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  Christie broke away and ran to the corral to see the horses, and Mac and Erin followed. Scooping her up, he set her on the top plank.

  “I have a riddle for you, Christie.”

  “What is a rivvle?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I should ask Mommy instead.”

  “Uh-uh,” Erin said. “Mommy’s no good at riddles.”

  “Come on, give it a try. Why don’t baby colts sing nursery rhymes?”

  Rolling her eyes, she brushed a few wind-tossed strands of hair out of her face. “I don’t know. Because they don’t know the words?”

  “Nope. Because they’re a little hoarse.”

  Erin groaned and shook her head. But though she searched her mind for a better day, she couldn’t recall one, especially when he shifted closer and their arms touched. She’d never felt such contentment before, never experienced such a pleasant sense of family.

  She was glad when he suggested that she stop at Amos’s to meet Sophie before she and Christie went home. On Thursday, when she’d worked at the store, Mac had picked her up at the house, and that evening, dropped them off there. She was eager to put a face to the strong woman she’d heard on Amos’s answering machine.

  Passing Sophie’s flashy turquoise-and-white 1958 Edsel, they climbed the front steps, the sound of elderly chuckles carrying to them through the screen door.

  The couple looked up almost guiltily as the three of them walked into the kitchen. Obviously, they hadn’t expected visitors.

  Amos’s faced flushed six different shades of red.

  He was sitting in the middle of the room on one of his chrome-and-vinyl chairs, with his pant legs rolled up to his knobby knees and his bare feet ankle-deep in a basin of water. Sophie was bent over him, adding more steaming water from a teakettle. The clean, sweet fragrance of lavender wafted on the air, along with a few other fragrances Erin couldn’t identify.

  “Don’t you say one word,” Amos warned darkly as Mac began to smile. Then to Sophie he growled, “That’s enough of this silliness. Get me a towel!”

  Sophie Cassleback was a sturdy woman with a round face, ruddy complexion and curly, bottle-blond hair. She was also, it seemed, a woman who took no guff from Amos. She dropped the empty metal teakettle, and it clanged and clattered over the linoleum floor.

  “Amos Perkins,” she said, fists settling on her ample hips, “you didn’t have an objection in the world until your grandson walked in.”

  “Well, I’m objectin’ now.”

  “That’s too bad. Your feet are staying right where they are until those herbs have a chance to work. I didn’t grow them, dry them and cart them over here so some thankless windbag could tell me to throw them out before they’ve done their duty!”

  Red-faced, Amos muttered the introductions. “Sophie, Terri. Terri, Sophie.”

  Erin smiled and clasped the hand Sophie extended. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” the older woman replied, smiling back.

  Erin liked her on the spot, recognizing the warmth and honesty in her direct blue eyes. Erin nodded toward the basin where a gauze bag tied with string and fat with herbs, bobbed between Amos’s pink feet. “What’s in the bag? I can smell the lavender, but I can’t quite place the other scents.”

  Sophie beamed, Amos’s mood forgotten for the moment. “You have a good nose! I threw in some comfrey leaves, pennyroyal, rosemary and a little sage. They make a wonderful footbath for achy feet.” She sent Amos a dry look. “That is, when a person gives them a chance to work.”

  Then Sophie’s attention shifted to Christie, and while she fussed over her and asked Erin all the usual questions, Erin heard Mac speak to Amos.

  “Granddad, if you don’t mind, I have some things to do, so I’m cutting out for a few hours.”

  “Gypsy havin’ trouble with her new shoes?” he grumbled from his chair.

  “No, but I’ve been meaning to do something for a while and haven’t had the opportunity until now.”

  “Fine with me, but Sophie’s started supper. You gonna be here for it?”

  Erin felt a sympathetic twinge. Amos was as uncomfortable looking as she’d ever seen him. She broke into their conversation before Mac had a chance to answer. “No, Mac’s eating with Christie and me tonight.”

  Mac swung a startled look at her, and she smiled. “Do you like grilled chicken salads? Christie and I’ve already made dessert.”

  “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “Yeah, I do.” Then, seeming to realize his tone and look might’ve been too intimate, he added more energetically to Amos, “And now I think I’ll get Terri out of here before she changes her mind.”

  “I’ll phone you before I leave,” Sophie called as the screen door shut behind them.

  “Thanks,” Mac called back. “You know the number.”

  Christie tugged on Mac’s hand as they descended the steps. “Let’s play wif da kitties.”

  “Sorry, honey,” he said, “they’re too young yet. But if it’s okay with Mommy, we could take a walk and find some pretty flowers for the supper table.”

  “Sure you want to do that?” Erin cautioned lightly. “The last time you took her for a walk, we barely spoke for three days.”

  Mac smiled. “Well, I can’t see that happening again.” Releasing Christie’s hand, he ambled closer to her, the sensual warmth in his dark eyes making her shiver. Drawing her into the loose circle of his arms, he kissed her softly. When their lips parted, Erin’s knees were weak and her heart was beating wildly. She gazed into his eyes. “What was that all about?”

  “That? That was the thing I told Amos I’d been meaning to do for a while,” he murmured. “I just thought I’d be doing it a little later.”

  Keeping her mind on dinner was a near impossibility because she kept reliving that kiss and wanting more.

  Erin was setting the table twenty minutes later when there was a knock at the door. Curious, then suddenly prickling with uneasiness because Mac would’ve come right in, she drew a breath and went to answer it.

  Chapter 9

  A wonderful warmth enveloped her when she saw the two of them, framed in the screen door. Mac’s wry smirk and Christie’s giggles made the image of them all the more precious.

  With a put-upon sigh, Mac ushered the toddler inside where she stood for her mother’s inspection.

  Wildflower chains circled their heads, necks and wrists, and single blossoms sprouted from the strings in Christie’s sneakers. A collection of golden columbine with three-inch blooms, and Rocky Mountain irises were jammed into the breast pocket of Mac’s navy polo shirt, and blue flax sprouted from the buttonholes in the placket front. Any pocket, fold or flap either of them had was crammed with flowers.

  Erin brimmed with an emotion she’d thought was forever lost to her, utterly captivated by this big, rugged man who was secure enough in his sexuality to play like a child.

  “Cool, huh?” he said, flashing her a V of fingers. “Peace and love, Earth mother.”

  “Peace and love,” she returned. And she was so afraid that peace and love were exactly what she was feeling. No matter how improbable or illogical, no matter that she’d only known him for three weeks, he was slowly taking over her heart. But could he ever feel the same? She knew he desired her. It was in his eyes every time he looked at her, and it had been in his kiss this afternoon, though he’d kept the pressure light.

  “You like kids,” she said.

  “They can be fun.”

  “Unco Mac said I’n gorgeous!” Christie piped up.

  “Uncle Mac is absolutely right.”

  “Is Unco Mac gorgeous, too?”

  “Yes,” she said, feeling her toes curl. “Uncle Mac is gorgeous, too.”

  As Erin followed Christie into the kitchen, Mac fell into step beside her, plucking flowers out of his clothes and gathering them into a bouquet. He placed them in her hands.

  “Ever read Lady Chatterley’s Lover?” he asked with a suggestive grin.

  Erin grinn
ed back, knowing the scene he referred to. “When I was sixteen. My hometown librarian refused to let me check the book out, so I found a table and tucked it inside a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

  “So?” he teased with a pointed nod at the bouquet in her hands.

  Erin laughed, enjoying the lighthearted snap and sizzle between them. But she had to step away before they got into trouble. Not that she didn’t find the idea intriguing…but the blooms she held were a little large to twine through his chest hair. “Why don’t you two flower children wash up for dinner?” she said, changing the subject. “It’s just about ready.”

  The evening flew by. When Christie went to sleep, Erin carried their iced teas out on the porch, and they sat together on the big pine swing.

  Overhead, the ebony sky sparkled with a billion stars, and a steadily growing moon shone brightly.

  “Nice night,” Mac murmured.

  “Yes, it is.”

  They rocked for a few minutes in silence, then he set their iced tea glasses on the floor of the porch and kissed her. It felt right, expected, like the perfect ending to the perfect day. He kissed her again. And again.

  Erin floated with each kiss, her nerve endings alternately vibrating pleasantly and throbbing with anticipation. The fact that he made no move to touch her made her want him all the more. And then he did touch her. Slowly, sensually. While his left hand cupped the back of her head and his slick tongue mated with hers, his right hand skimmed her throat, her breast, her thigh…learning her curves through her clothing…making her heart pound and her breath thready. This was the seduction she’d yearned for since she’d refused him in the kitchen at Amos’s house. But tonight it was fitting.

  Mac drew back slightly to slip her hair from its ribbon, then slid his fingers through the loosened strands. “You have beautiful hair,” he whispered in a husky voice. “Why do you tie it back?”

  “To keep it out of my face?” she suggested lightly, wanting his kiss again, wanting his hands.

  “Well, it’s too pretty to hide.” He grew quiet for a moment, then said, “Did your husband like it tied back?”

  Erin stilled for a beat before she replied, wondering about his timing. “He liked it long and loose when we were alone, but never when we were out.” He’d thought it encouraged men to have “impure thoughts” about her—thoughts only her husband should entertain.

  Mac took a few moments to digest that tidbit before he spoke again. “I was married, too. For three years.”

  “What happened?” she asked, then flushed, feeling like a grapevine regular. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

  “It’s okay. I told you my life’s an open book. If I didn’t want to talk about it, I wouldn’t have brought it up.”

  Why was he bringing it up now? Did he feel she needed more information about him before they took the next step? Or was the sharing expected to be reciprocated? Quid pro quo.

  He kissed her softly again, then gathered her close and nudged the swing into a rhythm. “Her name was Audra, and I was nuts about her. Unfortunately, I went home one day and found out she was nuts about someone else.”

  Erin was startled, but kept her voice even. “You found her with another man?”

  He expelled a short laugh. “No, that would’ve been a nice, clean cut.” The chains of the swing creaked. “I found out when I saw a slip of paper sticking out from under our dresser. It was an old credit card statement that listed two hotels I’d never visited—and I thought she’d never visited. For the three years of our marriage, I left all the bills and finances in Audra’s hands. She enjoyed it, and it gave her something to do while we were waiting for a baby to show up.”

  He reached for his glass, took a sip and offered her some. Erin shook her head, and he put it back on the floor.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “being the trusting husband I was, I assumed someone had stolen my credit card number and the charges were bogus.”

  “But they weren’t,” Erin guessed.

  “Nope. Realized that after a couple of phone calls. Then I found her birth control pills and knew all her talk about wanting a baby was a lie, too.”

  “Mac, I’m so sorry.”

  “I was, too. For a while. Apparently, she’d hooked up with her old boyfriend while I was working out of state on a dam-construction job, and they decided they never should’ve called it quits. They’re married now. She’s pregnant.”

  Erin stilled, unsure of what to say. Mac’s wife hadn’t wanted his child, but she was now carrying another man’s? What had that done to Mac’s soul?

  He went on, wryly. “Turns out, I hadn’t only been paying for their overnighters, she’d been funneling money to him from our savings account.”

  Stunned that anyone could’ve treated a man like him so horribly and dishonestly, Erin shook her head. “What did you do?”

  “Filed for divorce and got the hell out of Dodge. The way I was feeling, if I’d stayed, I would’ve run them both over with a ’dozer and spent the rest of my life in a New Hampshire prison.”

  He’d been joking, but Erin couldn’t smile. “Mac, I’m not defending her—what she did was terrible. But is there a chance she did what she did because you traveled so much in your job? You mentioned you’d worked in another state.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But I figured it shouldn’t have made a difference if I was gone for a week at a time. I always flew home on the weekends. I even thought it would help the marriage—the old ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ bit. Guess not.”

  “Could she have traveled with you?”

  “Sure, if she’d wanted to rough it. But Audra liked to be comfortable—five-star hotels and restaurants, never too far from a spa and a manicure.” He met her eyes. “How about you? Would you have looked for someone else?”

  Meeting his gaze in the darkness, feeling his nearness so acutely, Erin knew she wouldn’t have. “That’s a hard question. I hope I would’ve ended the first relationship before I started the second, but each couple and set of circumstances is unique. That said,” she continued, recalling his “gold band and forever” speech, “I can see why you’re turned off on commitment.”

  Mac set the swing in motion again with the toe of his boot. “I wouldn’t say I’m turned off,” he said after a moment, “but I am gun-shy. The next time I fall for someone, I’ll be damn sure to look behind the smiles and hormones and know who I’m dealing with. What was your situation? Did you love Christie’s father?”

  That was an easy question to answer. “I thought so at the time. But I was married to a man who shouldn’t be married to anyone. He was cold and brooding, and…” She stopped before she added abusive, without conscience and cruel.

  “Can I ask why you married him? Were you—”

  “Pregnant?” She shook her head. “No, I met him at a bad time in my life and wasn’t thinking clearly. My mother had died a year earlier, my dad was nowhere around, and I was on the rebound from a two-year relationship I thought would end in ‘I do’s.’ Then he came along, showered me with gifts, said the things I needed to hear. Four weeks later we were married and a minute after that I was pregnant with Christie.”

  She laughed shortly recalling Mark’s infidelity and their failed engagement. “You know, I hadn’t thought about it in these terms before, but my mother and I weren’t very good judges of men. Do you think there’s such a thing as a genetic predisposition to picking losers?”

  Mac released a breathy laugh. “I hope not. When did you know you’d made a mistake?”

  “Halfway through my pregnancy. I stayed because after Christie was born, he seemed to change. He was happy—absolutely captivated by her.” She met Mac’s gaze. “Obviously, it didn’t last.”

  “Sounds like we both made some bad choices along the way.”

  Bad? Bad was a major understatement.

  “I thought I knew Audra, too. But when the smoke cleared—when she finally dropped the pretense and told me the truth—I realized
she’d been damn near leading a double life.” His voice hardened. “I can’t imagine any woman having the energy to do that, let alone the guts to lie through her teeth every day.”

  Suddenly Erin felt sick. Until that instant she’d been denying the similarity between herself and his ex-wife. But her lies were justifiable, weren’t they? Wasn’t it a parent’s job to protect the child she loved, no matter what?

  A crushing guilt descended on her and, moving out of his arms, she rose to walk to the head of the steps.

  Mac followed, talking to her back. “What’s wrong?”

  “Just…tired,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

  “That’s not why you left,” he said soberly. “Isn’t it time you told me the truth, Terri?”

  He knew?

  “You know where we’re heading,” he went on. “If not tonight, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, the next night. But you’re still trying to deny that you want it to happen. Just tell me you’re not ready yet.”

  She sighed at the moon, almost disappointed that he didn’t know her secret. “All right. I’m not ready yet.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for listening to me vent.”

  “You didn’t. Considering everything you’ve been through, I’m surprised you didn’t sound angry.”

  Mac turned her to face him. “Don’t make me out to be a saint. I hated what she did. Hell, I hated her. No man wants to be made a fool of. But after two years I finally understand that you have to put the bitterness behind you, or you can’t heal. The bottom line is I’m through bleeding over her.” He tipped her face up to his. “I’ve moved on. Have you?”

  How could she, when she would never draw a calm breath as long as Charles walked this earth?

  Erin shook her head. “No.” It was the perfect opportunity to back away; he understood the pain of bad choices, and she would always be moving, especially with mystery still surrounding Trisha’s death. “No, I haven’t,” she repeated, gently moving his fingertips from her chin. “I don’t know if I ever will.”