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Authors: Ruth Wind

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BOOK: Reckless
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Jake.
He stood there at the door a little uncomfortably, perhaps unsure of his welcome. In the bright, sunny morning, he looked more handsome than she had remembered, more precious. His hair had been recently trimmed. It hung neatly around his collar and he'd brushed it back from his high, elegant forehead. His jaw was clean shaven, and the bruises were gone, or nearly so. His eyes blazed, violently blue against the darkness of his hair.
Standing beside him, Manuelito had that ridiculously pleased expression dogs sometimes adopted when they found something—ears perked up, tongue lolling out of a cheery dog smile. And just in case she hadn't noticed the prize, he barked sharply.
It broke Ramona's stillness. “I see,” she said, and continued on her path to put the pot in the sink. Out of sight, she took a deep breath and steeled herself, then marched to the door and pushed open the screen.
“Hi,” he said, and lifted a box of doughnuts. “Brought you a present.”
She couldn't help it. She smiled, at once reluctant and wry. “You have to promise not to spill anything if I let you in.”
Awkwardly, he lifted his cast and stretched out his fingers. “My hands are steady as rocks.”
“No hitting your head, either.”
He grinned, and the scar along his beautiful lower lip showed a little, just a thin white line. She'd forgotten how delectable his mouth was. She looked away, then gestured for him to come in.
Manuelito pushed by, licking Ramona's fingers. “Please, Manuelito, you're making a fool of yourself.”
He sat, back straight, ears still up, that silly smile plastered all over his muzzle, his tail waving happily over the floor. He barked.
Ramona shook her head. “You really are a dog charmer, Jake Forrest.” While he put the doughnuts on the table, Ramona bustled over to the coffeemaker and got out the filters and coffee. “How are you feeling?” she asked brightly.
“Good. How are you feeling?”
The question caught her by surprise, and she looked up at him. “I'm sorry. I do that so automatically.” He simply nodded, a soberness coming into his expression. Ramona saw it and reached for a filter. To her dismay, she found her hands were trembling so violently she couldn't pick one out. “Damn,” she said.
Smoothly, he moved forward and took the filters from. her hands. She thanked him, then put the one he held out in the basket and reached for the coffee.
Jake stopped her, his big hand capturing both of hers. “Ramona.”
She didn't look at him, afraid everything she was feeling, everything she didn't want him to see would be written all over her face. “What?” The word came out on a harsh sigh.
He twined his fingers in her right hand. “When I saw you at Lance's wedding, I thought you would have a kitchen just like this. I thought it would be filled with herbs and plants, and that you would make your own jelly.”
His voice rolled like honey over her shoulders, down her spine, seductive and rich and beautiful. His thumb moved over her knuckles, and Ramona focused on his hand, dark and strong, engulfing her own. She couldn't speak.
“Ramona, look at me. Please.”
“I can't.” Her voice sounded strangled, and that wasn't at all what she meant.
“Please.”
“Oh, Jake, can't you just go away?” she whispered helplessly. “I was just starting not to mind every single minute.”
He stepped closer, close enough that she was enveloped in that subtle, exotic after-shave he wore. “I miss you,” he said, and his mouth fell on her neck, just beside her braid. “I miss you so much.”
She shut her eyes, fighting the urge to fling herself into his arms and damn the consequences. She missed him dreadfully. And she'd lied, too. She hadn't got used to being without him. But her heart pounded out a warning that the lion was back, bringing danger and destruction into her calm and peaceful existence.
“I love you, Ramona,” he said. “Please look at me.”
And at that, she could not resist. She raised her eyes and met that hypnotic blue gaze. “I know,” she said. “I love you, too, but it doesn't change anything.”
He put his fingers against her mouth. “Wait. Hear me out.”
Mesmerized by the power of those compelling eyes, she nodded.
“I started having nightmares that night after you told me to get lost.”
“I didn't—”
“Yes, you did. But it's okay. I started having those nightmares again, and there in the middle of the night, I finally understood what you've been telling me all along. I needed to drain that boil.”
For one moment, her heart stopped, then thudded to life again.
He focused on her hand, on the pattern he was making over the knuckles. “So I went to the meetings. I've been talking to a therapist, too.” He took a breath. “It isn't easy. I have a long way to go.”
Oh, it hurt to look at him! To feel the piercing shards of hope needling through her numbed veins.
“I realized that I was clinging to you, looking to you to make the demons go away. Maybe to protect me from the darkness.” He raised his eyes. “And when I found out you had your own darkness, it almost killed me.” He grimaced wryly. “Literally.”
“Jake, my past isn't a problem for me anymore. It really isn't. I mean, I can't make it go away. But I can live with it. I don't even usually think about it anymore. It was a long, long time ago.”
He smiled. “You know, that was exactly the thing I was thinking when I fell. I'm serious.” He gestured, still holding her hand. “It just hit me that maybe that's what you have to do. What everyone has to do. Just live with it and go on. I thought seeing that would instantly make me feel better.”
Very gently, she lifted his big hand to her lips and kissed it.
“It's not that easy,” he admitted. He bent closer and kissed her hand. “But, I swear, Ramona, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll see a shrink every day for the rest of my life if I need to—but please, let me love you while I do it.”
Her hope swelled, but she looked at him very seriously. “Jake, I can't be there to pick up the pieces.”
“You won't have to.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I need you, but not for the wrong reasons now. I need you like any man needs that one woman when he finds her.”
Not like any man. He would always do things more intensely, with more passion, than other men. She held his hand close to her cheek, aching at the thought of his loving her like that.
“I just need to be near you, Ramona,” he whispered. “I want to hear you laugh and curse and cry. I want to make love to you and give you children, and cook for you and—” He swallowed. “Everything.”
She simply let go, and everything in her flowed toward him, into his embrace. “I've missed you so much,” she returned quietly. “I wake up alone in the middle of the night and it hurts so much.”
His good hand came up to cup the back of her head, and he pressed her close, holding her next to him, and then he was kissing her hair, her forehead, her nose.
“I love you, Jake. I'll be here for you.”
“No,” he said, cradling her head in his hand. “I'll be here for you. We'll be here for each other. For always, Ramona.”
Pure happiness spilled through her, and in her mind's eye, she saw the prowling lion, his wounds bandaged, at last settling in the place she had made for him in the sun. Pressing her head into his chest, listening to his heart beat, she imagined that big, strong lion rolling over on his back and stretching as he let go of a relieved sigh.
Quietly, Jake began to hum, rocking her side to side in a dance, a little smile on his face. Ramona smiled back and stepped onto the tops of his feet, wrapping her arms around his shoulders so they could dance more closely. “What is that song?” she asked. “I feel like I should know it.”
“They played it at the wedding reception.” He made mock growling noises. “‘Listen to the Lion,' by Van Morrison.”
Ramona stared at him for a moment, then she laughed and grabbed his beautiful, clean-shaven, healing face in her hands.
“I love you,” she said, and kissed him soundly.
And together they danced to the music of healing, to the music of courage, but most of all, to the music of love.
 
 
In August 1997, Intimate Moments is proud to present HER IDEAL MAN (IM#801), Book 3 of
THE LAST ROUNDUP.
Four years ago Tyler Forrest, the youngest of the Forrest brothers, took his young son and retreated to the solitude of the high Colorado mountains to nurse his broken heart. The last thing he expects—or wants, or needs—is a vivacious woman, stranded on his doorstep in the middle of a snowstorm.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-7236-1
 
RECKLESS
 
Copyright © 1997 by Barbara Samuel
 
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York NY 10017 U.S.A.
 
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
 
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
 
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
BOOK: Reckless
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