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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

Coming Home (21 page)

BOOK: Coming Home
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Being introduced to Roman's youngest sister, Roxanne was thinking much the same thing. Having lived and worked with some of the most celebrated beauties in the world, Roxanne was used to beautiful women, but Pagan had to be, she admitted, one of the most stunning females, she'd ever seen in her life.

Pagan Louise Granger was not a tall woman. She stood only five feet six in her bare feet, but there was a lot packed in between the top and bottom. A lot. She was daintily made but with a bust that usually occasioned a second look by most males. For her height her legs were long and shapely and her hips slim and taut. Like Roman she had a feline grace.

But despite that perfect body of hers, it was her hair that usually caught most people's attention. Pagan had been blessed or, as she often suspected, cursed with the most incredible shade of red hair ever seen by man; that it was natural only made it more incredible. Tonight that burgundy-red hair was worn loose around her shoulders like a cloud of dark fire. Her hair was clearly red, but of such a deep shade that in certain lights you'd almost swear that there were strands of plum and claret mixed in.

The heart-shaped face that hair framed was equally remarkable. The impact of her wide-spaced, long-lashed almost lilac-hued eyes had been known to make strong men tremble. She had an elegant little nose that Helen of Troy would have killed for, a generous mouth that made even puritanical males think lascivious thoughts, and cheekbones that sent master sculptors scrambling for their tools. Alabaster skin and a smile that had enough wattage to light up a midsize city completed the package.

Being the object of that smile, Roxanne almost blinked. Oh, my, she thought, amused, aren't the boys going to fall all over themselves trying to impress you. She glanced up and saw the way Jeb was staring at Pagan and her amusement fled. Not
Jeb
, she thought, oddly panicked at the idea of him falling for this southern beauty. Upset and not knowing why, she quickly turned Pagan over to Nick who had just come back out of the kitchen.

Roxanne disappeared into the kitchen, needing a moment to get her thoughts under control. She was so used to having men fall at her feet, that jealousy was an emotion she had seldom experienced. So what exactly was she feeling right now? I can't be jealous—not about Jeb. I mean, come on, so we had a tumble together, it was no big deal. It had been a
physical
thing—her emotions hadn't been involved. Right? She bit her lip. That frenzied coupling on the countertop shouldn't have made a difference in her feelings toward him—it certainly shouldn't have made her feel all green-eyed with jealousy when Jeb just looked at another woman. I'm not jealous, she told herself firmly. Oh, but you are, whispered a voice slyly in her brain. Maybe he means more to you than you realized—have you considered that? Maybe what happened back in September
hadn't
been just a mindless, hormone driven sexual act. She shook her head, trying to silence the voice, but it continued. Maybe somewhere down deep inside, crooned the voice, you're actually attracted to Jeb Delaney—and not just physically. Maybe there's something more going on between the pair of you. Roxanne almost moaned aloud at the idea. Oh, please, I don't have time for this! Shut up, she hissed to the voice in her brain, and go away—I don't want any serious involvement right now and certainly
not
with Jeb.

Her emotions in a jumble, Roxanne strolled out of the kitchen and over to where Jeb was standing, his gaze still fixed on Pagan who was laughing at something Nick said as he handed her a mug of hot, mulled cider.

Roxanne gave him a sharp jab in the side and muttered, “Put your tongue back in your mouth. Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's impolite to stare?”

His attention immediately settled on her and Roxanne wished she'd kept her mouth shut. God. She'd sounded like a jealous wife. To make it worse, there was something very male and satisfied in Jeb's eyes as he looked at her. It unsettled her even further. A lazy smile curved his mouth. “Jealous, Princess?”

“When hell freezes over,” she snapped, thoroughly ruffled, and spun on her heel intending to put as much room as possible between herself and a certain Neanderthal.

She only took half a step before a strong male arm wrapped around her and jerked her back. Jeb grinned down into her stormy face. “Come on, Roxy, you've got to admit that the kid's gorgeous.” He lifted a mocking brow. “And the last time I checked, I was single and fancy-free. I'm allowed to look—or more if I want to.”

Her eyes shooting gold flames, her hands clenched into fists, she snarled, “Be my guest. Go ahead. Rob the cradle if that turns you on.”

He laughed and uncaring who saw it brushed his lips against hers. “My point exactly. She's an eyeful, but she's just a baby.” His gaze rested on the lips he had just touched “My taste tends to run to more, ah, mature women.” Ignoring her outraged stare, his face laughing down at her, he murmured, “Just to put your mind at rest—she's not my type.” He glanced over to where Pagan stood and added, “But Jesus, Princess, even you must see that she's one incredible package.” Before Roxanne could reply, he turned back to her and his lips touched hers again, longer this time. When he lifted his head, his eyes were no longer laughing. “Not,” he said huskily, “that she holds a candle to you. No one could.”

“As if I care,” she muttered, wishing his words didn't send a flash of warmth through her. What in the world was wrong with her? Jealous wasn't a word she would have ever applied to herself, but she was honest enough to admit that when she'd seen Jeb staring with such open admiration at Pagan, she'd felt something perilously close to it.

At the moment everyone else was taken up with greetings and unpacking the food that had arrived with Nick and the others, leaving Roxanne and Jeb isolated in a little circle all their own. They were standing off a ways from the others, almost hidden in a corner. As had happened before that veil of intimacy seemed to wrap around them, everything fading away until they were only aware of each other.

His expression unreadable, Jeb said slowly, “I think you do.”

“What?”

“Care.”

Roxanne reared back to glower up at him. “Are you nuts? You know I can't stand you—and you don't like me very much either.”

“Then how,” he asked quietly, “do you explain what happens between us? Something does. It has ever since that day. Whether you want to admit it or not, something changed between us then.”

Roxanne froze, wishing she had kept her mouth shut and never started this conversation. She was so confused. She wasn't a jealous person, yet she had felt jealous only a few moments ago. She didn't like Jeb, yet she couldn't forget those moments in his arms and the very last thing she ever wanted to talk about was
that
day. Escape seemed her only option, but when she tried to leave, his arm tightened around her waist.

“Things changed. Admit it,” he demanded.

Her chin lifted. “Are you referring to that time. … we, uh, you know … in my house?”

“Made love on your countertop?”

“We didn't make love. We had sex,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Now why, I wonder, is it so much easier for you to call it sex than making love?”

Roxanne ran a trembling hand through her hair.

“Because that's what it was.” Almost desperately she added, “It couldn't have been anything else.” She took a deep breath. “Look,” she said, “I don't want to talk about this. And certainly not here.”

“OK,” he said affably, removing his restraining arm. “We'll do it later.”

Roxanne left his side as if shot from a gun, his words sounding ominously like a warning.

Seeing that Maria and Shelly were setting out food on the table, Roxanne leaped in to help. Not only had Shelly and Sloan prepared a slew of finger food, but everyone else had brought along a little something extra. Soon enough the dining-area table was straining beneath the array of food, plates, napkins, and utensils. There was a big red Crock-Pot filled with tiny sweet and sour meatballs, Roxanne's artichoke frittata cut into dainty squares came next, stuffed mushrooms, and then a large tray brimming with crudities, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, cherry tomatoes, and the like. A warming tray kept cheese puffs, mini spinach quiches, Maria's chili-cheese triangles, and bite-size barbecued spareribs hot; a creamy olive-nut spread with small rounds of rye and onion bread sat nearby and scattered in between were several different kinds of chips and, of course, dips galore. To drink there was hot buttered-rum and spiced, mulled apple cider and wine or beer. And for the sweet tooth … Ah, Maria had baked four of her apple pies—much to Acey's unabashed delight. But if apple pie didn't suit, there were also lemon bars, cream cheese pies, and Pagan and Roman had brought a huge platter of melt-in-your-mouth pralines direct from New Orleans. It might not be a sit down dinner, but no one was going to go hungry.

The last of the food had just been set out when the Courtland twins arrived, bringing more food—pretzels, crackers, and a chunky guacamole made by Jason and corn salsa made by Morgan. The food was given into Shelly's waiting hands and Sloan dispensed with their jackets.

Roxanne had been waiting for their introduction to Pagan and she almost laughed aloud at their expressions. Watching their eyes glaze and their faces go slack, Roxanne's sense of humor came back. Jeb was right. Pagan was one incredible package. But what impressed Roxanne most was that Pagan seemed totally unaware of the effect she had on the opposite sex.

As expected, M.J. and Tracy were the last to arrive. Ilka, Ross, and Sam had driven up shortly after the Courtland twins and Shelly had been anxiously awaiting the last of her guests. As the two women, one blond, one redhead, piled into the house, Shelly rushed up to them and, giving them a hug, exclaimed, “Oh, I'm so glad you got here. I was worried with the snow and everything.”

Sloan came up to stand behind his wife, one hand resting on her shoulder. “And I'm doubly glad you're here,” he said. “She's been fussing for the last half hour and any second I've been expecting her to send me out to look for you.” Amid the laughter and Shelly's halfhearted protests, the two women were divested of their heavy jackets and urged to join the others.

As they started away, Sloan glanced at Tracy and asked, “Calf OK?”

Tracy nodded, smiling. Tracy Kingsley was the local vet and worked for both Shelly and Sloan. While Tracy had a small clinic on her property and did tend to dogs and cats, her specialty was horses. Sloan had been elated when she had moved to the valley about ten years ago, since he bred and raised very,
very
expensive American paint horses. Until Tracy's advent, the nearest big animal vet had been, at the least, over ninety minutes away. When you had a mare foaling and a problem arose, there wasn't a moment to waste—having a vet in the valley had been a godsend as far as Sloan was concerned.

Tracy wasn't fond of cows—and made no bones about it—but since she was a vet and had a living to make, she had quite a few cattle ranchers as clients, Shelly and Nick among them. Tracy had been one of the first “ne?” people Shelly had met when she had returned to the valley and had liked the other woman on the spot. In the ensuing months they had become good friends.

It was a great party. The food was plentiful and there were just enough differences among the guests to make the conversation interesting and the evening lively. Of course, everyone was happy with Roman's return and Pagan provided a magnet to the men, which gave the women a moment or two to speculate about the newcomer.

“God. She's gorgeous?” said M.J. for perhaps the tenth time that evening. Sitting on the hearth, a plate full of nibbles in front of her, she looked at Pagan's lovely face and sighed. “Guess I might as well wear sackcloth and ashes as long as she's in the valley. No one's going to be looking in my direction.”

“Oh, come on,” said Roxanne. “You've got a lot going for you. You're cute as a button and you know it. Don't tell me that the men don't like those big brown eyes of yours and that mop of blond hair.” She cocked a brow. “And you've got curves—something I'd kill for.”

M.J.'s mouth fell open. “You're kidding, right?”

“Nope. Trust me, being tall and slim has its disadvantages.”

“She's right, you know,” offered Tracy. “I'm five-nine and I remember what it was like to be the tallest girl … in the school.” She grinned at M.J. “I'd have hated you in high school—you'd have been the cute little cheerleader all the guys on the football team would have gone after. Tall skinny girls like me didn't stand a chance.”

M.J. made a face. “I never got a chance to be a cheerleader—Shelly and I went to a private girls' school, remember.” She glanced over to where Pagan was standing surrounded by the' Courtland twins, Ross, and Nick and sighed heavily and looked glum—as glum as someone with her lively gamine face could.

Shelly laughed—she and M.J. had been friends practically since birth and she knew that look. “Come on, M.J. If you'd wanted one of those guys, you'd have done something about it months, years ago. Don't tell me you're going to act like a dog in a manger?”

M.J. gave that infectious little giggle of hers.

“You're right. It's hard to get excited about men you've known all your life.”

“Besides, I thought, like me, you were off men,” commented Sam, sitting on the floor beside M.J.

M.J. and Sam were both divorced. Both divorces had become final in 1999 and both divorces had been painful. Married for less than four years, Sam thought she had been lucky that she'd found out what a scum-bag her husband had been before they'd had children. M.J., on the other hand, married for over ten years and with two young sons, was grateful every day for her two children. She shared joint custody with their father, a highway patrolman, and treasured every moment she was able to spend with the boys. While Sam had remained in the Novato area after her divorce and raised champion miniature schnauzers—Pandora was one of hers—M.J. had returned to the valley and since her family owned the largest grocery store in the valley, she had found a job ready-made for her.

BOOK: Coming Home
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ads

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