years old. She knew he was now the same age as her—thirty-five.
As a young man of eighteen, he’d been handsome. As a mature man of thirty-five, he was devastating. Life had etched lines into his face, but the fine lines that radiated out from the corners of his eyes and creased his forehead only added character and strength.
No gray accented his thick, black hair, and his lean, lanky body looked as if not a single year had passed since last time she’d seen him.
“You come down to help or to stand there and stare?”
She grinned. “Aw, busted. I was just looking to see what damage the years had done to you.” She stepped into the kitchen.
He lowered the flame beneath a pot of beans and turned to stare at her. His eyes were just as she remembered them, smoky gray and long-lashed. Heat welled up inside her as his gaze slowly drifted down the length of her, a visual onslaught that felt vaguely invasive.
“Looks like the years have been fairly kind to you,” he observed, as his gaze once again locked with hers.
She smiled and consciously ignored the heat that still flooded through her veins. She found it crazy and amazing that after all these years a flicker of those bedroom eyes of his could affect her. “Now that we have that out of the way, what can I do to help with dinner?”
“You can set the table. I’m afraid dinner isn’t going to be anything elaborate. Hot dogs and beans. I didn’t realize I was going to have company this evening.” There was a touch of censure in his voice.
“And I apologize for that,” Lilly said as she grabbed three plates from the cabinet and placed them on the table. “I should have made sure Aunt Clara contacted you. I just assumed she had until we pulled into the entry and she mentioned she hadn’t.”
Lilly grabbed silverware from the appropriate drawer, wondering if now was a good time to mention the fact that Aunt Clara’s intentions were not just for a visit, but rather for something more permanent.
But she got no opportunity as Aunt Clara joined them in the kitchen at that moment. She filled the air with cheerful prattle, making any meaningful conversation between Matthew and Lilly impossible.
Although it had been years since Lilly had been here, she knew her aunt had come to the ranch seven months ago when her brother and Matthew’s father, Adam, had passed away. She also knew her aunt had stayed in touch through sporadic letters from Matthew’s sister, Johnna.
Dinner was an awkward affair, and Lilly got the distinct impression that Matthew wasn’t exactly thrilled by their impromptu appearance here.
Although he was courteous, it seemed a courtesy offered with a touch of reluctance. The shadows in his eyes that she’d once found fascinating now seemed even more deep and forbidding. She wondered what had happened in his life in the years since she’d last visited that had so deepened those shadows?
Not my problem, she reminded herself. But what made her slightly uncomfortable was that she had seen those same kinds of shadows in another’s eyes not so long ago. And those shadows had led to a tragedy of mammoth proportions.
In that particular instance, Lilly had allowed herself to get too close, had allowed her natural defenses to drop, and the end result had been devastating.
She didn’t intend to allow anyone that close again. All she wanted from Matthew Delaney was the assurance that Aunt Clara, the woman Lilly loved more than anyone in the world, could have a home here. Then Lilly would return to her life and cherish the memories of a boy who’d been kind to her when she’d desperately needed kindness.
Lilliana. Lilly.
Matthew took a pitchfork and arranged a bed of fresh hay in one of the horse stalls. The last person he’d expected to see here was Lilliana Winstead. He hadn’t thought about her for years, but there had been a time when he’d hardly been able to think of anything else.
Although he’d never had much use for his aunt Clara, the summer of his sixteenth year she’d brought her newly adopted daughter, Lilliana, here for a visit.
Those trips they’d made annually for three summers had been both eagerly anticipated and equally dreaded by Matthew, who would always be assigned the task of entertaining Lilly.
Spending endless hours with the beautiful Lilly had been a pleasure the likes of which Matthew had never known. Not only had her prettiness attracted him, but she’d had an infectious laugh, a sparkle in her eyes and an insatiable curiosity that had absolutely bewitched him.
“You show her a good time, boy, and keep her out of trouble,” Adam Delaney would say to his son on the first day of their visit. “You make me proud or I swear I’ll make you sorry.”
Matthew shoved away the memory of his old man’s words, but there was no way to push aside the anger that stirred inside him. It was a familiar anger, one that had become like a loyal friend because it was always there just under the surface.
He spread the last of the new hay, trying not to feel guilty about how quickly he’d left the table after dinner. Aunt Clara had indicated that she would do the cleanup, and Matthew had taken the opportunity to escape to the stables.
Seeing Lilly again had stirred myriad emotions and he felt as if he needed some time alone to put it all in the proper perspective.
He’d been looking forward to this time when the ranch would be dark, when there would be no guests demanding attention. No bitching, no whining, just peace and quiet, that’s what he’d been looking for.
He needed time alone to figure out where he was headed, where the Delaney Dude Ranch was headed.
But in those summers when Lilly and Aunt Clara had visited, the one thing that had been conspicuously absent was peace and quiet.
“Hi.”
He tightened his grip on the pitchfork as her low, melodic voice interrupted his thoughts. She stood just outside the stall where he’d been working.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Matthew, but I really need to talk to you.” It was obvious she’d showered and changed clothes before coming in search of him. Gone was the wrinkled blue dress she’d been wearing, and in its place was a blue T-shirt and a pair of almost shockingly short shorts.
“Talk to me about what?” He leaned the pitchfork against the wall, then left the stall. As he stepped out, he could smell her, a fresh clean floral scent that eddied in the air. It was a scent that rang the chords of distant memories. He thought she’d worn the same fragrance years ago.
“About Aunt Clara.”
Matthew frowned. “What about her?”
Lilly leaned back against the stable wall. The brevity of her shorts now gloriously displayed the legs that had been hidden beneath the long skirt earlier. Those legs looked just as silky, just as shapely as they had looked years ago.
“I’m not sure how to tell you this,” she said, hedging.
A burst of irritation swept through Matthew at the realization that even after all the years that had passed, and all the beatings he’d endured because of her, he felt a stir of desire for her. “Just spit it out,” he exclaimed. “I don’t remember
