Heartland (2 page)

Their laughter carried back to her on the still air. Lara suffered a sharp pang of something she could only label jealousy. Dear God, how easily he'd fit in. How natural he was with Jennifer and Kelly, as if entertaining small children were something he did often and enjoyed. It reminded her all too clearly of other times right here, times when they'd talked of having a family of their own. She'd been able to envision Steven's children as clearly then as if they'd been real—the boy a miniature of the handsome father, all laughing charm and athletic grace; the daughter, bold and beautiful and vital.

A loud squeal of delight suddenly broke into her thoughts.

“Aunt Lara, come quick! I caught a fish!” Jennifer's excitement was mirrored by Kelly's. Both of the girls were clapping their hands together and jumping up and down. Steven was watching them with tolerant amusement as he removed the three-inch fish from the hook.

“Can we have it for dinner tonight?” Jennifer begged.

Lara exchanged a look with Steven. “Honey, it's pretty small,” he said. “It wouldn't be much more than a mouthful. Maybe you should let it go so it can grow up to be a great big fish.”

Jennifer looked at her prize catch thoughtfully. “He is little,” she admitted. “What should I do, Aunt Lara?”

“That's up to you, but I think maybe Mr. Drake is right. He's just a baby. By next summer he'd be plenty big, and you could try to catch him again.”

Jennifer took the tiny, squirming fish by its tail and squinted into its left eye. “Okay,” she said finally, as if satisfied by the exchange. She took a few steps into the water and lowered the fish gently into the stream.

“Bye, fish,” she said solemnly as she let it go.

Kelly, her expression clouding over, poked her thumb into her mouth.

“All this talk of fish has made me very hungry. How about some lunch?” Lara suggested as a distraction.

“Mr. Drake, too?” Jennifer asked.

“I'm sure Mr. Drake has things to do this afternoon.”

“Nothing that can't wait,” he said, meeting her gaze evenly, the challenge clear.

“He can share my sandwich,” Jennifer offered as a convincing final argument.

Lara sighed and gave in to the inevitable. She distributed the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and lemonade, carefully avoiding all eye contact with Steven. The first bite of her sandwich seemed to lodge in her throat and stay there. She had no appetite for more.

Suddenly warm fingers brushed hers as Steven took the sandwich from her hand. “If you're not going to finish that, I will,” he said.

“Steven,” she began impatiently, then got lost in the expression in his eyes. How many times had he stolen the last bite of her sandwich, the last cookie, the last swallow of her drink? It had been a running joke that she'd have to learn to eat faster or starve to death around him. He grinned boldly, and she knew he was remembering, too. The gesture had been a deliberate taunt.

“We have to go,” she said, hurriedly cleaning up the debris from lunch. “It's time for the girls' nap.”

“They're already half-asleep now,” he pointed out. “Why disturb them?”

“Their bathing suits are wet. They could get a chill.” It was the best excuse she could come up with, far better than admitting that she was the one who wanted to leave.

“Lara, it's eighty-five degrees out here. They're not going to get a chill.”

“But they're in the shade.”

“Lara.” Amusement filled his voice. “Would it be so terrible to spend just a little time with me? We have a lot to catch up on.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” she insisted.

That drew a grin that sent a tingle down her spine. “Oh, I doubt that. I think you have quite a bit to say. What about all those things you didn't get to say eleven years ago? Or maybe what you wanted to tell me that day in the bank when I bought this land? Start there and we can work our way up to the present.”

“I try not to use that sort of language in front of the girls.”

He threw back his head and laughed at her deliberately prim tone. Ironically, Lara found herself wanting to laugh with him, wanting to put all the pain and anger behind as if it had never been.

Apparently he sensed her confusion, because he pressed his advantage. “Don't you think we could be friends again, if we tried?”

Friends?
It was such a pale word for the way she'd once thought of him. Soul mate was closer. Lover even more accurate. But it had started with friendship. Did she dare allow it to start like that again, when she knew the feelings that still stirred inside her at the sight of him?

“I think that would be a mistake,” she said at last. “Wasn't it some ancient philosopher who once said that ‘even God cannot change the past'?”

“I don't want to change it. I just want us both to learn to live with it.”

“I've lived with it every day for the past eleven years. I don't need you reminding me of it.” She'd blurted the words out angrily, without thinking of the implication of her admission.

He sighed. He reached out a hand to touch her, but she jerked away. “Oh, Lara, did I hurt you so badly? I'm sorry. I never meant to do that.”

Blinded by sudden tears and determined that he wouldn't see them, she got to her feet. “It's far too late for being sorry, Steven, and I certainly don't need any sympathy from you. Just go on with your life, and let me go on with mine.”

He stood beside her. Before she realized his intention this time, he was tracing the line of her jaw with his finger. She felt the shock of that touch ricocheting through her.

“I don't think I can do that, sweetheart. Not anymore.” There was an apologetic note in his voice, but the gleam of determination glowed in his eyes. She knew that look all too well, and it made her quake inside.

“You have to,” she said, her words edged with quiet desperation. She swore it was the closest she would ever come to a plea. Even before he responded, she could see from his expression that he intended to ignore it.

“Sorry.”

Lara could take no more. “Jennifer! Kelly! Wake up, girls. It's time to go home.”

They were slow, impossibly slow, and each second they took to wake and get ready to leave made her hands shake and her nerves stretch taut. Steven seemed to regard her mounting anxiety with lazy fascination, which only added to her sense of being caught like a rabbit in a snare, heart fluttering with fear.

Without saying another word, he watched her as she led the girls off toward the path through the woods. She could feel his gaze on her and wondered at the wistfulness she'd seen pass quickly across his rugged features. Then she thought of the strong resolution that had replaced it in his eyes, and she shivered, only barely resisting the impulse to run. She knew instinctively that he would not give up so easily. He never had. Steven was a man who set clear goals for himself and attained them with dogged determination. Her escape today had merely been a brief reprieve.

Chapter Two

T
he white frame house was bathed in moonlight. Steven stood staring at it for the longest time, as if willing a light to go on in Lara's upstairs window. The relentless darkness mocked him, effectively shutting him out.

It had been years since he'd done this, years since he'd waited outside like a lovesick teenager hoping for a glimpse of a girl who'd caught his fancy. Even though he'd been twenty-seven back then, that's the way he'd felt from the moment he'd laid eyes on Lara Danvers down at the stream.

It had been a hot, dry summer day. A Thursday, he recalled, because his weekly meeting with his accountant to go over the books had been cancelled at the last minute. He'd decided to take advantage of the unexpected free time and explore the area. He'd even planned to take a swim to cool off, if he could find a deserted spot along the stream that edged much of the farmland he was interested in buying.

He'd driven along a dusty dirt road for several miles, then abandoned his car and walked through a stretch of woods. When he'd come upon the stream, dappled by sunlight, it had been irresistible. Seeing no one around, he'd stripped off his clothes and waded in, the cool water a welcome shock to his heated flesh.

That's when he'd seen her.

She was emerging from the woods maybe a hundred yards downstream. Her hair, the longest he'd ever seen, hung down her back in a shimmering wave. It glistened in the sunlight like tangled threads of purest gold. Her face was that of a Viking maiden, its structure and her coloring more than adequate hints of her Scandinavian ancestry. She was tall, her slender and tanned legs extended from hips that curved enticingly. She moved with an easy, unselfconscious grace, totally unaware of the tempting picture she presented.

She had bent down to remove her shoes, then curled her toes into the cool grass. Then she'd flung out her arms, as if to embrace the world, her face turned up to catch the sun. Steven's breath had caught in his throat and he'd waited, God help him, to see what would happen next. Would blouse and shorts follow the shoes? Would she join him in the water in naked abandon? He felt as though he'd stumbled into the Garden of Eden, caught between innocence and sensuality.

Still clothed, she had waded into the water to her knees, laughing like a child. He thought he'd never seen a woman so beautiful or heard a sound so delightful.

Perhaps if she hadn't been moving directly toward him, he would have kept his silence and carried the memory away like a rare and special dream. But she kept getting closer, and enchanted as he was, he hadn't wanted to cause her any embarrassment. He'd finally spoken, his voice a husky whisper, lacking its usual self-confidence.

“Hello.”

Startled, she'd turned at the sound. She stared at him, and he'd seen then that her eyes were an amazing shade of gray-blue, like the morning sea touched with a fading beam of moonlight. He also realized for the first time that she was young. Though there were strength and maturity in her face, he guessed she was still in her teens, certainly no more than twenty.

She'd glanced along the shore then and seen his hastily discarded clothes. Instead of embarrassment, a teasing smile had flashed across her face.

“I don't suppose you want to come ashore so we can have a proper introduction,” she said.

He'd frowned with feigned severity. “You know perfectly well if I come ashore right now, there would be nothing proper about it.”

She'd laughed at that, a sparkling, clear sound. “Don't scold me. You're the one skinny-dipping in my stream.”

That's how it had begun, amid taunts and laughter and smoldering sensuality. He'd tried to stay away from her, especially after he'd learned she was only eighteen. But even at that age, Lara was a lady not easily ignored. Experienced as he was at evading the tender wiles of women, he'd been no match for her total lack of guile. With a touch both innocent and captivating, she'd lured him onto what he'd thought was no more than a merry-go-round of mild flirtation, only to discover it was as wild as any roller-coaster ride he'd ever taken. She'd been mysterious and elusive, eager and bold by turns. Never knowing what to expect, he'd awakened each day with a glorious sense of anticipation.

In time, though, it had had to end, but the leaving had been painful, worse than any he'd ever experienced before. Now here he was back again, risking the same emotional maelstrom. He took the package he'd brought to the back porch and left it in the same place he'd left other gifts before.

With a last wry glance in the direction of the house, he set off for home, hoping he wouldn't have cause to regret the gesture. Though she'd seemed tamer somehow today, the spirited Lara he remembered so well was quite capable of throwing it right back in his face.

* * *

Thump!

A fine mist of flour filled the air as Lara slammed the bread dough down on the kitchen counter. She flattened the dough, folded it over and pounded it with her fist until her arm was worn-out from the effort. She took a deep breath, briefly enjoying the scent of yeast combined with that of the roses she'd brought in earlier from the garden. Then she picked up the dough and flung it down again. It landed with another satisfying thud.

“That man,” she muttered under her breath as she aimed another fierce blow at the soft center of the lump. “How dare he, after all this time? Who does he think he is? I have half a mind to go over there—”

“What man, Aunt Lara?” Jennifer asked.

Startled, Lara gazed blankly at her niece, who had crept into the room and was staring at her with those wide, solemn eyes that were so like Tommy's. Jennifer had a disconcerting way of sneaking up on her. Lara had never seen a child who could move so quietly or remain so still. Nor had she ever met one at that age who was quite so astute.

“How long have you been standing there, little one?”

“I don't know,” she said, then with single-minded purpose repeated, “What man, Aunt Lara? Where are you going? Can Kelly and me go, too?”

“Kelly and I,” she corrected automatically.

Jennifer apparently heard the unintentionally sharp note that lingered in her voice and regarded her wisely. “Are you mad at someone?”

Lara sighed. “Not really,” she said, unable to think of a logical way to explain that she was always mad at one particular man. It didn't take any overt act on Steven Drake's part to infuriate her. His mere existence was irritation enough.

His behavior yesterday had been infuriating enough, but today he'd fueled her ire by leaving a basket of strawberries on the back steps. She'd practically tripped over them when she'd gone out at dawn to milk the two cows she still kept in the barn. There had been no note in the basket, but she'd known at once who the luscious, ripe berries were from. When they'd first met, Steven had made a habit of making such unexpected, romantic little gestures. They'd had the desired effect on an impressionable eighteen-year-old, but now she was beyond such blatant attempts to charm.

Back then in the summer, it was always strawberries or her favorite cherry tomatoes or a bouquet of wildflowers. In the fall it had been a pumpkin, a crooked smile and laughing eyes already carved on its broad orange face. In winter there had been fragrant pine boughs at Christmas, even a soft woolen scarf in a shade of blue he knew was her favorite. By spring he'd been gone, taking joy and hope and love with him. Today's strawberries, no matter how sweet, had been a bitter reminder of the tender courtship that had led nowhere.

“Can I help make the bread?” Jennifer asked now, interrupting the disturbing memories.

Welcoming the prospect of her niece's distracting companionship, she said, “Sure. Climb on up on this stool.”

She broke off a chunk of dough and showed Jennifer what to do. Soon they were both pounding happily away, sending puffs of flour into the air. It would take her the rest of the afternoon to clean the floor, Lara thought, then dismissed her dismay. It was worth it. She was never more contented than she was in the kitchen. There was something about baking especially that soothed her. She might even make a strawberry pie, when the bread was finished. There was no point in letting those blasted berries go to waste.

“Something smells wonderful in here,” a deep, lazy voice drawled from just the other side of the screened door.

Lara's breath caught in her throat. To her regret, she'd heard the echoes of that voice a million times in her dreams. Now it was all too real. Why? Why after all this time would Steven come here? Yesterday she'd been on his land, their meeting accidental, but this was a blatant invasion of the sanctity of her home. Her fingers dug into the soft dough.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was as cold and unwelcoming as she could make it, though a wicked flame seemed to heat her blood.

The screen door squeaked on its hinges as it opened and closed. Still, she refused to turn around. She didn't move at all.

“Hi! We're making bread,” Jennifer informed him, clearly thrilled by his appearance. “Aunt Lara makes the best bread in the whole world.”

“I'll bet she does.”

“You want to help?”

“I think I'll just watch.”

Lara glanced at him at last, fighting against the shock of looking into his eyes. Those eyes of his had always been her undoing. A vivid blue, they had seemed able to see into her soul. Whatever secrets she'd kept from others had never been hidden to Steven's searching gaze. She wondered if he could sense her confusion now. She wanted him out of her kitchen, but she didn't want Jennifer to witness the fireworks likely to result from her request that he leave at once.

“I think I hear Kelly stirring,” she said to Jennifer. “Why don't you go check on her?”

“I didn't hear anything.”

“Jennifer!”

Her lower lip curved into a pout. “Okay.” Then Jennifer offered Steven her sunniest smile. “Will you still be here when I come back?”

“I hope so.” There was a dry note to his voice that Lara couldn't miss.

“I'll hurry then,” she promised as she ran from the room. “We hardly ever have company.”

“Cute girl,” he said, when they were alone. “Is it true what she said?”

“What?”

“That you never have company?”

“I don't see that that's any of your business.”

Steven shrugged, plucked a strawberry from the basket he'd left and bit into it. Lara had to force herself not to watch as he licked the red juice from his lips. She wanted to tell him to get out, but now that she'd created the opportunity to say the words, they wouldn't come.

“You didn't say yesterday. Is she Tommy's?”

Lara nodded. “His oldest. She and Kelly are staying here for the summer.”

When he said nothing, she felt an urgent need to fill the silence. “Tommy's doing very well. He's just gotten a job with a big firm in Kansas City. He and Megan are there now, looking for a house. The girls will be going out there in the fall. I'll miss them terribly, and it's been good to have them here. They love the farm. It's not like it was when I was growing up. We have help around here now, so I have time to spend with them. They're at that age where everything fascinates them. The days don't seem long enough to show them everything.”

She caught herself rambling and suddenly fell silent. Steven leaned back against the counter, crossed his jeans-clad legs at the ankles and watched her. Agitated, she worked the dough even harder. At the rate things were going, it would be very tough bread.

“You still haven't said what you wanted,” she said at last.

“Nothing special. Just a neighborly visit.”

Her gaze rose and met his, caught the knowing gleam in his eyes. “Neighbors don't usually wait for years before dropping in.”

“Would I have been welcome any sooner?”

“You're not welcome now.”

“I'd hoped—”

“What? That the strawberries would soften me up.”

He grinned. “Well, you are harder than you used to be,” he admitted. “I could see that yesterday. It might take more than strawberries, but I figured that would be a start. I've been waiting all this time for some sign that you're ready to let go of the past, but you won't even look at me when we pass on the street in town.”

The dough hit the counter with a resounding thud. “Did you honestly expect me to greet you with open arms?” The angry words were out before she could stop them, yet another admission of a pain she hadn't wanted him to see. Where was her Danvers' pride?

“No, not open arms.” His voice went quiet, and the hint of laughter left it for once. That softening shook her. “Just an open mind.”

Lara felt a sigh ripple through her.

“What's happened to you, Lara? When we met, you were filled with so much gaiety, so much excitement. I'll never forget that day I first saw you down at the stream.”

“I've grown up a lot since then.”

“Growing up shouldn't mean an end to laughter. I've watched you over the last few years. You never seem to laugh anymore. It's as though someone broke your spirit. Was it me?”

The observation rankled. “I hate to spoil your egotistical fantasy that you've ruined my life, but I'm quite happy. I have a full life—family, friends, work.”

“That's not what I hear. I hear the only thing in your life is this farm.”

“Gossip is a pretty unreliable source of information.”

“It's all I've had, since you've made it plain you don't want me around.”

“I'm surprised you bothered even with that.”

“I wanted to know how you were doing.”

“Why? So you could buy up the rest of the farm the minute it fails? I hate to disappoint you, but we're operating in the black.”

“I know that, too.”

Lara stared at him, incredulous that he'd apparently been prying into her life. “Mr. Hogan, I suppose?”