Chapter Seventeen
Howie Deering and his wife Tara lived in a little bungalow a few streets off Main. Though only in their late twenties, they already had the settled, married look of two people too busy to exercise much. They had two toddlers and a house overrun with toys. Oh, they were all on shelves or in baskets, but Whitney thought that might have been a hasty cleanup job just before she and Josh arrived.
The two little boys had the carrot hair of their mom and both parents’ freckles. They stared up at her with surprising indifference—something she could relate to.
She didn’t remember the last time she’d been around kids. Only a few of her friends were even married though she was about to turn thirty, and none had started families. It seemed that she naturally gravitated toward career women like herself, who were still working their way up the ladder. Children weren’t even on their radar—or hers. Her brother Chasz and his wife Courtney had been married for seven years with no kids, and Whitney sometimes wondered if they planned to have them at all. Not that she’d ever ask, of course. She frowned, realizing she hadn’t spoken to either of them in weeks. She and Courtney had a love of shopping in common, and Courtney usually sent her a quick photo of her newest purchase at least once or twice a week. But not lately.
And then Josh hunkered right down beside Howie III and asked about the puzzle he was working at on a child-sized table. Did it bother him to be around children? She wondered if he sometimes thought of the child his high-school girlfriend had miscarried, the path that had altered with that one tragedy.
Tara said, “Whitney, can I get you a drink?”
She followed her into the kitchen, but Josh remained behind. Howie was stirring something on the stove and looked up to give her a smile.
“Is white wine all right?” Tara asked.
Whitney nodded, even as she found herself glancing back into the living room.
“He’ll be okay,” Tara said, smiling. “I’ve taken my oldest boy out for riding lessons with Brooke, and more than once, Josh was happy to do some cowboy stuff with little Howie. He has a man crush on Josh.”
Smiling, feeling surprisingly relieved, Whitney accepted the wineglass.
Howie turned a frown on her. “I heard about the window at your store. Have they found out who did it?”
She shook her head. “And they probably won’t although the sheriff tells me there are a few people who might have seen something. We’ll see.”
“Still… I can’t imagine it feels good.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
While Tara and Howie finished lunch prep, Whitney eventually wandered back to the living room and sat down on the floor beside their youngest, Kyle. He was banging two blocks together, then froze, staring up at her with wide chocolate brown eyes.
“Don’t start crying, kid,” she murmured, smiling as wide as she could as she began to stack the blocks. “Wanna knock it down?”
Kyle continued to stare, and his bottom lip quivered.
“See, this is fun!” she said cheerfully, then knocked down her little tower of blocks.
Kyle blinked, and Whitney held her breath while quickly setting up another tower. Then Kyle knocked it over and gave her a cautious smile.
Thank God.
She glanced up to find Josh watching her, grinning.
She stuck out her tongue. “You have the easy kid,” she whispered.
“I’m easy?” Howie said loudly.
She winced, even as Josh chuckled.
“Whitney just means you’re good at puzzles,” Josh said. “Now she’d like to come help you. She loves puzzles. Do you mind?” he asked the kid.
Howie seemed to shrug with indifference, his gaze focused on the big puzzle pieces.
Sighing, Whitney exchanged places with Josh, where she knew she was about to prove Howie wasn’t easy at all. Sure enough, Howie kept insisting he knew where each piece went, and tried to force it into place if she so much as voiced a different opinion. It worked best if she chose her own piece and pretended that it was taking her a long time to find the right spot. The pieces were two inches wide, after all. She couldn’t blame the kid—she didn’t like anyone’s telling her what to do either.
At the sound of a baby giggle, she turned her head and saw Josh on his back, holding Kyle high in the air above him, before bringing him down and blowing raspberry kisses into his neck. He lifted the baby back into the air, and a drop of spit landed right on Josh’s forehead, and he didn’t care at all.
And something in her went all soft and gooey at the sight. Damn, this wasn’t good, she thought, hastily turning back to Howie’s puzzle. But she continued to cast quick glances at Josh and thought how genuine he was, how little he hid any part of himself. Surely, he was just too good to be true.
Lunch was not exactly relaxing, with two little boys in attendance, but it was certainly lively. Josh answered cowboy questions from Howie, and little Kyle kept tossing his spoon at Whitney, to his parents’ mortification.
It wasn’t until she was back at the B&B that she remembered her brother’s long silence. She called both him and Courtney, and their phones went to voice mail. She left cheerful messages but didn’t hear back.
Josh drove home from the Deerings and couldn’t keep from smiling at the memories of Whitney with the little boys. It wasn’t hard to tell she was unused to kids, but he admired her willingness to learn. And the shocked look on her face when Kyle spit a pea and it landed right on her cheek… Josh was still laughing.
At the ranch, there was an unfamiliar car parked by the barn, but he thought nothing of it, what with Brooke’s riding-school students coming and going.
He went into the office and found her sitting across from two men, who gave him interested smiles when they shook hands.
“Rich and Brian have come to interview me about the riding school,” Brooke said. “It’s going to be great publicity.”
He was about to leave them in peace, when Rich called, “Josh, we’d love to get your take on having another business here at a busy ranch, especially since you have a side business, too.”
And soon the interview questions were mostly about him, and he kept giving Brooke apologetic glances. The photographer took a photo of Brooke, then several of them together.
When at last they’d left, Josh and Brooke didn’t have time to speak before their parents came in, Sandy a little breathless as she leaned on the cane.
“So how was it?” Sandy asked, smiling eagerly.
Brooke gave her a rueful smile. “You should probably ask Josh. I think he was the true reason for their visit.”
Josh grimaced. “I’m sorry, Brooke. That was nasty subterfuge, and I would have kicked them out of here, but I didn’t want to risk harming your new business.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a sigh. “I’m still enjoying watching you squirm under all this attention. And if they mention me—and they better—it will truly help my business.”
That made him feel relieved.
Doug frowned. “I didn’t think this nonsense would go on so long.”
“Are you calling our son nonsense?” Sandy teased.
“Of course not.” Doug turned on Josh. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”
Josh grinned. “I’ve never doubted it.”
“But it seems to me that this fame is only growin’, rather than fadin’ away, what with the photographers and the trespassers and the people followin’ you around or accostin’ you on the streets.”
Giving a shrug, Josh said, “Whitney thinks if I show I’m upset, they’ll know they can get a rise out of me and draw all of this out.”
Sandy limped toward him. He started to get up to give her his chair, but she waved him back down and put a hand on his shoulder. “But we can see what it’s truly costing you. I haven’t missed how late your workshop light stays on, and yet you’re up at dawn working on your chores.”
“You make it sound like this is new,” Josh said. “I’ve always worked late when inspiration strikes me.”
“But this isn’t inspiration,” Doug pointed out. “You have deadlines now and people’s expectations to meet. You’re stretchin’ yourself too thin.”
Josh rubbed a hand down his whiskered chin. “Seems to me I was telling Nate this same thing last year.”
“It runs in the family,” Brooke said. “Seems none of us are content with just one direction in our lives.”
Josh spread his hands. “We hired Adam—that’s been a big help. And I’m sorry I overslept last Tuesday. It won’t happen again.”
Sandy rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, that’s not what this is about. I just wanted you to know that your father’s restlessness is getting on my nerves.”
Josh and Brooke exchanged a confused glance.
Doug smiled at his wife. “So I’m comin’ out of retirement and back to semiretirement. I miss my ranch work.”
Josh felt a cold moment of unease. “Wait a minute, you’re not doing this for me.”
“Nope, I’m doin’ this for me.”
“And me,” Sandy affirmed. “I’m not used to all this togetherness. I’m not helpless yet,” she added, lifting up her cane. “And I don’t want to be treated that way.”
“But Dad—” Josh began.
“Are you goin’ to talk me out of this, you who loves the ranch so much you don’t see that your artistic callin’ is probably more important?”
“The ranch will always be important,” Josh insisted.
“I know. So you understand why I miss it,” his dad said softly.
Brooke was smiling at him, nodding.
Josh had no choice but to exhale, and say, “All right, I’ll try not to feel guilty about this.”
His dad patted his shoulder. “Good, you shouldn’t.”
“But I’ve made a decision. I’m going to stop making belts for the feed store.” He held up a hand. “It’s no sacrifice. I’d rather be making the shoulder bags—”
“For a thousand a pop,” Brooke muttered, shaking her head.
“—or the collars for Whitney.”
Brooke grinned. “It’s fun to see you making a fool of yourself over a woman.”
“He’s not making a fool of himself,” Sandy scolded.
“We’re just dating,” Josh insisted.
Sandy did a double take. “Well, I don’t know about that…”
Laughter broke things up, and soon Josh was back outside, escaping his sister’s supposed humor by riding fence. The hours stretched on as he covered several of the empty pastures, where the fence had to be examined and repaired before the cattle came down from summer pasture.
But he couldn’t escape the uneasy feeling that his father had had to come out of retirement for him. Oh, he knew there was truth to his father’s restlessness, but maybe if all three kids weren’t so busy, his dad’s “restlessness” could have been solved by a long vacation.
Was Josh being too selfish, trying to have it all?
Josh called Whitney that night—which was starting to become a ritual—and told her all about his dad coming out of retirement.
“Your dad is hardly old,” she pointed out, standing next to her window and looking out at the twinkling lights of Valentine.
“He’s sixty, and when you’ve done hard work outside for your whole life, your body starts letting you know. Heck, I have mornings when I ache getting out of bed.”
“But it’s still his decision.”
“I think they should travel.”
“Oh, I love to travel,” she said eagerly. “To just drop everything and go is so exciting.”
“It does sound fun.”
She thought about how tied to his various jobs he was and how much she enjoyed her freedom. Was she thinking of them as a couple now?
When they said their good-nights, she once again stretched out on the bed as her thoughts ran wild. How would it feel to live here permanently, to know she could only leave once or twice a year? It would be like settling for an ordinary life instead of pursuing all her dreams. It almost made her pick up the phone and book a plane for a long weekend in San Francisco.
But… even that wouldn’t be as refreshing as it could be. She began to realize she’d miss Josh even for those few days—what would it feel like when she left permanently? She’d never been in love with a man, had no idea how it was supposed to make you feel, but this didn’t make her feel good.
So she rolled off the bed and went to her desk, where the day’s mail had brought her a manila envelope from Ryan. She’d glanced briefly at the photo of Josh before going out to dinner, but now she really studied it.
The signature in bold black marker was close to his, but not perfect. She studied the glossy paper, wondering if she should hire a lab to analyze it. And what was she supposed to find, that a rare photo paper was used? Hardly. Exasperated, she flipped it over—and then grinned with satisfaction.
There, in the bottom corner, was the photo company’s mark: Back in Time Portrait Studio, right in Valentine Valley.
She went there first thing the next morning, but the owner refused to tell her who’d ordered it, citing customer’s privacy and never quite meeting her gaze. That could be considered another dead end, but Whitney refused to look at it that way. Josh’s fan club was based right in Valentine, and someone had to know about it.
She wasn’t going to discuss it with Josh until she knew more. How could she tell him that someone he might know was illegally profiting from his fame?
She didn’t hear from Josh all day, which was probably good, because she conducted several interviews in The Adelaide’s library. Just before six o’clock, he showed up with flowers, dressed in a navy suit with the faintest pinstripes. A suit and tie! She backed up a couple steps so she could take it all in, her gaze roaming his body with appreciation and outright lust. She settled on his face, looking as unshaven as if he hadn’t bothered that morning.
Now that was more like Josh.
She grinned. “So what’s the occasion?”
“Tonight is our big date.” He held out the flowers, already settled in a beautifully etched glass vase that Monica had surely picked out.
She took them, inhaling the scent of roses. “So… what would you have done if I had plans?”
He eyed her with amusement. “You only know the people I know. I would have convinced them they didn’t need you tonight.”
“You’re so confident in yourself, aren’t you?”
“And you think that’s sexy.”
He had her there. “I have to get changed.”
“We have a reservation in forty-five minutes.”
“All right, wait in the parlor, and I’ll be down.”
He looked disappointed. “I can’t watch?”
“Nope.”
“Listen to that, with one word, you sound like a Western gal.”
“I am from the west. The Far West.” She pointed to the door. “Out! Forty-five minutes is barely enough time.”
He closed the door behind him, and she practically ran to her closet. Thank goodness she knew how to pack for any occasion.
Forty minutes later, she came downstairs slowly in a red silk dress with a high neckline in front, a little peekaboo hole to display the tops of her breasts, and a back that plunged just below her waistline. Her heels were high, her hair caught in a French chignon at the back of her head. She was all set to knock Josh on his ass, except he wasn’t in the parlor.
“Josh?” she called hesitantly.
She followed a low murmur of voices to the back of the house, and there was Josh, sitting with several of Debbie’s female guests, who were smiling broadly at everything he said.
“Josh?” she called again.
He stood up so hastily that she suddenly knew he was waiting to be rescued. And then she got her reaction. He stilled, and his lids lowered as he studied her. When he met her gaze again, a shot of heat seemed to flare between them, as if they were alone.
Several women tittered their amusement, and the spell was broken.
“So where are you two going?” Debbie asked. “The Sweetheart Inn?”
“Nope,” Josh said. “It’s a surprise. Have a nice evening, ladies.”
He offered her his arm, then escorted her through the foyer and outside. This time, instead of his beat-up old pickup, he drove a shiny, brand new pickup.
“You bought a truck just for our date?”
He chuckled as he opened her door. “Nope, it’s my dad’s going-to-town pickup.”
She slid onto the seat, and watched Josh take in the slit of her skirt that revealed her to midthigh.
“I’m in, Josh,” she said, smiling serenely. “You can close the door.”
He seemed to shake himself before slamming it shut.
He didn’t have far to drive, pulling into an open spot near Sugar and Spice.
“We’re going to Em’s bakery?” she asked with amusement.
He didn’t say anything, just came around to open her door, then looked both ways before guiding her across the street to the Hotel Colorado, a massive old three-story stone hotel with arched columns running almost the entire length of the block.
“Main Street Steakhouse is inside,” Josh explained. “We supply their beef. Wait until you taste it.”
Excited, she only clutched his arm tighter as they reached the stone steps. Suddenly, two men and a woman, off to the side, started snapping photos with professional cameras, making sure to get the name of the hotel in the background.
One of the men grinned as he lowered his camera. “Is Whitney Wild back? You guys off to get a room for the night?”
When she might have said something, Josh tugged on her arm and they went into the lobby, with its nineteenth-century floral wallpaper, a circular red ottoman in the center, with a huge vase of flowers rising through the middle.
Josh took her upper arms in his hands, and said quietly, “I’m so sorry for that. I made a dinner reservation, and I guess somehow they got word. My supposed fame is getting worse and worse.”
She smiled although she wasn’t quite feeling it. “Don’t apologize, Josh. And this is hardly bad. When you’re surrounded by papparazzi following your car, not allowing you to walk down the street—now that’s bad. But I’m really sorry about that Whitney Wild comment. You don’t need to be linked to my past.”
She’d thought she was at peace with that part of her life since she’d used it to begin her business and make her the person she was. But now the thought of censure and disapproval surprised her. She’d become used to being taken seriously.
Was it because she was in Valentine, a small town that could be very narrow-minded—as she’d seen last winter in the opposition to Leather and Lace? She wasn’t used to people caring so intimately, perhaps so disapprovingly, of her behavior because it wasn’t the same thing as being hounded by reporters. They were just doing their jobs, even if some did take a little too much glee from it.
“Do you want to go home?” Josh asked, taking both her hands in his.
She squeezed his hands in return. “Not at all. You can’t tease me with the mention of steak and not follow through.”
The Main Street Steakhouse was just off the lobby, with darkly paneled walls, low lighting, and the occasional touch of antique furniture. Their table was near another stone fireplace, where, in place of an actual fire, wildflowers overflowed several vases mingled with different size candles.
“Very romantic,” she murmured to Josh, then smiled as the hostess handed them menus before departing.
The steak was everything he’d claimed, and she took his advice about the dessert, a chocolate lattice tower filled with berries. They didn’t talk about the papparazzi again, and she found herself praying that she could discover and stop this fan club perpetuating his fame. Josh was a quiet cowboy, not a man who needed any outside influence to know his own self-worth.
As they were passing through the lobby again, he leaned down to speak near her hair, his mouth brushing her until she shivered.
“I’d take you to The Adelaide, but there are too many people around. We’ll go to my loft, where I plan to make you scream with pleasure.”
Suddenly weak in the knees, she hugged his arm close, letting her breast brush against him. “I won’t scare the horses?”
“To hell with the horses.”
They were silent on the drive to the Silver Creek Ranch, and she caught him occasionally glancing at her with serious regard that smoldered underneath.
At the barn, he again opened her door, and this time he swept her into his arms.
“Can’t have those pretty shoes tracking through a dirty barn,” he said.
She looped her arms around his neck, then dropped her head back and laughed when he took the stairs up to his loft two at a time.
“Show-off,” she whispered in his ear.
“No, just desperate to have you.”
He turned on only one small light near the kitchen, leaving the rest of the open loft in shadowy darkness. Very gently, he placed her on the end of the bed, then slowly began to pull off his tie. She watched him, leaning back on her hands to see the whole length of him. He shrugged out of the suit coat and shirt next, and as he drew her to her feet, she pressed her hands to his warm chest and gave a moan of pleasure.
He found the hook at the back of her neck and slowly peeled the dress forward so that it revealed her breasts, covered in the adhesive bra. He stared.
“You just pull them off,” she said, smiling, and he did so, as slow and reverent as if she were a piece of delicate china.
Next she showed him the hidden side zipper, and soon she was only wearing her thong and heels. And then he walked away.
“Josh?”
He switched off the only light, and they were in almost total blackness. And still he didn’t come to her although she could hear the rustling of clothes being removed.
“Let me help,” she called.
“I don’t want your help. Just lie there and think about what I’m going to do to you.”
She shivered, then was reduced to a moan when suddenly his mouth brushed a kiss near her ankle. He proceeded to tease and caress every bare inch of her skin, and with the darkness, she had no idea where he would touch her next. The restless aching of pleasure rose higher and higher as he very skillfully drew out their lovemaking until she’d never felt so desperate for him. At last, her orgasm crested over her, almost bringing tears to her eyes as she shuddered in his arms.
She’d never let any other man have such control over her. And to her surprise, she wasn’t bothered by it. She only took him into her arms, guided him into her body, and held him and stroked him and showed him without words all the things he made her feel.