Cowboy Courage. Judy Duarte
The light of the flames glistened off the gold tresses, and when she leaned forward, the robe gaped open, revealing a soft mound of flesh that would fit easily in a man’s hand. He tried to remind himself that he wasn’t attracted to model-thin women, that his ex-wife had grown too thin, right before she’d run off. But there was nothing thin or lacking softness in the rounded flesh that was just visible through the robe.
Cole found it nearly impossible to stay on task. Just how on earth was he supposed to watch over two steaks when a nearly naked woman sat just beyond reach? He might have achieved the rank of Eagle Scout, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for this.
Maybe Kerri-Leigh had been right. She’d once told him he needed to find a woman who would agree to a commitment-free sexual relationship. But Cole was from the old school. He thought sexual relationships should have a few strings attached. And besides, he sure as hell didn’t need to complicate his life with a woman right now. Especially one who was out of his league.
“Cole, are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
Help what? Relieve his crazy longing? No, Laurie Smith could only offer temporary assistance and long-term remorse. He chided himself for letting his mind wander from a polite discussion to thoughts he shouldn’t have. He knew the only help she meant was with the meal. “No, the steaks are done, but you can set the table.” He nodded toward the big glass coffee table in front of the sofa.
Her eagerness surprised him. What was going on in her head? he wondered. Was she some kind of adventuress who had never experienced the reality of middle class? Cole hoped not. He’d tried damn hard to shake a redneck upbringing. Still, he didn’t belong in her world, not even for one rainy night.
“The table’s ready,” she called out happily from the living room.
A candle served as a centerpiece, and paper towels had a double role as place mats and napkins. Her smile appeared sincere, and Cole hoped she wasn’t like Marie Antoinette, who had set up a peasant village in the back of the palace so she could play the part of a milkmaid.
He carried the steaks into the living room on the tin plates he kept stored in the garage with the camping gear.
A battery-operated lantern sat on an end table and cast a soft light around the room, but it was Laurie’s happy glow that drew his attention. “Umm. It looks good,” she said. Her eyes glistened.
For some reason he couldn’t quite figure out, it pleased him to know she found pleasure in the camping ambiance. And it surprised him. He wanted to know more about this woman. “So, what brings you to Texas?”
Her smile waned, and she reached for the paper towel that lined her lap. “Nothing in particular. I suppose I’m just passing through.”
Cole’s brow furrowed. “Sounds like you’re running away from something.”
The childlike pleasure left her face, and she twisted the napkin in her hands. “I guess I am at that.” She glanced up at him, green eyes big, luminous. Waiflike.
Cole wanted to ask, from what? Or from whom? But he wasn’t one to pry. Besides, he valued his privacy and could understand her desire to do the same. Still, he couldn’t help his curiosity. Maybe she would find a lonely, stormy evening conducive to talk.
Rain pounded the roof and windows, the wind blew through the trees, the fire crackled while burning hard oak logs, yet the two strangers continued to eat in silence.
Then, for some reason known only to her, she began to speak. And Cole found himself listening intently.
“I was engaged to be married,” she began, “to a man who thought I’d make a good wife.”
Cole cocked his head to the side, not sure what she was going to say. He hated to think she’d done the same thing to her fiancé as his wife had done to him. “I take it you didn’t want to make him a good wife.”
“Oh, but I did,” she began. “I’d have done anything for him. I’ve always been compliant, easy to get along with. In fact, too compliant and easy to get along with.”
Cole wasn’t following her reasoning, but he didn’t say anything. He just sat there like a high-priced shrink.
“That’s apparently what he liked about me.” She offered a weak smile. “He’s having an affair with a married friend of mine.”
“Ouch,” Cole said.
Laurie set her fork down and placed her elbows on the table. “You know, if I’d been deeply in love with him, it would have been devastating. As it is, I just feel used, betrayed. Taken advantage of.” She searched his face as though looking for understanding, and he hoped she found it. “For fifteen years, I’ve tried hard to do everything expected of me, to show my appreciation to my aunt for adopting me.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“I never knew my dad. When Mom died, I was orphaned and alone. According to Aunt Caroline, she rescued me from foster care. And she never let me forget it.”
Cole wondered how his daughter would feel if something happened to him. He’d done everything in his power to ensure his ex-wife would never have custody of Beth. But, should something happen to Cole, his daughter would most likely end up in the system. Unless, of course, Kerri-Leigh managed to get her life in order first, but that possibility didn’t provide him with much comfort. As much as he loved his sister, she didn’t always make the right choices. Without Cole, Beth’s options were limited. “Foster care must have been tough.”
“Losing my mother was worse. And scary.”
Cole nodded, feeling sorry for another motherless child. But life wasn’t always fair. He’d learned that early.
Laurie stood. “I had hoped Aunt Caroline would be like a mother to me, but it never happened.” As though trying to change the subject, she began picking up the plates and plastic ware. “I’ll wash the dishes.”
“I’ll help.” Cole grabbed the lantern and led the way to the kitchen.
As Laurie followed him, she found it hard to believe she had revealed so much to a man who, only hours ago, had been a complete stranger. He wasn’t much less of one now, but he’d been a good listener, and there weren’t many people who had ever really cared about her feelings or desires. In fact, other than Cole tonight, Michael Harper was the only one in recent years who’d cared. Michael was one of the finest doctors around and a good friend, but she couldn’t very well go to him now. It was his wife who was having an affair with Daniel.
Laurie placed the dishes in the sink and found a bottle of soap on the counter. She turned on the water and watched the bubbles form.
“I was going to take the stove back to the garage,” the tall, lean cowboy said as he sauntered back into the kitchen. “But I had another idea. How about some hot cocoa?”
Laurie looked up, amazed at the way his presence filled the room. Cole McAdams was a striking man, with dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck. Clad in denim, he appeared strong. And heroic. Blue eyes softened his angular features, and Laurie was touched by his suggestion. “I haven’t had hot chocolate in years. It sounds great.”
“Well, it’s standard camp fare, assuming you can handle instant. All we need is hot water.”
“I don’t suppose you have the kind with little dehydrated marshmallows, do you?”
He offered a charming smile. “No, but I’ll get some for next time.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“For promising to get the kind with marshmallows?”
“No. For listening to me wallow in self-pity.”
Cole lifted her chin with the callused tip of his finger, sending a sensual shiver from her head to her toes. “You didn’t wallow. You just explained why you’re passing through.”