Heartbreaker (14 page)

Yes, she wanted him. He could please her in
bed; he could take care of her. But she didn't want him as much as he wanted
her. She kept resisting him, trying to keep a distance between them even now,
after they'd shared a night and a bed, and a joining that still shook him with
its power. It seemed as if every time he tried to bring her closer, she backed
away a little more.

He reached out and touched her cheek,
stroking his fingertips across her skin and feeling the patrician bone
structure that gave her face such an angular, haughty look. "Miss me while
I'm gone," he said, his tone making it a command.

A small wry smile tugged at the corners of
her wide mouth. "Okay."

"Damn it," he said mildly.
"You're not going to boost my ego, are you?"

"Does it need it?"

"Where you're concerned, yeah."

"That's a little hard to believe. Is
missing someone a two-way street, or will you be too busy in
Miami
to bother?"

"I'll be busy, but I'll bother
anyway."

"Be careful." She couldn't stop the
words. They were the caring words that always went before a trip, a magic
incantation to keep a loved one safe. The thought of not seeing him made her
feel cold and empty. Miss him? He had no idea how much, that the missing was a
razor, already slashing at her insides.

He wanted to kiss her, but not with his men
watching. Instead he nodded an acknowledgment and turned his horse away to
rejoin
Nev.
The two men rode together for a time, and Michelle
could see
Nev
give an occasional nod as he listened to John's
instructions. Then John was gone, kicking the gray into a long ground-eating
stride that quickly took horse and rider out of sight.

Despite the small, lost feeling she couldn't
shake, Michelle didn't allow herself to brood over the next several days. There
was too much going on, and even though John's men had taken over the ranching
chores, there were still other chores that, being cowboys, they didn't see. If
it didn't concern cattle or horses, then it didn't concern them. Now Michelle
found other chores to occupy her time. She painted the porch, put up a new post
for the mailbox and spent as much time as she could with the men.

The ranch seemed like a ranch again, with all
the activity, dust, smells and curses filling the air. The cattle were dipped,
the calves branded, the young bulls clipped. Once Michelle would have wrinkled
her nose in distaste, but now she saw the activity as new signs of life, both
in the ranch and in herself.

On the second day
Nev
drove the Mercedes over while one of the other men
brought an extra horse for
Nev
to
ride. Michelle couldn't quite look the man in the eye as she took the keys from
him, but he didn't seem to see anything unusual about her driving John's car.

After driving the pickup truck for so long,
the power and responsiveness of the Mercedes felt odd. She was painfully
cautious on the long drive to
Tampa
. It was hard to imagine that she'd ever been blase
about the expensive, sporty cars she'd driven over the years, but she could
remember her carelessness with the white Porsche her father had given her on
her eighteenth birthday. The amount of money represented by the small white
machine hadn't made any impression on her.

Everything was relative. Then, the money
spent for the Porsche hadn't been much. If she had that much now, she would
feel rich.

She signed the papers at the lawyer's office,
then immediately made the drive back, not wanting to have the Mercedes out
longer than necessary.

The rest of the week was calm, though she
wished John would call to let her know when he would be back. The two days had
stretched into five, and she couldn't stop the tormenting doubts that popped up
in unguarded moments. Was he with another woman? Even though he was down there
on business, she knew all too well how women flocked to him, and he wouldn't be
working twenty-four hours a day. He hadn't made any commitments to her; he was
free to take other women out if he wanted. No matter how often she repeated
those words to herself, they still hurt.

But if John didn't call, at least Roger
didn't, either. For a while she'd been afraid he would begin calling regularly,
but the reassuring silence continued. Maybe something or someone else had taken
his attention. Maybe his business concerns were taking all his time. Whatever
it was, Michelle was profoundly grateful.

The men didn't come over on Friday morning.
The cattle were grazing peacefully in the east pasture; all the fencing had
been repaired; everything had been taken care of. Michelle put a load of clothing
in the washer, then spent the morning cutting the grass again. She was soaked
with sweat when she went inside at
noon
to make a sandwich for lunch.

It was oddly silent in the house, or maybe it
was just silent in comparison to the roar of the lawn-mower. She needed water.
Breathing hard, she turned on the faucet to let the water get cold while she
got a glass from the cabinet, but only a trickle of water ran out, then stopped
altogether. Frowning, Michelle turned the faucet off, then on again. Nothing happened.
She tried the hot water. Nothing.

Groaning, she leaned against the sink. That
was just what she needed, for the water pump to break down.

It took only a few seconds for the silence of
the house to connect with the lack of water, and she slowly straightened.
Reluctantly she reached for the light switch and flicked it on. Nothing.

The electricity had been cut off.

That was why it was so quiet The refrigerator
wasn't humming; the clocks weren't ticking; the ceiling fan was still.

Breathing raggedly, she sank into a chair.
She had forgotten the last notice. She had put it in a drawer and forgotten it,
distracted by John and the sudden activity around the ranch. Not that any
excuse was worth a hill of beans, she reminded herself. Not that she'd had the
money to pay the bill even if she had remembered it.

She had to be practical. People had lived for
thousands of years without electricity, so she could, too. Cooking was out; the
range top, built-in oven and microwave were all electric, but she wasn't the world's
best cook anyway, so that wasn't critical. She could eat without cooking. The
refrigerator was empty except for milk and some odds and ends. Thinking about
the milk reminded her how thirsty she was, so she poured a glass of the cold
milk and swiftly returned the carton to the refrigerator.

There was a kerosene lamp and a supply of
candles in the pantry, so she would have light. The most critical item was
water. She had to have water to drink and bathe. At least the cattle could
drink from the shallow creek that snaked across the east pasture, so she
wouldn't have to worry about them.

There was an old well about a hundred yards
behind the house, but she didn't know if it had gone dry or simply been covered
when the other well had been drilled. Even if the well was still good, how
would she get the water up? There was a rope in the barn, but she didn't have a
bucket

She did have seventeen dollars, though, the
last of her cash. If the well had water in it, she'd coax the old truck down to
the hardware store and buy a water bucket.

She got a rope from the barn, a pan from the
kitchen and trudged the hundred yards to the old well.

It was almost overgrown with weeds and vines
that she had to clear away while keeping an uneasy eye out for snakes. Then she
tugged the heavy wooden cover to the side and dropped the pan into the well,
letting the rope slip lightly through her hands. It wasn't a deep well; in only
a second or two there was a distinct splash, and she began hauling the pan back
up. When she got it to the top, a half cup of clear water was still in the pan
despite the banging it had received, and Michelle sighed with relief. Now all
she had to do was get the bucket.

By the time dusk fell, she was convinced that
the pioneers had all been as muscular as the Incredible Hulk; every muscle in
her body ached. She had drawn a bucket of water and walked the distance back to
the house so many times she didn't want to think about it The electricity had
been cut off while the washer had been in the middle of its cycle, so she had
to rinse the clothes out by hand and hang them to dry. She had to have water to
drink. She had to have water to bathe. She had to have water to flush the
toilet Modern conveniences were damned inconvenient without electricity.

But at least she was too tired to stay up
long and waste the candles. She set a candle in a saucer on the bedside table,
with matches alongside in case she woke up during the night. She was asleep
almost as soon as she stretched out between the sheets.

The next morning she ate a peanut butter and
jelly sandwich for breakfast, then cleaned out the refrigerator, so she
wouldn't have to smell spoiled food. The house was oddly oppressive, as if the
life had gone out of it, so she spent most of the day outdoors, watching the
cattle graze, and thinking.

She would have to sell the beef cattle now,
rather than wait to fatten them on grain. She wouldn't get as much for them,
but she had to have money
now
. It had been foolish of her to let
things go this far. Pride had kept her from asking for John's advice and help
in arranging the sale; now she had to ask him. He would know who to contact and
how to transport the cattle. The money would keep her going, allow her to care
for the remainder of the herd until spring, when she would have more beef ready
to sell. Pride was one thing, but she had carried it to the point of stupidity.

Still, if this had happened ten days earlier
she wouldn't even have considered asking John's advice. She had been so
completely isolated from human trust that any overture would have made her back
away, rather than entice her closer. But John hadn't let her back away; he'd
come after her, taken care of things over her protests, and very gently,
thoroughly seduced her. A seed of trust had been sown that was timidly growing,
though it frightened her to think of relying on someone else, even for good
advice.

It was sultry that night, the air thick with
humidity. The heat added by the candles and kerosene lamp made it unbearable
inside, and though she bathed in the cool water she had hauled from the well,
she immediately felt sticky again. It was too early and too hot to sleep, so
finally she went out on the porch in search of a breeze.

She curled up in a wicker chair padded with
overstuffed cushions, sighing in relief as a breath of wind fanned her face.
The night sounds of crickets and frogs surrounded her with a hypnotic lullaby,
and before long her eyelids were drooping. She never quite dozed, but sank into
a peaceful lethargy where time passed unnoticed. It might have been two hours
or half an hour later when she was disturbed by the sound of a motor and the
crunching of tires on gravel; headlights flashed into her eyes just as she
opened them, making her flinch and turn her face from the blinding light Then
the lights were killed and the motor silenced. She sat up straighter, her heart
beginning to pound as a tall, broad-shouldered man got out of the truck and
slammed the door. The starlight wasn't bright, but she didn't need light to
identify him when every cell in her body tingled with awareness.

Despite his boots, he didn't make a lot of
noise as he came up the steps. "John," she murmured, her voice only a
low whisper of sound, but he felt the vibration and turned toward her chair.

She was completely awake now, and becoming
indignant. "Why didn't you call? I waited to hear from you—"

"I don't like telephones," he
muttered as he walked toward her. That was only part of the reason. Talking to
her on the telephone would only have made him want her more, and his nights had
been pure hell as it was.

"That isn't much of an excuse."

"It'll do," he drawled. "What
are you doing out here? The house is so dark I thought you must have gone to
bed early."

Which wouldn't have stopped him from waking
her, she thought wryly. "It's too hot to sleep."

He grunted in agreement, bending down to
slide his arms under her legs and shoulders. Startled, Michelle grabbed his
neck with both arms as he lifted her, then took her place in the chair and
settled her on his lap. An almost painful sense of relief filled her as his
nearness eased tension she hadn't even been aware of feeling. She was
surrounded by his strength and warmth, and the subtle male scent of his skin
reaffirmed the sense of homecoming, of tightness. Bonelessly she melted against
him, lifting her mouth to his.

The kiss was long and hot, his lips almost
bruising hers in his need, but she didn't mind, because her own need was just
as urgent. His hands slipped under the light nightgown that was all she wore,
finding her soft and naked, and a shudder wracked his body.

He muttered a soft curse. "Sweet hell,
woman, you were sitting out here practically naked."