She’d only arrived in Aztec last night after a long drive up from Houston. Her mother, Delta, had pronounced her crazy for wanting to drive eleven hundred miles rather than fly to northern New Mexico. But Clementine hadn’t wanted the trip to be short. She’d wanted the extra time to think about the past and ponder her future.
Nothing had turned out as she’d once planned and a tiny part of her hoped and believed that making this trip, and doing away with the house her parents had willed her, would finally put an end to her restless heart.
The car topped out on a small grade and Clementine automatically began to brake as she noticed a patrol car parked on the side of the road. It would be just her luck to get a speeding ticket, she thought dourly. Quito would surely get a laugh out of that.
On closer inspection, she noticed the car was empty and just as she was about to pass, she caught sight of a man’s figure standing out among a stand of twisted juniper trees.
It was Quito!
Without bothering to wonder why, she steered her car onto the shoulder of the highway and parked in front of the patrol car. In a matter of seconds she was out of the car and walking toward him.
He noticed her immediately, but he didn’t bother walking to meet her. Instead he stood his ground and waited for her to come to him.
She was still dressed in the slim white skirt and peach silk blouse she’d been wearing at the Wagon Wheel. The four-inch spiked heels on her feet were sinking into the loamy red soil and he cursed under his breath as she awkwardly covered the rough ground between them.
“What are you doing out here, Clementine?”
She licked her lips and smoothed her skirt. “I saw the car and then I spotted you. I thought something might be wrong.” She hadn’t exactly thought he was having trouble, but it was the only excuse she could think of at the moment. Apparently from the dry expression on Quito’s face, he considered it pretty lame, too.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong. And you’re going to kill yourself wearing those heels out here like this.”
A smile tilted the corners of her lips. “Still the ever practical Quito, I see.”
Her blue eyes slid covertly down his six-foot-three-inch body. He was thick with muscle, much more so than he’d been eleven years ago. His thighs had his jeans stretched tight and the expanse across his chest and shoulders seemed to go on forever. He was wearing a white oxford shirt and the color contrasted starkly against his dark skin.
As her eyes returned to his face, she felt another kick in the stomach. Quito wasn’t handsome. His features were far too rough for that. But the chiseled nose and mouth and dark hooded eyes all combined to make the most masculine face she’d ever seen. And one that, for her, had been unforgettable.
“I could think of worse things to be called,” he said.
She smiled again while inside she sighed softly at the thought of stepping forward and laying her cheek against his broad chest. Quito was the strongest, bravest man she’d ever known. No one had ever made her feel as safe as he had.
“This morning—you didn’t ask me why I was here in Aztec,” she said. “How come?”
Her question sounded so much like the young nineteen-year-old woman he’d fallen in love with that he couldn’t stop the corner of his lip from curling upward.
“Because it’s none of my business why you’re here.”
She looked disappointed. Which didn’t make an iota of sense to Quito. The woman had walked out of his life years ago. Granted, she’d said she was doing it all in the name of love. But she’d never come back to his little corner of the world. And for Quito that had pretty much exposed the truth of her feelings.
“Oh,” she said and then a frown marred her pretty face. “Well, why didn’t you tell me you’d been shot?”
So she’d heard about that already, he thought grimly. But hell, what did that matter, he reasoned. He wasn’t trying to be a superhero in her eyes anymore.
“Look, Clementine, I just stopped by your table to say hello. That’s all. What in hell do you expect from me, anyway?”
Her eyes were suddenly stricken with dark shadows and he couldn’t miss the slight quiver of her lips as she murmured huskily, “I don’t know, Quito.”
Damn it, he was going to have to tell the doctor that something inside his chest had ripped open. Some of that sewing they’d done on him must have pulled apart because there was a pain between his lungs like he’d never felt before.
A hot westerly breeze picked up her long hair and she caught the shiny strands with her hand as she turned and walked away from him.
Torn with all sorts of emotions, Quito watched her for a few seconds, then cursed under his breath and hurried to catch up with her.
By the time his hand closed around her upper arm, his breathing was rapid and labored. Clementine stopped her forward motion and turned to study him with concern.
“Quito, are you all right?”
No, he was far from all right, he wanted to tell her. He’d had enough trouble this past month without the only woman he’d ever loved showing up to bring back all sorts of pain and misery.
“One of my lungs collapsed and two of my ribs were shattered from the gunfire. I’m not totally well yet,” he admitted.
“I’m so sorry.”
She looked both sincere and concerned but Quito wasn’t going to be sucker enough to believe her this time.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, too,” he muttered.
She drew in a long, bracing breath as she continued to hold her blond hair away from her face. “Look, Quito, for what it’s worth I didn’t come up here to cause you any sort of problems. My parents willed the house to me and I’ve come up to see about putting it on the market. That’s all.”
He forced the tension in his body to relax and only then did he realize his fingers were still gripping her upper arm. He dropped his hand and said, “I didn’t really think you were here because of me. All of that was a long time ago. No sense in rehashing it.”
Except that loving her still continued to affect his life. All the days and months and years that had spanned between them should have erased her from his mind, he thought helplessly. Yet the time hadn’t done anything to dull the light of joy she brought to his heart.
She gave him a shaky smile. “I’m glad you feel that way, Quito.” She glanced thoughtfully toward her car, then back at him. “I’m on my way to the house. Why don’t you come with me? I haven’t been there in years and I’m almost afraid of what I’ll find.”
His initial instinct was to turn down her invitation. He didn’t need to spend any more time with this woman than necessary. But the hungry, wounded part of him couldn’t resist. For years he’d dreamed about seeing this woman again. Now that she was here, he might as well live the dream a little longer, he thought.
“Sure. I haven’t seen it in a long time,
