Valentine's Day. Nicola Marsh

that sort of childhood does.”

      It was funny. She’d never told anyone, even Mara, all these details. So why was she telling Max? Of all the people in the world, he was probably the one who least needed to know these things about her. But it was such a relief to tell someone about it.

      “I don’t want to make it sound like unrelieved agony. It wasn’t like that at all. There were many good times. He could make me laugh. And he loved the baby.” Her voice softened as she thought of her baby. “Michelle was a perfect baby, all pink and plump and smiling. He was so proud of her. And yet…” Her voice got a little rough.

      “When she cried, he would go crazy. He couldn’t stand it. It almost seemed as though he thought she was trying to get to him on purpose. He took it personally. I would do everything I could to keep her from crying.” She choked as painful memories surged. “Sometimes he would smash things,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And then he would leave.”

      Max stopped in front of her, staring down. “But he didn’t hurt you? Or the baby?”

      “Not…not really.” She was skimming over the truth a bit here, but she really didn’t want to dredge all that up again. “I was afraid of that, though. He would just get so irrational. There was no telling what he would do eventually. That last night, he was so angry.”

      She closed her eyes as she remembered, and her voice became almost robotic.

      “He grabbed Michelle and raced out to the car with her. I ran after him, pleading with him to leave her, but he threw her into the backseat and started the car up. She was screaming at the top of her lungs. I was frantic. I managed to get into the car before he had time to lock the doors. We took off down the street. I was trying to climb over the seat to get into the back to take care of Michelle when he…he…” She closed her eyes again, seeing it as though it were yesterday. “We crashed into a fence and then a tree.”

      She took a shuddering breath and looked up into his face. His beautiful eyes were filled with compassion and reflected her pain. Somehow that was so comforting.

      “It could have been my fault,” she hurried to add. “I’m just not sure. The way I was climbing over the seat, only thinking about getting to Michelle, not about how I might be interfering with his driving. I can’t put all the blame on Brian.”

      Max snorted. “I can,” he muttered, beginning to walk again.

      “I was in the hospital for about a week. A couple of broken ribs and injuries to a few internal organs.” She shrugged. “I got better. They didn’t.” She took a deep breath. “They didn’t tell me that Brian and Michelle were dead at first. I kept asking for her.”

      Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head angrily. She didn’t want to cry. She’d done enough crying to fill an ocean, and she’d thought she didn’t have any more tears to give. But there were always more.

      Max was leaving the room. She blinked after him.

      “Where are you going?”

      “He’s asleep,” he told her softly. “I’m putting him in his crib.”

      She nodded, rising to follow him. By the time she got to the nursery, he’d put Jamie down and covered him. He turned and took her in his arms, raining kisses on her face and muttering something in Italian.

      She laughed with tears still filling her eyes. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, giving him her passion as well as her joy. But only for a moment.

      “No,” she said, pulling away from him. “Max, no.”

      He said something in Italian. She didn’t understand the words, but she knew his meaning. She shook her head.

      “No,” she said again. “Max, you’re going to marry C.J. You’re going to belong to another woman. We can’t.”

      This time the Italian was a curse word she fully understood, but he released her, only to grab her hand and hold it up.

      “You should have rings,” he said with Italian intensity. “You should have beautiful jewelry to match your beautiful eyes. You should be draped in diamonds.”

      She laughed aloud. What a concept!

      “I don’t need jewelry,” she told him. “It just gets in the way.”

      He shook his head in disgust at her attitude, and then he kissed her again. Gently but firmly, she pushed him away and led him to the door of the room.

      “Good night, Max,” she told him, her growing affection for the man shining in her eyes. “Better get some sleep.”

      “Yes,” he reluctantly agreed. “Don’t forget. We’re driving out to the ranch in the morning.”

      “I’ll be up early,” she promised.

      He gave her a crooked grin. “So will I. We have no choice. We play by Jamie’s rules these days, don’t we?”

      The drive to the ranch went through some beautiful Texas landscape. Max filled the time with stories his mother had told him over the years of adventures she’d had growing up in the Texas countryside, stories that made it sound like an ideal place for an old-fashioned upbringing. But the arrival, when it came, was anticlimactic.

      “This can’t be it,” Max said, staring at the dilapidated buildings on a hill that appeared to stand at the end of the driveway leading up from the highway where the Triple M Ranch sign hung by one corner on a rusty archway.

      There was a gate, but it gave easily to a little push from the nose of the car. They drove slowly up the long entry. Straggly trees lined the way, only a few of them still alive. The buildings were empty. It was pretty obvious no one had been living there for quite some time.

      “I don’t see any sign of cattle,” Max said, shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed out over the dusty plains surrounding the hill. “This doesn’t even look like a working ranch.” He shook his head. “And this certainly doesn’t look like the ranch my mother told me about all my life. They’ve let it go to hell. It’s a damn shame.”

      Cari could see how disappointed he was. “Maybe we came to the wrong side of the property,” she suggested.

      He shook his head. “No. This seems to be it. No wonder C.J. didn’t want me coming out here.”

      “Well, we can have our picnic here at least,” she said, beginning to unload the car and set up a shaded place for Jamie.

      Max agreed, though he was grouchy about it. She felt sorry for him, but she couldn’t help but wonder how this was going to impact his plans. If this made him look at things more realistically, maybe it was all for the best.

      They spread out a ground cloth under a tree and opened up the picnic basket to find fried chicken and biscuits and corn on the cob.

      “In February?” Max said, looking at the corn suspiciously.

      “It’s either imported or frozen,” Cari agreed. “Not quite up to the quality you expect in the good old summertime, but it tastes pretty good.”

      They ate and chatted and played with Jamie, and gradually Max’s mood improved. He got to the point where he could see some of the good things in the land around him, such as the wildflowers just beginning to poke up their heads, and the white, puffy clouds scudding by in a pure blue sky.

      “You know, I have to admit, this place could have fit in with my mother’s stories in better times. But beyond that, I had a different picture of the ranch in mind.”

      “Did you?”

      “Yes. I realize now it wasn’t even based on what she’d told me. I watched that TV show. What was the name of that ranch on it? Southfork? Well, that was sort of the picture I had in my mind. A big house. A big barn. Lots of big cars parked out front. A helicopter pad out back. Miles and miles of expensive fencing. Some cattle, maybe.”

      She