Vixen In Disguise. Kara LennoxЧитать онлайн книгу.
have you been?” he asked with a frown. “I thought you’d gone to bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive.”
“Why didn’t you let us know you were leaving?”
“C’mon, Dad, I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“I know, honey, but we’re still allowed to worry about you, aren’t we? If your mother had stopped in your room to say good-night, she would have been frantic to find you gone.”
Anne sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be more considerate in the future.”
Milton smiled. “Want some hot chocolate? Might help you sleep.”
“No, thanks. I’m tired now. Good night.” She kissed her father on the cheek, then slipped up the back stairs, avoiding her mother and the inevitable questions. She’d probably still get them at breakfast tomorrow, but she’d be in better shape to answer them after a good night’s sleep.
If she could get one. She was still steamed, and her blood felt hot in her veins—not just from anger, but desire. She still wanted Wade Hardison’s body with the same intensity she’d experienced at the rodeo, despite everything that had happened. She could still feel the warm pressure of his hands on her shoulders, the tickle of his breath against her neck. Though she would never admit it, it had taken all of her willpower to turn down Wade’s suggestion that they take up where they’d left off.
She would just have to avoid him for however long he was in town. Which reminded her—how long was he in town? Why was he here, when he’d sworn to her he would never go home, never be forgiven by his family? What had changed his mind?
ON HIS WAY BACK to the house, Wade stopped in the new, modern barn his brother Jonathan had built. He wanted to check on Traveler. The bay quarter horse stood in his stall, completely still, probably asleep. Normally Traveler was alert the moment anyone came near him. His inertia concerned Wade almost as much as the injury. Maybe it was the medicine.
Wade resisted the urge to scratch the stallion’s forelock, Traveler’s favorite form of affection. The horse might need to sleep.
He started to turn away, then heard a familiar nicker. He turned and smiled. Traveler must have caught his scent and wakened. Wade scratched the horse’s black forelock, like he’d wanted to do, then behind his ears, then rubbed the soft skin under his jaw. Traveler nuzzled Wade’s ear, then searched his hands for a treat.
“Sorry, buddy, I gave you the last carrot after dinner.” Traveler made a pleading noise, and Wade, as usual, caved in. “Oh, all right. But too many treats while you can’t exercise, and you’ll get fat.” He found a handful of oats and fed it to the horse, grateful that at least Traveler had rediscovered his appetite. For a couple of days after his injury, when he’d been in pain and pumped up with drugs, he’d wanted nothing to do with food.
Wade changed the compress on Traveler’s right front leg, then spent a few minutes grooming him, even though he didn’t need it. Still, he knew the horse enjoyed the attention. Traveler had always loved to have Wade curry him. He even stood still while Wade worked a tangle out of his tail.
That done, Wade gave the stallion a few parting pats, then headed back to the house. It was after midnight. He doubted anyone would be up to question what he was doing out so late.
As he poured himself a glass of milk, he thought again about the woman who called herself Anne Chatsworth. He actually liked her more serious side, despite what he’d said. Life wasn’t all fun and games, as it had been for Annie.
Anne was very different from the flirtatious, easygoing country girl who’d wooed him at the rodeo in Dallas—and yet he saw flashes of Annie rippling to the surface every now and then. Annie wasn’t some fictitious character, she was a very real part of Anne that had somehow been vanquished.
By whom or what? he wondered. And when?
It was fine for a woman to want a career. He knew what it was like to be focused on a goal, to think about it night and day, to dream about reaching the top. Lord knew he’d spent a good deal of his life in that very state. Sure, there were frustrations along the way. Stress. Setbacks. Doubts. But his rodeo work had always brought him joy. His eyes were always on the goal, but he hadn’t been so obsessed that he hadn’t enjoyed the journey.
Joy seemed to be missing from Anne’s life. She was on the verge of embarking on the path she’d been preparing for all these years, yet he sensed no anticipation, no excitement. She probably had her pick of law firms. She could go to any city she wanted, explore all kinds of different career possibilities. Yet all he sensed in her was sorrow.
Maybe it was none of his business, but he couldn’t leave it at that. He’d seen what happened to people who weren’t living a life that made them happy. His mother was the perfect example. She’d been brilliant—could have been a Nobel prize-winning scientist. But she’d met Wade’s father at some medical conference and had opted for the life of a small-town doctor’s wife.
The lack of intellectual stimulation had ultimately killed her. Oh, technically it was cancer, but Wade had recognized that she’d lost the will to live.
One of the last things she’d told him was that he had to follow his dream, even if it wasn’t the same dream his family wanted for him. He’d held those words close to his heart, followed her advice and never regretted it.
What he did regret was the way he’d left Cottonwood—angry, bitter, full of the bullheaded pride only a teenage boy can exhibit. Too damn proud to apologize for things he never should have said. He regretted the family rift, one he could have healed a long time ago if he’d tried.
To Wade’s surprise he found his brother Jonathan in the den watching TV. Jonathan was a rancher down to his marrow, which meant early mornings. He was seldom up past nine o’clock in the evening.
Wade considered sneaking on up to bed, then decided he might be passing up an opportunity. It was hard to talk to Jonathan because he was always so busy. The man hardly ever stood still.
Wade stepped into the den and without a word plopped down on the couch and propped his booted feet on the coffee table. If Jonathan was in the mood to talk, he’d say something. If not, well, a few minutes of companionable silence wouldn’t hurt.
Jonathan was watching an old John Wayne movie. Typical. Wade wasn’t a big fan of the Duke, but he watched, anyway.
“Where you been?” Jonathan finally asked.
“With Traveler.”
“He doin’ any better?”
“Swelling’s down. Doc Chandler says we can start physical therapy tomorrow.”
“Good. If anyone can get your old horse back in top form, Chandler can.”
“He’s not old.”
“He’s thirteen.”
“Lots of horses compete well into their teens.” A long pause. Then Jonathan asked, “Seen the new filly Larry’s been training?”
“The black? Yeah, nice-looking animal.”
“Rodeo potential?”
Strange question, coming from Jonathan, who’d never made it a secret he thought rodeo was the biggest waste of time and livestock on earth.
“Spirited,” Wade replied. “Lots of explosive power, probably be fast out of a chute. Good heart, seems eager to please.”
“But?”
“Easily distracted. Shies at anything.”
“She’s still young. She might get over that.”
“With the right training,” Wade agreed. Another pause. “You want to work with her?” Wade’s heart leaped at the chance to train such a fine-looking horse. If he could turn a mutt like Traveler into a