relatives in the city.”
“My sister and her husband live in the Hells Canyon area north of here,” Adam said.
“So you’ve known Roni a long time?” the other woman asked.
“Only about a year, actually.”
Geena turned to Roni. “Is your brother in finance?”
“He’s a deputy sheriff. And he raises and trains cutting horses. Prize cutting horses,” she added for no good reason except she wanted this high-class female to know they had some good bloodlines, too, even if it was in the stock they raised.
Again, laughter nearly escaped her before she could sternly clamp down on herself. Geena probably wouldn’t be amused at the comparison.
When Adam gave her a narrow-eyed scrutiny, Roni returned it with a wide-eyed innocence, her smile as sweet as molasses taffy. He lofted one thick dark eyebrow sardonically, then turned the conversation to a business topic with Mr. Masterson.
At seven o’clock, they went into the dining room for a dinner that lasted until eight-thirty. The talk around the table ranged from the stock market to politics and the campaigns that were already being waged for elections that were months, or even years, away. Roni mostly listened.
Adam mentioned that another Dalton cousin was married to a woman whose father was running for governor. Drawn into the conversation, she reported that his campaign seemed to be going well and he was ahead in the polls.
After dinner, the two older couples played bridge while she and Scott selected CDs of soft music and chatted quietly. By eleven o’clock she could hardly keep her eyes open.
“We’d better call it a night before Cinderella turns into a pumpkin,” Adam said in amusement as she tried to hide another yawn. “The Daltons are an ‘early to bed, early to rise’ family. I learned that on my first visit to the ranch when Roni woke me up at six in the morning for breakfast. I had agreed to ride out with them on a roundup and a picnic in the mountains for some weird reason I can’t recall.”
That brought chuckles from the group as the family gazed from Adam to her.
“Scott, show Roni the breakfast room,” the stepmother told him. She smiled cordially at Roni. “I’ll tell the housekeeper to be sure the coffee is ready by six. Is there anything special you would like to eat?”
“No, cereal or toast is fine,” Roni replied.
Geena’s smile wasn’t quite as friendly when Roni bid them good-night and left the room with Scott at her side. After guiding her to the breakfast room, he led the way up the stairs. She ducked inside her bedroom before he could give her a kiss.
Alone, she dropped the good-natured pose. Curving her fingers into claws, she gave a throaty growl at her image in the mirror over the fireplace, then spoiled the effect by sticking her tongue out at herself.
Fighting a vague sense of despair, she smiled ruefully at her childish display and prepared for bed. Once settled for the night with the lamp off, she found her eyes refused to close or her mind to stop going around and around with fragments of thought. She hoped the weekend would go by fast. Or that Adam would have to leave in the morning.
Next she wondered where he was sleeping…and if he was alone in the bed.
“Arggghhh,” she groaned and pulled the pillow over her head as if that would block out the hateful images that sprang into her mental vision.
In the morning, Roni polished off an English muffin with strawberry preserves, drank the last swallow of milk and wondered what she should do with her dishes.
Adam strolled in, wearing khaki slacks and a chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. “I thought you would be up.”
“Yes. I nearly always wake when the sun comes up.”
He nodded as he went to the buffet and looked over the selection of hot and cold foods. Scrambled eggs and bacon were kept warm in a silver double boiler, a smaller version of those she’d seen at hotel buffets. The heat came from a tiny can of fuel of a type she’d used while camping.
The memory of another morning rushed into her mind like the rays of the rising sun that warmed the earth…
She and Adam had leaned on the fence and watched the horses munch hay from a rolled bale. A cool breeze blew down the valley from He-Devil peak. Most of the snow was gone from the pasture due to an unusually warm winter. With the coming of March, the storm pattern had changed, and snow was predicted by Monday, which was only two days away.
“You’d better head south,” she’d told him, “before the storm gets here. The county roads will be closed if we get a heavy snow.”
“Anxious to get rid of me?” he’d drawled.
She’d hated the amusement in his eyes, the way he had of treating her like a child when she was twentysix and had been making her own way since graduating from high school.
While Uncle Nick had helped so she hadn’t had to go into debt, she’d earned most of her way through college via a work-study program at the education company where she was now employed. She hadn’t felt truly young and carefree in years, maybe not since her father had died the winter before she’d turned four.
“Yes,” she’d answered. “You bother me in ways I don’t like. Because I seem to have no control over myself when you’re near.”
He sucked in a strangled breath.
She smiled wryly. “That got a reaction out of you.”
Suddenly he was close, too close for her comfort range. “Was that all you wanted—to get a reaction from me?” he demanded with an intensity she’d rarely seen in him.
He’d always kept them on a maddening level of casual amusement, as if he silently laughed at the attraction she was sure existed between them.
“No,” she said honestly. “No, I want more.”
She held her ground with an effort, refusing to look away from the gaze that was no longer cool, no longer amused. A tremor shook her as he came closer.
“Be careful what you wish for,” he warned, his voice soft, the tone harsh.
Once she’d wished her mother was alive, that her father would miraculously reappear, that Aunt Milly and Tink would come home, that the other orphans wouldn’t move on to high school and college and leave her behind…so many things she’d wished for. None had ever come true.
“I gave up on wishes long ago,” she said and heard the echo of sadness in the words. “Except maybe for this.”
Then she did a foolish thing. She kissed him.
His arms swept around her and lifted her off her feet. Raising her legs, she wrapped them around his strong masculine frame while her arms encircled his shoulders. She held on as a storm of passion swept over them, through them, as strong in him as it was in her.
It was wonderful and frightening, fulfilling and yet not enough, too many things for her to think about. She quit trying and simply let the hunger take her.
