”

“Talk about what?” she asked and calmly squirted more cream onto her palm.

He angled his head over his shoulder to look at her. “About our marriage.”

She snorted a laugh and swept her hand across her middle, smearing the cream over her bare abdomen. “What marriage?”

“Our marriage,” he shot back. “The one you seem so anxious to end.”

“We don’t have a marriage, Clayton. We have nothing but a legal document that binds us together.”

“We damn sure do have a marriage, and a family, too,” he told her furiously. “And I think it’s high time you quit playing whatever little game this is you’re playing and come home where you belong.”

She slammed the bottle down on the table hard enough to make the carved iron legs wobble. Grabbing the chair’s arms, she jerked herself forward and leaned across the distance that separated them, putting her face only inches from his. “This isn’t a game, Clayton,” she warned him darkly. “This is my life we’re talking about.”

He ripped off his hat, tossing it to the tiled deck that skirted the kidney-shaped pool, and twisted around to face her fully. Though frightened by the anger that turned his blue eyes to steel, Rena refused to shrink away from him.

“And mine,” he grated out. “And, by God, I have a right to know why you left me.”

“Why?” she asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “Does it hurt your male pride to have to tell your traveling buddies, Pete and Troy, that your wife left you?”

He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders, taking her by surprise, and yanked her closer still, his fingers digging into her bare skin.

She struggled, trying to get free. “Clayton! Let go of me!”

He dug his fingers deeper. “Don’t mess with me, Rena,” he warned. “I’ve already listened to about all the verbal abuse I can stomach for one day.”

She stilled immediately, her face going pale. “Mother,” she whispered. “What did she say to you?”

He dropped his hands and twisted back around, bracing his forearms on his thighs again and scowling at the pool’s shimmering surface. “Nothing.”

She grabbed his elbow and tugged, but only succeeded in drawing herself to the edge of her chair, not turning him back to face her as she’d wanted. “Clayton!” she cried in frustration. “What did she say to you?”

He thinned his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Nothing that she hasn’t said before.” He gave his arm a jerk, pulling his elbow from her grasp. “I want to see my kids. When will they be back?”

“Soon,” she murmured, staring at his stiff spine. “Dad wanted to take them to the office so he could show them off.”

Clayton stood abruptly and crossed to the edge of the pool, bending to scoop his hat from the tile surface. With his back to her, he settled it over his head and ran his index finger along the edge of the brim in front, snugging it down low over his forehead. “I’m staying at the Wayfarer Inn on Interstate 40. Call me when they get back.”

Rena watched him stride angrily back up the flagstone path toward the house. When he reached the patio, he hesitated a moment, then spun to the left and headed for the side yard and the gate that led to the driveway, obviously anxious to avoid another confrontation with her mother.

Two

Rena stood before the kitchen window, her arms hugged beneath her breasts, staring out at the pool and the lounge chair where Clayton had sat only moments ago. Though her skin still held the warmth of the sun, she rubbed her hands slowly up and down her arms, trying to ease the chill that penetrated to the bone. She could still see the hard set of Clayton’s jaw, the stiffness of his spine, and knew that whatever her mother had said to him had hurt him deeply.

But that was nothing new, she thought wearily. Her mother had always delighted in making Clayton feel inferior—though Rena sometimes wondered who her mother hurt more with her biting comments…Clayton or Rena?

Nothing but a shiftless cowboy.

Married out of your class.

A man with his intellect and upbringing couldn’t possibly understand the needs and expectations of a woman with your background and breeding.

Rena had heard her mother’s opinions of her marriage spouted throughout the four-plus years of her marriage to Clayton, but never delivered more smugly than when Rena had arrived in Tulsa with her children in tow and informed her parents that she had left Clayton.

No, her mother had never approved of Clayton, and Rena was sure that Gloria Palmer would feel no compunction at all in letting her son-in-law know exactly how she felt about him. Especially now, when she knew of Rena’s plans to divorce him.

“Oh, there you are, dear.”

Rena glanced over her shoulder as her mother swept into the kitchen, her expression a picture of innocence. “I didn’t realize that I was lost,” she said, trying, but failing, to keep from her voice the resentment her mother’s appearance drew.

“And what has put you in such a foul mood?” her mother asked. “Or should I ask who?” she amended pointedly.

“What did you say to Clayton, Mother?”

“Say?” her mother repeated innocently. “Why nothing out of the ordinary.”

No, Rena thought bitterly, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for her mother to say something unkind to Clayton. But she knew that discussing it further would be a waste of her time. “Why were you looking for me?” she asked instead.

“To tell you that I made a few appointments for you.” Her mother frowned as she took in Rena’s current dress…or lack thereof. “But you’ll need to hurry and change out of your swimsuit and into something more appropriate in order to make them on time.”

“What appointments?”

“At the day spa,” her mother replied, looking pleased with herself. “I thought you might enjoy an afternoon of pampering. Manicure, pedicure, a massage. And darling Jon Mark agreed to work you in for a shampoo and style, as well.”

Rena drew in a deep breath, fighting for patience. Forty-eight hours in her parents’ home and her mother was already trying to take control of her life again. “Thanks, Mother,” she said as she brushed past her, “but I already have plans for the afternoon.”

Gloria spun to stare after her. “But the appointments have already been made! I simply can’t cancel now. Not after Cecille went to such trouble to rearrange everyone’s schedule, in order to work you in.”

Rena stopped and slowly turned. “I’m sorry that Cecille will be inconvenienced. But, as I said, I have plans.”

Gloria planted her hands on her hips. “And what plans could you have possibly made that are so important that they can’t be changed?”

“I’m taking the twins to see Clayton this afternoon.”

Her mother stared at her a moment, then waved away Rena’s plans as if unimportant. “Well, if that’s all that’s keeping you from enjoying a day at the spa, then there’s no problem. I can take the children to see Clayton.”

“That won’t be necessary. I—”

Her mother held up a hand. “I refuse to listen to another word. You’re going to the spa.” When Rena opened her mouth to argue further, her mother caught her hands in hers and squeezed, her expression turning solicitous. “Please, darling,” she begged softly. “Let me do this for you. You’ve been under such a tremendous strain. An afternoon at the spa will do you a world of good. You’ll see. Please say you’ll go.”

Rena felt herself weakening.

“Please?” her mother coaxed. “If not for yourself, then do it for me.”

Knowing how fruitless it was to argue with her mother, Rena sagged in defeat. “Oh, all right. If you’re sure you don’t mind taking the children to see Clayton.”

“Of course I don’t mind, darling!” Gloria slipped an arm around Rena’s waist and hugged her against her side. “And I don’t want you worrying about a thing while you’re at the spa,” she lectured as she guided Rena to the rear staircase. “You just concentrate on enjoying yourself. No one deserves an afternoon of pampering more than you. Stuck out on that godforsaken ranch all alone with two young, active children.” She made a tsking sound with her tongue. “I wonder how you stood it as long as you did.”

After spending four hours at the day spa being pampered, polished and fawned over, Rena returned to her parents’ home feeling relaxed and renewed. Maybe Mother was right, she reflected grudgingly as she entered the side door that opened from the portico into the kitchen. An afternoon of pampering might have been exactly what she needed to put her in a better frame of mind.

As she stepped into the kitchen, Brittany turned from the breakfast bar, wearing a milk mustache. “Mommy!” she squealed, and flung her arms wide, inviting a hug.

“Hi, sweethearts,” Rena said, catching both her children in an exuberant hug.

“Mrs. Carson made us cookies,” Brandon said, his expression serious as always as he held up one, minus a bite, as proof.

Rena smiled fondly at the housekeeper who stood on the opposite side of the bar. “Spoiling them, I see.”

Tipping up her nose, Mrs. Carson folded her hands primly at her waist. “No more than I did you, when you still lived at home.”

Laughing because she knew what the housekeeper said was true, Rena plucked a chocolate chip cookie from the plate and took a bite before glancing down at the twins. “So what all did you two do this afternoon?”

“Went shopping with Nonnie.”

Rena’s smile slowly melted as she stared at Brittany. “Shopping? But didn’t Nonnie take you to see Daddy?”

“Uh-uh. She took us to the mall. I got a new dress and a necklace, and Brandon got a watch.”

“See?” Brandon said proudly, waving his arm in front of his mother’s face.

Rena caught his wrist and pushed his arm back in order to admire the new watch. “Yes, I see,” she said, forcing a smile for her son’s sake.

She glanced over at Mrs. Carson. “And where is Mother?” she asked pointedly.

Avoiding Rena’s gaze, the housekeeper set the plate of cookies on the counter in front of the twins and turned away. “Getting dressed for dinner,” she said, then cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder and added, “She’s invited a guest.”

“Who?” Rena asked, praying that her mother had fulfilled her promise by inviting Clayton to dinner.

“Uncle Bill,” Brittany supplied helpfully. “He’s nice. When we were at Pawpaw’s bank, he let me and Brandon play with his computer.”

Furious with her mother for not taking the children to see Clayton as she’d assured Rena she would, Rena reached for the phone. “Set another plate, Mrs. Carson. We’ll be having another guest for dinner.”

The call Clayton had waited on all afternoon finally came while he was at the boarding facility, feeding and exercising his horse. But the message Rena had left for him with the hotel’s switchboard operator, inviting him to join the Palmers for dinner, wasn’t the one he’d expected, nor was it how he’d have chosen to spend his evening, if he’d been given a choice.

But he would have dinner at his in-laws’ house, he told himself as he settled his hat over his head, if that’s what it took to get to see his wife and kids.

Yet, even knowing he had an evening with his family to look forward to, Clayton still found himself stopping at the foot of the circular drive that curved in front of his in-laws’ home and looking up at the stately mansion, feeling all the old inadequacies stealing over him.

Rena’s childhood home had always intimidated him, as did her parents. The house screamed money and permanence, two things that had been conspicuously missing from his own life, until a few short years ago. And though he was sure his current net worth didn’t come close to matching that of his wife’s parents, he’d come a long way in closing the gap that had once separated them.

He’d worked hard at rodeoing and had made quite a name for himself, winning four World Champion Calf Roper buckles, and missing out on two other buckles by fractions of a second. With success had come commercial offers for endorsements, though he still couldn’t get used to seeing his face plastered on billboards and staring back at him from glossy magazine ads.

And he’d thought he had created a sense of permanency, as well. The fifteen-hundred-acre ranch near Austin, Texas, was home to him…or at least it had been, before Rena had packed up the kids and left. Now the very thought of returning there alone made his stomach knot in dread.

He wouldn’t go home alone, he told himself, and forced himself to take that first step up the drive. Rena, Brittany and Brandon would be going home with him. He wouldn’t allow himself to even consider any other possibility.

Frowning, he punched the doorbell, then stepped back, listening to the muffled Westminster chime echo through the house’s expansive interior. From the opposite side of the door, he heard the impatient click of high heels on the marble entry and knew who would greet him at the door. Tensing, he braced himself for the confrontation as the door opened.

“Good evening, Clayton.” Mrs. Palmer offered him a stiff smile as she opened the door wider, inviting him in. “Everyone’s in the solarium, enjoying the sunset. Why don’t you join them while I check on dinner?”

Solarium? The word sounded as pompous and un-inviting to Clayton as the woman who’d uttered it. Left to find his way to the room alone, he pulled off his hat with a sigh of resignation and tossed it onto the heavily carved marble table centered beneath the entry hall’s dome-shaped ceiling, wishing he were most anywhere but there.

But then he heard the irresistible trill of Brittany’s excited chatter, and he headed for the solarium. He caught sight of his daughter immediately, leaning over the side of the fountain, her stomach pressed flat against the smooth stone. Her arm was stretched out as far as she could reach, as she tossed pennies toward the base of the mermaid who rose from the fountain as if breaking through the ocean’s surface.

“Whoa, shortcake,” he said, and caught her by the hem of her dress, saving her from pitching face first into the fountain’s pool. “You’re supposed to toss the pennies, not personally deliver them.”

Laughing, Brittany spun around and made a wild leap from the side of the fountain and straight into her daddy’s arms, taking him by surprise.

“Daddy!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging. “You came!”

Stunned by the unexpected exuberance in her welcome, Clayton had to swallow back emotion at the feel of the little arms wound tightly around his neck. “Course, I did, shortcake.” He gave her an awkward hug, then shifted her to his hip. “I was invited, wasn’t I?”