The Rancher And The City Girl. Kathy DouglassЧитать онлайн книгу.
into his bed. Not one of her proudest moments. She hadn’t actually planned to seduce him. She just wanted to prove to Jeanette that Jericho wasn’t the man he claimed to be so Jeanette would return to Rodney and things would get back to the way they were supposed to be. She’d expected Jericho to take her up on her offer. Then she would be able to tell Jeanette what he’d been willing to do.
She’d been wrong. Jericho had taken one look at her, his face twisted with disgust, and left the room. She’d waited for Jeanette to confront her about her behavior, but she never had. Apparently Jericho had never told Jeanette about the incident. That one horrible secret had weighed Camille down for years and was one of the reasons she’d worried Jericho would turn her away.
Physically and mentally exhausted, and sick and tired of the thoughts that continuously circled her mind, Camille removed her shoes and dropped onto the bare mattress. It was firm and cool and seemed to wrap her with comfort. She’d put on the sheets in a minute. She just needed to close her eyes for a bit and block out everything.
After a while, she forced herself to get up before she fell into a deep sleep. She grabbed her towels and crept to the bathroom. When she found a new toothbrush and toothpaste inside the mirrored medicine cabinet, she nearly shouted for joy. It seemed an eternity since she’d performed her simple grooming routine.
She had a brief internal debate, then concluded that she could not possibly wear her underwear a third straight day. Two days in a row was bad enough. Slipping off her panties and bra, she washed them by hand and left them on the side of the tub to dry. She’d slept in her clothes last night, and it looked like she would be doing the same again since she didn’t think Jericho would lend her a T-shirt to sleep in. She was lucky he was letting her stay in his house. She wouldn’t push it by asking for some of his clothes. The idea of wearing something that belonged to him seemed too intimate anyway, so she couldn’t summon the nerve to ask him. Still, she was relieved to know she didn’t have to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She was safe. That had to count for something.
* * *
Jericho closed the shed door, then walked across the yard to the barn, Shadow circling his heels. The dog had been a surprise birthday present from Jeanette. Her last gift to him. The pesky dog provided the only type of companionship Jericho wanted even if Shadow couldn’t follow the simplest command.
Shadow didn’t make subtle hints about getting on with his life or give unsolicited advice. The dog didn’t presume to know what Jeanette would have wanted for him. The dog simply let Jericho be himself, feeling—or as the case may be, not feeling—whatever he wanted.
Jericho went to each stall, checking on the horses. Although he’d settled them for the night before Camille’s sudden appearance, he needed distance from the woman who’d invaded his home, disrupting the solitary life he now preferred.
There was a time when he’d been a people person. He’d enjoyed the company of others and had entertained for both business and pleasure. His house had been the gathering place for his friends and he’d held many an impromptu party. His parents had raised him to seize the day. He’d embraced his father’s mantra: No day is more important than this one. No breath more valuable than the one you are taking. Make each moment count.
He’d done that. He’d wrung every bit of pleasure out of his life. He’d met Jeanette while he’d been visiting his sister in Chicago. One look was all it had taken for him to realize they were made for each other. She’d made him appreciate his life even more. He’d been content before he’d met her, but once they’d married, his joy had known no bounds.
When she died from complications from her pregnancy, she’d taken the best part of him with her. He no longer felt joy with each day and struggled to find value in each breath. He’d be the first to admit that he’d become a hermit. He’d shrunk his business, dismissing all but two ranch hands and limiting his interactions with them to the barest minimum. He’d removed himself from the world, and only the most stubborn of his friends insisted on coming to the ranch. He had managed to survive their occasional intrusions. Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to deal with Camille’s constant presence in the same way.
Turning out the lights, he made his way back to the house. The moon was bright, lighting his way. Not that he needed it. He’d grown up on this piece of land and knew it like the back of his hand. When times had gotten tough, his grandparents had sold off all but the fifteen acres surrounding the house. Over the years, his parents bought back thirty acres. Jericho had worked hard to earn money and had bought back the remaining 340 acres that had been part of the Joneses’ original property. He’d intended to purchase two hundred additional acres last year, but the desire to expand and build upon what had once belonged to his forefathers had died on a clear February morning along with all of his other dreams.
The kitchen was dark, but he didn’t switch on the light. He could still picture Camille sitting at the table sipping her soup despite himself. As a proud woman, she wouldn’t appreciate knowing just how frayed she’d looked. The flight from danger and all the worry had stripped away her haughtiness, leaving her almost humble. No doubt after a good night’s sleep her usual self-centered personality would rear its ugly head.
Not that Camille was ugly. Far from it. With light brown skin, high cheekbones, full lips and hazel eyes, she had a face that was far too beautiful to be considered anything short of remarkable. Of course, she personified the saying about beauty being skin deep. He knew the ugliness that lurked beneath the surface better than anyone. Despite how vulnerable she’d appeared tonight, he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking she’d changed.
He had no intention of turning his life upside down just because she’d dropped in out of nowhere, disturbing his solitude. He was not about to alter one single thing in his life just to suit her. If she thought for a moment that he was going to entertain her, she had another thought coming. In fact, the less he saw of her, the better off he would be.
That settled, he climbed the stairs and went to his lonely bed wondering if tonight would be the night he would finally be able to sleep.
* * *
Camille stretched and yawned, then burrowed deeper into her pillow, pleased that her neighbors had decided to keep down the noise. She smiled and tried to resume her dream before reality hit. She wasn’t in New York; she was on the run for her life. Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright, looking around the room. Memories of last night flooded her mind and her heart settled, gradually slowing to a normal beat.
She was safe. Jericho had welcomed her into his home. Welcome might be overstating things, but he had said she could stay, something that had been in doubt for a few harrowing minutes there. What would she do if he changed his mind? She’d taken him by surprise last night and he hadn’t had time to consider his answer. Perhaps having slept on it, he’d decide he didn’t really want her around.
And now that she thought about it, he hadn’t said she could stay until she was safe. He had agreed only to let her spend the night. Perhaps he would press her to leave today. Then what would she do?
She wouldn’t let that happen. She’d just make sure he didn’t change his mind. The ranch was big and no doubt kept him busy. He probably didn’t have time to do everything. Maybe there was something she could do around the house to help him and thereby earn her keep. Some way she could be of value to him.
She flashed back to the first time they’d met at a reception hosted by her father’s law firm to celebrate his being appointed to the federal appellate court. Jericho had tagged along with his sister, who was working at the firm the summer after her second year in law school. He’d been charming and outgoing. Friendly. Then Jeanette had walked into the room. Camille had introduced them and the rest, as the saying went, had been history.
Only the history between her and Jericho had turned bitter. If she didn’t change the way they interacted, she could be out on her ear and searching for another sanctuary. There wasn’t one. If there had been, she would have gone there instead.
She put the pillow against the headboard and then leaned back. It would be easier if she didn’t dislike him so much. He’d