all you have?” She nodded to the seabag.
“I travel light.”
His tone was clipped and Maxie sighed. Clearly he didn’t want to play this beyond the edge of civility. Fine. At least she was making an effort. She spun around, and he followed her to the house, both silent.
But Kyle’s gaze was on her back, more so—her backside. And the way it filled those tight jeans enough to fill his mind with nothing but what was beneath and seeing her again without them. Man, oh man, this was tough already, and he forced himself to remember every detail of their wedding day. She was a selfish coward, plain and simple, he thought as he mounted the porch steps behind her. She opened the door, walking briskly inside.
Crossing the threshold, Kyle regained his determination as he removed his sunglasses and hat. His gaze quickly scanned the Southwest decor of beige walls, terra-cotta-hued furniture, the room dotted with blue-and-coral trimmings. The warmth of the decor settled into him instantly, calming the tension he’d felt since he landed on her property. He spotted baskets filled with odd collections of croquet balls, oversize wooden spools of thread and even branding irons. Antique oil cans were tucked here and there, some hidden by plants, others in plain sight like the grouping near a sixfoot-wide fireplace dominating the living room. Kyle liked it and thought it suited her. At least this new Maxie.
“Nice place.”
“Thank you.”
“To hide,” he added.
Over the rim of her sunglasses, she slid him a frosty glance as she stripped off her jacket. “I wasn’t hiding, Kyle,” she defended, removing her shades. “I’ve been right here.”
“But who knew?”
“Anyone who was interested did,” she snapped, and was about to add to her defense, then closed her mouth and hung her hat and parka on a peg near the door. She didn’t need to provoke questions, she thought, reminding herself to stop responding to his remarks. He had no right to be curious about her life. Crossing the foyer, she turned down a hall. After passing four doors, she stopped near the last on the right, throwing it open.
“In here,” she said, leaning back against the frame and folding her arms like a warden outside a jail cell
Kyle moved past her, his big body brushing hers, and he felt a subtle heat stroke up his body. He stilled, searching her gaze and wondering if she felt it. Wondering if he’d imagined those moments in the barn.
“The bath is next door. Dinner is in—” she checked her watch “—about a half an hour.” She turned away.
Summarily dismissed, he thought, but then something made her pause, her hand on the door frame. She looked back, meeting his gaze across the wide brass bed. Kyle felt the world, the room, tighten down on him, focusing on her eyes, green and clear. Wavy dark red hair fell over one eye, partially shielding her face. Her stare was confident, even when he let his meander over her wind-chapped cheeks, her tightly tucked shirt molding to her breasts, defining their fullness. Her nipples tightened, pushing against the fabric, and his gaze flew to her face. Her expression didn’t alter a fraction. Lord, she was still so beautiful, he thought, ageless, and for a moment he was twenty-three and so hungry for her he couldn’t think straight. So in love with her his arms ached.
Something flickered in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth lifted wistfully. “Make yourself at home, Kyle. The fridge is stocked with snacks...and beer.”
He breathed his first normal breath since walking through the door. “thanks, Max.” He dumped the seabag on the bed before he did something stupid like grab her against him.
“Think nothing of it,” she said, and by her tone, he knew she meant it. He was immediately on guard again. He was right. This was like waiting for enemy gunfire.
Maxie hastened down the hall, ignoring the heat jumping through her body, ignoring the fact that he could still just look at her and make her crave his arms around her, long for the throb of his kiss again...and force her to relive when she was young and innocent and Kyle was the dangerous man her father didn’t want near. And she ignored the fact that he was in the room directly across from hers.
She paused in the hallway, grabbing the edge of the secretary and closing her eyes against her image in the glass. She was a fool to believe she could handle being this close to him. Not when he could peel away her secrets with a look. Memories pelted her like an acid rain without relief, and she longed for Mimi’s little arms around her neck, the warmth of her little body snuggled close where she could protect her daughter from the world. From this kind of heartache.
Pushing away from the secretary, she walked to the living room and built a fire in the hearth, staring as the blaze roared to life. For a brief moment, her mind wandered, selecting a scene out of their past when they’d gone to Mexico and woken with one hell of a hangover in the back of a vegetable truck in Encinada. With no idea of how they’d got there. At the time, it was fun and funny, but on her wedding day, it had just sounded stupid. The ache of memory caught in her chest. She’d cried for weeks back then. For the decent, trusting man she’d hurt, for leading him to believe she would be there for him when she couldn’t and for the innocence she’d left behind.
The pop of burning wood startled her, and she blinked, expecting her eyes to be wet with tears. They weren’t, yet her heart felt sore. She stared at the ember just on the edge of the hearth, then quickly kicked it back and replaced the fireplace screen. It reminded her that memories were threatening and she couldn’t afford to be this melancholy. Not with her daughter’s contentment at stake. Moments later, she donned her jacket and hat, then left the house, slamming the door closed and wishing she could shut Kyle out of her life as easily.
Kyle flinched when he heard the door shut, the vibration rattling the walls. Closing the dresser drawer, he stared out the window, his gaze following her as she crossed the yard to the huge barn. Her steps were angry and quick. He could see her inside the barn, bundled up against the cold, her beige cowboy hat tipped low as she walked down the center aisle, lugging a bucket of feed, he assumed. Did she do everything around here alone? He watched her for a moment until she vanished into a stall, then turned away from the window.
Kyle looked around the room, the soft Southwestern decor carried over in here, too. It didn’t soothe him this time, and he shoved his fingers into his hair. A tension he hadn’t felt since Saudi radiated through him, and he tried to shake it. He couldn’t and sat down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He had to get a handle on his emotions. But part of him said to exercise it, get it out, just keep his hands off her and his desire locked away. But he kept remembering the moments in the barn, the hot feel of her skin in the cold air, her ferocious passion unleashing on him and his desperate need to absorb it. It was as if he’d come alive for the first time in seven years and every cell in his body wanted him to know it
But he made himself recall their past, and he was tucked deep inside it when he heard his name and looked up. His heart slammed against the wall of his chest
Maxie.
“You okay?” she said, frowning. “Dinner is almost ready, if you’re hungry.”
He looked away, nodding, anger simmering, the pain of his memories stronger and harder than he thought possible. She was a coward, damn her. She’d made the decision to walk away, alone, never giving him the courtesy of talking with him about what she was feeling. She’d stolen their prospect at happiness, his one chance. And as he turned his head to see her disappear from the doorway,
