Wild Texas Flame Page 14

  And suddenly he wanted to be. He wanted to be special to her, for her.

  Then he remembered just who he really was.

  He was special, all right. He was Ash McCord, convicted back-shooter, ex-convict. If he closed his eyes and inhaled, even the soft lilac scent of her would disappear beneath the overwhelming stench of the prison he could still smell.

  And if he wasn’t careful, that stench would rub off on Sunny.

  With a painful combination of reluctance and determination, he withdrew his hand from her.

  A few days later Gus rolled up in a Bar B wagon and unloaded Mayor Baxter’s old wheelchair. The chair sported a new coat of paint and freshly greased axles. Sunny oooed and ahhed and gushed over it like it was some precious new baby. Ash was disgusted. And pleased in the extreme when they discovered it was too wide to go through his bedroom door.

  If he was going to walk, then he’d by God walk. And if he wasn’t, he’d crawl. But he’d be damned if he’d touch anything belonging to Ian Baxter. The mere thought made his stomach churn.

  But maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t need the goddamned chair. During the next week some of the feeling returned to his legs, clear down to his toes. It wasn’t total by any means, but he could feel Sunny’s touch. And now, if he concentrated on what he was doing instead of on the feel of her hands on his skin, he could sometimes feel his muscles respond.

  “Come on, Ash, you can push harder than that.”

  He glared at Sunny. She stood at the end of the bed holding his leg in the air, bent at the knee, and was pushing the bottom of his foot to force his knee toward his chest. He was trying to push back.

  He gritted his teeth and felt the sweat of effort bead on his face and chest. He pushed harder.

  “Good!” she cried. “Again.”

  He took a deep breath and tried harder. “You know,” he said between his teeth, “this’d be…a helluva lot easier—” he took a breath— “if I had…some pants on.”

  Sunny started laughing and her hands slipped from his foot, which then landed hard, flat against her breast. She cried out and jumped back. Ash’s foot fell to the bed. Sunny covered her breast with an arm.

  Ash quickly pulled himself up with his rope so he could sit. “Are you all right?” His breath still came in gasps, but he wasn’t sure he could blame it all on exertion. Just the mere sight of his foot against her breast had made him breathless. He’d felt its full softness give beneath his sole. “Sunny, did I hurt you? Talk to me, dammit.”

  A blush stained her cheeks. She tore her gaze from his. “I’m…all right. It wasn’t your fault. I think that’s enough for right now.” She turned and fled the room.

  “Damn!” Ash let himself back down the rope and stared at the ceiling. He’d hurt her. Not on purpose, but still, the last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt her.

  Who am I trying to kid? he thought. His mere presence in her house was hurting her.

  If there was one thing in the world Ash didn’t want to do, it was agree with Ian Baxter. On anything. But he had to admit he believed Baxter’s words when he’d paid Sunny that visit last week. Ash had no doubt the people in town were talking about her, wondering what was going on with an ex-convict under her roof.

  He had to get out of there.

  It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but what he knew he had to do. For her sake.

  Lord, he’d had no idea a man could become so addicted so fast to a mere smile, a pair of eyes, a laugh, a touch. The smell of lilacs.

  But he had. By God, he had.

  He tried to tell himself it was simply the result of not having been around a woman in over five years. Of course he would be attracted to someone as beautiful and kind and generous as Sunny.

  But it was more than that, he knew. A hell of a lot more.

  He found himself wanting to tell her the truth of what had happened five years ago. But what was the use? He had no proof. And even if she did believe him, what good would it do?

  It would only complicate matters.

  She already cared for him, at least a little, he knew. He couldn’t allow his feelings for her, or hers for him, to go any deeper. She was a bright and shining treasure to him in his embittered life. He pictured her hair, her eyes, her skin. A golden treasure, close enough to touch.

  Yet he had no right to touch her. Not with his past.

  He had to get away from this house before he did something stupid, like fall in love.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sunny whacked the dining table with the flat of her hand. It was stupid to run from the room like a ninny over a silly accident. It wasn’t the pain of his kick she ran from, she knew. It had startled more than it hurt. It was the disturbing awakening of those same feelings her dream had given her. All because his foot had touched her breast.

  What was happening to her? Why should she crave his presence so much, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin?

  It was frightening. And thrilling. And she didn’t want it to end.

  So why did you run, you dolt?

  And how was she going to face him when she went back into his room?

  In the end it was simpler than she’d thought. She merely carried in his lunch tray.

  Ash watched her hesitate at the door, his lunch tray in her hands. She glanced at him, then her eyes skittered away. His gaze drifted involuntarily to her breasts and he swallowed. He pictured creamy white skin, smooth and soft as satin to the touch. Maybe a blue vein or two showing.

  Was there a bruise now?

  She placed the tray on the bedside table, then leaned to rearrange the pillows behind his back, bringing her breasts to within inches of his face.

  Beneath the fabric of her dress, her nipples puckered and pointed at him. He swallowed.

  He didn’t plan to reach out and touch her. His hand just more or less rose on its own. Before he realized what he was doing, he brushed a hard point with the backs of his knuckles.

  He heard and felt her suck in her breath. She seemed to freeze before him. But he couldn’t for the life of him take his eyes away. Nor his hand.

  “Does it still hurt?”

  She didn’t answer. He cupped the full mound in his palm and looked into her eyes. What he saw there, the questions, the heat, the hint of promise, took his breath away.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled, filling his hand more fully. “No,” she finally whispered.

  Her hard little nipple drilled into his palm.

  Hard.

  My God, she wasn’t the only one getting hard! And it felt so damned good to finally know it could still happen to him, he almost groaned aloud.

  He gently squeezed her breast. Then, realizing what he was doing, he jerked his hand away. Any minute now she would look down and see him tenting the sheet. As good as it felt, as giddy as he was to realize his manhood was still intact—it had been pure hell not knowing—he sure didn’t want to wave the evidence in her face.

  “Good,” he said, his voice breaking. He yanked a pillow from behind him and put it in his lap.

  Sunny straightened abruptly, and when he looked at her, she blushed beet red to the roots of her golden hair. The tray shook in her hands when she placed it on the pillow in his lap.

  She stood up and cleared her throat. “Do you need anything else?”

  He swallowed. I need to get away from you before I make the biggest mistake of your life, Sunshine Thornton. He cleared his throat. “No, thanks.”

  Sunny forced herself to walk, not run, from the room. When she made it to the kitchen she pressed sweating, shaking palms to stinging cheeks and closed her eyes.

  What in heaven’s name had possessed her to let him touch her like that?

  God, the things she’d felt! The reality was so much better than her dream. His gentle touch, the hungry look on his face, had nearly brought her to her knees. Lord above, what was she to do with the emotions that man stirred within her?

  For the next few days Sunny and Ash acted as though nothing m
omentous had happened between them.

  But Ash worked twice as hard as before at regaining the use of his legs. He had to get away from her, out of her house. Her reaction to his touch had nearly been his undoing. She should have slapped his face. Instead, she’d closed her eyes.

  Whenever he thought about it, his blood raced and his heart did a funny little flip.

  He had to get away from her. She didn’t need an ex-convict in her life.

  For Sunny, things were almost back to normal. That is, if she didn’t think about the way her breathing was affected every time she went into Ash’s room. Or that starving look she sometimes caught in his eyes before he schooled his features to blankness.

  And it wasn’t food he hungered for. As innocent as she was, she knew that much.

  He wanted her.

  And she wanted him.

  She wanted him in her life. She wanted to hear his laughter, see his smile, feel his touch.

  But she knew he was closing himself away from her.

  On her way outside to meet the girls when they came home from school, Sunny determined that Ash McCord would not close himself away from her. He needed and wanted her every bit as much as she needed and wanted him. She was not going to allow him to make them both miserable.

  When the girls arrived, it was obvious something was on their minds.

  “Ask her,” Rachel whispered to Katy.

  “I will, I will. You and Amy go on and play,” Katy said.

  When the younger two were out of earshot, Sunny turned to Katy. “Ask me what?”

  Katy fidgeted and wouldn’t look at her. Sunny wondered what was going on. Katy was usually disconcertingly direct. It wasn’t like her to fidget and avoid an issue. Any issue. “Well?” she prompted.

  Katy raised her head and looked Sunny in the eye. Sunny read confusion and pain there. “Katy, what is it?”

  “The, uh, kids at school have been talking.”

  “About what?”

  “About Mr. McCord.”

  Sunny’s stomach tightened. Were the school children repeating the gossip Mayor Baxter had warned her about? The gossip she herself had heard at church? “What about Mr. McCord?”

  Katy hesitated a moment, then blurted out, “Did he really shoot the mayor in the back?”

  Sunny flinched as though she’d been struck. It was something she didn’t like to think about, but there was no way to avoid the truth. “A judge said he did.”

  Katy waved a hand with impatience. “What does that mean? Tommy Carson said I wrote a dirty word on the blackboard, too, but I didn’t. Mr. McCord didn’t really do that awful thing, did he?”

  An idea, big and bold, swept across Sunny’s mind. She straightened her shoulders. What if he didn’t do it? Only a coward would shoot a man in the back. Sunny would stake her life that there wasn’t a cowardly bone in Ash McCord’s body.

  And what about how good he was with Amy and Rachel? Would a cowardly back-shooter be so kind, so generous to two lonely little girls who missed their daddy?

  What if he didn’t do it?

  Could the judge have been wrong? The judge and the sheriff and the witnesses? It wasn’t likely…but…was it possible?

  She’d never asked him. She’d always heard about the evil man who’d caused that nice Mayor Baxter to be in a wheelchair.

  But Ash wasn’t evil.

  He was good and strong and courageous. He’d saved her life. Would an evil coward risk rushing out in the midst of gunfire to protect someone he barely knew?

  “Sunny?”

  Sunny blinked and looked at Katy. “Why don’t I ask him?” she said.

  “Do you…think you should?”

  With a decisive nod Sunny said, “Yes. I think I should. I think I should have asked a long time ago. But I can’t just waltz in there and ask him outright. I have to wait for just the right moment.”

  Late the next Monday morning, Sunny stood at the front window and watched in dismay as Ian Baxter once again backed his wagon up to her front porch. What was he doing here? She didn’t want him coming to visit.

  What if he asked about the receipt?

  She’d gone through every paper in her father’s desk, three times, and had found no trace of it. No record, no note of that last payment he’d made. Of course there wouldn’t have been anything in the ranch ledger, because he’d never made it home alive. But there was also no receipt.

  What would Baxter say?

  And what would Ash say when he heard Baxter’s voice?

  Quickly she tiptoed down the hall and peeked into Ash’s room. Thank God. He was asleep. She pulled the door shut as quietly as possible and dashed back down the hall and out the front door.

  Baxter rolled down the ramp and onto the porch, where he stopped before her. “I hope you don’t mind my showing up unannounced this way, Sunny.”

  Of course I mind, she thought trying to catch her breath. “What can I do for you, Mayor?”

  He smiled, making the ends of his mustache wiggle. “Well, first you could call me Ian, then you could invite me in.”

  She didn’t want to. Oh, she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t very well leave him sitting out on the porch. “Please come in.”

  Sunny didn’t understand her change in feelings for the man. She used to like him, although she’d never known him well. He and her father had been fairly good friends. Up until the day before the dance.

  That must be it. Her father had been angry that day, and Sunny had let that influence her opinion of Baxter. But according to her father’s last words, she really shouldn’t trust the man any longer.

  And she didn’t. Especially in light of the things Ash had told her about his own father’s situation with Baxter.

  “You don’t seem particularly glad to see me, Sunny,” Baxter said quietly.

  “I’m sorry.” She sat on the couch across from where he’d stopped his chair. “I don’t mean to seem rude. My mind was on all the chores I have to do today, that’s all.”

  “You work too hard. You deserve better than to slave away on this ranch.”

  She smiled at that. “Mamma always said hard work builds character. Besides, somebody’s got to do it, and I’m the only one available.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, about you out here all alone, with no help, no protection.”

  “I’m not alone, Mayor. Two or three of the hands are always around, and my sisters.”

  Baxter’s face hardened. “And Ash McCord?”

  “Yes, he’s still here. I’d like to thank you for sending the wheelchair for him. It shouldn’t be too much longer before he can use it.”

  Baxter looked like he’d just sucked on a sour pickle. “I believe I’ve made my feelings plain about him.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “I didn’t come to talk about him, I came to talk about you, about us.”

  The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “Us?”

  Baxter chuckled. “You say it like it’s a foreign word. I’d have thought, after our last conversation, you might be expecting this.”

  Sunny’s palms grew damp and her stomach rolled over. Dear Lord, dear Lord. “Expecting what?”

  “Come now, Sunny.” He removed his hat and gloves and placed them in his lap. “Surely you aren’t surprised that I want to make you my wife.”

  Chapter Eleven

  His wife?! Sunny couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it.

  Baxter frowned at her, then smiled gently. “I can see you’re surprised, but it makes sense, Sunny, if you think about it. You can’t live out here alone like this, working yourself into an early grave trying to run this ranch and raise your sisters and care for a home. I can ease those burdens for you, if you’ll let me.”

  Thunderation. The man was serious! Sunny’s heart pounded in her chest.

  “My house is large. I’d welcome your sisters as if they were my own family, as indeed they will be. Maria does all the cooking and cleaning, so you c
an relax, enjoy yourself. You can have fine new clothes, the best of everything, and we can travel. We can even send your sisters to one of the best finishing schools back east.”

  Send them away? Her mouth went dry. Over my dead body, she thought.

  “You won’t have to worry about how to run a ranch. And you won’t be alone.”

  Sunny’s heart pounded harder and harder. “Mayor Baxter—”

  “I know,” he said raising his hand. “I know I’m not much of a prize. I’m tied to this chair for the rest of my life, and I have a good many years on you. But I can take care of you, Sunny. I can dress you in silks and satins and lace. I’ll hire servants to wait on you hand and foot. I’ll be good to you. You need a man to look after you.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.” She clutched her skirt until her hands ached.

  “You could say yes.”

  “I-I’m honored, truly I am.” She nearly gagged on the lie. “But I…I’m not…ready to get married.”

  “Think about it, Sunny. You’re what, eighteen?”

  She nodded, reluctantly.

  “Many girls your age are already married, with children of their own.”

  “But I have my sisters—”

  “It’s not the same. Sisters aren’t the same as having children of your own.”

  The mere thought of having Ian Baxter’s children, of what she would have to let him do to her to get them, made her ill. “I’m sorry, Mayor Baxter, but I can’t marry you.”

  He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the arms of his chair. His face lost some of the gentle softness it had worn only moments ago. “There are benefits to marrying me I don’t think you’ve thought of.”

  She didn’t respond, except to stare directly into his eyes. She couldn’t seem to look away, and imagined this must be what a rabbit felt when looking into the eyes of a coyote, just before it lunged. The friendly, open eyes she’d known for years suddenly looked sly and secretive and hard.

  “By marrying me, you could end the gossip about you and that man you’ve got in there.”

  She raised her head, anger stirring with her. “I believe I’d need a slightly better reason than that to marry a man.”