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“I’m not sure. But I’m hoping to help everyone get through this.” She noticed the expressive lines around his mouth, the aging process that had altered his features, cutting masculine grooves into his skin.
He reminded her of a model in a cowboy ad. The stereotyped Texan, with his hard-angled cheekbones, slightly crooked nose and lightly peppered jaw. But she knew he was real.
Tangible. Touchable. Flesh and blood.
Even after all these years she still wondered what it would feel like to kiss him.
When she lifted her gaze to his, he dipped his hat even lower, shielding his eyes.
Just like old times, she thought. She’d never been able to break through Ethan’s defenses. Even though he’d been attracted to her, he’d kept his distance, making her long for him even more.
Not that she would let herself long for him now. Kissing him, or even fantasizing about it, would be a mistake.
“You must be working today,” she said, trying to resume a casual conversation.
“Yes, I am. But I live here, too.”
She started. “On the Double Crown?”
“It’s only temporary. I’m in between homes right now, so I’m renting the hunting cabin from Ryan.” He gestured to the barn. “Of course I’m boarding my horses here, too.”
From what she recalled, Ethan had been living on the rough-and-tumble property his father owned. Although she wondered why he was moving, she decided not to ask, not to delve too deeply into his affairs, even if she wanted to, even if everything about him still intrigued her. “I’ve never been inside the hunting cabin.”
“Really?” He shifted his feet, scattering dirt beneath his heels. “There isn’t much to see, but you can come by later if you want to.”
Surprised by the invitation, Susan didn’t know what to say. He’d never asked her to visit him before. He’d never encouraged her advances. Of course, this time she wasn’t falling all over him. At least not outwardly. Inside, her heart was skipping girlish beats.
“Thanks,” she finally managed.
“Sure.”
While silence stretched between them, the wind kicked up, the scent of hay and horses triggering her senses. In the distance cattle grazed, like colored dots on the horizon.
“I better go,” he said. “I have an appointment on another ranch.”
She told herself to relax, to not make a big deal out of his offer. “It was nice talking to you, Ethan.”
“You, too,” he told her.
He climbed behind the wheel of his white dually, and she watched him start the engine. Within no time, he was gone.
The boy with the slow, sexy smile.
She returned to the house and headed for the kitchen, where she found Lily, bustling around the stove.
Susan stood in the doorway, admiring the woman Ryan had married. Even at fifty-nine, Lily had the power to turn heads. Long limbed and voluptuous, she wore a mint-colored sweater and a loose skirt, attire that was as unpretentious as her style. Her midnight hair was fastened into a simple twist, leaving the angles of her face unframed.
“That smells good,” Susan said, indicating the pot of broth simmering on the stove.
Lily looked up, her large, exotic-shaped eyes radiating warmth. “It’s corn soup. An old Apache recipe.”
Which made sense, considering Lily was part Apache and part Spanish.
Susan moved farther into the kitchen and watched as Lily mixed several pounds of boiled, shredded beef with a homemade batch of acorn meal. She suspected that Lily had taken her time, peeling the acorns and grinding them, a task that was meant to keep her mind off Ryan’s illness, especially on this gloomy morning.
A second later Lily took a shaky breath, then glanced out the window as though someone were stalking her. And why not? Susan knew that a man named Jason Jamison, a cold-blooded killer, had been threatening the family. Of course Ryan had hired a security team to protect them. He wouldn’t leave something like that to chance.
“Are you okay?” she asked Lily.
“I’m fine. Just jittery, that’s all. There’s so much to deal with right now.” She turned away from the window. “Will you check on Ryan? And if he’s awake, will you tell him that I’ll bring him some soup later?”
“Sure. But if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”
“I know.” Lily gave her a brave smile. “I’m glad you’re staying with us. I like having you around.”
Her heart bumped her chest, filling her with a sense of longing, of family, of home and hearth. Lily hadn’t been Ryan’s wife when Susan had lived on the Double Crown, but she’d gotten to know her later. Mostly from trips Ryan and Lily had taken to San Francisco, where they’d traveled to visit her.
“Thank you,” Susan told her. “That means a lot to me.”
Lily nodded, and they simply gazed at each other, caught in a soundless moment.
After the older woman resumed her task, adding the beef and acorn meal to the broth, Susan left the kitchen, her emotions tugging at her sleeve.
She walked through the great room, her boots echoing on tiled floors, as restless as the Fortune empire ghosts.
Over the years, the house, a traditional adobe structure, had undergone quite a few renovations. At one point it had been divided into two separate wings, where Ryan and his older brother, Cameron, lived with their families. But Susan knew that Cameron had died over ten years ago, leaving Ryan to pick up the pieces of his brother’s lazy yet tremulous life.
She headed to Ryan and Lily’s room, a master suite with a private bathroom, hot tub and sauna. The door leading to the sitting area was open, a sign that her cousin was awake. She knocked anyway, a light tap to announce her presence.
“Come in,” he called out.
She entered the room and saw him sitting on a small sofa near the fireplace. To Susan, Ryan had always seemed larger than life, an invincible force with his solid frame and darkly handsome features. But an inoperable brain tumor had challenged his strength, creating symptoms he could no longer hide.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Better now that you’re here.”
He patted the cushion next to him, and she moved forward. He didn’t look particularly refreshed from his nap, but she was grateful that he was coherent. Earlier, he’d been too dizzy to converse with her.
She sat down and took his hand, holding it gently in hers. “I love you.”
A smile wobbled his mouth. “I love you, too, little girl.”
“I’m not little anymore.”
He gave her hand a light squeeze. “You’re still my baby.”
She wanted to ask him about Jason Jamison, to discuss the details, but she didn’t want to alert him that his beloved wife was fretting in the kitchen, looking over her shoulder every chance she got. Sooner or later Susan would learn everything there was to know about Jason. Both of her brothers had warned her about this man, suggesting that she talk to Ryan about him. Which she intended to do, just not now.
“Lily’s making soup,” she said, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt.
“What kind?”
“Apache corn. She’s going to bring you some when it’s done.”
“That sounds good.” He released her hand. “What did you do today?”
“I went for a walk. Down by the barn.” She studied the fireplace, the rugged structure, the natural beauty of each carefully placed stone. “I ran into Ethan.”
“Really?” Ryan perked up. “How’d it go?”
“Fine. We only talked for a few minutes.” She glanced at her cousin and saw him scrutinizing her beneath his dark brows. Anxious, she fidgeted, then caught herself, folding her hands on her lap. “I used to have a crush on him.”
“I know you did, pumpkin. I think everyone knew.”
Embarrassed, she laughed a little, picturing herself as she was, a teenager in tight clothes and too much mascara. “I wasn’t very subtle about it.”
“It’s hard to hide those kinds of feelings.” He was still watching her, looking at her with a knowing expression. “Old crushes run deep.” He paused, then said, “Lily was the love of my life when I was young. And look what happened to us.”
She shook her head. “It’s not like that between Ethan and me. I hardly know him.”
“The heart doesn’t forget.”
She leaned forward, tempted to touch Ryan’s cheek. She knew he’d loved his first wife. She’d been his childhood friend, the woman who bore his children. But Lily was the fire in his soul. “You’re just an old romantic.”
“And you’re a young woman who needs a good man.”
“I have my career.”
“And a big, empty condo in California. That’s not enough, Susan.”
“I’m not ready to fall in love.” And especially not with Ethan, she decided. She didn’t need the complication. Not now. Not while she was in Texas. “I spent enough time mooning over him.”
“Like I used to do over Lily?”
She leaned back against the sofa, doing her damnedest not to lose the fight. Apparently Ryan was determined to drive his point home, to compare his life to hers. “I never pegged you for a matchmaker.”
“Are you kidding? Me? The old romantic?” He chuckled under his breath. “It’s right up my alley.”
She forced a smile, humoring him. And humoring herself, as well.
Because deep down, she wanted to see Ethan again, to summon the courage to stop by the hunting cabin. But she knew she wouldn’t.
Susan wasn’t about to chase him.
Not ever again.
Two
Ethan parked his truck and entered the outer courtyard of the main house, where native plants and ornamental grasses flourished. He took the stone walkway, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Dusk had long since fallen and Susan hadn’t showed up at his place. For some self-absorbed reason, he’d expected her to visit him, to take advantage of his invitation. Seventeen years ago, she would’ve jumped at the chance.
But apparently times had changed.
He blew out a rough breath and inhaled the night-blooming flowers that flanked his path. Was it too late to call on her?
He adjusted his hat, lowering it on his head. Susan never failed to make his blood warm, even when they were kids. He had no business wanting her. Not then and not now.
But he couldn’t help it.
When they were teenagers, he’d heard all sorts of stories about her. He had no idea if the rumors were true. According to gossip, she’d slept with a slew of boys in Red Rock. She’d supposedly devirginized a few of them, too.
Not that his fantasies hadn’t run in that direction. She’d been the object of every wet dream he could remember. But he’d had other dreams about her, too. He’d wanted to protect her, to heal her the way he’d learned to minister to the animals on the ranch. But Susan hadn’t been a wounded filly or an ailing calf. She’d been wild and independent, as raw as the confusion she’d caused.
The confusion she was still causing.
Ethan wanted to give in to temptation. He wanted to unlock the mystery of the girl he’d refrained from touching, the girl who’d bloomed into a sophisticated woman.
With anxiety churning in his gut, he mounted the front steps. Why hadn’t she stopped by the hunting cabin to see him? Had she deliberately left him panting after her? Or was he reading too much into it?
Either way, he was trapped, locked in good and tight.
The way she used to flirt with him. The nights he’d spent thinking about her. Every last memory was magnified in his mind, right down to the day she’d gone off to college.
The day she’d disappeared from his life.
Ethan cleared his thoughts, then knocked on the door, expecting Lily to answer his summons. But when Susan appeared, wearing a flowing robe draped over a pair of silky pajamas, he wished he’d had the sense to forget about her.
She presented a soft, sultry image, with the top button on her pajamas straining above her breasts. The robe gaped in that spot, drawing his gaze to the slight swell of cleavage.
“Ethan?”
He pulled his gaze to her face. Her honey-blond hair fell in a loose, nighttime style, lightly combed and framing her chin. He wondered if it smelled like lemons. Her hair had been longer when they were younger, and the citrus scent used to drive him half-mad. Not that she would know the difference. He’d never mentioned it.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” She tightened the belt on her robe, but her modest effort didn’t change a thing.
He could still see the straining button.
He cleared his throat. “I hope it’s not too late for a visit.”
“No. Of course not.” She recovered her composure. “Ryan and Lily already went to bed, but I was just getting ready to fix a cup of tea. Would you like some?”
He rarely drank tea, but he wasn’t about to turn her down, not after showing up at her door. “Sure. That’d be nice.”
Ethan followed her into the kitchen, where she filled a stainless steel kettle, the kind that whistled, and set it on the stove. He remembered that his mom used to boil water in one of those. As a child, he used to wonder what made it cry out.
When Susan turned to look at him, he caught himself frowning.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
