Lonergan's Secrets. Maureen Child

him grind his teeth together hard enough to turn them to powder. And his gaze—dark, filled with pain—stabbed hers. “You don’t know anything about it.”

      “You could talk about it. Tell me.”

      Another harsh, rasping laugh shot from his throat as he shook his head. “Talking about it doesn’t change anything. Talking about it doesn’t help. It just brings it all back.”

      “Sam,” Maggie said softly, “you don’t have to bring it back. It’s with you all the time.”

      “God, I know that.” He blew out a breath, seemed to steady himself, then started talking again, forcing a change of subject. “So how’d you come to be here on the Lonergan ranch, working for Jeremiah?”

      Maggie nodded, silently agreeing to the shift in topic, and she was pretty sure she caught the flash of relief in his dark eyes. Then she took down the next sheet and handed one end to him. They had a rhythm now, working together as a team, and a part of her wished that that teamwork could spill over into other areas.

      “My car broke down,” she said. “Right outside the front gates.” Pausing to remember, she added, “Broke down doesn’t really cover it. More like it fell apart.”

      One corner of his mouth lifted and Maggie wondered what he looked like when he was really smiling. Or laughing.

      “Anyway,” she said, getting her mind back on track, “Jeremiah invited me in, made me lunch, called a mechanic. And by the time Arthur’s Towing Service arrived to take my car away to heap heaven, your grandfather had offered me a job as his housekeeper.”

      “That explains how you got here,” he agreed, folding the sheet and setting it down on top of the rest. “Now tell me why you’re still here.”

      Nodding, Maggie straightened up and looked around beyond the ranch yard and the outbuildings. To the now golden-brown fields stretching out for miles all around them, the acres of blue sky overhead and finally to their closest neighbor, the Bateman ranch house that was no more than a faint smudge of red in the distance.

      Finally she looked back at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. “It’s beautiful here. I like the small town. I love your grandfather—and I owe him a lot. He gave me a place to belong.”

      A simple word and yet it meant so much to Maggie. It probably meant more than Sam would ever be able to truly understand. No one who’d had a home and a family could ever really know how lonely it was to be without those things.

      “And,” she said, “working for Jeremiah gives me plenty of time to take classes at the community college in Fresno.”

      “What kind of classes?”

      “Nursing. I… like taking care of people.”

      “According to Jeremiah and Doc Evans, you’re good at it, too.”

      “Thanks.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      The conversation was dwindling pretty fast. But maybe that was because they were through working. There was nothing else to focus on but themselves. Each other.

      Afternoon sunlight streamed down from a brassy sky, and heat radiated up from the pebble-strewn dirt. A halfhearted puff of wind stirred things up a bit without cooling them off.

      And seconds continued to tick past.

      He looked down at her, a thoughtful expression on his face, and Maggie wondered just what he was thinking.

      More than that, she wondered if he was ever going to kiss her again. Heartbeat suddenly thundering in her ears, she was painfully aware of every shallow breath panting in and out of her lungs. Her mouth was dry, her throat tight.

      He continued to stare at her. His dark, shadow-filled eyes drew her in. She couldn’t have looked away even if the notion had occurred to her. There was something about this man that touched something in her no one else had ever come close to.

      And, oh, God, she wanted his mouth on hers again.

      As if he were reading her mind, his gaze dropped briefly, hungrily, to her mouth. Maggie’s stomach did a nose dive and heat pooled somewhere even farther south.

      When he reached for her, she leaned in toward him, and her breath caught as his hands closed around her upper arms.

      Lowering his head to hers, he whispered, “We’re going to make the same mistake again, aren’t we?”

      She felt his breath on her face and nearly sighed. Then, looking deeply into his eyes, she said, “Every chance we get.”

      Eight

      His mouth came down on hers and Maggie felt herself sway into him. Her breasts pressed against his broad chest, her nipples hardened in eager anticipation.

      Her lips parted under his and his tongue swept inside. She sighed and gave herself up to the intense sensations pouring through her. Deliberately she shut her brain down and ignored completely the one small, rational voice still whispering warnings in her brain.

      He pulled her even tighter against him, and the combined heat from his body and the blistering warmth from the afternoon sun on her back made Maggie feel as though she were about to combust.

      He growled low in his throat, and one of his hands slid down her spine to the curve of her rear. He held her tightly to him until she felt his erection through the thick fabric of his jeans. Instantly her own body went hot and needy.

      She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, and when he tore his mouth from hers to lavish kisses along the length of her throat, she threw her head back and stared blindly at the clear summer sky overhead. There was a delicious haze at the edges of her vision and a distinct wobbly feel to her knees.

      And she was loving every minute.

      “Well. Ahem.” A deep voice, then a cough, then someone said, “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

       Oops!

      Abruptly the moment was shattered. Maggie swayed unsteadily as Sam lifted his head to reluctantly face the speaker. Doc Evans stood on the back porch, studiously avoiding looking at them by using his handkerchief to polish the lenses of his glasses.

      “Hi, Doc.” Sam took a step back from Maggie, though it cost him. His body was tight and hard and his vision was blurred with the desire nearly throttling him. Beside him Maggie quickly tugged the hem of her tank top down and ran one hand over the sides of her head, checking to make sure her ponytail was still straight.

      “Just wanted to let Sam know I was leaving,” the doc said, slipping on his glasses and stuffing the handkerchief into his pocket.

      “How is Jeremiah feeling?” Maggie asked, and if her voice sounded a little breathless, Sam was probably the only one to notice.

      Doc took the few steps to the yard and glanced at the watch on his left wrist before answering. “He seems… better.”

      Sam’s eyes narrowed on the older man. With lust still pounding through his blood, he was on the ragged edge of control. This thing with his grandfather—the unidentified “illness”—was bothering him, and now seemed like as good a time as any to have some questions answered. “Have you determined just what the problem is yet?”

      “Not yet. Um, still running a few tests.” He started rocking on his heels and his gaze shifted to a spot just to one side of Sam. “I’ll, um, keep on top of things, though. Don’t you worry.”

      “Doc.” Every instinct he had was telling Sam that something was definitely up. Bert Evans and Jeremiah had been best friends and fishing buddies most of their lives. There wasn’t much one wouldn’t do for the other. Up to and including trying to pull a fast one. He crossed the yard to the other man and looked down at him. “Is there something I should know?”

      Doc