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  “We haven’t had any conversations.”

  “So you think.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve told you time and again that—”

  “You don’t want to know me, you just want to know my body. Well, mission accomplished, darlin’. Since I’ve got to get home now, you’ve earned a tidy way to cut your ties to this whole fantasy.”

  She clung to the shirt he’d loaned her, gripping its hemline until she held fistfuls of denim. “All good things have to come to an end.”

  Her forced flippancy was the last straw, and he moved closer, unwilling to allow even an inch to separate them anymore.

  “It’s ridiculous that we don’t even call each other by our names,” he said, frustration roughening his tone. “You’re not a miss or a darlin’ in your normal life.”

  “What we’ve been doing isn’t normal.”

  She levered herself away from the truck, coming face-to-face with him, toe-to-toe. Excitement overtook him at being with a woman who wouldn’t stand for any crap—a strong woman. One who fit against his body so perfectly, one who captured more than his libido.

  “You think our association is warped?” he asked.

  “It’s certainly not a straight line most people would follow.” She made an obvious attempt to smooth the erratic cadence of her breathing. “Why are we even arguing about this? Talking a subject to death isn’t the reason you came to my room the other night. It’s not why you intercepted me at Lake Havisu, either.”

  “How do you know why I decided to pursue you?”

  Then he stopped, on the fringe of trespassing somewhere he had no business venturing again.

  This morning, the word love had vaguely crossed his mind. But love grew in time—he knew that from seeing his parents nurture their relationship. It came with work and devotion.

  The brunette was waiting for him to finish, eyes even wider, expanded by a tinge of what he’d come to define as some kind of fear. He could read at least that much about her by now.

  And when her breathing picked up and she pulled his hips to hers, he knew what she was up to.

  Definite avoidance. Her routine.

  Even so, desire flamed him with one brutal burst.

  “So you just want me to shut up and do you,” he said, voice tight. “That’s where this is going to end.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  Her tone was almost desperate as she reached down to his crotch and touched him. He slumped toward her, looking around instinctively to see if anyone was around to see.

  No one.

  Bracing his hands against the truck’s cab, he lost strength because all his blood was rushing to his groin, pummeling it.

  “Damn…” He tried to fight, but couldn’t. It was too much of a battle and maybe he should just take what he could get.

  “There,” she said softly, rubbing him while he got harder and harder. “Isn’t this better, cowboy?”

  He surged toward a full erection, hating his body’s lack of control. Hating the situation he’d gotten himself into because he didn’t want to get out of it.

  It couldn’t end this way.

  It—

  With all the willpower he could muster, Joshua grabbed both her wrists, not caring how blue his balls would get, not giving a fig about the pain that would no doubt be throttling him.

  She looked up at him, mouth open as if to protest, but he beat her to the punch.

  “It’s not cowboy,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’m Joshua. Got it? Joshua.”

  In her eyes, he could see something shatter.

  The force of it cut him, too, because he’d taken what he wanted, giving in to his baser urges, just as he’d been tempted to do back home with Timothy Trent. Just as he’d done all his life with the women who’d come and gone.

  With a heavy heart, he realized that this trip really hadn’t changed him at all.

  MOMENTS TOO LATE, Lucy shut him out, turning away and asking him to open the truck door. An escape. A necessity.

  And he’d done it for her, too, even as his ragged breathing told her that she had given him a carnal pain he didn’t deserve.

  His name kept slashing around her head, reminding her of the reason she was retreating. Why had he done it when she’d told him time and again that she didn’t want to know him?

  Why hadn’t he listened?

  They headed back toward Lake Havisu, the radio filling the terrible silence between them. But upon arriving in Kingman, he surprised her by suggesting dinner, as if to make up for taking away her confidence, her reliance on not knowing him.

  Even more surprising, dinner put them back on a lighter course, as if he was attempting to lead them off a damaged, bumpy road and onto a route with a smoother surface.

  “I overstepped,” he said at one point as he ate an ostrich burger and she finished her salad. “And I don’t want to leave on a bad note like this.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve miffed you,” she said. “But you’re right. This can end much better than we left it.”

  Relief had swamped her at that point, and when he drove them to a cute little motel, she figured that maybe things would turn out well after all.

  After checking in, they parked in front of their room in a building that looked like a cross between a Southern mansion and a rancho, with Greek columns and adobe walls. Strange, but the place seemed hospitable enough, with tea in the lobby and a rose garden in the back.

  Inside, the motel had basic amenities and a laundered blue bedspread on the king-size mattress. The room even smelled lavender-soap fresh, making her think that tonight might be a clean start as well as a clean end.

  She sat on the bed, waiting for him to come in. He’d gone outside in the darkening night to make phone calls to his sisters, assuring them that he would be home soon.

  Beforehand, he’d told her that he wasn’t planning to inform his family about the oil yet—not until he had some arrangements in hand. Lucy couldn’t believe it because…

  Well, he’d told her.

  But that didn’t make her special, right? She’d been there when he’d gotten the phone call, and he’d been overwhelmed by the news. It’d only been a matter of convenience and that was the extent of the gesture.

  That’s all. No more. No big thing.

  She tapped her hands on the mattress, waiting.

  One last night with the cowboy, she thought.

  With…Joshua.

  She tried to use her escalating desire for him to block the name out, but it didn’t work. Instead, every detail he’d told her about his life came flooding back, taking her under.

  Fighting, she got up from the bed, undressed and wrapped a towel around her body. Maybe a bath would do them both good when J—No, when the cowboy got back.

  And maybe the steam would fog over her brain, too.

  But she couldn’t shake the invasion, the breach of all the defenses she’d erected so very carefully on this trip. It had worked for a while, hadn’t it? She’d been carefree and optimistic about the next two weeks, at least.

  Yet the moment the cowboy had told her his name, she’d wanted more, and she shouldn’t have. More would only lead to getting attached—too attached. She would become needy and chase him away. It always happened.

  Why should this time be any different?

  Second-guessing her idea for a shared bath—the towel felt too good covering her right now—she picked up her phone instead, finding that in all her drama, it’d lost juice.

  Great. She plugged her charger into the bathroom outlet, then connected that to her phone, finding a few messages from Carmen.

  She speed dialed her friend, knowing she would feel better once she heard Carmen’s voice. Familiarity. Her best buddy was trying to shed all her inhibitions on this trip, too, and she would talk Lucy off this emotional ledge.

  When the other woman answered, she sounded incredibly relieved. “Lucy! Oh my God—”

  “My darn phone drained down,” she answered ca
lmly, sensing that Carmen was at a peak of worry. “That’s all, Carm. I’m so sorry about being careless.”

  “Where are you?” her friend asked.

  This time, instead of keeping her secret, Lucy found her self telling Carmen her location, knowing her fantasy was ending anyway.

  Or maybe it already had ended.

  Her heart sank, and she fought the weight, the threatening connection to a situation that was never meant to last.

  “We’re nearby,” Carmen said.

  “We’re?”

  “Me and Eddie. I got antsy about what was happening with you and he volunteered to help me cruise around, just to see if I caught you anywhere.” She paused. “That sounds so freakish, but I can’t help it. We’re not the type of women who do these things, Luce, and I’m not sure how to go about dealing with it.”

  “And,” Lucy added, feeling worse than ever, “I have the car keys because I thought you’d be staying on the houseboat longer.”

  “It’s okay, you shouldn’t have expected me to wig out, just like Mama would’ve. Because, you realize, that’s who I was becoming. Mama Ferris. Not anymore though.”

  Eddie’s voice said something in the background, and Carmen laughed softly, as if she didn’t quite believe whatever he’d offered.

  “You’ll never be Mama,” Lucy said. “Mama would’ve still been back at the Timberline Inn telling the desk clerk how to improve the property.”

  “Know what?” Carmen said. “We’re off subject, Luce. You’ve gotten pretty good at that.”

  Her? “Listen to you—the girl who hasn’t told me much about what’s going on in her mind, either, lately.”

  Silence. Then, “I know.”

  The line went quiet until Lucy offered a laugh. Carmen followed, and the static was a little clearer between them.

  But not totally, because it was about time Lucy let go of her fantasy and let Carmen in.

  God, it was really over.

  “My cowboy is leaving in the morning,” she said, voice raw. “My schedule’s clear if yours is.”

  His name’s Joshua, she thought to herself. Why can’t you call him by his real name, even now?

  “He’s…leaving?” Carmen asked tentatively, as if knowing how much it would hurt Lucy when another man ducked out of her life.

  “He has to,” Lucy said. “Something came up at home for him.”

  “Then he actually wants to stay? He wouldn’t be leaving otherwise?”

  A lump in her throat made it tough to talk. Right now, his leaving might not have the power to damage her. She was still in control of the situation—just looking into his eyes told her that.

  And that should’ve felt so good.

  “Luce,” Carmen said, “what if this time, he could stay?”

  She wouldn’t even entertain the idea. From experience, she knew that crushed hope was too agonizing. “He wouldn’t hang around anyway.”

  Once she said it, she knew it had no place in her life now.

  Carmen only confirmed it. “You’re sure? Because I’ve seen a different Lucy lately. You’ve been walking around with a…solidness, I suppose you’d say. And I can’t tell you how beautiful it is to see.”

  There were tears in her friend’s voice, and it was catching. Lucy rested her head against the restroom tile, needing something to help her remain standing.

  “But here’s the thing,” she managed to say to Carmen. “He only knows this Lucy, the one who’s on vacation. I’m pretty sure he would’ve been gone by now if he’d met the old, boring version.”

  “Okay, first of all, you’ve never been boring. You like your schedules? Yes. You’re comfortable in a routine? Sure. But, Luce, you’ve always had a sparkle to you.” Carmen laughed. “Do you think I would’ve chosen you as a partner in crime if you didn’t?”

  Lucy wiped a tear away, hating that this was enough to upset her.

  “And second?” Carmen added. “You won’t know until you try, so why don’t you give this guy a chance?”

  Because it’s so much easier now, she thought. So much simpler to keep him as a good memory than a bad one.

  She stood away from the wall, knowing she needed to stop before Carmen talked her into doing the unthinkable—introducing the cowboy to the hidden Lucy.

  “Are you and Eddie checking in here tonight then?” she asked, putting an end to any temptation.

  On the other end of the line, Carmen sighed, noting that, once again, the subject had been changed. Then her friend asked Eddie a question, and he seemed to give a positive answer.

  “We’ll aim the car for your motel,” Carmen said. “We’re pretty close anyway, near Seligman, since we’ve been checking the Route’s hot spots all day for a sign of that cowboy’s truck. We must’ve passed you at some point without knowing.”

  “We were at Grand Canyon Caverns, then we backtracked. Maybe we’d pulled off the road for Kingman by the time you passed us.”

  “Well, then it’ll be bedtime when we check in, so I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “Late morning.” Lucy knew she would need the extra time with her playmate.

  Just as Carmen was going to need extra time with her own fling.

  Lucy clung to the established definitions—playmate, fling. Still structured.

  She would always be the same girl, sexed up or not.

  The sound of the front door opening made her clutch her towel to her breasts. Dumb, considering he’d seen everything on her body many times over.

  So she said her goodbyes to Carmen, then disconnected, going to the bathroom door.

  The cowboy stood near the room’s entrance, his hat pulled low over his brow. She could smell the cool of night on him, and it was just as quiver inducing as the pale of his eyes under his headgear.

  Still playing the game—because that’s all she had anymore—she gestured toward the tub. “I’ve been waiting for you. We’ve got tonight to ourselves before Carmen comes tomorrow morning to pick me up.”

  He didn’t react to that news, perching his hands on his slim hips instead.

  It didn’t look as if he was in the mood to play.

  He confirmed that when he spoke. “Back at dinner, I was sure that I could handle one more night. Just one, I kept telling myself, and then I wouldn’t have to think about you anymore.”

  His straight talk put her defenses up full blast. “And…?”

  “I don’t know.” His laugh serrated the air. “I have no idea about anything anymore. I thought I knew the rules, but they went and changed on me. That’s why I told you my name and my place in life, because I was hoping they’d go different for you, too.”

  He didn’t move, just kept his post by the door. The distance between them felt charged and thick, difficult to navigate.

  But then he seemed to reject the atmosphere they’d created with their wounded, conflicting intentions.

  “How old are you?” he asked gently. “Can you at least give me that?”

  “Why?”

  He whipped off his hat. “Because it’s something, damn it. And I’ve been walking around that parking lot screwing up the balls to venture a question that might not set you off.”

  How had this happened when she’d been so careful to avoid it?

  But…her age. Did it matter so much if she could make him feel better?

  “Almost thirty,” she said, and the moment she did, it felt good. Strangely, sublimely good. “These past couple of days almost made me forget that my birthday is…I’m going to turn thirty the day after tomorrow.”

  She stopped herself from asking the same question of him, because she didn’t want to know. She did, but she couldn’t.

  Yet at her openness, he held the hat in front of him, gentleman style, his gaze going soft.

  She’d messed up. Oh, God, why had she told him?

  “Just in case you’re wondering,” he said softly, “I’m thirty-four.” He took a step closer. “I like quiet nights watching the night cover the sky. I like scotc
h and old cars and Johnny Cash. And my last name is Gray, from my family who’s lived in Fielding, Texas, since before the Civil War.”

  When he stopped, the only sound was their breathing. Matched. Linked in a way that confused her and excited her and scared her half to death.

  Then, slowly, as if he didn’t want to chase her off, he reached out to take a lock of her hair between his fingers.

  “And you, miss? What more can you tell me?”

  Without him having to say it, she knew this was her last chance. This was the perfect time for her to risk everything, just as Carmen had told her to.

  But it was also the perfect time to stay safe.

  The longer her decision stretched, the more his eyes dimmed. She realized that hope had been shining there, but it was too late. She’d waited too long.

  He backed away, holding up his hands. Then, without a word, he donned his hat and pulled it over his eyes, shutting her out in the darkness that had first attracted her.

  “Don’t wait up for me,” he said, opening the door and walking out.

  There was only a click to signify that he’d fully shut the door, but it sounded like something breaking.

  He’d left, just as she’d expected him to. But at least he’d done it before seeing all of the real her.

  Their liaison hadn’t been meant to last anyway, she thought, taking off her towel and going to her bag to change into something that would cover her up more. So why be sad?

  Parting had been inevitable.

  After she’d dressed in a short nightie, she crawled into the wide, empty bed in the awful darkness, hearing the click of the door over and over, replaying the moment he had left.

  The sound of something breaking…

  By the time her eyes grew weary of looking at the ceiling and finally fell shut, she had figured out what that breaking sound was.

  Her heart.

  11

  NEAR MIDNIGHT, Carmen stood in front of the sink, washing her face before hitting the sack. After checking in, she’d hopped into bed gear, too: an overlarge Social Distortion T-shirt that covered a pair of men’s boxers—an article of clothing she found perfect for lounging, no matter who they were made for.