The Texas Rancher's Vow

“But you were married.”

He hadn’t shaved yet, and the stubble gave him a dark, sexy look. Memories of the way he had kissed her earlier sent a burning flame throughout her entire body. “I didn’t say I never thought I was in love. Of course, I thought I loved my ex, but as it turned out, what Dex and I felt for each other was merely lust.” Jen sighed, promising herself she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. “And lust, as everyone knows, doesn’t last.”

Something hot and sensual shimmered in his eyes. “It can last.”

For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to make love with Matt. Not once, just to bank some flames and satisfy their curiosity, but many, many times…

“Has it for you?” she challenged, as if she hadn’t been thinking about that possibility at all.

He flashed her a crooked smile. “Well, no.”

“Me, either.” Jen sighed, knowing that when a fantasy about someone dissolved, so did the desire. And she wasn’t in the mood to have her heart and hopes crushed again. “So…”

He slid his eyes to the hollow of her throat, then her lips, then her eyes. “I think our passion is the kind that might not ever go away.”

She told herself the evening definitely would not end with her kissing him again. “Now that’s the whiskey talking.”

He dipped his head in a gallant bow and took her in his arms again. “Or the knowledge of what it is like to kiss you.”

Romantic notions bubbled up inside her, and she shivered.

He threw off the blanket and shifted her onto his lap.

“Matt…” she whispered.

“Hmm?” Eyelids lowered, he kissed his way down the side of her throat.

She splayed her hands across his chest. “This is no good.”

He tunneled one hand through her hair, then pressed his lips to hers. “It’s very good.”

Tingling, Jen averted her head. “For what we’re trying to do here.” Knowing she would be lost if he kissed her again, she buried her face in his shoulder.

Matt nuzzled her neck, finding the nerve endings just beneath her ear. He stroked a hand down her back, his hot callused palm easing beneath the hem of her blouse, above the waistband of her skirt, to caress her skin. “What are we trying to do?”

Jen quivered at his touch and drank in the fragrant, masculine scent of him.

Stay on track. Stay on track….

“We’re trying to make your dad happy,” she reminded him thickly. “Commemorate his life and his love for your mother. Help him feel good about all he has accomplished, and all he still has in front of him.”

The mention of his father had the desired affect. Matt dropped his hands, sat back. “You’re going to do that with your sculptures?”

Jen nodded. She could pretend all she wanted…but Matt was right about one thing. The desire she felt for him wasn’t ever going to go away.

But there was no reason he needed to know she felt that way.

She eased off his lap and turned the talk back to business. “I’m going to try.”

And while I’m at it, I’ll work a whole lot harder at protecting my heart.

* * *

“I HATE TO IMPOSE,” Jen told Emmett, when she encountered him having breakfast in the kitchen the next morning, “but is there someone who could give me a ride over to the Armstrong ranch to pick up my van? They can’t be happy to have it just sitting there in a field.”

“Matt’s already taken care of it.”

Jen did a double take. “What do you mean?”

“He called the auto service and had it towed into town to the repair shop.”

And how much was that going to cost? Could she even afford it?

“Don’t worry,” Emmett said, misinterpreting the reason behind her concern. “They’ll get it fixed up in no time.” His movements almost painfully slow, he gestured for her to sit down with him. “Help yourself to some breakfast. No eggs or bacon this morning—it’s Luz’s day off. But we’ve got pastries, juice and coffee.”

Jen surveyed the rancher. Something was definitely off. “You feeling okay this morning?” He looked a little pale, as if he hadn’t slept well, and his left hand was trembling slightly.

The day before, it had been his right.

He cupped both hands around his coffee mug. “I should have figured you’d notice.” He winked, jovial as ever. “I’m paying for my bad judgment. I know better than to have more than one whiskey in an evening.”

Jen had plenty of experience in that regard, with her dad. This did not look like any hangover she had ever seen. Both hands should have been trembling if Emmett was in his cups, not just one. Was it possible, she wondered, that something might be wrong with the otherwise healthy looking and virile man? Was that fact, rather than just ego, behind the wealthy cattleman’s drive to commemorate his life?

Emmett sat back in his chair. “I see you’re feeling fine this morning, however.”

Jen smiled. She had slept surprisingly well. And had woken up dreaming of kissing Matt….

Flushing, she poured herself some juice from the bottle on the table. “I’m anxious to get to work on the first sculpture.” Work always made her feel better. Maybe because it was a place for her to channel her emotions.

Emmett glanced at his watch. “I’ve got business meetings in San Angelo at ten, but I’ll have time to show you the studio Matt’s mother used to work in.”

Jen munched on a cinnamon roll. “You’re okay having me set up shop there?”

“It’ll be nice to have the space used again. I think you’re going to like the light in there.”

Emmett wasn’t kidding, Jen realized half an hour later, when they went up to the second floor loft in the wing of the house that the older gentleman now occupied.

The light was spectacular, the room large and airy.

It was also empty except for handsome built-in shelving and cabinetry along one wall, and a large wooden worktable located beneath the bank of windows.

Stunned, Jen turned to Emmett.

“She donated all her art supplies and easels to the local community college when she could no longer paint,” he explained. “We had her paintings displayed on the walls in here, but after she died it was just too painful to see them, so Matt and I wrapped everything up and put them in storage.”

“They should be hanging.”

Emmett squinted. “Just what I was thinking.” He rubbed his jaw with the hand that trembled. “Tell you what…I’ll bring some of Margarite’s favorite pieces up, later today.”

It turned out he was as good as his word.

Only it wasn’t Emmett who brought up the paintings some three hours later.

It was his son.

Chapter Six

Matt knew it was going to be tough seeing his mother’s work again, never mind have them in the studio where he’d had his last truly happy memories of his mother before she had been stricken with multiple sclerosis and confined to the lower floor of the ranch house.

It was rougher still walking in with the paintings, all still carefully wrapped, and seeing Jen in what had always been his mom’s arena.

Jen took it over, much as his mother had, her presence lending an air of tranquility to the large, sunny space.

In faded jeans, peacock-blue cowgirl boots and a sexy, formfitting white tank top, her hair swept up in a messy knot, she was so damn pretty she took his breath away.

And she was not glad to see him.

Not. At. All.

Because he’d kissed her and she had kissed him back? Or because their evening together had ended on a businesslike note, and they hadn’t gotten around to making out again?

Matt looked in her eyes. No clue. All he knew for certain was that she blamed him for something. Luckily for both of them, he was in no mood to wrangle.

All he wanted was escape. Escape from the feelings being around Jen conjured up, and the notion that with very little effort, the two of them could have something truly amazing.

“Dad texted me that you wanted the paintings,” he announced, planning to dump them and run before they were actually unwrapped.

When he did eventually look at the canvases again—and he would…at some point—he wanted to be alone.

“So.” Matt propped them carefully against the wall. “There you go.”

To his consternation, no sooner had he set them down than Jen was reaching for the tape holding the protective quilts over the oil canvases.

Reacting quickly, he left her to it and headed back out into the hall.

She followed. “That’s all?” She caught up with him in the long corridor outside the studio.

“Well…” Matt paused, not sure why she was so irked when he’d done as asked, the moment he got back to the ranch house, no less.

Again, their gazes held for a long moment, and as always, when she gave him her undivided attention, something flashed between them and his body tensed with need.

A little unsettled by the way he kept wanting her, Matt cleared his throat. “Obviously, there are more paintings in the climate-controlled storage room where we keep all the valuables. Twenty-five more pieces, to be exact.”

Jen kept staring at him.

He adjusted his posture slightly, to relieve the ache. Lowered his gaze from her face and encountered the soft, sexy swell of her breasts instead. Which to his frustration only made the situation worse. “But that was all I could easily carry at once,” Matt continued, with the poker face he’d perfected at a very early age.

Jen folded her arms in that way that really got his blood pumping. And she still looked ticked off.

“I’m not talking about art.” Her low voice dripped with resentment and she stepped nearer, with a drift of lilac perfume.

Deciding the farther they were from the studio, the better, Matt kept right on moving down the corridor, to the stairs. Sweaty and grimy from a morning spent outdoors in the summer heat, he wanted two things: a shower and release from the tension he’d felt ever since they’d kissed.

Well, the latter wasn’t going to happen. Not if either of them had any sense.

“Then what are you talking about?” he demanded.

“I want to know about my van!”

Matt paused outside his bedroom door. Of course that was what she wanted. “I took it to the best mechanic in town. Naturally, because the van is so old, he had to order the parts…but it’ll be ready in a couple of days.”

Jen’s face turned pink. “You okayed the work without even talking to me?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s not going to run unless you replace the radiator and the transmission.”

She sagged against the wall, hand over her heart. “The transmission!” she croaked.

Matt resisted the urge to prop her up with an arm about her waist. “Yeah.” He stood with his legs braced apart and continued offering moral support—from a distance. “That’s why we couldn’t get it started this morning.”

Jen raked both her hands through her hair, forgetting for a moment that she had it up in a clip. Her fingers got tangled. Frowning, she extricated them, then removed the clip. “Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost?”

Matt tracked the silky chestnut waves flowing about her shoulders. “Eight thousand dollars, give or take.”

“Eight thousand dollars!”

“For the amount of work he’s going to do, and the cost and difficulty tracking down the right parts, that’s a bargain, Jen.”

She moaned and bent over from the waist, as if trying not to be sick. “That’s not the point.” She groaned again.

Matt tried not to notice the way her neckline gaped, revealing lace and curves, and jutting nipples. Stifling a groan himself, he averted his gaze and moved past her into his bedroom. “Really.” He tossed the words over his shoulder. “Because I thought getting your only mode of transportation back in order was exactly the point.”

Jen followed him, closing the distance between them once again. “I don’t have that kind of money right now, Matt.”

Surprised to see her standing in the middle of his bedroom, he shrugged. “Then Dad will give you an advance on your commission.”

Jen lifted her chin, coming closer. “How do you know?”

Matt exhaled. “Because I know him, and if he didn’t…then I would.”

Those cornflower-blue eyes glittered angrily. “I don’t want your money, Matt.”

Now, that rankled. “You didn’t seem to have a problem taking my father’s.”

Jen threw up her hands. “For work as it is completed!” she sputtered. “Not for…”

“What?”

She regarded him with silent derision. “That’s what I’m wondering.”

It took him a second to follow. “Surely you don’t think I’m trying to buy my way into your bed?”

She shrugged and kept her gaze locked with his. “You said it. Maybe you think that’s a way to speed up what you’d clearly like to happen between us.”

Matt hadn’t been the only one who enjoyed their make-out session. He studied her brooding expression. “This isn’t about the money,” he asserted, stepping closer. He angled a thumb at his chest. “It’s because I did what had to be done, without calling you every step of the way and asking your opinion.”

Something in his words must have clicked, because he saw a flicker of acknowledgment in Jen’s eyes. “Calling me would have been nice.”

Matt had never been one to shift the blame for his mistakes, but in this instance, he knew he wasn’t at fault. Stupidly naive, maybe, to think his gallantry would be received in the spirit it was given. He pushed on. “It would have been a waste of time. Yours and mine. Because the end result would have been the same. You would have ordered the repairs and had them done here, by the person we told you was the best.” Matt sauntered closer and saw her eyes widen in sensual awareness. “And you know why?” he murmured.

Her lower lip thrust out petulantly. “Because I had no choice?”

He shook his head, his heart going out to her, because he knew what it felt like to want things to go one way, and have them constantly go another. “Because you love that van as much as I love my pickup.”

“I didn’t tell you that so you could use it against me,” she retorted, looking distraught.

Matt put his hands on her shoulders and held her there when she would have run away from what was happening between them. “Say that again?”

Turbulent emotion tautened her pretty features. “I don’t want you taking charge of my life.”

He watched her, unsure how to help. “That isn’t what I was doing.”

Her mouth curved resentfully as she accused in a low, trembling tone, “That is exactly what you were doing, Matt.” She tapped an emphatic rhythm against the center of his chest. “And. I. Don’t. Like. It.”

He caught her hand and held it over his heart, aware they were finally beginning to get somewhere.

Wanting her to open up even more, he asked, “What’s really going on here? Are we talking about me now?” Certain he had her full attention, he waited another beat. “Or someone else?”

Matt’s assumption was so on target, Jen couldn’t help it, she swore in frustration and anger and confusion.

He grinned, pleased his needling was affecting her. He cupped her chin in his hand and urged, “Use your words. The ones not affiliated with your opinion of me.”

Jen felt as if the situation had knocked the wind out of her. For the sake of her pride, she pretended that she wasn’t glad to see Matt. Wasn’t glad to have him trying to help her, even if everything he was doing and saying was wrong.

Her hands flattened against the front of his shirt. “What I am trying to tell you,” she said, “is that I have been down this road before.”

“With another take-charge guy. Your ex-husband, maybe?”

“Yes.” Feeling as if her knees could no longer support her, she moved toward the only available seating—his bed—and sank down on the edge of it. “When it started out, I thought he was just being thoughtful and considerate. I didn’t have any money. Dex did. He wanted life to be nice for me.”

Matt sat down facing her. “What’s wrong with that?”

Everything, as it happened.

Jen looked deep in his eyes and tried not to think about how he would look at her once he knew the whole truth. “By the time Dex and I divorced, I wasn’t making any decisions for myself,” she admitted miserably. “Everything was decided for me.”

Matt furrowed his brow. “He wanted you to conform to what he thought was appropriate? For the woman who was his wife?”

Jen wished it had been that simple. Or that she had been strong enough to stand up for herself and fight for what she wanted.

But she hadn’t been able to do it then. She’d been stuck in people-pleasing mode.

Embarrassed, she had to force herself to go on. “Dex wanted me to do whatever he thought was going to tick his parents off the most.” Restless, she stood again and began to pace. “See, they were really controlling. They put all kinds of pressure on him, and he rebelled by marrying me. An artist who was more concerned about the quality of clay I was buying than the other details of my life.”

Matt’s expression gentled as he began to understand.

“They liked a woman’s hair to be salon perfect at all times, so Dex insisted that I not do anything to it that wasn’t completely natural.” Jen paused next to the window and looked out at the rolling acreage of the ranch.

Bracing a shoulder against the frame, she turned back to Matt. “They ate haute cuisine, so he had us bring in food from the most lowbrow restaurants around for our dinner.”

Matt came to stand next to her. “You lived with them?”

Remembering, she felt her heart constrict. “Oh, yes. That was part of the plan. He kept saying he wanted to build a place for us.”

“And they were all for that?”

“No.” Jen massaged the tense muscles in her neck. “His folks liked having him under their thumb. They just wanted to get rid of me, and have him marry someone more suitable. Someone of their social standing and all that.”

Matt searched her face. “So what finally happened?”

Memories came as fast and devastating as the actual event. “They gave Dex what he wanted. Early access to his half-million-dollar trust fund. On one condition.”

“He divorce you.”

Jen nodded, stunned to this day by the cruelty of the event. “Yep.”

“And you were hurt.”

She raked a hand through her hair. “Relieved.” She looked into Matt’s eyes, swallowed, and forged on, “I knew by then that the marriage was going to end. I knew it had to end.” She shook her head in regret, wishing she had been stronger. Less needy. “But I didn’t want it to.”

“Because you loved him. Or thought you did.”

“Because I wanted it to be the opposite of my childhood,” she said emotionally. How naive she’d been! “I wanted it all to work out in the end. And in the meantime, I had a roof over my head, food to eat and a place to work on my sculpting. So I just kept going, kept trying, kept thinking that if only I was the perfect wife and the perfect daughter-in-law and the perfect rising artist, everything would work out. That his parents would come to accept me one day.” Jen drew a breath. “And in the meantime, I had Dex, who told me he loved me and that we would be happy when we were both able to make all our dreams come true. Mine was to make a living selling my art. And his was to start his own venture capital business.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. He’s very good at it. And he’s now very rich. His parents are very proud of him. I’m successful now, too. So everyone lived happily ever after.”

“Not quite.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Because you haven’t moved on—emotionally—from the mistake, any more than I’ve moved on from my elopement.”

A laugh bubbled up inside her. “And what would you have us do, Matt?”

“Jump back in.”

Jen shivered, and not from air-conditioning vent above her head. “That’s the best line I’ve ever heard.”

And also the most seductive.

He grinned. “It’s not a line.”

Pulse thudding, she absorbed the sight of him, jaw unshaved, hair tousled, body hard and sweaty beneath the half-open shirt. Her fingers itched to discover the texture of all that sleek, tanned, hair-roughened skin.

And he wanted her, too.

She could see it. Feel it. Completely identify with it.

“Matt…” Jen whispered. Why was he doing this? Making her realize how badly she still needed to belong.

And the way he looked at her whenever they were alone made her think she belonged with him.

He knew it, too….

His eyes were two dark pools. “Take a shower with me.”

Desire washed over her with an intensity she had never felt before.

He brushed a soft kiss to her temple before trailing more kisses across her cheek, her jaw. “Take a risk.” He settled a hand on her hip, dragged his fingers up her spine. “See where this can go.”

Goose bumps erupted on her skin. There was tenderness in his eyes and a smile that promised all sorts of wicked and wonderful things, if only she said the word.

Jen wanted passion in her life. She wanted—needed—to be loved.

What she didn’t want was to be disappointed and have her heart broken again.

And Matt Briscoe had the power to do that.

More than he knew.

She shook her head but couldn’t seem to make herself move away. So instead, she flattened her palms on his chest and closed her eyes. And felt the soft press of his lips on her forehead.

“We’re so different, you and I.” She gazed into his eyes. “I stopped trying to control everything a very long time ago.”

Matt met her gaze in challenge. “And now you try to control nothing.”

“Life is what it is.” She had work, friends, a home. It was enough. More than enough. “I accept that.”

“Then…” tugging her close, Matt held her against him and bent his head to hers “…accept this.”

Chapter Seven

Jen meant to resist, she really did. But she was his for the taking the moment Matt tilted her head and covered her lips with his.

It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t be here, in his bedroom. Inhaling his scent. Feeling his heat. It didn’t matter that she was a sensible woman whose heart was locked up, out of reach. He made a sound of pleasure that went straight through her, and their kiss deepened into an intense, satisfying tangle of lips and tongues. And Jen felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years. She felt on the edge of a kind of contentment she’d never had. And she knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The kind that likely would not come again.

Matt thrust a thigh between hers. His hand slid down to the small of her back, riveting her in place, and turning the kiss into a full-body experience of raw, sexual power. And darned if she didn’t want to give as good as she was getting.

She let Matt dance her backward toward the bathroom in his suite, kissing her all the while. And once there, she used the heel of her boot to shut the door with a thud.

Matt laughed and drew back to look at her.

“We’re really going to do this.”

“We’re really going to do this,” she whispered, already toeing off her boots.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his smile slow and sure, and so hot it singed every nerve ending in her body.

Her jeans went next.

Then his.

The mutual striptease gave her a thrill that turned her blood to liquid fire. Lower still, a quiver racked her.

He helped her remove her tank top, then her bra and panties. Her nipples tightened. “Beautiful,” he murmured, touching and caressing her, then looking at her with a heavy-lidded gaze that had her wanting to fall into bed with him and never emerge.

She quivered once more, and then was kissing him again. And when kissing wasn’t enough, she worked her fingers beneath the elastic of his sexy black briefs and helped dispense with them. Her eyes followed her hands. Lord, he was big and hard, Jen thought. Every inch of him was buff and hard and male. His eyes were burning with desire.

Lust consumed her, too.

He kissed her throat, her shoulder, moving lower to her breast. She had never felt as beautiful, as wanted as she did at that moment.