Thanks to his glib tongue, everyone had liked Gil and for several years running, he’d been top salesperson for his company. And that same gift of gab had made him very attractive to women, including Maura. In the beginning of their marriage his sweet talk had sustained and convinced her of his love. Then later, when things between them had grown difficult and doubts of his sincerity had haunted her, that same sweet, persuasive talk had kept her clinging to a man who was incapable of changing.
Yes, she knew all about flirts and all about trying to keep a man at her side. The first had fooled her into thinking she could succeed at the second. And in the end, her five-year marriage had crumbled along with her self-worth.
Shaking away the humiliating thoughts, Maura leaned a shoulder against the board fence and gazed back at the simple stucco house. What would it be like, she wondered, to live in such a simple place? With Quint Cantrell? He wasn’t a wanderer. Apparently he was a homebody, choosing to make his livelihood, his future, with the land. But it didn’t appear that he was a family man. Or maybe he was and just keeping those plans hidden, she silently mused.
“You’re going to have a fine place to raise a family here someday, Quint.”
His features stiffened. “It’ll raise cattle and horses. As for a family—I’m not looking for a woman or family right now,” he said flatly. “And I’m sure not holding my breath until that day.”
Seeing that her comment had rubbed him the wrong way, she pushed away from the fence. “Well, thanks for the tour, Quint. I enjoyed it. But I’d better be heading back. It’s not exactly a short drive back to Apache Wells.”
She started walking back in the direction of the house and her parked truck. Quint followed alongside her.
“Gramps rarely leaves Apache Wells. Maybe you can talk him into coming over here and taking a look at all the work we’ve finished. If that doesn’t interest him, then maybe visiting the old mine might budge him.”
Just from his words, Maura could see that having his grandfather’s admiration meant a lot to him. But what else really mattered to this man? If there was no special woman, no children to be had in his dreams, then what was the Golden Spur going to mean to him? Other than just a place to hang his hat?
At least the man has a future planned for himself, Maura. You have nothing on your agenda, except taking care of an old cantankerous man who could buy a dozen nurses like yourself.
Shoving away the mocking voice in her head, she said to Quint, “I’ll see what I can do about getting him to come for a visit. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that your grandfather does what he wants. Not what others would like for him to do.”
“No. You don’t have to tell me that.”
As they walked the remaining distance to the house, Quint realized he couldn’t keep his eyes off the woman. Her white shirt was sheer enough for him to see the imprint of her bra, the pattern of feminine lace covering her breasts.
She was not a small woman and he could tell by the silhouette of her curves that one breast would be more than enough to fill his hand, his mouth. The idea caused desire to flicker in some part of him that he’d long ago crossed off as dead. And he could only wonder what it was about her that had suddenly stirred him like this.
Since Holly had removed herself from his life, and he’d gotten burned by some superficial gold diggers, sex had become casual, something to forget afterward. And down through the years he’d pushed so hard and so long that he’d felt positive he’d never want another woman in his lifetime.
So why had Maura Donovan come along and reminded him that he was still a man? Lord, he didn’t know the answer. But now that she had, he was going to have to deal with her and himself in a smart and practical way.
At the truck, Quint opened the driver’s door and helped her up into the cab. She smiled down at him and he felt his practicality fly off with the dusty wind.
“Thank you for taking care of my cut,” he said.
“You’re welcome. Although, I wish you would consider going to a doctor. With a stitch or two, you would heal even quicker. And depending on how long it’s been since you’ve had one, you might need a tetanus shot.”
His lips took on a wry slant. “If I ran into town and got a tetanus shot every time I cut or punctured myself, I’d need a new set of tires every few weeks. Not to mention my body would look like a pincushion,” he said, then added in a more serious tone, “But I promise I had a booster a little while ago.”
Her smile turned to one of patient resignation. “Okay, I guess I trust you to take care of yourself.” She turned her attention to starting the engine, then glanced back at him. “Goodbye, Quint.”
He lifted a hand in farewell and she quickly backed away from him, then headed the nose of her truck down the rocky drive.
The urge to watch her drive away clawed at Quint, but he forced himself to turn in the direction of the barn. Her unexpected visit was over, he told himself. More than likely she wouldn’t return to the Golden Spur. And that was for the best.
The Diamond D thoroughbred ranch was located in a stretch of valley known as the Hondo Valley, a rich, fertile area where ranchers raised cattle and horses, and farmers tended acres of fruit orchards. To the north and south of the Donovan ranch house, desert mountains jutted starkly toward the sky, while in-between, irrigated meadows grew seas of knee-deep grass. The three-mile graveled track leading to the house split through one of those lush meadows and Maura drove slowly as she watched a herd of mares frolic with their colts behind a white board fence. Closer to the road, tall Lombardy poplars edged the long drive and towered like green spires into a sky as blue as Quint Cantrell’s eyes.
A rueful grimace touched Maura’s mouth as she steered her truck to a stop in front of the huge house built of native rock trimmed with rough cedar. She’d driven to the Diamond D this afternoon for a quick hello to her parents, whom she’d not seen in several weeks. This was hardly the time to be thinking about the young rancher with sky-blue eyes. In fact, no time was a good time to let her mind dwell on the man, Maura told herself. But for the past three days, since she’d visited his ranch, daydreaming about Abe’s grandson was all that she seemed to be doing.
After letting herself in, Maura passed through a long foyer and was entering a formal great room, when Regina, a tall, middle-aged woman with short, brown hair, appeared through an open doorway.
The woman spotted her immediately and gave her a little wave. “Well, look who’s here! Are you lost or something?”
Chuckling, Maura hurried across the room to kiss the woman’s cheek. For the past twenty years Regina had worked as a maid for the family. To the Donovans she was as much a part of the family as the six children were.
“I had a few chores to do in town,” Maura explained. “So I thought I’d drive out and let everyone know I’m still alive. Are my parents home? And Grandmother?”
Reggie snagged a hold on Maura’s shoulder and turned her toward the rear section of the house. “Fiona’s here. But Doyle drove your grandmother to Ruidoso for a visit with the dentist.”
“Oh, shoot,” Maura practically wailed, then sighed with resignation. “I should have called beforehand.”
Reggie said, “Well, the dentist visit was unexpected. Kate bit down on a piece of hard candy and chipped a tooth. Doyle practically twisted his mother’s arm to make her go have it examined.”
At age eighty-three, Kate Donovan was still in great health and just independent enough to think she didn’t need anyone taking care of her. Maura had always admired her grandmother’s spunk, especially after Arthur, her husband and Maura’s grandfather, died eight years ago. Since then Kate hadn’t waned or whined. She’d continued