Honorable Rancher. Barbara White Daille

never dared to let those dreams bring her this far.

      She had to clear her throat before she could speak again. Still, her voice cracked. “Are you trying to sweet-talk me, cowboy?”

      “Sweet? No, ma’am.” He shook his head. “I’m thinking more like hot.” He slid his hand into the unbuttoned back of her gown, pressing his fingers wide and firm against her. The soft material slipped from her shoulders.

      Not breaking eye contact with her, he trailed both hands down her arms. Like the water bubbling in the country club’s fountain, the gown fell in a froth of pink satin and lace.

      When he took her hand and sank onto the couch, she went with him, wanting to get even closer, to brace herself against his solidness, to absorb his warmth. Wanting to hold on to a reality she wasn’t yet sure she believed.

      A few minutes later, though, she believed in him with all her heart. Despite his words, he was gentle and kind and sweet. And yes...later...he was hot, too.

      He gave her everything she’d ever dreamed of. And more.

      An even longer while later, she reached up to slide her hands behind his neck and link her fingers against him. As she held on, unmoving, he explored once again, running his hands down her sides, cupping her hips and holding her closer.

      When she sucked in a deep breath, one side of his mouth curled in a smile. “This isn’t what I expected when I drove you home tonight.”

      “That makes two of us.” Like a schoolgirl, she struggled to hold back a giggle of pure joy at being two halves of a couple with him.

      “And,” he said, “this isn’t what I expected when I promised to take care of you. But you don’t hear me complaining.”

      Her throat tightened, and the giggle died. “No,” she said, “I don’t.” Goose bumps rippled along her skin.

      To accompany the chill running down her spine.

      “In fact—”

      “Wait,” she interrupted, meeting his eyes. “You said ‘take care’?”

      He nodded. “Of you and the kids.”

      She tried to keep her tone even, her voice soft. “And you made that promise to...?”

      He shifted, as if the question she’d left hanging caused him considerable discomfort. A small gap opened between them, and her body cooled.

      “To Paul,” he said.

      “I see.” She sat up, needing more distance between them. When he let her go, she grabbed her gown from the floor and slid into it, heedless now of the fine lace, of the delicate satin. “That’s the reason behind everything?” she asked. “Because you made a promise to Paul?”

      He leaned against the arm of the couch. “What ‘everything’? You mean us, here?”

      “We’ve never been ‘us, here’ before tonight.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that now. It took twice as much effort to keep her voice level as it had to stifle that foolish giggle. “No, I mean everything you’ve done. Trying to help me. Stopping by my office unannounced. Buying the office building. All that—because of what you promised Paul?”

      Frowning, he nodded. “Yeah. But I’d have done those things anyway. Why wouldn’t I? I told you, you’ve been the girl for me since kindergarten.”

      “How long ago did you have to make that promise?”

      “The day he shipped out at the end of his leave. But there was no ‘have to’ about it. I willingly gave him my word.”

      “I’m not willing to let you take care of me.”

      “It’s too late for that.”

      She frowned. “Why?”

      “I’ve watched over you for years. Ever since we were kids in school.”

      “Then it has to stop. We’re not kids anymore. And as I’ve told you before, many times, I can take care of myself—and my children. I don’t think you’ll ever understand that.” She tugged the bodice of her gown into place. “And I think it’s time for you to go.”

      For a few long moments he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he curled his fingers into fists and stared at her, his eyes narrowed.

      She had no fear. This was Ben. He was good and kind and meant well. And because he was so good and kind, because he felt so determined to take care of her, she’d hurt him.

      After he’d just made love to her as if—

      She couldn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t sit here and watch him walk out.

      Instead, she rose from the couch, then crossed the room. “Good night,” she said over her shoulder. Her voice shook.

      “Running away won’t help anything,” he said.

      “I’m not running,” she answered, climbing the stairs without looking back. Without stopping. “I’m just standing on my own.”

      On legs no steadier than her voice had been and that threatened to give way at any moment.

      From the upstairs hallway she listened to his movements below.

      When he left, she went down again to lock the door.

      Then she sank onto the rocking chair. Her heart thudded painfully. She had wanted to stop him. Wanted to call him back. But she couldn’t. She had to make him leave, had to force him to understand she didn’t need him.

      She had to force herself to accept a painful truth, too. For all this time, Ben had considered her his responsibility.

      She couldn’t allow that to continue.

      No matter what she had heard for years from another man, no matter what that man had tried to make her believe, she wasn’t anyone’s burden. Never had been—and as long as she lived, never would be.

      Especially not Ben’s.