Long, Tall Temporary Husband

“They’re called madeleines,” she said, shrugging out of her new down parka, “and they’re tea cakes, not cookies.”

Taylor glanced around as she hung her parka on the coat tree. Through an archway she could see the living room, with its polished wood floor and solid leather furniture, arranged exactly as she remembered. The fire crackling in the big stone hearth made it seem particularly cozy and inviting.

On the other side of the entrance hall lay the dining room. She peeked around the corner at it. A sturdy iron candelabra still sat in the center of the massive wooden table, matching the sconces that lined the walls.

The inside of the house seemed very much the same. Familiar, almost. Taylor felt a fleeting, inexplicable sense of homecoming.

She quickly dismissed it. She didn’t even like it here. Her feelings about the place were not positive. Her dreams had been dashed here. Her life had come apart. Obviously it was only the comparison to her apartment that made it seem so wonderful.

Irma appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on her apron. “Taylor!” She hurried over for a hug and a kiss, then stepped back to survey her. “You’re skin and bones, girl. I’ll have to fatten you up.”

“You do that,” Jake said. “I’ll take Taylor’s suitcase upstairs.” He seemed as eager to get away from her as she was from him.

Taylor followed the middle-aged housekeeper back to the kitchen.

“I know why you’re here,” Irma said, sitting her down at the small round table in the corner. “Jake explained it to Orville and me.” Irma’s husband Orville cooked for the ranch hands. “We don’t like it, but maybe you two can find a way to settle your differences. This place ain’t the same without you.”

Taylor laughed as lightly as she could. She didn’t want to disappoint the other woman by saying that a reconciliation was impossible. “Right. This place is cleaner without me, anyway.”

“So what? It’s emptier, too, and that’s what counts.” Irma set a glass of milk and a plate of shell-shaped madeleines before her, then took a seat.

Taylor savored a madeleine in unspeakable bliss. They’d been her favorite treat ever since she’d been a little girl.

“Jake’s been an ornery son of a buck,” Irma confided. “The man hasn’t smiled more than twice since you left. He’s always grouchy and complaining. No fun to be around. I almost quit three times last fall.”

Jake had been upset? Why? she wondered. Because she’d wounded his pride when she’d left him, or because he’d made such a mistake in marrying her?

The two women talked for a few minutes before Jake appeared in the doorway. Taylor wiped the feather-light madeleine crumbs from her lips and stood.

“I guess I should unpack,” she said.

Jake led her upstairs to the largest guest room, which sat at the opposite end of the house from the master suite. It was nicely decorated, with antique furniture and a handmade quilt on the queen-size bed, but its pleasant temperature meant more to her than its appearance.

Living in a cold apartment had been one of the hardest lessons Taylor had faced in the past five months. Until then she’d always taken her physical comfort for granted. But since November, turning up the heat would have meant not being able to pay the electric bill.

Jake crossed to her suitcase, which sat on a folding luggage rack. He popped open the latches. “Let’s get your stuff put away.” He transferred a couple of the new shirts he’d bought her yesterday to one of the dressers. “See if you can’t keep the room clean while you’re here, okay? Drawers closed, bed made. If Hankins happens to wander upstairs, I don’t want him to guess you’re staying in here. It wouldn’t look good.”

She pulled out a few items and stored them in a drawer. “I thought he was just coming to dinner a couple of times.”

“That’s all we’ve got planned. But the Hankins’s place hasn’t been a working ranch in a long time, and his cabin’s pretty rustic. I expect he and those kids will come visit a lot.”

“Oh.”

“Plus, it can get boring here in wintertime.” Jake shot her a pointed look. “Even more boring than in the summer. Neighborly visits help lessen that.”

After the way Jake had ignored her last summer, working all day in order to avoid her, he shouldn’t be talking about the benefits of neighborly visits, she thought.

He reached into her suitcase to lift out a dress. The action revealed her neatly folded camisoles and tap pants.

Their eyes met.

Even though she’d sold most of her other clothes, she’d kept the lingerie as one of her few remaining luxuries.

Jake obviously remembered the items.

He’d used to talk about the satiny smoothness of them, the way they kept the warmth of her body, how they smelled of her skin.

Heat swamped her.

Jake picked up her favorite pale pink camisole in his work-roughened hands. She remembered how those hands had felt, caressing her through the silk. Hot. Strong. Demanding yet infinitely gentle as he peeled the flimsy top off her body.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be more convincing if I take a few of these and toss them around my room,” he said in that whiskey-soft voice. “One on the floor, another draped over the edge of my bed...”

My bed. Her brain stuck on the words.

Taylor wondered why the phrase mattered, why it bothered her. She didn’t want it to be their bed anymore, didn’t want their marriage to be real again.

She finally knew better than to try to get love from someone who couldn’t give it. Someone who, like her father and his precious business deals, or her mother and her endless quest for beauty and social status, couldn’t pay attention long enough to find out who their daughter really was. Someone who was married to his damned ranch, and had only cared for his wife when it was convenient.

Or when he wanted physical gratification.

Though earthshaking, sex with Jake had always been a poor substitute for the deeper sharing and affection she’d craved, a fact he would never understand.

No, she definitely didn’t want Jake back. She only wanted to complete their business deal. To make a fair wage for her week’s work, and to prove she wasn’t a selfish brat anymore.

Maybe she’d acted badly last summer, but she’d changed. She’d realized her mistakes, one of which had been going after Jake in the first place. Now she was ready to release the past, redeem herself and move on.

Taylor reached for the camisole. “I don’t think so, Jake.” As he watched, she painstakingly refolded it the way she’d learned during her brief stint in a clothing store last fall, before she’d been fired and had looked for work as a waitress. She laid it in a drawer. “You just keep your door closed down the hall. I’ll make sure this room looks vacant. We’ll be fine.”

She quickly unpacked the rest of her things, then tucked the suitcase and luggage rack in the back of the closet. All her belongings had fit into one of the two dressers. The room looked untouched.

“Just like a hotel room,” she muttered.

“Keep it that way.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting his broad back as he strode from the room.

An hour later she joined him for a sumptuous dinner cooked by Irma. They sat at opposite ends of the long table, not close together as they had last summer. The iron candelabra partially obscured their views of each other, preventing any feeling of intimacy.

Which was fine with her. She wanted to eat, not stare adoringly into her husband’s eyes.

They dined in silence until halfway through dessert, when someone pounded on the front door.

As Irma went to answer it Jake murmured, “Must be Hankins, stopping by to say hello. Ready to face the music?”

Taylor glanced down at the diamond wedding set on her left hand. The gems sparkled in the flickering candlelight. Simple and elegant, they looked just right. As if they belonged on her hand.

It had been hard to put them back on. Hard to wear them again considering everything they represented. Hope. Failure.

She remembered Jake’s proposal, when he’d slipped the engagement ring on her finger at midnight on the stern deck of a cruise ship. Remembered their wedding, and the confident touch of his fingers as he put his wedding band on her. Remembered ripping the rings off her finger and throwing them at him right before she stormed off the ranch.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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