A Long Tall Texan Summer: Tom / Drew / Jobe

Her gentle, kind nature was what had attracted him to her in the first place, but except for his excessive drinking he would never have approached her. His feelings for her he’d kept secret, never dreaming that he might one day end up in bed with her. It had been the most exquisite experience of his life, but the guilt had made him sick, so he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to forget it.

Not long afterward, he’d given up his advertising job and studied the investment business. His first job had been as an assistant advisor with a well-known national company. Then he’d moved to Houston, Texas, to open his own office in the building with a friend, Logan Deverell. But he’d gotten wanderlust again when Logan had married his long-suffering secretary.

He’d arrived in Jacobsville three weeks ago, thanks to another mutual friend, Matt Caldwell, who owned a stud farm out of town. Matt was friends with the Ballenger brothers, Calhoun and Justin, who owned a huge feedlot and liked to invest their earnings. They were all mutual friends of the Tremayne brothers, who owned properties all over Texas. Before he’d even had time to unpack, Tom had all the business he could handle.

A real-estate agent in town had dabbled in the properties market, but since she’d remarried her ex-husband, a pilot, they’d moved house to Atlanta. The nearest investment counselor now was in Victoria. Tom had no competition at all, for the moment, in Jacobsville. It seemed like a dream come true.

Then, yesterday, out of the blue, a new client had walked in the door—Luke Craig—and the bottom had fallen out of Tom’s life. Luke had a sister, recently widowed with a small daughter. Her first name was Elysia.

Tom poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa. Moose jumped up beside him to rest his chin on his master’s leg.

He petted the big dog absently. “Don’t think I’m forgetting the broken pot or the garbage,” he murmured.

Moose sighed and gave him a baleful look.

Tom sipped coffee and wondered what he was going to do. Of all the quirks of fate, to land himself in the one town in America where he couldn’t bear to live. No wonder it had all seemed too good to be true. Fate was playing a monstrous joke on him. The woman he’d seduced lived right here. Apparently she’d married and had a child after she’d come home. He wondered if she remembered him, and then chided himself for his own stupidity. Of course she did. He’d been her first experience, just as she’d been his. She didn’t know that. She’d still think that he’d seduced and abandoned her, like some big city playboy without a conscience. What a joke.

He put the coffee cup down. Moose was snoring softly. He stroked the huge head and thought how nice it was to have a companion, even such a one as this.

He didn’t know how he was going to cope, but he knew he would. Jacobsville was a small town, but not all that small. He might never run into Elysia. Worry at this stage was premature. He had all this unpacking to do that he’d put off for almost a month. He’d do better to go to work and stop tormenting himself with things that might never happen. He probably wouldn’t recognize the woman, anyway. It had been years ago, after all.

Fate must have been howling the next morning when he drove to work, parked his car and started into the office. Next door to his office was an insurance agency. And heading toward it was a blond woman in jeans, boots, a T-shirt under a flannel shirt and a neat French braid.

Elysia.

She stopped dead when she was close enough to recognize him. Gone were the big-rimmed spectacles she’d worn when she worked for him. Gone was the racehorse thinness. She’d filled out. She still wasn’t pretty, but she was very attractive. He couldn’t help staring at her.

She moved closer, not shy or reticent as she had been. She looked right at him. “I heard you’d moved here to open an investment office. My brother said you looked strange when he mentioned my name. I told him I used to work for you, nothing else.” She laughed bitterly. “So you don’t have to worry about being lynched. Feel better, Mr. Walker?”

The unexpected assault had tied his tongue. She wasn’t the same girl he’d known at all.

His dark green eyes lanced down into hers. “You’ve changed, Miss Craig.”

“Mrs. Nash.” She corrected him.

His eyebrow jerked. “Mrs. Nash,” he said.

She seemed less assertive all at once. “My husband died last year. He had cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was sick for a long time,” she murmured. “It’s trite to say it, but he really is better off.”

“I see.”

“You’re not married yet?”

He searched her soft oval face without expression. “That’ll be the day,” he replied.

“Yes, I remember. You’re the original love-’em-and-leave-’em bachelor.” The bitterness was back in her voice. “I guess you’re still shaking the women out of your bed…”

He stepped closer, his eyes kindling. “My love life is none of your damned business!” He never raised his voice, but the whip in it cut almost physically. It disconcerted her.

“No…of…of course not!” she stammered.

She actually took a step backward, and he cursed himself inwardly.

“I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “You probably think you were one in a line. That’s the joke of the century.”

“Ex…excuse me?”

He checked his watch, feeling self-conscious. “I have to get to work.”

His behavior puzzled her. She’d spent years blaming him, hating him. But he didn’t look like a philanderer. Sure, she reminded herself, and most ax-murderers probably don’t look like killers, either.

She stood aside to let him pass. He hesitated, though, the wind blowing his thick black hair around over a face that was deep olive. He had an untamed look about him. He was still very handsome, although she was sure that he was in his middle thirties by now. His build was that of a much younger man, lean and muscular.

“You have Native American ancestry, don’t you?” she asked involuntarily.

“Sioux,” he agreed. “Our great-grandfather.”

“How is your sister?” she asked without wanting to.

“Fine. She and Jacob have a son. He’s five now.”

“I’m happy for her.”

“So am I. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d never married, either.”

There was a deeper meaning to what he was saying. She wished she could read between the lines. Her eyes searched his curiously. If only she could hate him.

He looked down his long, straight nose at her with dark green eyes that didn’t blink. “We’re both older. I’m glad you found someone you could love. I hope he was good to you.”

She flushed. “He was very good to me,” she said.

“And I wasn’t.” His lean hand reached out, almost touched her hair, withdrawing before it made contact. He laughed at his own inability to show affection. “I regret you most of all, Elysia,” he said numbly. “I was afraid. Maybe I still am.”

He turned and went into his office, leaving her staring blankly after him.

She’d hated him so much when she’d come back to Jacobsville after his cold rejection. It hadn’t even been much of a memory, that short night she’d spent in his arms. He’d been ravenously hungry for her, but rough and at times, oddly hesitant. When he’d hurt her, he’d even tried to draw away, but it hadn’t been possible. His harsh groan as he gave in to his hunger had stayed with her all these long years. He’d sounded as if he hated himself for wanting her, blamed her for it. He hadn’t said a single word. Not before, during, or after.

It was painful to remember how desperately she’d loved him. She’d gambled everything on giving in to him, that once. But instead of bringing them closer, it had destroyed their tenuous friendship. She’d come home and he’d never tried to contact her at all. Perhaps that was best. She didn’t really want him to know about Crissy. Eventually he might notice that the child bore a striking resemblance to him, but he wouldn’t know what her late husband looked like, so there was little danger of her secret coming out.

She wondered what he would say if he knew that their one intimacy had produced such a beautiful little miracle. She couldn’t tell him. Everyone in town thought that her late husband had fathered the child, but poor Fred had been far too ill for intimacy, even when they married soon after her flight to Jacobsville six years before. His illness had been a long-drawn-out one, with brief periods of remission that became even briefer as time passed. He’d been kind to her, though, and she’d had affection for him. He’d loved the child. Poor man, whose wife had divorced him to marry someone richer, just when he was diagnosed with cancer. They’d both been deserted by the people they loved most. Marriage had been a sensible solution. He wouldn’t have to die alone, and her child would have a name.

The thought of telling Tom Walker about his daughter had never occurred to her. His cold avoidance of Elysia after they were intimate had told her all she needed to know. He no longer wanted her. Certainly he wouldn’t want a child.

She went into the insurance office to pay her bill without a backward glance. Their time was over, before it even began. He would never have to know about Crissy, anyway. And if he could bear to live here with the constant sight of her to remind him of the past, she could endure it as well. She was a successful businesswoman with rich clients at her exclusive fashion boutique that shipped couture and locally designed garments all over the world. She had a wonderful child and a bright future. She didn’t need Tom Walker to complete her life, even if the sight of him had knocked the breath out of her all over again. She’d just have to exercise some strong self-control, that was all. Because judging by his behavior, he hadn’t missed her. She wished that she could have said the same.