“I feel fine, just a little tired.” Her physical stamina was alarmingly low.
“Stay here, then. I’ll go round up your father.” Deborah gave Anne a solicitous pat and headed off in her pumps, her figure still slender and straight despite her sixty-five years. Anne smiled and shook her head. Only her mother would wear heels to a county fair.
The pony enjoyed Anne’s attention, so she continued to pet it for a few minutes, its velvety nose soft against her palm.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.”
That voice.
Anne tensed, then gasped and turned so quickly she startled the pony, which snorted and pranced away. For a few moments all she could do was stare at the apparition standing in front of her—far too close for sanity.
Wade Hardison. What was he doing here? She’d been certain that he was permanently estranged from his family, that the last place he would ever go was Cottonwood, Texas, so she’d never worried about a chance meeting with him.
Anne blinked a couple of times, but he was no hallucination. In fact, he was disturbingly real—solid-looking as a tree trunk, and every bit as devilishly handsome as the memories she conjured up on an hourly basis.
In the next heartbeat she schooled her features, controlled her breathing and decided how she would handle this.
“Excuse me?” she said, trying to look confused.
“If you say you don’t remember me, my heart’s gonna break in two right here.”
“I—I’m sorry. You look slightly familiar, but I’m not good with names.” That was a fat lie. When it came to names and faces, her mind was like flypaper. His face was etched into her memory with the permanency of Mount Rushmore.
Wade narrowed his eyes. “Familiar? Slightly familiar? I guess I’m just one of a long stream of guys you share passionate weekends with, huh, Annie?”
“I beg your pardon, sir, my name is not Annie. You obviously have me confused with someone else.” An alternate persona that would never, ever see the light of day again, if Anne had anything to say about it. Hadn’t her father always told her to be cautious? To never, ever trust strangers? And especially to never let common impulses and unchecked appetites rule her head?
“Anne, then, if you insist. Anne Chatsworth, newly minted lawyer.”
“How do you know that?” she asked with some alarm.
“My brother told me.”
Anne felt the blood drain to her feet, making her suddenly dizzy. Wade’s brother Jeff. Dr. Jeff Hardison, her physician and a close family friend. How naive she’d been to trust that the Hardison family rift would never be healed. She knew Jeff would not reveal her medical details to anyone without her authorization, not for any reason, under any circumstances. He was an excellent doctor, and she had complete confidence in him. But the fact that Jeff and Wade had been discussing her at all…well, that was bad.
“You did me wrong, Annie.”
“I am not Annie,” she insisted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.” He grasped her arm and halted her attempted escape, then slid his fingers up to her shoulder.
“Please,” she said, feeling panicky. He continued to touch her, his hand hot even through her shirt, though his grasp was loose. She could escape any time—if she could only make herself move. But her feet remained welded to the ground.
He leaned closer. “Please what?”
“I’m not Annie.”
“Then why are you standing here about to let me kiss you?”
Lord help her, he was right. She stood in his light embrace, paralyzed like a deer in headlights by the look and feel of him, his scent. He had her mesmerized, just as he had the moment she’d laid eyes on him, when she was twelve and he was sixteen. And again, when she’d seen him for the first time in thirteen years, at the Mesquite Rodeo last spring. He had a strange power over her.
Her body quivered as he slowly closed the distance between them. She knew she should back away, push him, run, scream, anything but kiss him. Yet she stood there, her breath caught in her lungs, and allowed him to touch his mouth to hers, very gently, very sweetly. Like a first kiss, so tender it made her ache. She melted into it. She couldn’t help herself. He tasted like coming home.
It lasted only a few seconds, and when he pulled away, he was smiling triumphantly. “Kisses don’t lie, Annie. Now, are you going to tell me why you ran out on me without a word?”
Anne heard voices behind her. A small knot of fair goers were heading into the parking lot, sending her heart into overdrive. Her parents—what if they saw her? What if anyone saw her? She had to get out of here, for her sanity as well as a whole host of reasons.
“All right.” She disentangled herself from Wade’s warm embrace. Obviously, she hadn’t fooled him into thinking he’d misidentified her. “I do owe you an apology and an explanation, and I’ll give them to you, but not here, not now.” She cast a nervous glance over her shoulder.
“Afraid to be seen with me?”
“Yes!” When his cocky grin slid away, she quickly added, “It’s a complicated situation, but I’ll explain it. Later.”
“When?” he pressed.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
“Okay, all right.”
“Midnight.”
“Eleven. I’ll be in bed by midnight.”
“I hope so.” Wade’s eyes burned like two hot coals.
She should have known better than to mention the word bed. Anne searched her brain for a private meeting place, but Wade provided one for her.
“At the ranch. The old red barn that’s used to store hay. You know it?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Again she nodded.
“If you don’t show, I’ll come find you.” He turned and sauntered away.
Anne didn’t doubt him. She also wouldn’t blame him if he was really angry with her. But when she’d left him last May, it had seemed her only choice. She hadn’t counted on an emotional entanglement when she’d set off for the Mesquite Rodeo in her borrowed cowgirl duds, eager to blow off some exam-induced steam.
Eleven. If she left the house late at night, her parents naturally would ask where she was going. The truth would just lead to a whole lot of questions she didn’t want to answer. She would have to slip out under their radar.
She wouldn’t dream of standing Wade up. If she didn’t show, he would probably have the nerve to come knocking on her front door.
Anne’s parents showed up mere moments after Wade’s departure. Her father, looking every inch the country squire, wore an official-looking badge that said Judge. He smiled and waved when he caught sight of her, then immediately sobered.
“Your mother says you’re not feeling well.” His round, jovial face, which disguised a keen intellect that could cut his legal opponents to ribbons, was etched with concern.
“I’m fine. Just tired.” She smiled, reassuring him. “Let’s go home and put our feet up,” Deborah said, sliding an arm around Anne’s waist. “They gave your dad a pie for judging the contest.” She pointed to a shopping bag looped over her arm. “We can warm it up and have it with ice cream.”
“Don’t