The Cowgirl's Little Secret

And whose fault is that? No matter what she did, she couldn’t muffle the sound of her conscience.

“Okay!” She yelled the admission. “My fault. It’s all my freaking fault! Are you happy now?”

No, she wasn’t happy at all. But she had to face the consequences. She had to allow Cord to spend time with CJ. She blinked and a wry smile crinkled her cheeks. Cord was a Barron. Barrons never stuck with anything that even hinted at personal responsibility. They got bored too easily. And hated having to make an effort. They expected to snap their fingers and everybody would line up to do their bidding. Well, Cord had a lot to learn about being a father. Especially since his own father was such a lousy example.

Jolie did a short happy dance. That was the ticket. Cord would get bored with being a father, and once he had his fill, he’d ignore CJ. Her heart contracted, knowing CJ would more than likely get hurt. But better he discovered now what a jerk his father was than later, when he’d have a harder time getting over it. She shoved those uncomfortable feelings away. She never wanted to hurt CJ, but ever since Cordell Barron entered the picture, hurt was inevitable. For both of them.

She trudged to her room, doing her best to ignore her feelings about—and for—Cord. The man drove her to distraction. He always had. All he had to do was smile, and her knees went all wobbly while her heart raced and goose bumps prickled her skin. And when he touched her? Her pulse—and other places—throbbed with the thought. She needed a cold shower stat, and headed to the master bath.

Jolie had dated postbreakup with Cord, in an I’ll-show-him way, and most often with disastrous results. Nursing school had convinced her she didn’t have time for men. And then CJ. Men didn’t want a woman with the baggage of another man’s child. Not just another man. Cord. She balled her fists on the granite vanity top and stared at her reflection.

“Get over him, girl!”

Her brain could list all the reasons why she should tell him to take a flying leap, but her body was up in arms and rebelling. She wanted him in that hot, skin-to-skin seductive way a woman wants the man who inflames her inside and out. And darn if her heart wasn’t standing there on the edge of the cliff ready to take the leap with her girlie bits.

She crawled into bed, hit the remote control and found a program guaranteed to bore her into sleep. Her dreams, however, were far from boring. Tangles of arms and legs, deep kisses until her lips were swollen and she couldn’t catch her breath. Flushed, she pushed off the linen duvet coverlet and flopped onto her back, arms wide. The ceiling fan washed a desultory breeze over her that did nothing to dissipate the heat. The digital clock on her bedside table blinked an accusatory three-thirty in her direction.

The TV droned in the background, casting flickering shadows around the room. For a brief moment, Jolie wondered what Cord was doing. Focusing on the program, she thrust thoughts of the man out of her mind—at least until her brain processed what she was seeing on the screen. She’d gone to sleep to a documentary and awakened to a man and woman writhing in ecstatic, no-holds-barred, down-and-dirty sex on a dining room table.

“Really?” She didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or get out the vibrator. She didn’t believe in signs, but if ever there might be one, this would be her luck. Giving up on any chance of sleep, she shoved out of bed and padded into the bathroom.

* * *

Cord twisted his hips, first right then left. He followed up with some of the other exercises his physical therapist insisted he do. Sometimes his insides still felt like scrambled eggs, though at the moment, it was his thoughts that more closely resembled food. Spaghetti. A big ole knot of it, twisted and tangled.

“I have a son.” He tested the words by saying them aloud. “I’m a father.” That one didn’t settle, as well. He wasn’t a father. Thanks to Jolie. She’d made sure he missed out on those all-important early years with CJ. CJ. He wondered what the initials stood for. Surely she hadn’t named the boy after him. He made a mental note to ask CJ when he saw him.

Tomorrow. Cord glanced at the clock. Today, he amended. He’d have the day to spend with his son. He glared at the insectile shadow looming against the far wall of his childhood bedroom. He hated that wheelchair with a passion bordering on rabid. He would be rid of it as soon as possible.

Despite the sweat beading on his forehead, he redoubled his efforts, lifting his legs, holding them elevated until his abdominal muscles screamed and he couldn’t breathe. Lowering them to the bed, he panted until the pain passed.

As he rested, his thoughts turned to Jolie. A different kind of pain washed over him, one that was both physical and emotional. His body hardened as he remembered all too well the feel of her curves, the sound of her soft, panting breaths as they made love. There’d been girls before her and women after, but none of them ever stirred him like Jolie. Now that she was back, he seriously doubted there’d ever be another. But at the same time, she’d done the unthinkable. Had she gotten pregnant on purpose? He got mad just thinking about it.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface. He had every right to be furious with her, but he hadn’t exactly been a knight in shining armor where she was concerned. He’d acquiesced to his father’s demand that he break it off without a backward look. Well, maybe a few glances and a very heavy heart, but he’d been a coward. He could own up to the label now, especially in light of what his younger brother had done.

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