cancer, Elizabeth has now joined the ranks of cancer survivors. Writing remains at the top of her list of loves just below her husband, sons and daughter-in-law. Elizabeth has also written under the pseudonym of Betsy Page for Harlequin.
Contents
Chapter One
“Warts. Warts on top of warts,” Lisa Gray cursed under her breath as she parked in front of the modest two-story house on the outskirts of Lubbock, Texas. The white frame structure was set in the midst of twenty-five acres of land. The owner, she knew, liked his privacy and a lot of elbow room. In fact, he was the most determinedly insular person she’d ever known. At one time she’d thought she could change that, but she’d been wrong.
The muscles in her jaw tensed so tightly they threatened to spasm. She hated being here. The urge to turn the rental car around and go back to Seattle was close to overwhelming. Then she shifted her shoulder. A sharp twinge of pain traveled through her, reminding her of why she’d come. “I have to do this. I have no choice.” She repeated the liturgy that had gotten her this far.
Climbing out of her car, she made her way to the porch. At the door she hesitated. Then, again telling herself that she had no choice, she rang the bell.
A pleasant-featured, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman opened the door. “Hello.”
Silently Lisa berated herself for not checking the phone book to ascertain Slade’s current address. It had never occurred to her that he would have moved. This place suited him perfectly. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I thought Slade Logan lived here.”
The woman smiled. “He does, but he’s not home yet. Would you like to come in and wait?”
Lisa glanced at the woman’s left hand. There was a wedding ring. So Slade had remarried. She felt as if a knife was being twisted inside her. Furious that she was letting this affect her so strongly, she ignored the sensation and maintained a facade of indifference. “I’ll catch up with him later.”
As Lisa started to walk away the woman came outside. “Can I tell him your name?”
Lisa turned back. She’d find another solution. She wasn’t certain what, but she’d find one. Again, hurt that he’d remarried cut through her. I should feel sorry for the woman, she told herself. Claudette, Slade’s first wife who had died tragically, would always be uppermost in his heart. In the next instant Lisa laughed at herself. That was jealousy talking. She’d simply never been able to touch his heart while this woman had.
This admission was the most hurtful yet. Until now she’d blamed Claudette’s hold on Slade for him not allowing himself to fall in love with her. Now she had to face the fact that while he’d meant everything to her, she’d been just a warm body to satisfy his needs.
“To be honest, I’m on my way out of town,” Lisa said, then she turned and headed back to her car.
“I’m sure he’ll be sorry he missed you,” the woman called from the porch.
“I doubt that,” Lisa muttered under her breath.
The sound of a vehicle approaching caused her to look up the dirt driveway leading to the house. A heavy-duty, four-wheel drive, double-cab, red pickup equipped with an extra roll bar and high-beam spotlights was approaching. It was Slade’s truck. Bile rose in her throat as he parked. The last thing she wanted was to witness him with his new wife. But she had no choice. Pride refused to allow her to turn tail and run. Coming to a halt, she stood stiffly.
“Looks like you won’t miss him, after all,” the woman said, coming off the porch and approaching Lisa.
Lisa barely heard. Her attention was riveted on the tall, muscular Texas Ranger climbing out of the truck. Half Apache, his Native American heritage was obvious in his facial features, his coal-black hair and eyes so dark brown that at times they looked almost ebony. She hated the way the sight of him still caused her heart to pound double time. You never really meant anything to him, she snapped at herself, and bitterness for having cared so much for a man who had never honestly cared for her slowed her heart to a more normal rate.
“Lisa,” he greeted coolly.
“Slade,” she returned with equal coolness.
“Never figured I’d be seeing you again.”
The frost in his voice told her that he wished he hadn’t. Self-directed anger that she’d come, raged through her. Her gaze shifted to the brown-eyed woman and a flush of embarrassment reddened her cheeks. Not only had she made a fool of herself by coming here, she’d made it in front of Slade’s wife. “Sorry I interrupted your evening.” Stiffly she added, “Congratulations on your marriage.”
The brown-eyed woman grinned, clearly finding this last statement humorous. “You have the wrong idea.” Extending her hand, she said, “We never introduced ourselves. I’m Katrina Logan, Slade’s sister-in-law. Boyd and I are just staying here while our place is being painted.”
“Lisa Gray,” Lisa responded, accepting the handshake. Even this new knowledge didn’t make her feel less like a fool.
Katrina’s gaze shifted between Lisa and Slade. Releasing Lisa’s hand, she said, “I think I’ll just go inside and finish cooking dinner. You two look like you’ve got some private
