“This place doesn’t have an alarm system. You should go ahead and get one tomorrow and make arrangements to have it installed as soon as possible. I can recommend a good one. The guy who has the franchise is an ex-Ranger and a friend. He’ll do a rush job.”
“You’re getting really bossy,” she said. Her
voice was light and he knew she was teasing.
Tom got hot working, so he yanked off his shirt. When he turned around to reach for another sheet, he glanced at Emily. She stood transfixed as her gaze danced over his chest. Her cheeks were pink, her breathing fast, and desire filled her expression as she stared at him. She looked up and met his gaze, making his pulse speed up.
Without breaking eye contact, he crossed the room to her. The temperature in the room climbed and memories tugged at him—of holding her, of kissing her, of making love. Desire intensified as he looked down into her green eyes. He slipped his hand behind her head, feeling her soft hair, looking at her mouth. Memories tore at him of kissing her and how soft her mouth was. She looked up at him with a dazed expression as she shook her head.
“No,” she whispered. “Tom, I was just getting adjusted to being on my own—I don’t want to do this.”
He could barely hear her over his pounding heart. “The hell you don’t.” His voice was low and gruff. “Emily, it’s been so long. A kiss won’t change anything. We can kiss and walk away.” He was fighting to control desire because he wanted her more than he had dreamed possible. He hadn’t made love to her in so long and there had been no other women. He was hard, ready, with visions taunting him of Emily naked in his arms. Memories poured over him of how she responded, of her scalding kisses and her hungry zest for making love.
He pulled her to him and kissed her passionately, wanting to take her now, hard and fast, yet knowing when she agreed to sex, he should take his time. And he felt she would agree. One look into her big green eyes and he could tell she was as ready as he was. Maybe not tonight, but soon, so soon. Heat filled him at the thought.
He bent over her and continued the kiss, dimly aware that her arms were wrapped around him and she held him tightly, rubbing against him, moaning with pleasure.
She was soft, warm, luscious in his arms. He slipped his hand over her breast and felt he would burst with hungry need to just take her now. Fighting for control, he caressed her. Her softness sent his temperature soaring. She wriggled out of his embrace and stepped back, gulping air.
“I can’t do this. I just can’t. It’s emotional turmoil and I get too worked up and torn up. We’re not good for each other. We’re getting divorced.”
He turned away, trying to control his desire and emotions. She wanted him out of her life. “I’ll be downstairs,” he said, yanking on his shirt and leaving the room, knowing he had to get that divorce and move on, let go of Emily because he made her unhappy.
He went down the steps, moving quietly, his gaze adjusting to the darkness as he reached the first floor. He looked over his shoulder and saw the light in the hall that spilled from her upstairs bedroom. She had been right—how were they going to stay in the same house, live together and not constantly hurt each other?
He wanted her, but the damned attraction between them that had been so exciting, sexy and fantastic in the early years was now an albatross for both of them.
Yet he had to stay with her. He couldn’t walk out of here and leave her alone in this big rambling house that came straight out of a horror movie. She had zero security. She might not want him here any more than she had in the big house on the ranch, but he had to stay until she repaired the windows and installed alarms. Maverick scared him. What could either of them have possibly done to make someone so angry?
Tom stepped outside, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. Was anyone watching Emily? Was she in any danger?
He looked up at the house. The second story in front was as dark as the downstairs. Tom walked back to the porch and sat in the dark, trying to cool down, to stop thinking about her kiss or how soft she was. To stop thinking about divorcing Emily. It still seemed impossible.
He remembered that night on the bus in Colorado. They’d spent the day on the ski slopes near a new lodge with an indoor water park. By the time they started back to the hotel where they were staying, the weather had changed and the driver said they would skip the planned stop for dinner. In a short time, it had turned into a blizzard.
On a curve on the side of a mountain, the bus hit ice and slid off the road. Going down the mountainside, the bus crashed into trees and then rolled. Seat belts gave way and people and belongings were tossed into the aisle. The sounds of screams, yelling and crying rose above the howling wind. Emily had screamed to him to get Ryan. He wanted to protect both of them, but she was right that he had to focus on trying to help their son. Tom had tried to hold Ryan in his seat and protect him as the bus crashed down the mountain. Ryan kept crying, “Daddy! Daddy!” until his screams went silent.
Something had struck Tom, causing pain to shoot across his shoulder and arm as the bus slid on one side. Another blow brought oblivion. Seconds—or minutes—later, he’d come to and fought to stay conscious. The headlights were still on and Tom had seen a sheet of gray ice illuminated in the bus’s headlights and fading into darkness—and he’d realized the momentum was carrying the bus to a frozen pond.
To Tom’s horror, Ryan and the seat he had been buckled into were gone. “Ryan!” Tom’s shout had been lost in all the chaos and noise. His cousin appeared and Tom yelled to Jack to look for Emily. People screamed and children cried. Most chilling of all, he couldn’t hear his son’s voice, and in the darkness he hadn’t been able to see.
The front of the bus had lurched as it slid onto the frozen pond. At the same time, he’d heard the loud crack of ice breaking. The bus tilted and in seconds the bus slid partially underwater. Water gushed into the bus through gashes ripped in the sides and windows broken during the slide down the mountain. He’d had only minutes to find Ryan and get them both to the surface before the bus slipped deeper into the water.
It probably only took a minute for him to find his son, but it had seemed like forever. Holding Ryan’s unconscious body against his chest and with his own lungs about to burst, Tom fought to get out of the wreck and to the surface. When he finally broke through, he swam the short distance to shore, where someone hauled him up onto the ground.
Red-and-blue lights flashed, sirens sounded, people were crying and yelling and screaming. To his relief there were already ambulances, and Tom had fought to get Ryan on one and climbed in with him when Jack appeared with Emily. Tom hauled her into the ambulance. An attendant started to say something to him, looked at Tom and merely nodded. The paramedics hovered over Ryan after a cursory look at Tom and Emily.
She had a head wound with blood streaming over her face and into her hair. Tom collapsed in the ambulance. He had broken bones, sprains, a ruptured spleen, deep cuts and pneumonia. He and Ryan each ended up in surgery. Tom was moved off the critical list after a day, but Ryan lived eleven days on life support.
Tom would never forget the day they’d returned to the ranch and walked into the empty house. Emily had started sobbing. He had embraced her, holding her while she cried quietly, and he’d felt as if his heart was shattering. He couldn’t console her. All he could do was tell her he was sorry.
“You couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save him. We’ve lost our baby,” she cried.
Tom couldn’t keep back tears and his throat was raw. He held her close and stroked her head and knew there were no words to console her.
It was a crushing loss they would have to live with all their lives. Her words—“You couldn’t save him”—would also be with him the rest of his life.
As he reflected on the difficult times, Tom wiped his eyes, then ran his hand over the scar on his knee. He would always have scars on his body and his heart from that night. Tom put his head in his hands. He should have been able to save Ryan. It was his fault and he had failed Emily.