Daddy's Double Duty (13 page)

“I have a perfect place for you to walk some of that meal off,” he suggested slyly.

Spend more time with this man? Alone? The sane, sensible and smart thing for her to do would be go straight home. He made her crazy and on edge, yet at the same time he made her undeniably happy. She was at a loss as to how to deal with the contradictory feelings, especially when a part of her was screaming to simply give up and give in to her desires.

“I really should get back home and give Hannah some relief.”

He moved his arm around the back of her waist and guided her toward the truck. “I promise you, Hannah and the twins can make it without you for a little while longer. And if you don't feel like doing any walking, we can always do a little stargazing.”

Her mouth opened to utter another protest, but that was as far as her resistance would take her. “All right,” she conceded. “It would be nice to stay out a little longer.”

“That's exactly what I was thinking.”

Once they were back in the truck, he drove northwest until most of the town was behind them. After turning onto a narrow dirt road, they wound upward through a tall stand of pines and spruce trees until they were near the crest of the mountain. Just when she'd decided he was probably taking her to a state campground, the road
ended and the forest opened up. Beyond the beam of headlights she could see some sort of house constructed of cedar wood and native rock.

“Is this your place?” she asked as he parked the truck near a big blue spruce.

“It belongs to the Diamond D,” he answered. “We have guests, horse buyers, or out-of-town friends fly in to attend the races and this place is a lot closer to the track than the ranch. Our city friends especially enjoy the privacy.” He reached to release his seat belt. “Let's get out and I'll show you around.”

Once he helped Vanessa down from the truck, he took a firm hold on her hand. “Be careful and watch your step,” he warned as they started toward the house. “Dad doesn't want to install a yard light up here. Says it would ruin the effect. So at night it's dark as hell.”

“The moon is rising,” she remarked as she cast an observing glance at the eastern sky. “That gives us walking light.”

The back part of the structure sat on the edge of the mountainside, while the front was supported with huge wooden pillars. She figured the Donovans considered this a mere mountain cabin, but to regular folks like her it was more like an opulent getaway.

The two of them climbed long steps up to a wide planked deck that also served as a porch. Conall led her over to the far end and they leaned against a waist-high wooden railing to gaze beyond the surrounding forest to a majestic view of the valley below.

“It's beautiful up here!” she said with quiet wonder.

He said, “Well, you can't exactly get the full effect of the view in the moonlight, but we'll come back again
when the sun is out and the weather is nice. You'll really appreciate it then.”

His suggestion implied that he planned to spend more personal time with her. The idea thrilled her, yet troubled her. No doubt the more time she spent with him, the more she would fall in love with him. And where would that eventually leave her? Loving a man who was unable to love her in return?

No. She didn't want to think about that right now. Since her divorce more than a year ago, she'd kept a high fence around herself. Before she'd taken even the tiniest of steps, she'd stopped and looked in all four directions to make sure she wasn't about to be waylaid by something or someone. Careful, cautious and controlled, that was how she'd lived her life since her marriage had ended. Now she was struck with the reckless urge to break free of those cold boundaries, to let herself live and feel again. No matter the painful consequences.

Sighing, she turned toward him. “I'm glad you asked me out tonight,” she admitted.

His smile was full of doubt. “That's hard to believe. I haven't exactly been one of your favorite people since…well, since that morning at the office when I wanted to make love to you.”

The memory of that incident still had the power to heat her cheeks and she was grateful the darkness masked the telltale color on her cheeks. “Make love to me? Don't you mean you wanted to have sex with me?”

In the silver moonlight she could see a grimace cross his face. “I was trying to be tactful. Making love sounds better.”

“I'd prefer honesty over sounding nice.” She directed her gaze away from his face to a dark corner of the deck.
“Actually, I should tell you that I was angrier at myself that day than I was with you.”

His hand released hers only to wrap around her upper arm. Since her dress was sleeveless, the feel of his fingers against her bare skin was like throwing drops of water into a hot skillet. The sizzle vibrated all the way down to her toes.

He said, “I don't understand.”

She dared to look up at his shadowed face. “You should understand, Conall. It's not smart of me to want you. But I do,” she added in a whisper.

Suddenly the hand that had been burning a ring around her arm slid upward until his long fingers were curved against her throat. No doubt he could feel the hammering of her pulse and knew exactly what his touch was doing to her. But then, he'd probably always known how weak and utterly helpless he made her.

“You shouldn't have been angry with either one of us,” he murmured. “And if it's honesty you want, I can truthfully say I want you, Vanessa. More than I've ever wanted any woman.”

From any other man, a trite line like that would have garnered a groan of disgust from Vanessa, but coming from Conall she wanted to believe it was uttered with sincerity. Oh, yes, to think he desired her over any other woman was more than a heady thought. But thinking, wondering, deciding what was right or wrong was quickly taking a backseat. Instead of her brain, her heart had taken control and it was urging her body to press against his, begging her arms to wrap around his waist.

“Don't say any more, Conall. Just show me.”

She heard him suck in a sharp breath and then his lips were suddenly hovering over hers.

“Vanna. Vanna.”

The repeated whisper of her nickname was like a warm, sweet caress and she sighed ever so slightly before his lips latched on to hers, his hands slid to the small of her back and pressed her body into his.

She'd expected his kiss to be a lazy, searching seduction, but it was anything but. His lips were rampaging over hers, taking her breath and searing her senses with the depth of his desire. She tried to match his movements, tried to give back to him, but he'd taken total control and all she could do was surrender to the ravaging passion.

By the time he lifted his head, her legs were trembling and she was clutching the front of his shirt just to keep herself upright.

He whispered, “I think we should go inside, don't you?”

Her lips felt swollen, prompting her to run the tip of her tongue over them at the same time she sucked in deep, ragged breaths. And though she should have taken the time to regain her senses and consider his loaded question, she didn't wait. She was tired of waiting.

“Yes,” she murmured. “We should.”

She followed him over to the door, which he quickly unlocked with a spare key hidden beneath a pot of cacti. Once they were inside, he switched on the nearest table lamp and beneath the dim glow Vanessa caught a brief glance of expensive, rustic-style furniture, a polished pine floor scattered with braided rugs and a wall of glass overlooking the deck. Beyond that, she saw nothing but Conall's dark face as he pulled her into his arms and began to kiss her all over again.

For long, long moments, they stood just inside the door, their bodies locked together, their lips clinging,
tasting and searching for a closeness they couldn't quite attain. Unlike his ravaging kiss on the deck, this time his lips were slow and hot, luring her to a place where there was nothing but mindless pleasure.

The concept of time faded, along with their surroundings. When he finally ended the embrace and took her by the hand to lead her out of the room, she followed blindly and willingly down a narrow hallway with doors leading off both sides.

At the far end, they entered a bedroom with a wall of glass similar to the one they'd just left. Beyond it, the moon was a bright orb in the sky and its silver light illuminated the layout of the room, the king-sized bed and matching cedar armoire, a pair of stuffed armchairs by the window and a nightstand that could also be used as a desk.

Leading her toward the bed, Conall said, “This is the room I stay in whenever I'm up here. But that's not often.”

“Why is that?” she asked huskily.

Their legs bumped into the side of the mattress and he quickly spun her into his arms. “Because you're not here,” he said with a hungry growl.

She groaned with disbelief. “Oh, Conall.”

He pulled her down onto the mattress and with the two of them lying face-to-face, he cupped a hand against her cheek. “It's true, Vanessa. Until you came to work for me, I think I'd forgotten about living. And I'd sure as hell forgotten about this.”

With his arm around her waist, he urged her forward until the front of her body was pressed tightly to his. Vanessa's heart was pounding like a drumbeat deep in a hot jungle as his lips settled against her cheek, then slid open and wet to the side of her neck.

Desire bubbled within her before spreading like fingers of hot lava to every part of her body. Certain she was paralyzed by the incredible heat, she moaned and waited for a sense of normalcy to return to her limbs. It didn't. And in the back of her mind, she suddenly realized that everything about this and about Conall was different and new.

“I think…I might have forgotten, too,” she whispered as his lips continued their heated foray against her throat. “Or maybe I never knew that it could feel like this.”

Lifting his head, he gazed wondrously at her. “Vanna. Oh, baby.”

It was all he said before his lips moved over hers and then his kiss was telling her how much he needed and wanted her. And for the moment that was enough for Vanessa. Words could come later.

Like a man wandering through a parched desert, Conall craved to drink from her lips, to bury himself in the moist folds of her body and restore the dry emptiness inside him. And though he was trying his best to control himself, to give her time to get used to being in his arms and to accept the idea of making love to him, the weeks, days, hours of wanting her had left him simmering far too long.

Before he could stop himself, he was tugging at her clothes, tossing them every which way until his hands and mouth had nothing but smooth skin beneath them. She felt like the petal of a flower and tasted even sweeter. Without even knowing it, a groan rumbled deep in his throat as he explored her tight nipples, then on to the hollow of her belly, the bank of her hipbone and the tender slope of her inner thigh.

Above his head, he could hear her soft whimpers of
need and the sound fueled him, thrilled him, empowered him in a way he'd never felt before. And when her fingers delved into his hair, her hips arched toward his searching mouth, he realized that without even trying she was giving him everything his body, his soul, had been craving for so long.

Desperate to have her, yet please her, he slipped his hand between her thighs, then his fingers into the very warm center of her. Her reaction was to suck in a harsh breath and then she released a guttural groan as his slow, tempting strokes caused her to writhe and beg for relief.

“Conall…please…I can't…wait!”

Her choked plea prompted him to pull his fingers away and quickly replace them with his tongue. As he lathed the moist folds, she began to pulsate and he supped at her pleasure, inhaled the unique scent of her until the ache in his loins threatened to overtake him.

While her body was still riding on a crested wave, he moved up and over her, then sealing his lips over hers, he thrust deep inside her.

The intimate connection was so overwhelming it took his breath, and not until her legs wrapped around his waist and her hips arched toward him did he realize his body had gone stock-still. He used the moment to lift his head and gaze down at her face and for one split second he wished he'd looked elsewhere, anywhere but at the tenderness, the raw emotion radiating from her eyes. What he saw in the deep brown depths looked so much like love that he wanted to embrace it and run from it all at the same time.

Cupping a hand against her cheek, he tried to speak, to tell her with words exactly how much this moment
meant to him. But nothing would form on his tongue except her name and it came out on a hoarse whisper.

“Vanna. My beautiful sweetheart.”

Reaching up, she curled a hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face down to hers. “Make love to me, Conall.”

Love. She wasn't labeling it as sex anymore. She was calling it love. And Conall couldn't argue the point. In spite of his effort to put a brake on his free-falling emotions, everything inside his heart was shouting that he loved this woman. And he could no more put a halt to his feelings than he could stop his body from moving against hers, from seeking the pleasure that only she could give him.

W
ith her cheek resting against his damp chest, the sound of his rapid heartbeat merged with the blood rushing through her ears. Her hair was a damp tangle around her face while the rest of her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Beyond Conall's shoulder she could see the glass wall, which was partially covered with dark drapes.

Sometime after they'd entered the bedroom, clouds had covered the moon and now bolts of lightning were streaking across the peaks of the distant mountains. The ominous threat of rain matched the turmoil going on inside of her and though she tried to push the dark feelings away, tried to focus on the sheer wonder of being in Conall's arms, she couldn't prevent a wall of tears from stinging her eyes and thickening her throat.

When his hand rested on her head and his fingers began to push through her hair, she did her best to speak.
Talking would break the spell, she told herself. Talking would make her realize that what just happened between them was normal and nothing out of the ordinary. The earth hadn't shattered nor had her heart. It was still beating in her chest and the world was still turning on its axis. So why did she feel as though everything had suddenly changed?

“It's going to rain,” she said.

He murmured, “Not in here. We're dry and cozy.”

His hand left her hair to settle on her shoulder and Vanessa's eyelids drifted closed as his fingers made lazy circles across her skin. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. She wanted to pretend that he loved her, that each time he'd touched her, his heart had been guiding him. But that would be fooling herself. And she wasn't going to be a fool a second time around. No matter how good he made her feel.

“It's getting late,” she reminded him. “I have to be going home soon.”

His sigh ruffled the top of her hair. “It's already late. Being a little later isn't going to make much difference.”

Tilting her head back, she looked at him. “Explaining this to Hannah is not going to be easy.”

One side of his lips twisted upward. “Hannah isn't your mother. And why don't you simply tell her the truth? That you were out with me?”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “I don't know.”

“Why? Are you ashamed of being here with me?”

“Not exactly.”

His jaw thrust forward. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She swallowed as the raw thickness returned to her
throat. “I guess what I'm trying to say is…that I'm feeling more sad than anything.”

A puzzled frown puckered his forehead and then his expression quickly turned to one of concern. “Sad? Why, did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong and you're too embarrassed to tell me about it?”

A rush of pure love for him overcame her and she scooted her body upward until she could press her lips against his cheek. “Oh, Conall, you did everything right. Perfect. I could make love to you over and over if…well, I suppose I'm just feeling sad because I know this is the end.”

Next to hers, she could feel his body tense.

“End?” he asked inanely. “I thought it was just the beginning.”

Easing out of his arms, she sat up on the side of the bed. Except for the intermittent flashes of lightning, the interior of the bedroom was completely black. She was glad the darkness was there to hide her tears.

“I can't keep being your secretary now, Conall. Not after this. It would never work.”

The sheets rustled as he shifted toward her and then his hand was pushing the hair away from the back of her neck. As he pressed a kiss against her nape, he murmured, “I'm glad you said that, Vanessa. Like I said before, I don't want you to be my secretary. I want you to be my wife.”

Groaning, she bent her head and squeezed her eyes against the burning tears. “Oh, Conall, please don't do this to me,” she pleaded in a whisper. “Not tonight.”

With his hands on her bare shoulders, he twisted her upper body toward him. “What am I doing to you that's so wrong, Vanna? I'm asking you to be my wife, to be at my side for the rest of our lives. A few minutes ago
you said you could make love to me over and over. Did you mean that?”

“Yes. But marrying you—I can't. I can't live in a loveless marriage.” She gestured toward the center of the bed. “Yes, the sex between us would be good—for a while. But after the initial luster wore off everything would feel empty…be empty. I want more than that.”

His hand smoothed the hair back from her forehead and as her gaze flickered over his shadowed features, she suddenly felt as though she was looking at a different man. The soft and gentle expression in his eyes was something she'd never seen before and she didn't know what to think or expect.

“I want more than that, too, Vanna.”

Wide-eyed, with her lips parted, she stared at him. “What are you saying?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “You don't want to make any of this easy for me, do you?”

“Easy? Nothing about this is easy for me,” she said flatly. “I've made too many mistakes, Conall. I don't want to keep making more.”

A heavy breath slipped past his lips. “Neither do I,” he admitted. “That's why…you have to know…that I love you.”

Stunned, she shifted her body so that she was facing him directly. “Love? Who are you trying to kid? Me or yourself?” Angry and confused, she slipped off the bed and reached for her dress. “Either way, Conall, I'm not sure I can forgive you for this!”

Leaping off the bed, he snatched the dress from her hands before she could step into the garment. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “I'm trying to tell you how I feel about you—about us!”

“Sure. Sure you are.” Since he'd confiscated her
dress, she glanced around for something to cover her nakedness. Luckily his shirt was at her feet and she quickly jammed her arms into the sleeves and buttoned the front between her breasts. “What do you think I am? An idiot? A fool?”

Tossing her dress aside, he reached for her and though she wanted to resist, she couldn't. As soon as his hands wrapped around her shoulders, as soon as the front of his hard, warm body was pressed against hers, she was lost to him.

“Vanna,” he began gently, “maybe I did pick the wrong time to confess my feelings. Maybe it does look all contrived to you. But I can't help that. I'm a rancher not some sort of Romeo or playboy that knows exactly what to say or how to say it.”

She wanted to believe him. Every beat of her heart was longing for his words to be true. But the scarred, wary side of her held back, refused to believe that this man could have changed. Especially for her.

“Maybe you're forgetting, Conall. You told me that you didn't believe in love. That it was a fairy-tale existence. Not a firm foundation for a marriage.”

A mixture of regret and frustration twisted his features. “That was the bitterness in me doing the talking, Vanna. For a long time now I'd quit looking for a woman to love. I'd decided it wasn't worth the pain. But then you walked into my life and…oh, Vanna, believe me, I've tried not to love you. I've tried telling myself that you're just another woman, you're nothing special and I could do without you. But none of that has worked. I want you by my side. I need you in my bed, my life, in every way a man can need a woman. I love you. Pure and simple.”

Even though she felt the safety barriers inside her begin to crumble, she tried her best to withstand his gentle persuasion. “And us just having sex had nothing to do with this sudden realization of yours,” she said with skepticism.

His hands left her shoulders and began to roam against her back and farther down to the curve of her bottom. The familiar touch of his hands, even through the fabric of his shirt, was heating her flesh, reminding her body of the delicious pleasures he could give her.

“Would you call what just happened between us sex?” he countered. “You don't believe that. And neither do I. And as for realizing that I loved you—” dipping his head, he nuzzled his cheek against hers “—I think that happened a long time ago, Vanna. Even before that day you fainted in my arms. That's why I did my best to keep everything between us business. I didn't want to give myself the chance to let my feelings for you grow.”

In spite of all the misgivings traipsing through her thoughts, Vanessa's heart began to beat with hope. Tilting her head back she gazed at him through shimmery eyes. “I didn't want to love you, either,” she whispered, “but I do.”

With a groan of relief, he captured her lips with his and with their mouths still locked, he lowered them both back onto the bed.

As he shoved his shirt off her shoulders and began to nibble eagerly at one breast, she groaned in defeat. “Conall, the babies—”

“Are going to have me for a daddy,” he murmured, his words muffled by her heated skin.

“But tonight—”

“You'll be getting home late. Very late.”

 

More than a week later, Conall was standing beneath the shady overhang of a long shed row talking with Walt. In his early seventies with a face as wrinkled as a raisin, he was rawhide-tough and as dependable as the rise and fall of the sun. For longer than Conall had been alive, he'd been the man who made sure the barns, the stalls, the gallopers, the hot walkers, the grooms and everyone in between had what they needed to make their jobs easier and keep the horses in top-notch condition.

A stickler for making lists, Walt's hand-scribbled notes normally went to Liam's office first and then on to Conall's. But with Liam still out in California at the Del Mar track, he was making sure Conall was personally handed the written requests.

“Not asking for much this time, Mr. Conall,” he said as Conall scanned the short piece of paper. “Mainly shavings and clippers. Had two pair of them burn up this week. They just ain't made to last like they used to be.”

Even though it had been more than forty years since Walt had migrated over to New Mexico from South Texas, he still insisted on the mannerly form of putting the
Mr.
in front of Conall's name.

“Shavings, huh?” Conall mused out loud. “I just had a thousand yards of those delivered to the ranch last week. We already need more?”

“Yes, sir. That brother of yours has stalled nearly every two-year-old on this place and I think half of 'em needs to be turned to pasture. Save plenty of shavings like that. But you know Mr. Liam, he thinks they're all runners.”

Conall grunted with amusement. “He's supposed to
think like that, Walt. Otherwise, he might accidently turn a champion out to pasture.”

The older man's grin was sly. “Well, we couldn't have that, could we?”

Giving Walt a companionable swat on the shoulder, Conall said, “It's time I got back to the office. Why don't you take the rest of the day off, Walt,” he suggested. “You work too hard.”

A scowl wrinkled Walt's features even more. “Look who's talkin'. Besides, I gotta help Travis repair the water trough in the yearling pen. Anything mechanical boggles that boy's mind. This younger generation is helpless. Slap-dab helpless.”

Still muttering about Travis's incompetence, Walt turned and walked away. Conall headed in the opposite direction and was nearly at the end of the shed row when he spotted Brady, his younger brother, striding toward him.

Being a deputy for the Lincoln County sheriff's department kept Brady working random shifts, which didn't give Conall much opportunity to spend time with him. This evening Brady was still dressed in his uniform and Conall didn't have to ask if his day had been long. The man put in an extraordinary amount of hours on the job, yet even now there was a grin on his face, albeit a weary one.

If Conall was being totally honest with himself, he'd often been envious of his youngest brother. Brady had grown up to be the strong-minded, independent one of the Donovan boys. He'd chosen to go outside the family tradition of horse racing and take on a job that he quite obviously loved. Moreover, Brady had never experienced a moment's guilt over the decision. Whereas Conall had often felt bound, even restricted, by the duty of being the
eldest son; the one that was meant to hold the Diamond D together for future generations.

“Hey, Conall,” he greeted. “Are you heading toward the house or the office?”

As Brady took off the felt hat he was wearing and slapped it against his thigh to remove the dust, Conall gestured toward the part of the ranch yard where the office buildings were located.

“The office. And I'm glad you interrupted. I get damned tired of being cooped up.”

Brady chuckled slyly. “With Vanessa? That's hard to believe.”

Conall frowned. “Vanessa took the day off to go shopping with Maura. Mom's been sitting in for her, but she's already left me, too. One of these days I've got to take the time to hire an assistant to take over whenever Vanessa or Mom can't be around.”

Clearly amused, Brady walked over to the nearest stall where a chestnut horse was poking his nose eagerly over the wooden gate that had him safely fastened inside the small square space. As he stroked Hot Charlie's nose, he said, “Mom probably hightailed it to the house 'cause you were too cranky to put up with.”

Smiling, Conall walked over to join his brother. “What are you talking about? I'm always Mr. Nice Guy.”

“Well, maybe now that Vanessa has tamed you,” he conceded. “You two set a wedding date yet?”

“Not yet. But we will soon.”

“That's good.” Brady glanced at him. “I haven't had a chance to tell you how glad I am that you're getting married again. I've been hoping for a long time that you'd find somebody special—like I found Lass.”

Conall smiled ruefully. When Brady had first fallen
in love with Lass, Conall had been worried sick about his younger brother and the whole situation he'd gotten himself into. At the time, Lass had been suffering from amnesia and hadn't known who she was or even if she had a home somewhere. Conall had been certain she was going to take Brady for a disastrous ride. He and Brady had even had cross words over the woman. But Conall would be the first to admit he'd been dead wrong about Lass. She'd made Brady a loving and devoted wife.