Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (14 page)

She was fuming. “That old biddy. Is that how they all feel? Like I’m an interloper? The daughter of a murderer who’s come to feed off the remains like a vulture?”

He pulled her into a dark corner, then grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him.

Tears welled in her eyes, and he couldn’t stand it.

“She doesn’t matter, Maddie. People talk. Around here, they don’t have much else to do.”

“It
does
matter. I can’t stand that they’re thinking about my father that way. He did nothing wrong. He gave up everything that mattered to him. I don’t know why he would love this place, when people are so ready to believe the worst of him. It’s not right. I have to defend—” She turned away, ready to head back toward Emma Ruth.

He gripped her tightly and pulled her against him, cupping her cheek with one hand. “Listen to me.”

Maddie’s face held mutiny, but slowly, she lifted her gaze. The hurt he saw there touched him.

“We know the truth, you and I. What does it matter to you, when you’ll be leaving? They’re just a bunch of country people who will never set foot in one of your restaurants. Why do you care?”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “I care. For the sake of my father and grandmother, I care. They would have cared. These were their neighbors. They would have been mine, too, if—”

Boone stroked her jaw. “No, they wouldn’t have. If Dalton had stayed, you wouldn’t have been born.”

Maddie glanced away, her head shaking slowly from side to side. “I don’t belong here,” she whispered.

He knew that, only too well. But he had to do something to ease her pain. “I’ll make them understand, Maddie. I’ll make sure they know what your father gave up.”

She turned a look on him so luminous and grateful that Boone stood, transfixed. For a long moment, she studied him as if trying to understand him.

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s only fair.”

“I’ve caused you a lot of problems. I know you’ll be glad for me to leave.”

Tempting words stuck in his throat.
You don’t have to leave. You could stay
. If only he didn’t know better, know what it would cost her in the long run.

“You didn’t make this situation. Neither of us did.”

She smiled sadly. “A few more weeks and it’s over.” She sounded relieved.

Boone dropped his hand and stepped back. “Yeah. Not that long.” Not long, hell. Eternity. When viewed through the glass of time spent trying to resist Maddie, the days stretched out forever.

Twenty-five days of too much…and not nearly enough.

She turned away and watched the dance floor, where the band was tuning up again. She drew in a deep breath, then shuddered, seeming to arm herself.

Finally she spoke, her voice wistful. “Did you mean that about the next dance?”

The last thing he needed was to hold Maddie in his arms, but he’d just have to hope the next dance was a fast one. No matter what he knew was smart, he couldn’t refuse her. “Sure.”

Her smile blinded him. “You like to dance?”

Boone shrugged. “I get along.”

Some of Maddie’s sparkle flared. She grabbed his hand and pulled. “Well, come on, cowboy. Let’s dance.”

Despite his better sense, Boone gripped her hand and headed for the dance floor. When the band struck up a quick two-step, he wasn’t as happy as he should have been. But it didn’t take long to start enjoying himself. Maddie was a graceful dancer and quickly fell in step with him. Soon they moved together as if from long experience.

“You ever done this before?” he asked.

Maddie shook her head, eyes shining. “No, but I love it.”

“Hick music not too boring for you?”

She batted his shoulder. “Don’t be a snob, Boone.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I know Helen was from the city and I’m sorry she didn’t like it, but you think the only people who can appreciate this place are those who were born here?”

Boone stopped where they stood, not caring that other dancers bumped into them, complaining. “Don’t try to tell me you like this place.”

“I do like it.”

“But you won’t stay.”

Maddie met his gaze. “I don’t have to stay to like it. I’d—I’d like to come back and visit sometime.” Her gaze turned hesitant. “Would that bother you?”

Hell, yes, it would bother him. Saying goodbye to her and knowing she might pop back in, anytime she pleased? That he’d get used to having her around, then she’d disappear whenever the mood took her?

She saw his reaction. Her face reflected her disappointment. “That’s okay,” she said casually. “It was just an idea. I probably won’t get much time, anyway. I usually try to make it to Europe once a year to keep up on developments there.”

Dancers around them were complaining loudly because they were holding up progress. Boone shot glares all around, but began to move across the floor once again. He didn’t look at Maddie as he answered. “I hadn’t thought about it. It might be all right.”

Maddie shook her head, then studied their feet. “Please—don’t be so enthusiastic.”

“Hey, I never thought about it, all right? I don’t know how I feel.”

She glanced up. “Do you ever let yourself really feel, Boone?” she asked, her eyes soft and searching.

The music slowed and segued into a waltz. Boone found himself reluctant to take her off the floor and let her go. Instead, he moved into the new steps and Maddie moved effortlessly with him.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Maddie.”

Maddie looked at him with sad eyes, and he knew he’d disappointed her. “I want you to say what’s in your heart. To let go and just feel.”

She didn’t, though. Not really. If he once let go of his control, she wouldn’t like what she saw. Boone didn’t much like it himself. He was a man who had loved one woman badly, who had never earned his father’s love. He’d lost a child who should have had a chance if he’d just done things right.

He’d been good in the dark arts of killing and war. He could track an enemy to extinction, could find a grain of sand in the desert. None of those were skills Maddie would admire.

She was a creature of light, and he was darkness. She might think she wanted to know him, but she was wrong.

Since Boone had no answers Maddie would want to hear, he didn’t even try. Instead, he pulled her close and let the music fill the silence.

She held stiff for a moment, but he didn’t relent. Soon she stopped resisting and swayed against him, and Boone knew a moment of painful longing.

Maddie had weapons of her own.

A soft, tender heart.

A ready smile.

A soul that shone brighter than the sun.

Maddie took the whole world to her bosom and cherished it. A part of Boone wanted to step into the magic circle and inhale Maddie’s cheer, her never-say-die optimism, to hold it as a talisman against the darkness inside him.

But Boone knew his own power. His darkness would snuff out her light, and the world would be poorer.

So Boone simply held Maddie close until the music faded.

And then he thanked her, turned her over to the line of men waiting for the belle of the ball—and walked away without looking back.

Maddie watched him go, so tall and handsome in the starched white shirt, knife-edged crease in his jeans. She wondered when she’d ever learn to keep her thoughts to herself. Hadn’t she warned herself that it wouldn’t work for her to come back to visit? He hadn’t answered her, which was answer enough in itself.

When she left Morning Star, she would not return.

“You ready to dance, pretty girl?” The cowboy asking the question smiled beneath his straw hat and stepped forward.

An adventure, Maddie. Remember, it’s just an adventure. You were having fun until Boone showed up
.

She accepted the outstretched hand and smiled her biggest smile. Not from the heart, but it had always been Maddie’s belief that if you smiled whether you felt like it or not, you’d soon feel better. “Let’s do it, Mr.—?”

“Call me Randy, ma’am.”

“Then you call me Maddie.”

“Here we go, Maddie. I like it fast.”

“Good.” She would concentrate on her feet and forget the heart Boone had bruised.

Twenty-five days and counting. The end couldn’t come too soon.

Boone stayed outside for a long time, staring into the moonlight. He was lousy company; soon even Jim left him alone. He nursed the same beer he’d been holding since he’d walked off the dance floor, less interested in something to drink than having something to do with his hands.

He could still feel her soft curves against him, feel her warm breath on his chest where his shirt parted. He could smell Maddie’s scent, unnamable and mysterious, rich and full of sex and sunshine and thoughts of sin.

Why couldn’t he just take what she would give and enjoy it while she stayed? What was it about Maddie that made this so damn hard?

So what if she was leaving? He’d had affairs before, had left and been left, had enjoyed rolling on the bed and parting unencumbered. Why not with Maddie?

Because she’s not a roll in the hay
. Just that simple.

Maddie was more. If he played with fire, he would be burned, but with Maddie it would incinerate him. He knew it in his bones.

A shiver ran down his spine. Boone grimaced in disgust. Maddie’s fanciful thinking was rubbing off on him.

Shoving off from the pillar on which he leaned, Boone drained his beer bottle on the grass and took it back inside to the bar. He planned to tell Jim he was leaving and make sure Maddie had a ride home.

Until he took one quick glance at the dance floor and didn’t like what he saw.

Hank Caswell was Maddie’s partner, and Maddie didn’t look happy at all.

Boone and Hank went way back. Hank had a vicious streak. In school, Boone had been the only one around who would go toe-to-toe with him. Hank’s crooked nose had come courtesy of Boone, and Hank had never forgotten it.

Boone cared nothing about their past. All he cared about was that Hank was holding Maddie way too close. He started through the crowd, watching carefully to be sure he wasn’t mistaken. When Maddie pushed at Hank’s chest and tried to back away, Hank jerked her back.

Boone saw red. He picked up speed, shoving through the crowd. But when he got close to them, he slowed down, remembering what he’d once seen Hank do to a reluctant girlfriend. He had to handle this carefully or Maddie could get hurt.

“Evenin’, Hank,” Boone drawled.

Hank kept a tight grip on Maddie but didn’t look at him, only a short nod. “Gallagher. Heard you were back.”

Boone shot Maddie a worried glance, then choked back a grin. If Hank gave her an inch to maneuver, he was going to find himself unmanned. Maddie wasn’t scared yet—she looked mad as the devil.

But Boone knew Hank was truly dangerous. “Let’s go outside and catch up on old times, Hank.”

The glare Maddie shot him should have incinerated him on the spot. Impatience vibrated from her every pore. “Let go of me, you big, fat—oof!”

Boone grabbed Maddie’s arm and turned suddenly, wedging his shoulder in between them. With practiced ease, he slid Maddie away and behind him. “I don’t think the lady is enjoying herself.”

Hank’s little pig eyes narrowed. “She was dancing with me. We weren’t finished.”

“Well, you see, Hank, there’s just one problem. I was never very good at sharing.”

“She’s not yours. You weren’t here. You left.”

“But I was coming back. And here I am.” Boone kept his voice smooth. He didn’t see how Hank could miss the implied threat. He wouldn’t initiate the fight, but Hank couldn’t have forgotten who had usually wound up on top.

He pulled Maddie close. “You go on and find yourself another girl, Hank. This one’s taken.” Turning away, he walked Maddie toward the outside.

They had almost reached the door when Maddie was wrenched from his arms. Hank jerked her to him and grabbed her hair, grinding his mouth down on hers.

Boone went blind with rage. He leaped toward them. Grabbing Hank by the arm, he jerked him away from Maddie. The solid connection of fist to jaw didn’t begin to placate the roar in his head.

Hank had put his mouth on Maddie. Had hurt Maddie.