FOURTEEN

HARLEY PLACED HER FORK ON the rim of her plate and smiled across the table at Jud. “Your nephews are lucky men, Mr. Barnes. You’re a wonderful cook.”

“C’mon now, Miss Golden. I told you to call me Jud. We’ve got a cash crop of Mr. Barneses populating the place and it’ll get mighty confusing if you don’t.”

“Then Jud it is. As long as you call me Harley.” She let her smile widen. It was easy to do.

“Harley.” Jud’s brows drew together. He waved his knife and fork over his plate. “Ain’t that the name of a motorbike?”

Harley nodded. “Harley-Davidson. My parents rode when I was younger.”

“Did you ride with them?” Tyler asked, coating his slab of bacon-covered meat loaf with ketchup.

“I used to. But I haven’t been on a bike since I was ten.”

“And anything else you two Mr. Barneses want to know will have to wait.” Gardner scraped back his chair, got to his feet. “If y’all don’t mind, I’d like to show Harley around the ranch before I have to run over to Sam Coltrain’s and check on the trailer.”

“Hold on a minute, boy,” Jud ordered. “Harley hasn’t eaten more than half a helping. Why don’t you sit back down here and let her finish up?”

Harley stood. “I couldn’t eat another bite, Jud. Really. But it was delicious. Can I help you clean up?”

“No, ma’am. This ain’t no dude ranch where you gotta work for your supper. And there’s no use cleaning up till the rest of the boys eat.” Jud pushed back from the table, unfolded his frame from his seat. “Speakin’ of which, I’d better holler down to the bunkhouse.” He started for the back door, then glanced back at Harley. “As long as you’re sure you’re finished.”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I sat down to a home-cooked meal. I tend to… graze. You know, popcorn here, an apple or carrot.” Jud stopped walking. Tyler stopped chewing. Gardner stopped to stare. Harley tried again. “A head of lettuce. A bowl of puffed wheat.”

No use. All three men still appeared clueless. What did aerobically active ranchers know about cellulite? “I can only do meat loaf in bacon drippings and mashed potatoes with butter once a year. I have a problem with weight.”

Now she really felt like a piece of meat. Jud gawked as if he didn’t understand the concept. Tyler understood but his grin was appreciative, and more leer than grin.

But Gardner. Oh, Gardner. The expression m his eyes defied description. His gaze held a knowledge that came from intimacy, a desire that sprang from the same. The look frightened her, compelled her. She didn’t know if she could live up to what he expected.

Her blood heated; her stomach knotted. She was totally, irrevocably lost. “So how about that tour you promised?”

He must’ve read the panic in her eyes because he skirted the table and took her elbow in his hand. “Are you sure you’re up to it? It’s quite a climb to the attic.”

Standing in the doorway between the washroom and the back porch, Jud sputtered. “The attic? I done showed Harley the house, Gardner. Why don’t you walk her around the homestead? There’s nothing in the attic but a bunch of old junk.”

“Harley’s an antique dealer, Jud. She appreciates all that junk.”

The inflection Gardner gave the word junk told Harley that Gardner and his uncle held differing opinions on whatever was stored in the attic. She couldn’t wait to find out what it was.

And what it meant to Gardner.

Before Gardner managed to move toward the doorway that led to the stairs, Jud nodded in his direction. “So I guess you’ll be wanting off breakfast duty this week.”

Gardner pulled up short at Jud’s question. His hand tightened noticeably on Harley’s arm. Harley glanced up at his face—at his drawn expression, the tightness around his mouth.

“Like you said, Jud. This isn’t a dude ranch. I’ll take care of my chores. Harley knows the lay of the land—that Camelot comes first.”

So much for worship and adoration.

Jud afforded Gardner a stern fatherly look. “I wasn’t expecting you to dodge your duties, Gardner. But I thought by taking breakfast off your hands, I could free you up a couple of hours to spend with your guest.”

Tyler rose, carried his plate to the sink. “And unless you’ve got your heart set on going out to Sam Coltrain’s tonight, I can save you the trip. I’ve gotta pick up Guin from Doc Harmon’s after school tomorrow, anyway. I’ll run over to Sam’s and pick up the trailer.”

“It’s ready?”

“He called while you were gone.” Tyler dried his mouth on a dish towel. “Said the weld’s not pretty but it ought to hold up to whatever King gives it.”

Harley glanced from Gardner’s face to the two men standing, arms crossed, on either side of the kitchen sink. The scene resembled a hostile standoff. But the emotion in Jud’s eyes wasn’t criticism but concern, the care in Ty’s gaze the same.

Gardner crossed the width of the kitchen, reached out and shook each man’s hand. “You two aren’t half-bad to have around.”

“We’re all Barneses,” Tyler said. “What did you expect?”

With a final slap to both men’s shoulders, Gardner turned away. There was a story here. Harley wondered what it was. But before she could wonder further, Gardner laced his fingers through hers and led her up the stairs with a minimum of ceremony and a whole lot of haste.

The landing at the top of the stairs branched off to the right into a hallway that ran the width of the house. Jud had showed her the bedrooms—his own, Gardner’s and Ty’s—before showing her the room in which she’d be staying. Downstairs.

On this leg of the tour, as in the first, she had the opportunity to sneak nothing but a quick peek into Gardner’s room. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to see more.

She wanted to see if he made his bed, if he hung up his clothes, if the room smelled of Gardner. She wanted to see where she wouldn’t be sleeping. But she walked on by because he waited at the end of the hall, his hand on the knob of the only door Jud had not opened earlier.

She flattened her hand, shoulder high, on the glossy white wood. “What just happened downstairs?”

“Supper. The traditional meal families eat together at the end of the day.”

“I know what supper is.”

“Funny. I didn’t get that impression from what you said.”

“What I said is that I don’t sit down to many home-cooked meals.”

“That’s right. You don’t cook. You don’t even eat. You graze.” Arms crossed over his chest, Gardner leaned back against the door. “Animals graze, Harley.”

His statement said more than three words should. Uh-oh. Looked as if the after-sex euphoria was over. “C’mon, Gardner. I don’t mean that I stand in a field and eat hay.”

“Then tell me exactly what it is you mean.”

“I eat when I’m hungry, not when the hour of the day demands. If I get busy with book work or spend a long day on the phone tracking down a particular item, I may not eat for hours.”

He didn’t look convinced, or satisfied, so she tried again.

“I don’t rope dogies or wrestle steers or whatever ranchers do all day. I function best by eating light, not to mention that with my metabolism I can’t eat any differently without gaining weight.”

She gave up then because Gardner’s frown told her she’d dug herself in deeper.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing that you don’t have a family.” He opened the door and stepped through.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He stopped and turned to the side, his face no less handsome for the turmoil the shadowed attic stairway couldn’t hide. “Growing kids can’t do much with puffed wheat and popcorn.”

With that and a punctuating shrug, he took the stairs two at a time. His heavy steps stomped out any hope Harley had at keeping this conversation light.

So typical. Just like a man to walk away with the last word. And wrong word at that.

“Wait a minute, Gardner.” Harley hitched up her skirt and trudged up the narrow staircase into the center of the huge, slant-ceilinged attic. Broad shafts of sunlight streamed in through the four dormer windows spaced along the front wall of the house.

The light wasn’t bright enough to illuminate every corner. But it was enough. She was dying to explore. And she would. Later.

Gardner stood gazing out the farthest window, his profile rigid, his expression harsh. She didn’t know how she’d disappointed him but she intended to find out.

Because three hours ago, with both body and soul, she’d made a commitment. A commitment she was determined to see through.

“I’m lost here, Gardner.” The floorboards creaked like old bones beneath her boots. She laid her hand on his wrist. “It happened somewhere between the mashed potatoes and the puffed wheat but I really don’t think it had anything to do with food.”

His mouth quirked. It wasn’t a real smile but it gave her hope. “C’mon, cowboy. Spill the beans.”

“Sounds like food to me,” he said, and this time she caught a glimpse of his dimple.

“Ahh. He speaks. But does he talk?”

“I know how to talk.” With his free hand, he covered her fingers where she still held his wrist. Slow and seeking, his gaze moved over her face. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten those phone calls.”

He mesmerized her. Though the beams of light left his face slightly shadowed, the depth of emotion dark in his eyes threatened to throw her off track.

She lifted his hand, kissed the tip of one finger, then closed her eyes and shuddered at the feel of his thumb shamelessly teasing her mouth. “You’re trying to change the subject.”

“Is it working?” He breathed the question against her cheek then touched his tongue to her lips.

Yes. “No.”

“How ’bout if I try this?”

He held both her wrists in one of his hands. The fingers of the other made for a persuasive argument but she would stay strong.

She put only enough space between them to distract him, not dissuade him. “That’s enough.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” For now.

He’d reached her ear and his tongue… ahh.

“How long until now is over?” he asked.

“Until you tell me your secrets.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

If he didn’t know by now…“You think I’d reveal the intimate details of a man who still has my panties?”

At that, Gardner chuckled and let her go. Harley wrapped herself in relief, and then in the crook of Gardner’s elbow. She snuggled close to his side, remembering his smell, how nice he felt, how incredibly warm and safe and comfortable he made her feel.

He held her like nothing else mattered, then pulled her in front of him and snugged his arm around her waist. She tucked her head beneath his chin; her eyes followed the direction of his gaze. Together they stared out the window, across miles of prairie, acres of productive land, over a grazing herd of cattle, and an endless expanse of blue-white sky.

This land would be easy to love. And equally demanding of anyone willing to give up so much of their time, their life. The sacrifice would take a special kind of man.

The man holding her. The man whose sigh was not only a breath but a letting go of pent-up thoughts. Harley braced herself for his confrontation—a confrontation she’d asked for.

“Downstairs,” Gardner began, “you told Tyler that you hadn’t been on the back of a bike since you were ten. Did you ride with your parents?”

“Everly and I both did,” she replied. Though she wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted to know, she hadn’t a doubt of his question’s importance. And Gardner Barnes was worth a bumpy trip down memory lane. “Once we were old enough, we both preferred not to go along. Buck and Trixie didn’t seem to mind.”

“Buck and Trixie?”

“Pretty bad, huh.”

He let that sink in, then said, “So you were ten.”

Harley thought a minute. “Actually, the first time they let us stay home I was about seven.”

“Seven?” His arms around her waist tightened. “How old was Everly?”

“Nine going on thirty.” Already, she knew what he was thinking. “We were both pretty old for being so young. Definitely not your typical kids.”

He released her and Harley turned. Shaking his head, he walked to a far corner of the attic and propped his boot on the torn red vinyl of an old kitchen chair beside a brass-bound trunk.

The business side of Harley’s mind immediately estimated the worth of the piece. And of the oak armoire standing behind. Impressive. But her emotional side saw nothing but Gardner’s unrest.

His elbow braced on his knee, he leaned forward and wiped a smudge off one corner of the trunk. “What kind of parents would go off and leave a seven- and nine-year-old home alone?”

“It wasn’t for long periods of time. Usually just a few hours on Sunday,” Harley answered, staying where she was. The sunlight warmed the space where Gardner had left her standing.

“Usually?”

“Once in a while they went on a weekend ride. But Everly and I did fine.” She began to pace, noting the lack of dust, the absence of a musty smell. Even the windows had the type of clean shine that hers at home rarely saw.

This room was used for more than storage. Someone came up here often. She thought she knew who. “You’ve got to understand, Gardner. Our parents were kids themselves when Everly and I were born. I’m sure they thought of us as playthings instead of a responsibility. But we turned out okay.”

“No thanks to them.”

She made her way around the trunk and fingered the latch on the armoire. “I don’t know. They taught me a lot about parenting.”

“Nice trick, considering they didn’t…” Gardner gave a sound of disgust.

Her fist locked around the pull of the armoire’s door. She shook her head, dazed and frowning, thrown and out of sync. Her parents hadn’t loved her. Was that what he’d stopped himself from saying?

Five simple words. Words she’d never wanted to believe.

Her parents hadn’t loved her. Gardner believing those words gave truth to that ugly fact.

Releasing the handle, she glanced down at the red crescent imprinted on her palm. “What I learned was that an innocent child needs parents who have the time and energy to handle that kind of responsibility. I don’t. So I’ve chosen not to have a family.”

Gardner stiffened and brought his boot down hard on the floor. She’d hit a nerve. No. The chord she’d struck ran deeper, its source a belief as deeply ingrained as his love for the land.

Oh, yes, she’d seen the way he’d looked when they’d flown over Camelot. It was a look he should have worn for a woman. A look she wanted him to wear when he thought of her. It went beyond that first rush of love into contentment and security for life.

She remembered then that he’d told her he wanted a family. Children to whom he’d leave this inheritance. Is that why he’d invited her here? Was this an interview? A satisfaction-guaranteed-or-your-money-back-no-risk-trial-period?

She turned around and, arms crossed, lifted her chin. The trunk stood between them like a line in the sand. “Okay, Gardner. Ask me anything you want.”

He frowned. “I don’t have anything to ask you.”

“Yes, you do. That’s why you brought me here. To see if I’d meet your qualifications for motherhood.” She arched one brow, daring him to deny the charge.

His eyes glittered but he didn’t look away. “I meant it as a compliment, not an insult.”

“A compliment?” Harley shoved tense hands through her hair, then fluffed the locks with an exasperated shake of her head. “The way the three of you were looking at me downstairs I felt like a prospective broodmare.”

“You’re a beautiful, passionate woman.” His gaze lingered intimately, then lingered still. “A man would be lucky to have you bear his children”

Harley closed her eyes. He found her beautiful, he found her passionate, but he said not a word about love.

Well, this was the make-or-break point with her. Looking up slowly, she said, “Children or not, a man would be lucky to have me. Period.”

Gardner met her obstinate gaze head-on. “I didn’t say he wouldn’t.”

“No, but it wasn’t the first thought that crossed your mind.” She waited a minute, gathering her thoughts, searching for the words to make him understand.

“I’ve been through one marriage where my husband expected me to understand that because of career demands he had only two evenings a week to spend with me.” Her mouth twisted into a wry grimace. “Of course, I didn’t know until it was too late how he spent the other five.”

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“No, I shouldn’t have. But it happened. And I won’t plead selfish for demanding any future relationship be on my own terms.”

Gardner settled his hands on his hips. “Which means no children.”

“It’s not the contradiction it sounds like, Gardner. A child deserves more time and attention than my lifestyle affords. A child needs a better start in life than having a parent who’s too busy to be there for flying kites and long division.”

How could she make him understand? How could she tell him what it had been like? She and Gardner didn’t have a future unless she could get him to see things her way.