more interested in going out and meeting new friends.
Camilla
In her large art studio at her Dallas home, Camilla stepped back to look at the canvas on an easel. She had a commissioned family portrait of two children she was painting from a picture she had taken with her iPad. She usually got up early to paint while Ethan slept. She would hear him on the monitor when he stirred.
It was quiet, peaceful in her studio, and on breaks from painting, she could watch the sunrise over her backyard.
Light spilled into the room and over easels holding watercolor paintings, charcoal drawings and portraits. One wall held a massive landscape painting. There were shelves filled with art bottles of acrylic paints and tubes of oils. Two sinks were near a worktable. Sunshine splashed through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that gave a broad view of her gardens. Stacks of drawings and prints were in bins along a wall. She had a patio door open to let fresh air in and a slight paint smell out. She had a studio in her condo, another studio in an office in downtown Dallas, but this was her favorite place to paint. She also had an art gallery in Dallas.
As she cleaned her brushes, she glanced over at a black-and-white pencil sketch propped on top of a cabinet holding her paints. The sketch was Noah, one she had done from a picture after they started dating. She still liked it. All in shades of black and gray on a white background, she had made his eyes a vivid blue, trying to reproduce the color of them. He had a faint smile and his black hair was its usual unruly tangle. That mass of tangled curls was gone when she last saw him with his military cut.
She stared at his picture a moment, dreading seeing him again while at the same time missing him, wondering what the future held. Guilt plagued her and memories taunted her, memories of his kisses, moments in his arms.
With a shake of her head, she continued to put away brushes and pencils. In the cabinet were scrapbooks with printouts of pictures and artwork she had done.
She had attended a musical at the Music Hall last night, and during the performance, her mind had wandered to Noah. He was out of the military now.
On the wall behind a massive wooden desk was a wall calendar with the art jobs she had pending and due dates. She had appointments written in, important events she would attend, including her widowed sister-in-law’s upcoming wedding. Noah would be there and their paths would cross.
She thought over what she’d heard: Noah Grant was home. She couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. She couldn’t understand her reaction to hearing the news. She hadn’t seen him for two years, not since he’d been home on furlough. Even back then he was exactly what she disliked in a man—a take-charge male—yet when she heard he was back, her heart had raced and longing shook her. For just an instant, she forgot their fights and arguments and remembered only the good moments. Noah making her laugh, Noah holding her, kissing her. Noah taking her to bed, where she’d run her hands over his smooth back. Noah—
Stop it.
She had to listen to that sane inner voice telling her to rein in those errant memories. Yes, they’d had moments of ecstasy, of bliss, but those times were over.
So why did the mere anticipation of seeing him make her heart flutter? Why did she have such an intense reaction to him?
Their last time together had ended in a bitter breakup and she had been the one who’d enacted it. She told him they had no future. She had a father who made all the decisions and ran their house with an iron fist. All her life her mother had given in to her dad. Too far back to remember exactly when, Camilla had vowed she would never live a life where she had to constantly give in to someone else about everything. She had to make some of her own decisions beyond what she would wear and whom she’d invite to the next party.
Her brother, as much as she had loved Thane, had been another take-charge man. But she wouldn’t allow herself to choose a man like that for a husband.
At least her dad led a quiet life. Noah, on the other hand, liked challenges.
Noah and she were such opposites that she couldn’t understand the attraction she felt. She was going to Shakespeare in the Park tonight. Noah would never go with her to Shakespeare, the opera or the ballet. He seldom went to art galleries with her. She loved city life, operas, chamber music, her art. Noah was a billionaire rancher, but a cowboy at heart. He loved his ranch, boot-scootin’ honky-tonks, country music, competing in rodeos, flying his planes. He was exuberant, filled with life, and he’d take charge wherever he was. She didn’t want to tie her life to a cowboy who was 100 percent determined to do things his way.
So why did she almost melt when she looked into his vivid blue eyes? Why did his kisses set her on fire? He could make her forget the world, forget what she liked and didn’t like. So easily he could make her want to be in his arms. And that was what he had done the last time she had seen him when he had come home to Texas on a furlough.
They had started out fighting and arguing and ended up in bed in each other’s arms. He had charmed her as he usually did.
For all their differences and her wanting to avoid getting entangled with a wild, take-charge rancher who liked challenges, she had been charmed, dazzled and unable to resist the mutual attraction, and she had spent the weekend in his bed. Now she was going to face the consequences.
When Noah had been home on furlough, he had been more appealing than ever. He had filled out with broad, muscled shoulders, a hard body in prime shape with a narrow waist, endurance that made him fabulous in bed. Just thinking about seeing him again made her pulse race and her insides get tingly.
She didn’t know how she would deal with him. No matter how much she planned to stand firm, to resist him, she feared that all he had to do was wrap his arm around her and kiss her and her resistance would disappear into thin air.
On the other hand, he could be stubborn, determined and unyielding. Which made her wonder how forgiving he could be. She couldn’t answer that, because there hadn’t ever been an occasion between them for her to gauge his ability to forgive.
Thinking of seeing Noah made her shiver.
She heard the monitor and left to get her fifteen-month-old son.
He had gone back to sleep and she stood beside his crib, love filling her for her baby. Ethan lay curled on his side. His long black lashes cast dark shadows on his rosy cheeks.
Camilla ran her fingers lightly over her precious sleeping baby. His mop of curly black hair reminded her of his dad. He held a frazzled-looking teddy bear in his arms—the toy he held like a security blanket whenever he’d get sleepy. The bear’s stitched black nose was smashed from Ethan rubbing noses with it.
She touched Ethan’s curls again. Guilt was a heavy shroud that had fallen over her. This was Noah’s baby and he had no idea that Ethan was his son.
Camilla
All during her pregnancy, everyone assumed she was carrying her ex-husband Aiden’s child. When she realized they did, she let everyone go right on believing that. By the second month after they married, Aiden and she were divorced. When the baby was born, it was easy to keep up the deception. She had been divorced and Aiden had left town six months before Ethan was born, so no one questioned her naming her baby Warner, her family name. Aiden had been a rebound marriage, a fling, a mistake,
