My Dearest Cal Read online

  He grinned. “Besides that.”

  “Whatever it is, you seem to have the same effect on me.”

  “What are we going to do about it?” he asked, sounding surprisingly confused and helpless.

  “Give it time, Cal. That’s all we can do.”

  “How much time can we give it if you’re going running back to Atlanta in another week or so?”

  She leveled a serious look at him and said quietly, “Maybe that’s time enough.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, then that killer smile of his broke across his face. “Who knows? Maybe it is.” He took her hand. “Come on.”

  Startled and still reeling from the implications of their conversation, she gazed at him. “Where?”

  “To the barn, my sweet. Where did you think?”

  Marilou felt a blush steal over her skin. Cal’s smile broadened. “Don’t you want to say good-night to Dawn’s Magic?”

  “Absolutely,” she said at once, but she found she had to work very hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  * * *

  It took Marilou the better part of two days to find Mrs. Caroline Whitfield McDonald. The significance of Cal apparently being named for his grandmother was not lost on her. She began to wonder if his own mother might not be more amenable to a reconciliation than Cal thought.

  As she sat daydreaming at the kitchen table, she envisioned a time when this whole house would ring with the sound of laughter and family gossip. Then, daring to take the fantasy one step further, she imagined children underfoot. Hers and Cal’s. Those stubborn, willful little devils, who would charm and torment, just like their father. She sighed. It was a wonderful dream, but that’s all it was. If she doubted that for an instant, Cal’s reaction to her news proved just how wide the gap between fantasy and reality really was.

  She found him standing by the rail at the training track, watching as one of the new two-year-olds worked out. His gaze was so intent, he didn’t even notice when she came up alongside him. He held a stopwatch in his hand and kept his eyes glued to the horse as it moved around the near turn. When the new chestnut colt flew by, he nodded in satisfaction.

  “A good workout?” she asked.

  He turned then without surprise and she realized he had known she was there after all. “Better than good. That horse could be on the track in Miami or New York before the end of the summer. He’ll certainly be ready for the Derby prep races next spring.”

  He waved the jockey over and questioned him extensively about the way the horse had run. Marilou listened closely, anxious to learn everything she could about the training process. Her fascination with the business was growing daily, as was her desire to capture more of the excitement on film. After that one day, she’d put Cal’s camera back where she’d found it and tucked the film in her suitcase. She hadn’t dared to take it out again. It had stirred too many longings, reminded her of too many plans long since abandoned.

  Cal turned back to her just then and apparently some of her wistfulness was written on her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked at once.

  “I was just wishing I’d brought my camera down here.”

  “Good heavens,” he teased. “What’s a tourist without a camera?”

  When she didn’t smile at his lighthearted banter, he sobered at once. “What am I missing here?”

  “Nothing.”

  He touched her cheek, the stroke of his finger gentle. “Marilou?”

  “It’s just that photography was once very important to me.”

  “That’s the career you gave up?”

  She nodded. “If you call it a career when I never did a day’s work in it.”

  “You studied it in college, though?”

  “Yes. I even won a couple of contests. My portfolio was very impressive, according to some of the professors I had.”

  “What had you planned to do? Studio work? Photojournalism?”

  “I hadn’t really decided. That was one of the reasons I wanted so badly to go to Europe. I thought maybe I’d be able to figure out over there whether I had the talent to do photographic essays, gallery showings.” She grinned ruefully. “I guess you can see why my parents thought it was risky. My ambition was to do the extraordinary. I’m not sure whether the talent lived up to the dream. Even if it had, there were no guarantees I could turn it into a paying career.”

  “And your folks didn’t want you to be a starving artist?”

  “Especially not way off in Europe all alone.”

  “Couldn’t you find a compromise?”

  “Maybe if we hadn’t gotten so angry we could have. As it turned out, we never had the chance to try.”

  Cal touched her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If you miss it so much, why don’t you start over now? You’re hardly too old to be launching a new career.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just too scared. I hadn’t touched a camera in years until I borrowed yours the other day. I’ve gotten used to playing it safe. You can’t fail if you don’t try.”

  “I know all about playing it safe,” he said gently. “And as someone very wise reminded me recently, it may not be the best way to live your life, not if you expect to find real happiness.”

  Uncomfortable with the still-sensitive topic, she was glad for the opening to change the subject. “Speaking of risks and moving forward, I found your grandmother.”

  Cal’s expression altered at once, as if he’d automatically slammed the door on his emotions, which only seconds before had been laid bare. “Where?” he said, his voice tight.

  “She lives on a cattle ranch about seventy-five miles north of Cheyenne. Seems she’s pretty well-known around those parts. I spoke to the editor of the weekly paper in the closest town, and he says she’s been sick for months now, but she’s still running that ranch—essentially by herself. I guess that stubborn streak is definitely a family trait, just like she said.”

  “I guess you’re relieved, knowing that she’s still alive, that we’re not too late.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I suppose.”

  She had to fight the desire to snap at him for his callousness. She said only, “I’ve got the phone number up at the house. With the time difference, it’s still too early to call, but maybe when you come in for lunch?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at her, his expression as forbidding as she’d ever seen it. “I’m not calling,” he said emphatically.

  “I don’t understand,” Marilou said, her voice faltering as she studied his implacable expression. “You promised, Cal.”

  “I said to find her. I never once said what I would do once you had.”

  Marilou felt disappointment and fury stirring inside her. She was tired of playing games when she couldn’t begin to understand the tough, insensitive rules. She shoved her hands in her pockets and faced Cal squarely. “You know something, Cal Rivers, Joshua was right about you. You are nothing but a lily-livered coward.”

  “What?” he demanded, obviously stunned by the angry charge.

  “You heard me. You are so flat-out terrified of being hurt that you don’t give a flying fig how much you hurt other people. Your parents. Your grandmother. Me. Not a one of us matters to you as long as you can go on living the way you want to. You like being alone so you don’t have to be responsible for anyone but yourself. Talk about safe! You’re so safe shut away out here that you might as well be locked up in some jail cell. If you ask me, it’s a hell of a way to live.”

  “It suits me,” he said stonily.

  “I guess it does, but it doesn’t suit me. I’ve done my part. I tried to help you. I’ve found your grandmother. I’ll pack my things and be out of here in the morning.”

  Even as the angry words tumbled out of her mouth, she realized that saying goodbye would be the hardest thing she’d ever done. With unexpected clarity, she saw what had happened the past few weeks. Like some silly schoolgirl, she’d go
ne and fallen in love with Cal Rivers, the most impossible, contrary man on the face of the earth. On the one hand, he represented the kind of bold, self-confident adventurer she’d always dreamed about; on the other, he was the antithesis of the family man she needed to feel whole.

  Well, maybe she couldn’t undo what she was feeling, but she could sure as hell walk away from it before she got her heart broken. She’d get over him eventually. All she would have to do would be to keep reminding herself what a self-centered coward he was. No woman with a brain left in her head could love a man like that for long.

  She looked into his face one last time and tried to interpret the riot of emotions in his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, though, he was staying silent. That silence, confirming all of her most damning thoughts, was enough finally to send her packing.

  She whirled around and ran back to the house, desperate to escape, even more desperate to keep Cal from seeing the hot, bitter tears that spilled down her cheeks.

  Chapter Nine

  Cal didn’t go near the house the rest of the afternoon. He didn’t think he could stand to see that awful, defeated look in Marilou’s eyes again. He’d seen her bitter disappointment, but he’d been unable to say the words that would make it go away. Every time he’d tried, they’d stuck in his throat. A simple yes would have done it, but even that was beyond him.

  Besides, nothing about this was simple. Feelings buried for so long weren’t easy to put into words. Maybe he was a fool or a coward or both, but he wouldn’t be a hypocrite to boot. He couldn’t feign enthusiasm just to please Marilou. Though he credited her with being intuitive about most things, she didn’t understand this. She couldn’t possibly realize what she was asking of him. He didn’t want to go back, didn’t want to dredge up all of the old hurts. What possible difference could it make at this late date for him to go barging into the life of a woman he’d never met?

  It was past supper time when he finally got up the courage to walk into the house. With a sense of resignation, he saw that Marilou wasn’t in the kitchen where he’d grown used to finding her. There were no dishes on the table, no pots simmering on the stove, no wonderful aromas coming from the oven.

  Not that he was hungry. He doubted if he could get food past the lump that was lodged in his throat. He just wanted her to be there, waiting for him with that gentle, trusting, caring smile. Instead the room felt cold and empty without her. He was getting a taste of what his life would be like without her.

  Logic told him he could make everything right in a heartbeat. All he had to do was admit he was wrong and say he’d make the stupid phone call. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to make it. Maybe the promise would be enough to buy a few more days.

  A few more days to do what? Convince her that family wasn’t all that important? Not likely. To Marilou, who’d lost her only relatives so tragically, it was obviously the only thing that did matter. It was the one blind spot in her otherwise open-minded nature.

  Still, even knowing this was something that would always put them at loggerheads, he couldn’t let her go. He knew that as surely as he’d always known when it was time to move on, time to hunt for a new challenge. Right now he felt settled, and he intended to keep it that way. Marilou, he’d come to realize, was a major part of that feeling of contentment that had swept over him so unexpectedly when he’d bought Silver River Stables. The feeling of finally finding his niche had grown stronger day by day ever since. One thing life had taught him was that when something was good, you reached for it and held on for as long as the ride lasted. Well, this was one ride that was a long way from over.

  There was one way he could buy himself some time, he decided, though he felt a twinge of regret at the duplicity of it. She couldn’t leave without his say-so. She’d returned her rental car after the first week. Since then she’d borrowed his car or Chaney’s old pickup to run errands. She actually seemed to prefer that dented, rusty four-by-four. He’d watched her speeding up the drive, noisily shifting gears with more enthusiasm than skill, the brim of her Atlanta Braves baseball cap shading her eyes, which he knew instinctively were flashing with excitement.

  Her pure, full-throttle way of attacking life, which he had a feeling she’d been holding in check for too long now, was one of the things he’d come to like most about her. She tackled new projects with the same determination that he brought to learning a new business. He’d never known a woman to get so much enjoyment out of the craziest things. Mucking out the damned stalls, for instance. Weeding the vegetable garden she’d planted outside the kitchen door. Getting up at the crack of dawn to make homemade biscuits and laughing when the first batch turned out to be as hard and heavy as bricks. Damn, he was going to miss her genuine zest for life. How could he possibly let her go?

  The fact was he couldn’t, not unless he was the worst sort of fool. And if he refused to give her a lift into town or to let Chaney take her, she’d have to stick around so they could work things out. In his desperation, he refused to consider how unlikely it would be that a woman essentially being held hostage would bargain with the man doing the kidnapping. He simply went to bed with his strategy set and his mind made up.

  * * *

  He wasn’t expecting his plan to be foiled, but he stayed awake the whole night, just in case she took it into her head to sneak out. He was already in the kitchen drinking coffee—lousy coffee, now that he’d gotten used to hers—when she came downstairs at daybreak, lugging her suitcase. The sight of that bag made his heart ache, so he concentrated on her instead.

  She was dressed for travel, as neat and tidy as the day she’d arrived in that beguiling oversize T-shirt and jeans that fit snugly over a fanny that was beginning to drive him crazy. She’d swept her hair up in a top knot and jammed her baseball cap over it. Stray wisps teased at her cheeks. When one strand fell into her eyes, she blew it away with lips tinted a tantalizing shade of strawberry pink. He felt his heart turn over in his chest and the now-familiar lump formed swiftly in his throat. His blood turned hot and sizzled with uncompromised lust.

  Without saying a word, without even looking at him, she poured herself a cup of coffee and stood at the counter. Her gaze was directed out the window. Everything about her stance spelled angry distance, feisty determination and hurry. It was evident she couldn’t wait to get away.

  “You can at least sit at the table with me,” he grumbled, his whole body screaming for some slight contact, one fleeting brush of flesh against flesh.

  “I’d rather not,” she said primly.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Marilou—”

  She whipped her head around and her expression stopped the remainder of his explosion. “I’ll be leaving as soon as Chaney’s free to take me.”

  “Chaney won’t be free,” he said, and his chin jutted just as defiantly as hers.

  She blinked and for just a second looked uncertain. “What…what do you mean? I spoke with him last night.”

  “And I spoke to him after that. I sent him to Miami to talk to a trainer down there.”

  She traded uncertainty for immediate indignation. “You what?” she demanded, her coffee cup hovering midway between her mouth and the counter. “How am I supposed to leave?”

  He tilted his chair back and smiled complacently. “I guess you’ll just have to wait until he gets back. Could be tomorrow. Could be next week. It’s hard to tell.”

  The complacency was obviously a mistake. Her cup hit the counter so hard the coffee splattered every which way. “In a pig’s eye,” she said, planting hands on hips. “I said I was leaving today and I am.”

  “It’s a long walk to town.”

  “Roddy will take me.”

  “Not if he hopes to keep his job.”

  Fresh indignation brought a flush to her cheeks. “You wouldn’t.”

  The front legs of his chair hit the floor emphatically. “I would,” he said grimly.

  “But that’s rotten. In fact, that’s blackmail.”

  “That�
�s management. With Chaney away, we all have extra work to do around here. You could help out, in fact.”

  “Go to hell,” she snapped furiously. “You know that has nothing to do with it. You don’t need me and you could spare Roddy for the half hour or so it would take to get me to town.”

  “I’ve been to hell,” he said evenly. “I prefer it here. As for my reasoning, you can accept it or not. It won’t change anything.”

  “You are the most arrogant, maddening man it has ever been my misfortune to meet. If it weren’t for the fact that your grandmother wants so badly to meet you, I’d say she’s better off not knowing what you’re really like.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  He was chuckling when he walked out the door. He was not laughing an hour later when he happened to glance up and see Marilou walking down the driveway, struggling with her suitcase. Another two or three minutes and she’d be at the highway. In her present mood, she probably wouldn’t hesitate to hitch a ride.

  “Dammit,” he muttered and took off at a run. Chaney’s pickup was closest. Fortunately the keys were above the visor. He cranked up the reluctant engine and took off down the drive, slamming on the brakes in a cloud of dust when he came alongside her.

  “Get in,” he shouted over the rumble of the engine.

  She didn’t even spare him a glance. He could see her lips moving as she muttered something that sounded like, “Not on your life.”

  “Marilou, get in this truck.” His voice was no doubt loud enough by now to be heard in the far paddocks.

  “Who died and made you king of the road?”

  He counted to ten, as the truck heaved and sputtered, reluctantly keeping pace with her slow steps. “Marilou, please. You can’t walk all the way to town,” he reasoned. “It’s miles, and there’s a storm threatening.”

  “I’m sure someone will come along and give me a lift.”

  “If they don’t rape or murder you.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “Can you really?” he countered with a weary smile. He drew in a deep breath then and said what he probably should have said the day before. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said with a certain sense of inevitability. “You win.”