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  “I don’t need no surgery, JoEllen Sue. I’m fine. In perfect health. Just ask your father.”

  “I have asked Daddy. And he’s said no such thing.”

  Her mother looked hurt.

  “He didn’t share how badly you were doing, either,” Jo murmured, not comfortable with allowing her mother to believe that Lyndon had betrayed her.

  “I’m not doing badly at all,” Daisy Mae countered, smoothing the top of the blanket with her doughy hands. Jo caught sight of her wedding ring, the large diamond solitaire flashing. She took her hand and turned it over.

  “How many times has Daddy had to take this in to make it bigger, Mama?”

  “What?” Daisy Mae jerked her arm back. “It’s never been enlarged. It’s the same size as the day we were married.”

  “How many?” Jo insisted. “Three? Four? Ten?”

  “I told you—”

  “No, Mama, you lied to me.” She held her palm up. “The size of your hand when you married Daddy would have been the same as mine.”

  Daisy Mae’s mouth worked, but no response came out.

  “Don’t you see, Mama? We—Daddy and I—can’t lie for you anymore,” Jo said pleadingly.

  “You always were closer to your father.”

  “No, I wasn’t. I’ve always loved you both equally, and you know that.”

  “Then show it.”

  Jo set her teeth. “I am. Probably for the first time in a long time.”

  It was then she realized her mother’s eyes were welling with tears.

  “JoEllen Sue.”

  It was her father’s voice. Jo turned to see him standing in the doorway. She didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it had obviously been long enough for him to overhear at least a part of their conversation, if his angry expression was any indication. And if that wasn’t, then his calling her by her full name was.

  “Say good-night to your mother,” he told her.

  Daisy Mae had begun crying in earnest, although she tried to say it was due to the hospital air. “You never know what they have pumping through these vents, given all the sick people here.”

  Jo wanted to tell her she was sick, but that unlike many of the other patients, she could actually make the choice to get well. Before it was too late.

  “Good night, Mama. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  Daisy Mae accepted her kiss on the check. “You really needn’t bother. I’ll be home before you even get up.”

  Jo held her tongue and walked to the door. Her father held it open for her, but he was silent until they were out in the hall and the door closed behind them. Then he took Jo’s arm a little too roughly and led her toward the elevators.

  “How dare you talk to your mother like that while she’s lying sick in a hospital bed, girl?” he began, more upset at Jo than she could ever remember seeing him. “Do you want to make her sicker? The doctor says it’s likely stress that caused this episode. And you, young lady, just added to it. What in God’s green earth were you thinking?”

  Jo turned toward him in front of the elevators. “I was thinking that it’s way past time that we stopped this unhealthy game we’ve all been playing, Daddy. Mom nearly died today. Do you realize that?”

  “I’m perfectly aware. You seem to be the one with the memory problem.”

  Jo squinted at him. “I know you’re upset, Daddy. I’m upset, too. But nothing’s ever going to get better if we continue lying to each other about everything. Mama’s not here because of a thyroid problem. Her diabetes is not something that can be managed. If we, all three of us, don’t wake up and face some cruel facts, she’s going to die. Don’t you understand that?”

  The color drained from her dad’s face. He stood for long moments not saying anything, then paced a short distance away, rubbed his hands over his graying hair several times, and turned back to her.

  “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t wake up every morning scared witless that I’m going to go into Daisy Mae’s room and find her…”

  Dead. He didn’t have to say it. His shudder was enough to communicate his meaning.

  “And every night I sit by the side of her bed just listening to her breathing, praying that she won’t stop.”

  “Daddy—”

  “No, Jo, you’ve had your say. Now it’s time I have mine.”

  She closed her mouth.

  “That surgery she mentioned? The insurance won’t pay for it. I know because I checked. They say that because of her age and weight she’s too high risk. Denied the request outright, they did.”

  Jo’s throat tightened.

  He focused his gaze on her. “And the enlargement of her wedding ring? I’ve done it. Four times. Without her ever knowing.” He looked down. “I’d tell her some fool thing like she must have lost it, and I’d take it into the jeweler while out on errands, then bring it back and put it in a place where she could find it. She never caught on.”

  Jo felt instantly guilty. But she couldn’t give in. Not this time. Not ever again.

  “That’s sweet, Daddy. But don’t you see? By continuing to cover up for Mom, make excuses for her, lie to her…we’re killing her. And I, for one, don’t intend to sit around and watch that happen. I’m going to make her face what she needs to do, no matter what you say.”

  She pressed the down button.

  Her father swung her around, looking as if he was a breath away from striking her.

  “You’re no longer welcome here, Jo.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  DAMN IT, he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t see her.

  Trace paced the length of the hospital lobby and back again. When Jo had left the ranch like a bat out of hell, it had taken him a few minutes to find out from Sara where she was going, and he tore off right after her, borrowing Vern’s truck because it was the only one not blocked in by guest cars.

  He’d arrived at the hospital Jo’s father had called from, to find her truck parked out front. But the desk clerk wouldn’t give him information on Jo’s mother or her room number, because he wasn’t immediate family. So he was forced to wait until she came out.

  After a half hour, he began to wonder if she ever would.

  He absently rubbed his jaw, wincing. Hell, he’d been lucky that the clerk hadn’t taken one look at him and referred him to the emergency room for an examination himself. Lord knew it was obvious he’d taken a beating. The only thing that allowed him some relief was the thought that his brother must look as bad as he did.

  All the way to Beaumont, Trace had tried to reach Jo on her cell, but she hadn’t picked up. Then again, she’d left with little more than the wet dress on her back, so it was plausible she didn’t have her cell phone with her. That didn’t help his mindset any.

  Another thing that worried him was how she would react when she saw him there.

  He wasn’t concerned that she’d still be upset about him pulling her into the fountain. That was small potatoes compared to what she must be facing now. No, he was more worried that she wouldn’t appreciate him crossing the invisible line she’d drawn around herself from the beginning. Sex, yes. Intimacy or closeness, no.

  It wasn’t really anything she’d said or done. It was just there. Much like the line he’d drawn around himself, first because she was an employee, second because he’d never thought himself at risk of wanting anything more from her than sex.

  And now?

  Well, he had chased her three hours to Beaumont in wet clothes in a borrowed truck, without any guarantee that he’d see her or that she’d welcome seeing him.

  He remembered a time not so very long ago when he’d been at a hospital with his brother, waiting to hear word about their parents.

  Had six years really passed since that day? Merely being in a hospital waiting room again made it feel like yesterday.

  They’d received the call late one June evening. His parents had gone to a barbecue at one of the neighboring ranches…and had been late coming hom
e. A whopper of a tropical storm had surged in from the Gulf as a category 3 hurricane and hit with a vengeance that night, soaking the dry land with more rain than it could handle. Flash floods were a way of life in southwest Texas, and one had washed away the bridge his parents had been driving over, dropping them into a fast-flowing current in the middle of nowhere.

  Trace and Eric had waited two hours in a hospital that was overburdened with hurricane-related injuries before somebody finally shared the news that their parents were dead.

  Hearing the tragic tidings, Trace had ceased moving, frozen in place by grief. Now he stood staring blankly at the wall, as if he’d just watched the scene unfold there. It had been a long while since he’d thought about that time. Remembered what it was like to be told that he’d lost not one, but both parents in a cruel blow of fate.

  Overnight he’d gone from being the spoiled younger son, of whom nothing much was expected yet, to partner in a ranch that his father and grandfather before him had run, with no elders around to comfort or guide him.

  He shook off the memory.

  Damn it all to hell, where was she?

  He paced again, looking out the glass entrance, where her truck still sat parked, then back to the bank of elevators. One of the doors dinged, and as if he had willed it, Jo exited.

  “Thank God.”

  Trace started in her direction. She had yet to see him. He watched as she stopped and the elevator doors closed behind her.

  Automatically, his own footsteps slowed. “Jo?”

  She didn’t appear to hear him. She was somewhere far off, in another world. A place he couldn’t hope to recognize.

  He halted in front of her, but she didn’t see him.

  Trace knew an all-consuming fear. Had her mother died?

  He reached out and touched Jo’s shoulder.

  She jerked her head up and blinked several times, as if she didn’t recognize him. Then she stepped into his arms.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she said.

  SOME HOURS LATER, Trace lay back against the headboard of a hotel bed, still fully clothed. Jo was lying next to him, her head on his chest, while he absently rubbed her back. The television flashed images of some HBO movie, but neither one of them paid any attention.

  A bag of takeout sat on a nearby table, untouched except for the coffee.

  Trace still didn’t know much about what had made Jo fold in on herself back at the hospital. He’d tried asking her a few questions, but she’d seemed incapable or unwilling to give more than yes or no answers.

  No, her mother hadn’t died.

  No, she wasn’t okay.

  Yes, her father was there with her.

  No, Jo didn’t feel like driving back to the ranch.

  So Trace had driven them both to a nearby hotel and checked them in. He’d placed a quick call home to let Sara know what was going on—well, as much as he could, anyway—while Jo took a long shower. By the time she emerged in a hotel robe, he was stretched on the bed with the remote in his hand, trying hard not to look at her, because he knew doing so would make him want her. And sex would be the last thing on her mind.

  She’d climbed onto the bed and curved against his side, moving his arm so that it rested against her back. And there they had remained since, neither of them saying anything.

  Trace looked at the clock. Past 3:00 a.m. He should think about changing out of his clothes soon, too, and settling them both under the covers so they could get some sleep. But he didn’t want to move Jo. He couldn’t help feeling that she wanted to talk. And he wanted to allow her the room to do that.

  A little while later she finally did.

  And the story she shared was so unlike anything in his experience that he could have been watching one of those reality cable shows.

  Only it was happening to someone he knew. It was happening to Jo.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her eyes huge and bright. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do.”

  She looked so hurt, so needy, that it caused an ache in Trace’s chest.

  He’d tried to keep from touching her in any way that might be construed as a sexual advance, even though having her so close made him want her all the more. But now he trailed his fingers along the delicate line of her jaw, his gaze going to her plump lips.

  “Maybe the best thing you can do right now is have a good night’s rest. Nothing’s going to get solved tonight.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, taking in the nicely shaped shell and soft lobe. She wore a simple pair of small, gold hoop earrings. The type she could wear every day and not have to worry about taking out. He positioned his index finger behind her lobe and moved it so he could see the gold shimmer against her skin.

  He was aware that she was watching him, her pupils large in her blue eyes.

  Damn, he hadn’t intended to have sex with her tonight, no matter how much he wanted to. But with her looking at him like that, it would take a saint to turn away.

  He bent his head and kissed her softly, brushing his lips against the satiny heat of hers once, then twice. She responded with the same leisurely deliberation.

  Sex between them had always been rushed, urgent, a dash to arrive immediately at their destination.

  Not now. Now he wanted to drink deeply from her sweet mouth. Holding her closely against him.

  He wanted to make love to her…

  JO ALLOWED THE WARM sensations to flow over her, chasing the numbness away, bridging the cavernous rift in her heart between what she knew was right and her father’s angry response.

  She’d gone into a sort of self-imposed exile before. Her stint in the military was one example. But never had she been sent away.

  Her mother and father were all she had by way of family. Both were only children. Their parents, her grandparents, had all passed on at least a decade ago. And Jo had no extended family anywhere that she knew about.

  Nor had her father’s and her own protectionist measures allowed for close friendships. No Fourth of July barbecues. No Christmas caroling. And Jo had only been trick-or-treating once, never having enjoyed the holiday, knowing it would only bring more treats into the house to tempt her mother.

  Family had always been the three of them. And no matter how far away Jo moved, nothing had been able to sever that bond.

  Until now.

  “Shhh. There’s no need to cry now, sweet Jo.”

  Trace’s words floated over her like warm honey. Yes, she realized, she was crying. And he gently kissed the tears away from her cheeks, bringing the saltiness to her mouth when he kissed her tenderly, lingeringly.

  Jo’s heart beat a thudding rhythm in her chest, filling the space left hollow after her visit to the hospital. She reached up and touched his stubbled cheek, reveling in the rough feel against her palm even as she kissed him again.

  Whenever she was near him, desire was never far away. In fact, if she were to be honest, even now she felt like a pile of kindling just waiting for his spark of interest. And with one kiss, one caress, she ignited into a ball of blue fire, yearning for him in a way she had never longed for anyone. What she hungered for, he had. What she needed, he was.

  He slowly began kissing his way along her jawline, down to her ear, then followed the curve of her throat to the vee of the hotel robe. Jo shifted so he could free his arm, and settled more solidly against the bed, watching him watch her. Then he shifted his attention to what he was doing.

  With his nose, he nudged the edge of the robe open so he could kiss first one side of her collarbone, then the other. His chin dragged against her skin as he forged a path down the middle of her chest, coaxing the thick white terry cloth away from her breasts, allowing him unhindered access to her aching nipples.

  Jo caught her breath, entangling her fingers in his dark hair as his tongue laved her. Her heart beat so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

  She felt rather than saw him untie the fabric belt, for she had closed her eyes, cherishing the se
nsations rolling through her, over her. She’d washed out her undergarments in the bathroom sink and they were drying on the shower curtain rod. When she felt the cooler air against her skin, she knew she was completely bare.

  Jo cracked her eyes open to find him scanning her from toe to eyebrow, the desire on his face warming her more than any robe ever could.

  He met her gaze, and they lay like that for long moments, merely looking at each other.

  Had she ever felt such a close physical connection to another person? If she had, this eclipsed it by far.

  Trace pushed himself from the bed without breaking eye contact, and deliberately stripped down, with unhurried movements. Jo used the opportunity to appreciate every manly inch of him. His wide chest was covered with a sprinkling of springy, dark hair. He didn’t have a six-pack but a twelve, since long hours working on the ranch had carved out muscles most men didn’t know they had. His torso tapered down to a narrow waist and hips; his manhood, thick and long, rested against his powerful right thigh.

  She reached her hand out to him and he took it, rejoining her on the bed after he retrieved something from his jeans pocket.

  She felt a flash of disappointment when she realized it was a condom, then nothing but anticipation.

  He sheathed himself, then edged her thighs open with his knees.

  Jo trembled all over, reaching up to curve her fingers around his neck so she could draw him closer for a kiss. He came willingly. And they stayed like that for long minutes, his shaft pressing against her abdomen, their mouths communicating all that needed saying.

  Until Jo reached between them and guided his thick length between her legs. She rubbed the tip down her labia and then positioned it against her slick opening.

  “Look at me, Jo,” Trace whispered.

  She opened her eyes, not realizing she’d closed them, and held his gaze as he entered her in one long stroke…taking her to a place she’d never visited before. And never wanted to leave…

  Chapter Twenty

  A LONG WHILE LATER, Trace rested his head against Jo’s bare back as she lay stomach down on the rumpled sheets. A languid peace had settled over him. He was coming to know so much about this woman. What made her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders; the taste of her; her unique, intoxicating scent. But there was still so much more he wanted to know. When she had nightmares, what were they about? What made her happy? What made her sad?