Chapter Two
Like a Texas whirlwind, Tara Dyson Calder swept
up Sally the instant she spied the older woman.
“Sally. Thank God, you’re here.” Relief
quivered through her voice. In the next second, her dark gaze bored
into Sally, a kind of frantic distress in her expression that was
totally alien to her nature. “Is it true?”
Startled and confused, Sally drew back,
“Is what true?”
Tara dragged in a quick breath as if
trying to gather her scattered wits. “Ty. I just heard. I’ve been
in Europe the past two months—in Tuscany, then the South of
France.” She shook her head, realizing none of that was important.
“Someone just told me there had been a kidnapping attempt, and Ty
was shot. Was he?”
“Yes—”
Tara never gave her a chance to say
more. “How badly was he hurt? I demand you tell me. His arm, he
isn’t going to lose it, is he?”
“No. He’s fine—”
“Are you certain? I
heard—”
This time Sally interrupted her. “I can
imagine what you heard. But Ty has almost completely recovered.
Don’t take my word for it. You can see for yourself. He’s sitting
right over there.” With a wave of her hand, she gestured in the
general direction of their table.
Turning, Tara went motionless for a
full second, her velvety-dark gaze drinking in the sight of him,
her soft lips parting in pleasure and relief. With a practiced
grace that had become as natural to her as breathing, Tara glided
across the room to the table, clearly blind to anyone
else.
Manners, too deeply ingrained to be
ignored, brought both Ty and Chase to their feet. But Tara had eyes
only for Ty. She was still a stunning woman. Time hadn’t dimmed at
all the allure of her dark beauty. Ty could feel the animal pull of
it. In some ways, it was all too familiar and, as a result, easier
to resist.
“Tara. This is a surprise.” Without
thinking, Ty extended a hand in greeting, and felt the smallness
and softness of the one she placed in it.
“Ty.” Her voice was all silken emotion,
caressing and low, and her dark eyes were bright with
promise.
She let her hand stay in his a fraction
of a second longer than propriety dictated. An instant later, she
noticed the sling, and her expression clouded with a concern that
made Ty oddly uncomfortable. “Ty, your arm.” Tara reached a hand
toward it, then hesitated as if reluctant to touch his arm in case
it might cause him pain.
“The sling comes off next week; then
I’ll be good as new.”
“Thank God,” she declared with feeling,
a hand theatrically fluttering to her throat. Belatedly Tara
noticed Chase standing there. “You are looking well, Chase,” she
said in greeting then tilted her head at a coy angle, striking a
provocative pose that Ty recognized all too well. “Or isn’t it
proper for me to address my ex-father-in-law by his first
name?”
“It was good enough in the past; it’s
good enough now. How are you, Tara?” Chase inclined his head, but
didn’t offer his hand.
“Much better now that I have seen for
myself that Ty will be fine,” Tara replied then deigned to
acknowledge Jessy’s presence with a glance of cool challenge. “As
I’m sure you feel, Jessy.”
Jessy responded with a cool look of her
own. “Calders have always been quick to recover.”
But Jessy might as well have been
talking to the wall for all the notice Tara gave as she switched
her attention back to the two men. “After spending the last two
months in Europe, then coming back to hear about the kidnapping
attempt—it was such a shock. And when I learned Ty had been
wounded—” Tara paused, leaving the sentence dangling to slide him a
chiding look. “Honestly, Ty, hasn’t anyone ever told you that
ex-husbands are only supposed to be shot by their former
spouses?”
Her remark attained the desired
reaction as his mouth quirked in a hard, familiar smile. “I guess
no one has.”
“Then you need to remember that from
now on,” Tara informed him, her eyes sparkling. “Your grandson,”
she said to Chase, “I understood that he was unharmed?” The lilt of
her voice made it a question.
“That’s correct.” Chase
nodded.
“How very fortunate. Poor Cat, she must
have been in agony. Is it true that she’s married to the local
sheriff? Echohawk, I believe they said his name was.”
“Acting sheriff,” Ty corrected and half
waited for Tara to make some slighting comment about either his
occupation or native ancestry.
But Tara was too wise to make that kind
of mistake. “Well, you can tell Cat for me that my feelings are
hurt that she didn’t send me a wedding announcement.”
“I’ll pass that along to
her.”
“On second thought, don’t bother,” Tara
declared with an airy wave of her hand. “I’ll call and tell her
myself as long as I’m here. It’s awful the way we have managed to
lose touch these last few years after we were so
close.”
“I’m sure Cat would like that,” Ty
replied evenly, aware that his younger sister had always been fond
of Tara.
“We were about to have dinner. Would
you care to join us?” Chase motioned to an empty chair at their
table, the invitation intended to prompt her
departure.
It backfired.
“How kind of you to ask, Chase. I think
I’ll pass on the dinner, but I would love to join you for a cup of
coffee and catch up on all the family news.”
Tara took perverse satisfaction in the
flicker of irritation that passed so briefly across Chase Calder’s
expression. She had no illusions about his opinion of her.
Regardless of her welcome—or lack thereof—she had no intentions of
leaving until she was ready.
When Chase moved to pull out the empty
chair for her, Tara turned away so she could make it appear she
hadn’t noticed. Instead she swung around one of the chairs from a
nearby table and positioned it so that she could sit between Ty and
the loathsome woman he married. Tara hated Jessy. She always had.
There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that, if it weren’t for that
she-bitch Jessy Niles, there would have been no divorce and she
would still be Ty’s wife.
Admittedly she and Ty had encountered
some problems in their marriage, but none they couldn’t have worked
out. Given enough time, Tara would have seen to it. That’s why she
had strung out the divorce so long.
In truth, Tara had ultimately agreed to
the divorce only when it became clear that the harder she fought Ty
over it, the more determined he became about it. It was hardly
surprising. The grass always looked greener in forbidden pastures.
Now that he had had a chance to graze on it for a few years, Tara
wondered just how much Ty still liked the taste of it. Surely he
had wearied of Jessy by now.
After all, the woman was common as
dirt, the daughter of an ordinary ranch hand. It was true that the
bone structure of her face was quite good, classical in its line.
Makeup would have done wonders to enhance it, but one glance had
revealed to Tara that Jessy was totally devoid of any, except,
perhaps, some lipstick. That same glance also told her that Jessy
still didn’t wear the sort of clothes a Calder wife should. Cowboy
boots, tan twills, and a sloppy white shirt were hardly suitable
attire. Nor did Jessy know how to take care of her skin. Tara had
been quick to notice all the feathery lines etched around Jessy’s
mouth, nose, and eyes, lines emphasized by the golden tan that came
from a failure to use protective sunscreen.
It was beyond question that Jessy
suffered greatly in contrast to her. With the two of them sitting
side by side, Ty was bound to notice the disparity. Tara was
counting on it.
“So how have things been at the Triple
C?” Tara angled herself toward Ty, effectively excluding Jessy from
their conversation as Chase signaled for Sally to bring a cup of
coffee for her.
“Fine.” Ty’s one-word answer was
deliberately cool, almost as cold as the accusation in his eyes
that seemed to convey he knew what she was up to.
Fully confident of her abilities, Tara
was undeterred. “I’m glad some things have gone well for you.” She
let her gaze slide to his shoulder sling, paused a beat while she
summoned a subtle welling of tears, then gave an expressive little
shudder. “Every time I think about that horrible moment when they
told me you had been seriously wounded, I”—she lifted her head,
letting him see the moisture in her eyes—“I was worried out of my
mind about you, Ty. Crazy, isn’t it, after all this time
apart.”
His glance fell from her face. “I
appreciate your concern—”
“Concern?” Her low laugh was soft with
mockery. “I was frantic with worry. Poor Sally must have thought I
had taken leave of my senses over the way I grilled her about you
when I first arrived. Thank heaven you never saw it. That would
have been too embarrassing. Why, the way I was carrying on, a
stranger would have thought we were still married.”
“Our divorce was final six years ago,”
Ty reminded her smoothly.
“True. Six years, one week, and two
days. But who’s counting?” She kept her smile light and playful,
but the look in her eyes was something more serious. Truthfully
Tara had no idea of the exact date of their divorce, but she
doubted that Ty knew it either. “Look.” She raised her left hand,
showing him the black opal ring on her finger. “I’m still wearing
the engagement ring you gave me. I told you I was going to keep it.
Even with the problems we had, we also had some very good
times.”
“Dammit, Tara.” He pushed the words
through gritted teeth, checked some further angry retort, and
ground out instead, “It’s long past time you took that ring
off.”
“Now you sound like Daddy,” Tara
chided.
“How is your father?” Chase inserted,
regarding her with an impenetrable expression.
“Daddy, he’s—”
“Doing quite well, thank you.” The male
voice with its distinct Texas twang came from E.J. Dyson. Dressed
as usual, in an expensive Western-cut suit and familiar white
Stetson, he came to a halt beside Tara’s chair and cast an
indulging smile at her head.
She glanced up in surprise. “What are
you doing here, Daddy?”
“Looking for you, of course,” he
replied then nodded to Chase. “Good to see you again, Calder. And
you, too.” His encompassing glance included both Ty and Jessy.
“It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has,” Ty agreed. But it was
the worn and weary look about the older man that had Ty narrowing
his eyes to make a closer inspection. The man looked every bit of
his seventy years and more.
“As you can see, I still have trouble
keeping track of my daughter. Some things never change, I guess.
Truthfully, I’m not sure I want them to.” E.J. laid a hand on
Tara’s shoulder in affection, then turned a smiling glance on Ty.
“I understand congratulations are in order for both you and your
wife.”
Before Ty could respond, Tara looked up
in confusion. “Congratulations? For what? Have I missed
something?”
“Jessy is expecting,” E.J. informed
her.
For the space of a heartbeat, Tara
didn’t react at all. Then, slowly, she turned to look at Jessy.
“You’re having a baby?” There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in
the brightness of her voice that reflected the hatred that blazed
in her dark eyes.
Inwardly, Jessy recoiled from it, but
outwardly she maintained a calm composure. “Twins,
actually.”
“Twins,” Tara repeated. “How wonderful.
And when is this blessed event to be?” She directed the question to
Ty.
“Early December.”
“In time for Christmas. Isn’t that
perfect timing?” Tara declared then gave Ty one of her patented,
sidelong looks. “Papa Ty,” she teased. “I can see you now, passing
out cigars. Daddy, we really must remember to send Ty a box of
Cuban cigars, so he can celebrate the birth of the twins in style.”
Graceful as a doe, Tara rose from her chair and tucked a hand in
the crook of her father’s arm. “Daddy’s come to drag me off to some
dreary dinner with his mine supervisor, so I might as well leave
willingly. Please give my love to Cat in case I don’t have time to
call her this trip, will you, Ty?”
“I will.” Ty made a brief show of
rising then settled back in his chair when the pair moved away from
the table. There was a vaguely preoccupied air about him as he sent
Jessy a half-apologetic glance. “With any luck, it will be another
six years before we see her again.”
“We can only hope.” Few things ever
unsettled Jessy, but the look of pure hatred in Tara’s eyes
had.
“That reminds me,” Chase began, “I ran
into your father this afternoon.”
He went on to explain about the rotted
fence post. After which the conversation moved into a general
discussion on the overall condition of the fencing on the ranch,
replacement costs, and the massive man-hours the task would
require. The subject of Tara wasn’t raised again.
A three-quarter moon on the wane rode
high in the night sky. Its bright glow dimmed the sparkle of the
blanketing stars. But the multitude of them was still awesome,
stretching from horizon to horizon, from infinity to beyond.
Barefoot and clad in a tan sleeper-tee that outlined the growing
roundness of her stomach, Jessy stood at the second-floor window of
the spacious master bedroom and gazed at the vastness of the
Montana night sky.
Below her line of vision was the
sprawling collection of outbuildings, barns, storage sheds,
commissary, and housing that comprised the headquarters of the
Triple C. In size, it was that of a small town, something a
stranger might marvel over, but Jessy was too accustomed to it to
notice. It had not the mystery of the starry sky.
An intermittent flash of light made a
track across the studded blackness, catching her eye. A second
later she recognized the red and green glow of navigation lights
and knew it was an aircraft banking southward, not a shooting star.
Too few planes flew across this empty stretch of the state. At that
altitude, logic insisted that the aircraft had to be Dyson’s
corporate jet—with Tara on board.
The view somehow marred, Jessy turned
from the window just as Ty entered the room. He saw her by the
window and paused briefly in mild surprise.
“I half expected you to be in
bed.”
“I was headed in that direction, then
stopped to do a little star-gazing. It’s a beautiful night out
there.”
“To be honest, I’m too tired to care.”
He crossed to the brass-edged bootjack and used it to pry out of
his boots, one foot at a time. “It feels like it’s been a very long
day.”
“Mmmm,” Jessy made an agreeing sound,
then she watched while Ty began the laborious, one-handed task of
shedding his clothes, something he insisted on accomplishing
without assistance. It was a case of male independence and
pride.
“You know, I’ve always known we had an
exceptional herd of registered Red Angus, but every time I think
about one of the bulls we bred walking off with the Grand
Championship at the Denver show—” Ty stopped and shook his head, as
if the feeling it gave was beyond description. “I think I’ll look
up Ballard in the next day or two and make sure he wasn’t feeding
your dad a line.”
“Why would he do that? The facts are
much too easy to verify.”
“And I’ll do that, too.” Ty scooped his
jeans off the floor and tossed them over the arm of a plush chair
upholstered in gold damask. “Everybody knows Ballard has shown a
tendency to exaggerate in the past.”
Jessy hid an amused smile. “You never
have liked Dick Ballard very much, have you?”
Her smile deepened at the way Ty took
such pains to avoid looking her way. “I wouldn’t say that. He’s a
good hand, fast and sure with a rope, steady and reliable, willing
to turn his hand to any work, and sits deep in a saddle.” Ty ticked
off the man’s good points, but in his mind, he kept remembering all
the times he had seen Ballard sitting at Jessy’s table in the past.
“But he’s too quick to chase anything in a skirt.”
“You still hold it against him for
making a pass at Cat at the Christmas party a few years ago, don’t
you? Good heavens, the man had been drinking, Ty.”
“I know. Just the same, Ballard has
always been a little too full of himself.”
“He was that way when he was young,”
Jessy agreed. “But all males are in their youth.”
Ty stripped off the last sock and added
that to the pile of discarded clothes, then arched her a skeptical
look as he stood there in his shorts and undershirt. “Really? I
don’t ever recall being that way.”
Her wide mouth curved into a smile.
“That’s because you were too busy trying to figure out what it took
to be a Calder.”
Ty chuckled in remembrance. “You’ve got
that right.”
“At least you finally got the hang of
it.” Jessy crossed to the four-poster, canopied bed and began
folding back the satin coverlet into a neat bundle at the foot of
it.
Ty stared at the flashing gold material
for a second, then flicked a glance around the rest of the room.
The line of his mouth thinned with displeasure at its look of sleek
elegance. “Next month when you and Cat go to buy all the baby
things, you need to pick out some different furnishings for in
here. It’s time we got rid of all this slick satin and gilded
furniture.”
“That suits me,” Jessy replied, and
wondered if Ty had noticed she had already removed some of the
daintier feminine pieces. But the rest of the master suite was much
the way it had been when he and Tara had shared it.
After their separation, he had moved
back into his former bedroom and the master suite had sat empty.
But with the twins coming, it was clear they were going to require
larger sleeping quarters, hence the move into the master suite. But
Tara’s hand was visible everywhere Jessy looked. She was never more
aware of it than tonight.
With the satin coverlet stowed safely
out of the way, Jessy turned back the top sheet and slipped between
the covers. Meanwhile Ty turned off the light switch, leaving only
the bedside table lamp to illuminate the room.
“One of the first things I want you to
do,” he said as he crawled into the wide bed, “is to get rid of
this king-size monstrosity. I’m tired of having to search for you
when I climb into bed.”
“Is that right?” Jessy scooted closer
and rolled onto her side to face him, always careful of his
shoulder.
She reached up to caress a fingertip
over the black brush of his mustache with its first few strands of
gray showing. Jessy had never been one to avoid issues. It was her
nature to confront them. All this talk about redoing the master
suite was an oblique reference to Tara. The woman was on both their
minds, and it was time they faced it.
“She still wants you, Ty,” Jessy
murmured and studied him with knowing eyes.
He caught hold of her caressing fingers
and pressed them to his lips, then held them against his chest.
“Anything that’s out of reach, Tara has always regarded as a
personal challenge. And I’m taken. Remember?”
It was never her memory that Jessy
questioned, but she played along with him and pretended to give his
question heavy thought. “It gets a little faulty at times. Maybe
you need to refresh it.”
“With pleasure.” Ty cupped a hand to
the back of her head and drew her lips to his mouth.
Drawn against his hard-muscled length,
the heat of his body flooded over her, warming the bareness of her
long legs. She wound herself closer, responding to the hungry
demand of his kiss, understanding it. Like him, she had a desperate
need to blot out the past. And this was the way to do it—together,
in the darkness.
She pulled away long enough to switch
off the lamp and peel off the long T-shirt, then she came back to
him, all slim-hipped and naked, her stomach swollen with child as
were her once-flat breasts.
In the skies far to the south, the
corporate jet continued to wing its way into the night, on course
for Fort Worth. In the lushly appointed cabin, E.J. Dyson sat
huddled with his chief financial officer, poring over a set of
quarterly reports.
Free at last from the necessity of
making conversation, Tara slipped off her high heels and settled
back in the plushly cushioned seat, delicately curling her legs
beneath her. Briefly her glance strayed to her father, noting his
drawn and haggard look. She made a mental note to urge him to slow
down, then turned her face toward the porthole window by her seat
and gazed into the blackness beyond the panes.
Finally there was time to let her
thoughts dwell on that fateful meeting with Ty. A meeting that had
been full of such horrible irony.
Tara had never wanted the divorce.
Never. At the back of her mind, she had always planned, one day, to
win him back, convinced that it would require only a reasonable
passage of time in order for her to achieve that goal.
A near sob caught in her throat. Dear
God, she had waited too long. She balled a hand into a fist, long
nails digging into her palm.
But the truth was—she never truly
realized how very much she loved Ty until that shattering moment
when she learned he had been shot. It all had become crystal-clear
to her in that instant.
For a time, Tara had reveled in the
role of the gay, Texas divorcee. But not a single man she met had
ever measured up even close to Ty. A discovery she had made too
late.
The bitterness of that disappointment
didn’t last, giving way almost immediately to an overwhelming rage
at the knowledge that Jessy was going to have Ty’s child. Even
worse, she was going to have twins.
Ty would never walk away from the
mother of his children. That stupid code he lived by wouldn’t allow
him to do it.
Not for the first time, Tara cursed
herself for not giving Ty a child. She had always known he wanted
one, but she had been too worried about the damage it would do to
her figure. Now she had lost him forever.
Every ounce of her body screamed that
it wasn’t fair.
Suddenly her life stretched before her
as miserable and empty as the sky behind the plane’s
window.
How could Ty do this to her? Surely he
knew how much she loved him. Then came the cold, killing
realization that he knew and didn’t care. As disgustingly trite as
it sounded, he had dumped her for another woman. Tara couldn’t let
him get away with that, not without making him pay.
Dearly.