time it might be me who needs her touch.”
“Keep it up, Jake, and I’ll make sure you get tangled up in barbed wire,” Quint muttered, then carefully steered Maura away from the ranch hand and out a back door.
Once they were well away from the barn, Maura asked, “Have you two known each other long?”
Quint grimaced. “Since kindergarten. We grew up together. He’s like a brother. That’s why I put up with his big mouth.”
Smiling, Maura shrugged. “I didn’t pay him any mind. He was only joking.”
“Don’t bet on it. Jake loves women. Always has.”
They were walking toward a long corral built of rough cedar boards. Attached to one end were several smaller pens with separate gates leading to the outside. Like the barn, the riding arena would have taken lots of time and effort to build. And as Maura looked around her, she could plainly see that Quint was far from the idle sort. He obviously worked hard for everything he had and she admired him greatly for that. Especially when she knew he loved what he was doing.
Gilbert, her ex-husband, had been a pharmaceutical representative and his job was to sell medical products to doctors in private practices, health clinics and hospitals. There was nothing physical about the job. He’d used his mouth and a pen. Two things he was good at. Especially the mouth, she thought grimly. He could sweet-talk a rabid dog into lying down and wagging his tail.
Thanks to his glib tongue, everyone had liked Gil and for several years running, he’d been top salesperson for his company. And that same gift of gab had made him very attractive to women, including Maura. In the beginning of their marriage his sweet talk had sustained and convinced her of his love. Then later, when things between them had grown difficult and doubts of his sincerity had haunted her, that same sweet, persuasive talk had kept her clinging to a man who was incapable of changing.
Yes, she knew all about flirts and all about trying to keep a man at her side. The first had fooled her into thinking she could succeed at the second. And in the end, her five-year marriage had crumbled along with her self-worth.
Shaking away the humiliating thoughts, Maura leaned a shoulder against the board fence and gazed back at the simple stucco house. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in such a simple place? With Quint Cantrell? He wasn’t a wanderer. Apparently he was a homebody, choosing to make his livelihood, his future, with the land. But it didn’t appear that he was a family man. Or maybe he was and just keeping those plans hidden, she silently mused.
“You’re going to have a fine place to raise a family here someday, Quint.”
His features stiffened. “It’ll raise cattle and horses. As for a family—I’m not looking for a woman or family right now,” he said flatly. “And I’m sure not holding my breath until that day.”
Seeing that her comment had rubbed him the wrong way, she pushed away from the fence. “Well, thanks for the tour, Quint. I enjoyed it. But I’d better be heading back. It’s not exactly a short drive back to Apache Wells.”
She started walking back in the direction of the house and her parked truck. Quint followed alongside her.
“Gramps rarely leaves Apache Wells. Maybe you can talk him into coming over here and taking a look at all the work we’ve finished. If that doesn’t interest him, then maybe visiting the old mine might budge him.”
Just from his words, Maura could see that having his grandfather’s admiration meant a lot to him. But what else really mattered to this man? If there was no special woman, no children to be had in his dreams, then what was the Golden Spur going to mean to him? Other than just a place to hang his hat?
At least the man has a future planned for himself, Maura. You have nothing on your agenda, except taking care of an old cantankerous man who could buy a dozen nurses like yourself.
Shoving away the mocking voice in her head, she said to Quint, “I’ll see what I can do about getting him to come for a visit. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that your grandfather does what he wants. Not what others would like for him to do.”
“No. You don’t have to tell me that.”
As they walked the remaining distance to the house, Quint realized he couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman. Her white shirt was sheer enough for him to see the imprint of her bra, the pattern of feminine lace covering her breasts.
She was not a small woman and he could tell by the silhouette of her curves that one breast would be more than enough to fill his hand, his mouth. The idea caused desire to flicker in some part of him that he’d long ago crossed off as dead. And he could only wonder what it was about her that had suddenly stirred him like this.
Since Holly had removed herself from his life, and he’d gotten burned by some superficial gold diggers, sex had become casual, something to forget afterward. And down through the years he’d pushed so hard and so long that he’d felt positive he’d never want another woman in his lifetime.
So why had Maura Donovan come along and reminded him that he was still a man? Lord, he didn’t know the answer. But now that she had, he was going to have to deal with her and himself in a smart and practical way.
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