Chapter Eleven

Josie stared into his eyes. “You aren’t serious?”

He seemed dumbfounded, stunned. He was serious.

“You really don’t remember,” she said, staring up at him, as shocked as he looked.

Josie felt her heart lurch. She searched his gaze, wishing for the need, the desire, the fulfillment, the peace she’d seen just moments before. But all the warmth had gone out of his dark eyes. They stared down at her, hard, cold and accusing.

Her throat closed, her mouth dry as dust. He hadn’t moved. Their bodies were still united. Slowly, she unlocked her arms from his back, but still he didn’t move to let her up.

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“Yes, we did this before.”

She felt cold suddenly. From his gaze. From the breeze. She could feel him pulling away from her, although he still hadn’t moved.

“When?”

“The night by the creek.”

“Which night?” His gaze locked with hers.

All these months she’d thought he’d regretted their lovemaking—and he hadn’t even remembered it! How could that be? The fall he’d taken from Diablo? Or the booze he’d consumed? Or had he not wanted to remember it, just as she’d originally thought?

“You got into a fight with Odell,” she said, watching his face, “and took off on Diablo. You’d been drinking.”

He pulled away, leaving an emptiness inside her, heart-deep. The cool breeze rushed over her bare, sweaty skin, chilling her.

Hurriedly she struggled to get into her clothing, needing something between her and the unbearable look in his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him dress, his fingers working methodically while hers fumbled clumsily.

“You really don’t remember,” she said to his rigid back.

“No.”

He sounded as cold as she felt. He didn’t remember and now he thought she’d lied to him. Kept it a secret. If their lovemaking had been the only secret she’d kept these past two years, maybe then he could understand why she’d done what she had. Maybe then he could forgive her.

But as she finished dressing, pulling on her boots, she looked over at him. He sat on the end of the bed, his face set in granite. He jerked on his boots, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort. Then he sat, staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, his jaw set.

No, she thought, understanding and forgiveness were the last two things she could expect from Clay Jackson.

He fought to rein in the rush of emotions. Betrayal. Shock. Hurt. Anger. All bombarding him at once. Blurring his thoughts. Making him sick.

He stared at the wall, gripping the mattress as if it was all that was holding him together, unable to look at her. Unable to corral his thoughts any more than he could the turmoil of emotions.

Realization came slowly, awkwardly. It hadn’t been a dream.

He loosened his grip on the bed as he looked over at her. Memories of the night by the creek flashed as bright as falling stars.

“You rode Diablo.”

She nodded. “I’d been working with him, trying some of the techniques I’d seen other trainers use, techniques I’d read about.”

And those techniques had worked. He remembered the way she’d ridden. No wonder he hadn’t been able to believe it. She’d been able to ride a horse he had fought, a horse that had finally defeated him.

“Why didn’t you say something the next day?”

Her brow shot up. “I just assumed you preferred to forget it as if it never happened.”

The memory of that night had haunted him for two years. But he hadn’t believed it had happened for so many reasons. Why was that?

He stared at her. Because he’d refused to believe she could ride Diablo. Refused to believe she could ride that well. His lack of faith in her shocked him.

But he knew it had been more than that. If he’d admitted to himself what had happened between them that night, he’d have had to admit how he felt about her.

He raked a hand through his hair, sick inside. He looked at her, her face still flushed from their lovemaking, it all coming back. Everything.

“Why did you come to me that night?” he asked, his voice sounding as tortured as he felt.

She looked away, but not before he’d seen the pain in her eyes. “Surely you know that I’ve always wanted it to happen.” She shifted her gaze back to him. “When Diablo came back without you, I figured you’d been thrown. Without thinking, I got on the horse and rode out to find you.”

“And you found me.”

She nodded. “You looked so desolate, so hurt, I—”

“You felt sorry for me,” he said in disgust.

Her eyes filled with tears and a mixture of emotions that pulled at his heart as she shook her head. “I wanted you,” she whispered.

The honesty in her words stunned him. He wanted desperately to reach for her, to take her in his arms, to make up for all the hurt and pain they’d both suffered.

But a memory tugged at him, a feeling of dread at its heels. “That night by the creek, you were a…”

“A virgin?” Her gaze narrowed; tiny sparks flashed in the blue of her eyes. “That was another reason you didn’t believe it happened, wasn’t it? You refused to believe you might be wrong about me. That I might not be as wild as you were determined I was.”

Her accusation hit its mark. Bull’s-eye. He had believed the worst of her, but he realized now it had been less from her spirited antics and more to do with his own hurt. He’d wanted to believe the worst about her. Because he’d felt vulnerable around her. He’d known instinctively she was the one woman who could get to him.

He stared at her proud profile. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I was…” The words didn’t come easily. “I was scared. After Maria— I didn’t want to get involved.”

“I know.” She turned slowly to look at him, but instead of anger in her gaze, he saw deep sadness.

His chest constricted, his throat went dry. He swallowed, afraid to ask the one question he now desperately needed answered. “Did you and Odell ever—”

“No,” she said, anticipating his question. “I never had sex with Odell. I’ve never made love with anyone…but you.”

The realization slammed him back, knocking the wind from him. He gripped the bed again and held on. It took him a moment to finally form the words. “Ivy is my daughter,” he said, hearing the truth as he said them.

“Yes.”

 

JOSIE WANTED TO RECOIL from the horrible pain that twisted his handsome face into a mask of despair. He threw back his head and let out a cry that froze her blood. A cry of pure anguish.

She reached for him, needing to comfort him. But he moved away from her before she could touch him.

He backed up against the bedroom wall, his hands out in front of him as if to shield him from her words. “You let me think she was Odell’s.”

“You’re the one who saw Odell in her.”

He nodded, his eyes dark and moist. “What was I to think? I didn’t remember that we’d made love.”

“Didn’t you? Didn’t you remember any of it?” She saw the answer in his face.

He slammed a fist against the wall with a curse. “Why, dammit? Why didn’t you tell me when you realized you were pregnant?”

She didn’t want to get into all the reasons. Not now. “Because I believed it wouldn’t have been the best thing for me or my child.”

“Our child, damn you. Ivy is our child! I had a right to know. I had a right to decide what was the best for our child.”

Her heart pounded. “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

“I would have—” He looked around as if the answer were in this room. He closed his eyes.

“I knew you wouldn’t have believed Ivy was yours.” Why did he believe it now?

He lifted his head slowly, sadness softening his handsome face. “But once I knew she was mine, I would have married you.”

“You would have forced me to marry you whether it was what I wanted or not,” she said angrily. The last thing she’d wanted was a loveless marriage. “I did what I thought was best for Ivy and me.”

The phone rang, making her jump. She reached for it before it could ring a second time. “Yes?” She listened for a few moments. “Yes, thank you for calling.” She hung up and looked at Clay, tears in her eyes. “That was the sheriff. They have a suspect in custody. A man who was seen drinking with Raymond at the Toston bar. They found the murder weapon in the man’s car.” Odell didn’t kill Raymond. Because he was dead. “It’s over.”

“If you think that, Josie, you’re dead wrong.”

 

HE HEARD IVY COMING AWAKE in the room across the hall. Ivy. His daughter.

Josie wiped her eyes and looked up at him. Neither spoke for a few moments. Ivy let out another cry.

Josie slid off the bed and headed across the hall.

He stood for a few moments, too shaken to move. He could still smell her on his skin. The same way their lovemaking had been branded in his mind. His anger seemed to overwhelm him.

He trailed after Josie, stopping in the doorway to watch her with Ivy. His daughter. Some of his anger dissipated at the sight of her. He tried to tell himself that Josie had done what she thought was right for her baby. Their baby.

But he couldn’t. She should have told him. He had a right to know. Ivy was his, too.

He knew he needed time to think. But for the life of him, he had no idea where they went from here. It scared him. Now that he knew Ivy was his, it changed everything. Surely Josie realized that.

He watched her change the toddler, then put her down on the floor. Ivy scrambled over to him, holding out a worn teddy bear in her hand.

He looked into her large, lash-fringed brown eyes and felt a jolt, heart-deep. “Ivy,” he whispered as he reached down to pick her up. He could smell her sweet baby scent as he wrapped his arms around her. Tears burned his eyes.

Over Ivy’s small shoulder, he met Josie’s gaze. But he refused to let her tears touch the wall of ice he’d built around his heart toward her.

He closed his eyes and hugged his daughter to him, awed and humbled and scared.

“She’ll be hungry after her nap,” Josie said.

He nodded, realizing how little he knew about his daughter. His gut constricted with regret at all he’d lost. Would he ever be able to forgive Josie? Forgive himself?

He followed her downstairs, carrying his daughter, Ivy’s face against his, her arms around his neck.

The pull had always been there. He’d felt something for this child the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Had he known but just refused to admit the truth?

 

JOSIE COULDN’T BEAR to look at him. She busied herself making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Ivy.

When she turned, she saw he still held his daughter, his face filled with anguish. She watched him press a kiss to Ivy’s cheek, then put her down. The expression on his face as he looked at his daughter broke her heart.

He didn’t look at her as he turned and strode from the room, the screen door slamming behind him.

She closed her eyes, willing back the tears, but her heart filled with images of Clay and Ivy. Their laughter mingling. Their dark eyes accusing her.

What had she done?

Two years ago, she’d believed Clay would make a terrible father and an even worse husband. She’d believed he’d regretted their lovemaking and wanted nothing to do with her. Yes, he’d been wrong about her, had purposely thought the worst of her to protect himself from his feelings.

But what she’d done to him was so much worse. She’d kept him from his daughter. She’d underestimated the man she loved.

“I’m sorry, Clay,” she whispered after him.

Ivy chattered up a storm as Josie put her into the high chair and fed her. “Everything’s going to be all right now.” She repeated the words, praying somehow they would come true.

Someone knocked at the front door. Clay. He’d come back. She pulled a peanut-butter-and-jelly-faced Ivy from her high chair and hurried to the door.

But it was Mildred peering through the screen door.

“Are you all right?” Mildred asked.

Josie smiled, but the tears gave her away.

“What did he do now?” Mildred said, going to the kitchen, straight to the coffeepot.

“It isn’t what you think,” Josie said, following behind her. Ivy wriggled to be put down, but not before Josie cleaned up her face and hands. Ivy hurried to her cupboard to pull out all of the toys.

“You told him, didn’t you?” Mildred said, her hands on her hips as the coffee began to fill the pot. “You told him he is Ivy’s father.”

Her mouth gaped open.

“Oh, Josie, Ruth and I both knew the moment we laid eyes on him.”

She stumbled over to a chair and plunked down. It had been a long day. Too much had happened. She rubbed her temples, wondering what Mildred would say if she knew that she’d just made love with him again this afternoon. “I had to tell him.”

“Of course you did,” Mildred agreed. “I’m sure you had your reasons for not telling him before. What happens now?”

She shook her head. “Oh, Mildred, it’s all so complicated.”

“Love usually is.”

Her gaze froze on the woman. “Love? What makes you think—”

“Oh, please. I’m not that old that I don’t know love when I see it.”

Josie leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her chin into her hands. “Clay and I have always been like oil and water. He’s never understood me any better than I did him. Now too much has happened. We’ll never be able to get past it. We’re all wrong for each other. We always have been and nothing can change that.”

“It already has,” Mildred said, smiling. “Ivy. Ivy is the best of the two of you. She’s proof that with love even two people like you and Clay can find some common ground.”

Common ground. Josie thought of their lovemaking. Oh, they’d already found their common ground, all right. A sexual chemistry. But unfortunately that was shaky ground and nothing to build any sort of relationship on.

“Would you like me to stay?” Mildred asked.

Josie shook her head. “We’ll be fine. The sheriff has a suspect in custody for Raymond Degas’s murder.” And Odell was dead. “We’ll be just fine.” She actually believed it. She got up to give Mildred a hug. “You go on home. I know you have things to do. But thanks for all your help. I really appreciate it.”

“Charley asked me into town for dinner,” Mildred said, grinning. “You think I should go?”

“Absolutely,” Josie told her.

Mildred got a hug and a kiss from Ivy, then left. Josie watched her drive away, wondering where Clay had gone. He hadn’t left for good. That much she knew.

The sun had dropped behind the mountains, leaving the day cool and a little dark. She made a light dinner for herself and Ivy, but opted to eat inside tonight because of the approaching storm. Thunder rumbled off in the distance.

She played with Ivy until the night turned black and the breeze coming through the window smelled of rain. She sensed static in the air she wasn’t sure had anything to do with the storm. She couldn’t quit thinking of Clay, the ache for him painful. Was he all right?

She bathed Ivy, dressed her in her favorite teddy bear pajamas and put her to bed just before the storm hit. Lightning lit the night outside her bedroom window. She tried to read, but finally gave up and turned out the light. The storm moved closer. Huge splintered bursts of lightning lit the sky, immediately followed by the cannon boom of thunder.

She pulled the blankets up to her chin, hoping the storm didn’t wake Ivy and scare her. She wished Clay was here with them.

Finally, rain began to fall and the lightning and thunder moved on.

It was after three in the morning that Josie woke with a start, sitting upright in bed. At first she thought she’d heard something that had woken her. The rain had stopped. No sound came from inside or outside the cabin.

She turned on the lamp beside the bed, slid into her slippers and hurried to Ivy’s room, suddenly afraid.

Ivy lay curled under her blanket sound asleep, her arms wrapped around her teddy bear.

Josie stood for a few minutes watching her, reassuring herself that her baby was fine. It must have just been a bad dream.

That’s when she remembered what had dragged her from sleep. Raymond’s last words. “Odell did it.”

She’d thought he was trying to tell her who’d shot him. But he couldn’t have meant that. Odell was dead. Then what had Raymond been trying so hard to tell her? Why would a dying man use his last breath if not to name his killer?

It felt like a light going off inside her head. A burst of knowledge, bright and blinding. Not “Odell did it.” But “Odell hid it.” The jewel collection.

That is what Raymond must have been looking for, just as Clay suspected. But if Odell hid it, wouldn’t it be in Texas, unless—

She sensed movement from the open doorway. Whirling in that direction, she saw a large man in a western hat silhouetted in the doorway.

“Clay?”

But the moment she said his name, she knew it wasn’t Clay.

A scream caught in her throat. No one would hear her but Ivy if she screamed. She spun around, frantically grabbing for a weapon in the dim light in the shadowy room. Her fingers closed over the base of a lamp as she heard him behind her.

He was on her before she could swing the lamp. His strong fingers clamped over her wrist and twisted hard. The lamp thumped to the floor.

Something hard smacked the side of her head. Stars splattered across her vision.

“Ivy!” It was her last thought before the darkness took her.