“Looks like you’re not going to cut me any slack, are you?”

“Why should I?” Angie quickly countered.

“All right, I deserve that. But when I saw you, I was shocked. What are you doing here on the Sandbur?”

“I’m working. What are you doing? Rubbing elbows with the rich? Oh, sorry. I forgot—you are the rich.”

Frowning, Jubal stepped closer. “You’re still a very beautiful girl, Angie, but you’ve changed. That’s easy to see.”

“I’m not a girl any more, I’m a woman. And no, I haven’t changed. When we were together you just never saw this side of me.”

When she’d been dating Jubal she’d been a loving, carefree person. There hadn’t been a bitter bone in her body—until he’d decided to marry someone else.

Stella Bagwell began writing romance novels more than twenty years ago. Now, more than sixty books later, she likens her job to childbirth. The pain is great, but the rewards are too sweet to measure.

Stella married her school sweetheart thirty-seven years ago and now the two live on the Texas coast where the climate is tropical and the lifestyle blessedly slow. When Stella isn’t spinning out tales of love, she’s usually working outdoors on their little ranch, 6 Pines, helping her husband care for a herd of very spoiled horses.

They have a son, Jason, who is a maths teacher and athletic coach.

The Christmas She Always Wanted
Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my son, Jason,

for keeping all my technical gadgets going!

Love you!

Chapter One

“How do I look? Fine enough to serve dinner guests?”

Lifting her arms away from her body, Angela Malone turned on the heel of her sandal in front of the Sandbur cook, then dropped a playful curtsy.

“Hmm,” Cook said, as she thoughtfully surveyed her young helper. “If you took off the apron you’d look like a princess in that little black dress. But since we’re serving barbecue tonight, you might ought to keep it on.”

Angela was inclined to agree. The little black dress was just a simple cotton sheath, but in spite of her having worked as a waitress at The Cattle Call Café for the past two years, she wasn’t always the most graceful. There had been times gravy and sauces had landed on her instead of on the table she was serving. But that was then. She’d moved up in life since her friend Nicci Saddler Garroway had gotten her this job on the Sandbur Ranch in south Texas. Now she was Cook’s kitchen assistant in the “big house” where the matriarch Geraldine Saddler and her son, Lex, resided. Besides helping Cook prepare and serve meals, Angela also oversaw the maids’ housecleaning, shopped for both households and generally took care of any leftover task that the maids couldn’t deal with.

“You’re probably right about the apron, Cook,” Angela told the woman. “But I do want Ms. Saddler to think I look presentable. She really seems to want to put on the dog tonight.”

Cook, a tall, thin woman in her seventies with hair that was more black than gray and lips painted as deep a red as her fingernails, walked over to where Angela was about to pick up a tray of appetizers.

“Don’t be nervous, honey. You’ve served many a table before.” Reaching up, she adjusted the tortoise-shell barrette that was holding the front of Angela’s heavy, brown hair off her face, then patted her cheek. “Pretty as a June mornin’. Now shoo. Go on with those appetizers before Geraldine comes back here to see why we’re dawdlin’.”

Grinning, Angela picked up the tray. “I’m on my way!”

Shouldering her way through the kitchen’s swinging door, Angela hurried down the long hallway that would lead her to the formal living room. Along the way, the smell of smoked shrimp, brought fresh from San Antonio Bay only the previous day, wafted up to her nose, reminding her that she’d not taken time to eat since breakfast at five that morning.

With a dinner party scheduled, she’d not had time to do anything, except help Cook prepare a whole table of elaborate dishes and make sure the maids had cleaned all the rooms and arranged fresh flowers.

As Angela neared the opening of the living room, she caught the sound of voices, both male and female, intermixed with light laughter. In the background, a CD of Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys was softly playing a waltz.

One, two, three. One, two, three, she silently hummed to the beat. How lovely it would be to be dancing, waltzing in the arms of some nice guy who didn’t care that she was a single mother.

Pushing that wishful thought away, Angela took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. One quick glance from the corner of her eye told her the space was full of people.

Careful to skirt the crowd, many of whom were standing about the room in small groups, Angela headed straight to a long table that had been set up near the wet bar. She was about to place the tray of shrimp next to a platter of fried jalapeños when Geraldine Saddler spoke up from behind her.

“Angie, if that’s the shrimp, bring it over here, please. There’s plenty of space on the coffee table.”

Turning quickly to follow the woman’s orders, Angela made her way to the middle of the room where a chesterfield couch and matching armchairs were grouped around a low coffee table.

As she carefully placed the tray on the polished oak, Geraldine spoke behind her.

“You should try these, Jubal. They’ll melt in your mouth.”

Angela momentarily froze. Surely it wasn’t him! He couldn’t be the new veterinarian for the Sandbur, the reason for this party, she thought wildly.

Her heart thudding with heavy dread, she slowly raised her head and found herself staring into the face that she’d spent the past five years desperately trying to forget.

Jubal. She didn’t know whether she whispered the name, mouthed it with her lips or silently shouted it. In any case, she could feel the blood draining from her face, hear a loud rushing noise in her ears.

She watched a flicker of recognition, then shock, cross his face, but she didn’t wait around to see if he would actually acknowledge her. She excused herself to Geraldine, then practically raced from the room.

By the time she got back to the kitchen, she was out of breath and her legs were so weak that all she could do was slump onto a bench seat.

Seeing Angela’s shaky entrance, Cook dropped a pair of tongs and hurried over to her. “Angie, what’s wrong, girl? You look like you’re gonna be sick!”

Gulping in breaths of air, Angela wiped at the sweat that had popped out suddenly on her brow and upper lip. “I—I’m okay, Cook. I think—I’ve gone too long without eating.”

That was true enough, Angela thought, as Cook stood with her hands on her hips, her black eyes full of concern.

“Hmmp. Well, it’s funny to me that you just now remembered you were starving.” Her red lips puckered into a frown. “What happened in there?”

There was no need for Cook to explain that “in there” meant the living room where he had been sitting with the Sandbur families and their friends.

“Nothing.”

“Did you spill the tray? Trip over somebody?”

She’d tripped all right, and fallen. But that had happened five years ago, she thought miserably.

“Everything is—okay, Cook. I just feel shaky.”

Closing her eyes, Angela tried to tamp down the panic racing through her. How could she go back in there and serve five courses around a table where he’d be sitting, she wondered frantically.

“Here. Eat some of this while I get the salads ready,” Cook ordered. “Maybe that’ll put some color in your cheeks.”

Angela opened her eyes to see the old woman placing a small plate filled with Texas caviar and several saltine crackers in front of her. Her throat was so tight, she wasn’t sure she could swallow anything, but she forced herself to shovel up some of the mixture of black-eyed peas, onions and peppers on one of the crackers and pop it into her mouth.

After a few more bites of the spicy vegetables, Angela rose to her feet and joined Cook at the long counter. The woman needed her, and now was hardly the time for Angela to allow her emotions to immobilize her. “I’ll finish this,” she assured the woman. “You go ahead with whatever you need to be doing.”

Cook frowned as she glanced at Angela’s still-pale face. “You look like you’ve fallen in a flour barrel. Maybe I’d better call Miss Nicci back here to check on you. Even young people have heart attacks.”

Her heart was full of pain, all right. But not the sort that Cook was worried about. “You’re not about to bother Nicci this evening! Her off-duty time is always being interrupted with medical emergencies. I’m not going to ruin this dinner party for her.”

“Angie—”

Before Cook could protest, Angela placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “Cook, don’t worry about me. I—I don’t have anything medically wrong with me.” Deciding it would be easier to confide in Cook than to hide the truth, she added, “I just—saw someone at the party. Someone I haven’t seen in a long time. And I—well, I never expected to see him again. Ever. It was shocking to me. That’s all.”

Instead of plying her with personal questions, Cook tactfully asked, “You want me to call Alida over to take your place tonight?”

Alida was one of the maids that had worked for the Saddler and Sanchez families for several years. At the moment she was at Angela’s house, babysitting Angela’s daughter, Melanie, and as far as Angela was concerned, that was where she was going to stay.

Straightening her shoulders, Angela set her jaw with determination. “No. I’ll be fine. Just fine.”

Out in the living room, Jubal Jamison struggled to focus on the conversation going on around him. Seeing Angie again had shaken the very earth beneath him. Dear God, he’d never expected to see her beautiful face again. Not after she’d left Cuero five years ago. What was she doing here? Obviously she was employed by the ranch, although no one had bothered to tell him. But then why would they, he thought grimly. No one on the Sandbur knew that Angela had once been the love of his life.

So what are you going to do now, big boy? Run? Turn away from her again?

Not this time, Jubal silently swore. After she’d left town, he believed he’d never be given the chance to see Angie again. He wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity to connect with her once more. Besides, he’d already moved onto the Sandbur. An animal clinic was currently being constructed smack in the middle of the ranch yard. Costly high-tech equipment, being shipped from Dallas, was scheduled to arrive any day.

Someone announced that dinner was ready and like a zombie Jubal shuffled along to the dining room with the rest of the guests. Moments later he found himself seated to the right of Geraldine Saddler at the head of the dinner table.

The room was long, the ceiling low and crossed with rough-hewn beams of cypress wood. Along one wall, a row of arched windows displayed a view of the backyard where the trunks of Mexican palms were decorated with tiny, clear lights, signifying the coming holidays. Back at the long table, fresh gold and red flowers were arranged at intervals down the center, adding even more vivid color to the scene.

Jubal had grown up in an affluent home, but he had to admit his parents’ social events were modest compared to this Sandbur affair. Even so, Geraldine and her family were very down-home, laid-back people. Too bad his parents couldn’t have been more like them. Maybe then they could have understood his relationship with Angie. But then, his parents weren’t responsible for their separation. Unfortunately, he’d been the guilty party. And he’d been paying the price ever since.

By the time Angela had served after-dinner coffee, she’d worked herself up to a numb fury. Throughout the meal, Jubal had ignored her. He’d not even had the decency to give her a simple hello. It wasn’t like that icky wife of his had been sitting by his side, watching his every move. A polite greeting from him was all she’d expected. But he’d not even been enough of a gentleman to give her that much.

“Damn the man,” she muttered under her breath as she stomped back to the kitchen.

“They’re digging into dessert right now,” Angela said to Cook, who was sitting at a long, pine table, her thin, bony hands wrapped around a coffee cup. In her early seventies, the woman should have looked exhausted. Instead, she looked contented.

“There’ll be some more visiting done before the guests leave, but you don’t need to wait around. Go on home to your little girl. I’ll see that the maids get everything cleared away.”

Frowning, Angela eased onto the bench seat directly across from Cook. “I’m not about to leave this mess with you. And why are you looking so happy? Aren’t you tired?”

The woman chuckled. “’Course I’m tired. But it always makes me happy to put out a good feed for Geraldine’s friends. Those fancy cooks on TV couldn’t have done it better.”

“You’re proud of your job,” Angela said, then added wistfully, “I wish—”

When she stopped abruptly, Cook prompted, “What, child, what do you wish?”

Angela sighed. “I wish that my mother could have been more like you, Cook. In the little town where I used to live, Mom worked as a cook in a restaurant. She always griped about the job and said that cooking was poor folks’ work. But nothing much made her happy anyway.”

“Humph,” Cook snorted. “She must have needed some head doctoring. I feel just as good as anybody out there.” She inclined her dark head in the direction of the living room where the party was still going strong.

“So do I,” Angela agreed. As for Nadine Malone, Angela didn’t know whether her mother was still cooking in the Mustang Café or if her parents even still lived on their farm near Cuero. She’d not seen them since they’d labeled her as worthless and kicked her out of the family home.

Sighing, Angela rose to her feet and walked over to the row of cluttered cabinets. Seeing Jubal tonight was bad enough without her dwelling on her parents, who’d turned their backs on their daughter at the time when she’d needed them the most.

A half hour later, the two women had the kitchen organized enough to call it a night. Angela exited the back of the house carrying a box full of leftovers, enough for two or three suppers for her and Melanie.

In the backyard, she walked along a path lit with footlights until she reached the far western side of the house where she’d parked her little economy car beneath a liveoak. She was carefully placing the box of food on the back floorboard when she heard the faint crunch of gravel directly behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jubal. Alone. And walking directly toward her.

Hating the way her heart was pounding, Angela shut the door, then turned to face him. The man had hurt her in ways she didn’t want to think about. All she should be feeling at this moment was intense hatred. But try as she might, she couldn’t hate him. After all, he’d given her the most precious gift a man could give a woman. His child.

“Hello, Angie.”

There was only a small filtering of light slanting from the big house to the spot where they were standing. She could barely make out his face, but that didn’t matter. She’d not forgotten the shape of his rough, hawkish features, the gold flecks in his green eyes, the thick tumble of sandybrown hair falling across a wide forehead. His face was too striking to ever forget.

She swallowed. “Hello, Jubal.”

His hands were casually stuffed in the pockets of his western-cut trousers and, as her eyes flicked up and down the long length of him, she realized his body had remained fit the past five years. His shoulders were still broad, his thighs muscular, his waist just as trim as the day she’d first seen him, squatted on his heels, doctoring her father’s sick goat.

After a long silence between them, he spoke again, “I’ve been waiting a few minutes in hopes of catching you. I didn’t get a chance to speak to you inside.”

Hurt and anger swirled together and simmered in the pit of her stomach. “I served five courses. Guess I wasn’t around the table long enough for you to look up and say hello.”

He let out a long breath and wiped a hand over his face. She could see his discomfort. See that he didn’t know how to deal with her presence. Well, she couldn’t feel sorry for the man. He’d made his bed and she hoped he’d been miserable in it.

“Looks like you’re not going to cut me any slack, are you?”

“Why should I?” she quickly countered.

He looked toward the big house, then wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right, I deserve that. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner.” He looked at her. “But seeing you—damn it, I was shocked. What are you doing here on the Sandbur? I never expected to see you in a place like this.”

Her nostrils flared as she tried to hold on to her temper. What the hell did he think she was doing? Serving a dinner party just for the fun of it?

“I’m working. What are you doing? Rubbing elbows with the rich?” Instantly, she plopped a hand over her mouth in feigned regret. “Oh, sorry. I forgot—you are the rich.”

Frowning, he stepped closer as his gaze swallowed up her pale face. “I expected you to throw some cutting things at me, Angie, but not that.”

The last he said with a hint of regret and a glaze of tears was suddenly started burning the back of Angela’s eyes. She wasn’t a vengeful, vindictive person. So why was she behaving this way to Jubal?

“I’m not a girl anymore, Jubal. I’m a woman. And I guess things—people—look different to me now.” Which was true enough, she thought. When she’d been dating Jubal she’d been a happy, loving, carefree person. There hadn’t been a bitter bone in her body—until he’d decided to end their relationship and run to another woman. Now she was cautious about putting her trust in anyone.

Drawing his hands out of his pockets, he folded his arms against his chest. Angela’s gaze zeroed in on his left hand where it curved around his right elbow. Not for the first time tonight, she noticed his wedding-ring finger was empty. Again, she was reminded that Evette hadn’t been by his side tonight. She could only speculate on the woman’s whereabouts. This was a big night for Jubal. Angela couldn’t imagine the socialite not wanting to share the spotlight with her spouse.

“I had no idea that you were here on the Sandbur,” he admitted. “If I’d known—well, I would have looked you up before now.”

Five years had passed and she’d not heard a word from him. Until tonight, when happenstance had forced him to see her. She found it difficult to believe that he would have sought her out.

Pain crept through her chest, while sarcasm edged her one word question. “Really?”

From the grimace on his face, he obviously considered her presence on the ranch a nuisance. Well, she could tell him that having him around wasn’t exactly making her want to shout hallelujah, either.

“I’m not quite the bastard you think, Angie.”

There was no malice or anger in his voice, but then, he had no reason to be spiteful, she thought as she struggled to keep from breaking into sobs. He’d gotten what he wanted.

“I came to work here two months ago,” she said hoarsely. “A few days after I’d been on the job, I heard through the grapevine about the ranch hiring a resident vet. I didn’t know—until tonight—that it was you. But don’t worry, Jubal, I’m not going to give you or your family any problems by trying to stir up old ashes.”

He looked uncomfortably down at his boots. “I…wasn’t exactly worried about that.”

When he didn’t add more, Angela decided to plunge ahead. After all, she didn’t expect that they would be speaking to each other again. His work here would hardly cause them to brush elbows.

“So—where’s Evette? Didn’t she want to come to your party tonight?”

His gaze lifted to hers and something in his expression made her heart leap.

“I’m not married to Evette anymore.”

Chapter Two

Shock hit Angela’s stomach and twisted it into hard knots. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Our marriage ended in divorce—about a year after it began.”

His features were expressionless as though he were talking about the weather or something mundane, not a life-altering event. As for Angela, emotions were colliding inside her, sending tiny tremors through every nerve in her body. He’d gotten divorced shortly after Melanie had been born. Oh God, if she’d known, what would have happened? Anything?

“Well, I should say I’m sorry. But it’s just not in me, Jubal.”

His shrug was negligible, as though his divorce meant nothing to him. Angela wanted to scream at him for being so casual. Did he not understand that his marriage had totally devastated her life? Or did he just not care?

“That’s all right. Being sorry can’t change what happened.”

Angela couldn’t believe she was standing here with the father of her child, whom she hadn’t seen in five long years, discussing his marriage to and divorce from another woman. It was like a ridiculous scene out of a soap opera. And it was angering her like nothing had ever angered her before.

When she finally managed to speak, bitterness coated each word. “You’re right. Nothing can change things now.”

His features twisted. “Evette was the sort that wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. And then the game was over.”

Is that what Jubal had been to the mayor’s daughter? A game? A pawn? The idea made Angela feel even sicker.

“What about your child? Does he or she live with you or Evette?”

Suddenly his face was a mask of cold stone and when he answered, Angela felt as though she’d been punched by a fist.

“She lost the baby midterm. There was a problem with the placenta.”

Oh, God. How utterly awful. Not just for Jubal, but for Angela, too. She’d given up this man so that he could marry Evette and be a father to the baby the other woman was carrying. Now he was telling her that the baby hadn’t survived.

Angie hadn’t believed her heart was capable of breaking any more than it already had, but she’d been wrong. At the moment, it was tearing into tiny, throbbing pieces.

“I don’t know what to say, Jubal,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper. “That I’m sorry for you? Sorry for me? Sorry for the whole damn bunch of us? Telling you how I feel right now is…impossible!”

Shaking her head, she turned to her car. “I’d better go,” she muttered more to herself than to him.

Jubal couldn’t let her go. For the past five years, she’d haunted his days and nights. He’d tried to forget her, tried to tell himself that it was best he let her get on with her life. But that hadn’t stopped him from wondering where she’d gone and agonizing over what could have been if things had worked out differently. Tonight when Jubal had looked up and seen her, his heart had somersaulted. Even now, he wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real and not one of his tortured dreams.

“Angie, wait! We haven’t—can’t we talk a little more?”

“About what?” she asked flatly.

She was even more lovely now, Jubal realized, as his gaze wandered over her. Her heart-shaped face was more lean and angled, her small features more pronounced. He didn’t remember her ivory skin being so smooth and pearly, her brown eyes so dark and sultry or her pink lips so full and lush. But then time dimmed everything, he supposed. Except the regret he carried around his heart like a ball and chain. And the passion he still felt for her. As for Angie—she’d loved him deeply once. Were all those feelings truly gone?

He cleared his throat. “Where have you been living all this time?”

Shortly after their relationship had ended, he’d heard that Angela had left town and he’d assumed that she’d moved totally out of the area. How bittersweet to find her so close and yet still so far away.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and he could see from the tight clamp of her lips that she didn’t want to talk to him. It crushed him to think that the love she’d once given him was now nothing more than dead ashes buried beneath a heap of anger.

“I’ve been living in Goliad for the past five years.”

She’d been living only thirty minutes away from him! It amazed Jubal that they’d not accidentally crossed paths before now. And if he’d known she was actually that close, would he have gone looking for her? No. He didn’t want to think so. He’d made his choice to marry Evette and then struggled to stick with the forced union. Walking away from Angela had been incredibly hard. If he’d seen her in that awful year when he was trying to make things work with Evette, he might not have had the strength to walk away again. And after their marriage had ended, he’d felt like a complete loser. He’d convinced himself that Angie was much better off without him and the baggage of horrible mistakes he carried around with him.

“Oh,” he said. “Guess you’ve had time to get to know a lot of people around here.”

“A few. The Saddlers and Sanchezes are some of the best.”

In spite of her work clothes and weary face, she looked utterly beautiful and Jubal felt himself moving forward, closer to the woman who’d irrevocably changed his life.

“I guess I’m trying to ask if you’re married now?”

For a split second he saw a spark in her eyes as though she wanted to jump straight at him with claws bared, but then just as quickly her face went eerily placid and she quickly glanced away from him.

“No,” she said bluntly. “I’m still single. Not that it’s any of your business. And right now I really do have to get home.”

By the time she’d opened the driver’s door, Jubal was at her side, his hand curling around her arm. The moment he touched her, she jerked as though he’d shot her with a bullet. As for Jubal, he couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so completely shaken, so aware of another human being in his life. She was single! The news shouldn’t mean anything to him. But hope was surging through him like a ray of sunshine amidst thunderclouds, and he wanted to cling to it. The same way he wanted to cling to her.

“Angie,” he said in a low, raspy voice, “I’m sorry about tonight. Sorry about all the pain and mess I put you through with Evette.”

She closed her eyes, as though to shut him out of her sight. All Jubal wanted to do was pull her into his arms.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jubal. Your apologies are too little, too late.”

Jubal felt sick inside. She’d once trusted him completely. She’d once looked up to him, respected him. Loved him. Oh, how he wanted that Angie again. Would he ever see that loving woman again?

Biting back a sigh, he tried to be diplomatic. “Look Angie, with both of us working here, don’t you think we should try to be civil to each other?”

Her eyes fluttered open and her cold stare bored straight into him. “The Sandbur is a huge ranch. It’s not likely we’ll be running into each other that much.”

In other words, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. But then, what did he expect? He’d hurt her badly. He didn’t deserve her civility or respect. But he wanted it. And wanted her.

“Not likely, but possible,” he said. “A few days ago, I moved into the house below the north hill.”

A lifeless smile tilted her lips. “Good for you. I live here on the ranch, too. In the house where Darla Ketchum and her daughter Raine used to live. So now we both know the spots to avoid. And as far as I’m concerned, I’d be a happy woman if I never saw you again. So stay away from me! Got it?”

Her cutting words were bad enough, but it was the callous sarcasm with which she spoke them that shoved Jubal in the wrong direction. He probably did deserve her scorn, but he hated to hear that coldness in her voice. He wanted to bring her back to life, to spark in her the same desire that had been burgeoning inside him from the first moment he’d spotted her tonight in the Saddler living room.

Before he could consider his actions, his hand tightened on her arm and tugged her against him.

“Okay, Angie, you’ve shown me how you feel,” he muttered. “Now I think it’s about time I gave you a clue to how I feel.”

Her eyes flew wide open as her hands pressed uselessly against his chest. “Jubal—”

Blindly, his lips swooped down on hers, snatching them up in a kiss that was full of frustration, loss and longing. She tasted exactly the way he remembered: sweet, exotic, precious. Five years ago, he’d not been able to get enough of her and apparently that hadn’t changed. His body was already reacting, burning to make love to her again.

A few yards away in the dark shadows, a dog barked, and even farther, a truck engine roared to life. The distractions splintered Jubal’s foggy senses and forced him to finally rip his mouth away from hers.

Stunned, Angela stared at him, trying to read something on his face that would explain the kiss. But his expression was mostly shuttered and she felt herself floundering, too shaken to speak or gather the shreds of her composure.

“Angie, I—” He paused long enough to draw in a ragged breath. “Apologizing is about all I seem to be doing tonight, isn’t it?”

No. He’d done far more, she thought bitterly. He’d turned her world upside down. Again. He’d put his mouth on hers and that’s all it had taken to prove that she hadn’t gotten this man out of her system.

Her fingers trembling, she raked them through her mussed hair. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Jubal, but I’m not your girl anymore. And you don’t have the right to kiss me—to even speak to me,” she finished in a raw whisper.

“Hell, Angie, being near you—makes me forget about the time we’ve been apart. Tonight, I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again.”

Feeling as though she was splintering into a thousand pieces, she jerked her arm away from his grasp. “Well, get over it, Doc. Because nothing will make me forget what you’ve done to me!”

Not waiting for a reply, Angela climbed into her car and slammed the door. Without even glancing his way, she started the engine and gunned the car backwards. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jubal quickly stepping aside, out of the car’s path. After that, a wall of tears blurred her vision and she could barely see to drive home.

The next morning, as Angela helped her four-and-a-half-year-old daughter dress, she tried to hide her exhaustion and put on a cheery face while she listened to Melanie’s chatter.

“Mommy, I’m really, really hungry this mornin’. Can I have bacon, please?”

“Hmm. I suppose so. But you have to eat your oatmeal, too.”

Melanie clapped her little hands together. “Yippee. Thank you! And can I have some of those meat things? That look like sticks?”

“Those are sausage links,” Angela said as she held out a pair of blue jeans for Melanie to step into. “And we don’t have any of those right now. I’ll get you some when I go to the grocery store.”

Angela adjusted the waistband at Melanie’s rounded waist and reached for a pink sweater with a cartoon character on the front. Since Melanie was not yet old enough for kindergarten and too far away from a preschool, Angela took her to work with her. For the most part she was an obedient child, and both families on the ranch, along with all the employees, were more than happy to help keep an eye on her. Having her child with her was another nice perk of her job and one Angela didn’t take lightly.

Back when Angela had been waitressing and struggling to keep a roof over her and Melanie’s head, a motherly neighbor, Helga, had often watched Melanie at no charge. Angela always felt guilty, though—afraid she was taking advantage of Helga’s generosity. Being here on the Sandbur had taken away many of the difficulties she’d faced with raising Melanie on her own and she’d always be grateful to Nicci for getting her this job.

“Where are we goin’ this mornin’? Can we go to Jess’s house?”

Jess was the son of Matt and Juliet Sanchez and greatnephew to Geraldine. He was nearing two years old and, at four, Melanie pictured herself as the toddler’s mother. When together, the two children had a rip-roaring time. But today she wouldn’t be going to the Sanchez house, where the other Sandbur family resided. After last night’s party, she needed to make sure the maids were getting the Saddler house back to normal.

“We can’t go to Jess’s house this morning. We have to help Cook.”

Melanie tilted her head from one side to the other and as Angela looked at her precious face, her mind vaulted back to last night. To Jubal and that shattering kiss he’d placed on her lips.

What had he been thinking? Had he believed that she was something he could pick up or lay down anytime he wanted? Or had he really missed her all these years? Could he really still feel something for her?

Don’t be stupid, Angela. The man chose to marry another woman instead of you. If he’d ever had feelings for you, he would have shown it then. Not five years later.

Angela was thankful for the voice of reason inside her head, but still it wasn’t enough to dim the burst of pure excitement she’d felt when his lips had touched her. For a moment, she’d been transported to a magical place and even this morning when she thought of the kiss, she wanted to close her eyes and sigh.

“Mommy, Mommy! You’re not listenin’ to me!”

Jerking her attention back to Melanie, Angela saw that her daughter’s cherub-like features were scrunched up in a scowl.

“Sorry, honey. Were you saying something?”

“Can I take Mr. Fields with me, pretty please? He can sleep in his basket.”

Mr. Fields was an orange tabby that Angela had rescued from the edge of a cotton field where someone had dumped him. At that time, he’d been a scrawny little kitten with a scratched ear and bent tail. Now the tomcat was all grown and patient enough to put up with Melanie’s overly zealous affection.

“I suppose so. But he has to stay outside on the patio. And if he gets into a fight with Geraldine’s cat then we’ll have to bring him home. Okay?”

“Okay! Thank you, Mommy! I’m gonna go get him!”

Before all the words were out of Angela’s mouth, the child started to run from the bedroom. Angela jumped to her feet and hurried after her. “Not now, Mel! You have to eat breakfast first.” She snatched a hold on Melanie’s hand just as the girl was about to twist open the front door. “Come on. You can help me in the kitchen and then we’ll get Mr. Fields.”

A few minutes later, after a quick breakfast, Angela loaded her daughter and the orange tabby in the car. Since her small house was located on the south edge of the ranch yard, about a mile away from the big Saddler house, it took Angela less than three minutes to make the drive through a maze of barns and corrals, where saddled horses were tied to hitching posts, waiting for cowboys to start their work day.

The first week of December had brought cooler weather to south Texas. Trees were beginning to turn red and yellow. Christmas would be coming soon, and the ranch would be hosting all sorts of parties. Angela would be very busy, but she hardly minded. Her new job would allow her to buy Melanie a few decent gifts this year.

Minutes later, when Angela and Melanie stepped into the kitchen, Cook dropped her scouring pad, then knelt down and opened her arms out to Melanie. The girl ran straight to the older woman and gave her neck a tight hug.

Just to look at the stern woman, Angela wouldn’t think her capable of being soft and affectionate, but she was all that and more with Melanie. Her daughter adored Cook and the feeling was mutual. Early on, Angela had learned from Nicci that Cook had lost her husband at a very young age to the Vietnam war. The couple had not had a chance to have children and afterwards Cook had chosen to live her life alone.

“Well, don’t you look pretty this morning with all that brown hair braided.” Cook patted the top of Melanie’s head where Angela had pinned a coronet of braids. “My husband had brown hair the same color as yours—like an all-day sucker.”

Melanie’s small nose wrinkled with puzzlement. “What’s that?”

Cook chuckled. “A lollipop that tastes like caramel. If your mother can’t find you one in the store, I’ll make you one. Okay?”

“You wouldn’t be spoiling her a bit, now would you, Cook?” Angela asked as she pulled off her lightweight jacket and hung it on a hall tree located in a corner of the kitchen.

“Well, Christmas is coming. It’s a time for spoiling.” With a final pat to Melanie’s cheek, Cook rose and went back to work at the deep, stainless-steel sink.

After Angela settled Melanie with a coloring book at a nearby work table, she joined the other woman. “What do I need to do? Is Miss Geraldine ready for her breakfast yet?”

“No need to worry about that. She’s only having toast this morning.” She tossed a kitchen towel to Angela. “Here. Dry these pots and then we’ll take a coffee break.”

“A break! Cook, I didn’t take this job to sit around and drink coffee!”

The woman chuckled. “Geraldine don’t ’spect you to break your neck from dawn to dusk. Trust me.”

Angela decided it was best not to protest. The last person she wanted to irritate was Cook. She’d become like a mother to her and a grandmother to Melanie.

She was drying a second boiling pot, when Cook glanced her way. “Angie, that person last night—the one you got all het up over—is everything okay now?”

The dishtowel paused on the blue granite pot as Angela glanced over at her daughter. Last night after she’d gone to bed, she’d lain awake, reliving Jubal’s kiss and wondering how he would react if he learned he had a daughter. With his and Evette’s baby dying, would he want to be a part of this child’s life? Or would Melanie be an embarrassment to him? The questions had repeatedly tumbled through her mind until she’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. They were still haunting her this morning.

“I’m not sure, Cook.”

The older woman tore off a handful of paper towels and began wiping the inside of an iron skillet. “This someone—he wouldn’t happen to be the new vet, would he?”

Angela placed the pot and the dishtowel on the cabinet counter and wiped a hand across her forehead. She’d not bothered to put on makeup this morning and she figured she must look pale and exhausted.

“Yes, he would be.”

Cook frowned. “That’s what I suspected.”

Sighing wearily, Angela rested her hip against the cabinets. “We—uh, we knew each other back in Cuero—before he married the mayor’s daughter.”

Cook’s grimace was full of disapproval. “Haven’t seen no wife with him around here.”

“They’re divorced. He told me last night.”

“Oh. How you feel about that?”

Picking up the dishtowel, Angela absently twisted it between her hands. “I’m trying not to feel anything toward Jubal Jamison. He’s best forgotten.”

Cook glanced shrewdly over her shoulder at Melanie, then across to Angela. “Well, if that’s what you think.”

About six miles north of the main ranch house, Jubal, Matt Sanchez and Lex Saddler were riding across a range filled with three hundred Brahman cows with calves at their sides. The two cousins had invited Jubal to join them on a ride this morning as a way for him to get more familiar with the Sandbur cattle and their quality of grazing.

So far, Jubal had seen healthy cattle and a surprisingly abundant amount of late-season grasses. “These mama cows are in great shape to head into winter,” Jubal told the two men. “I don’t see that you should change anything about your feeding program.”

“Hey, you’re my kind of guy, Doc,” exclaimed Lex, the younger, blond cousin. “We’re gonna be great buddies, I can already tell.”

On the other side of Jubal, Matt, the dark, serious one, let out a snorting laugh. “As you can see, Jubal, Lex is always happy when he hears there is less work to do.”

Grinning at his cousin’s teasing gibe, Lex asked, “Why change something that ain’t broke? Right, Doc?”

Jubal chuckled. “Well, there’s nothing that I see broken now.”

As they rode the horses through the herd of cattle, Jubal visually inspected the animals while the two cousins bantered back and forth. Yet even while he looked for any signs of disease or distress, a part of his mind was replaying the scene he’d had with Angela the night before.

Dear God, seeing her again had dazed him. For the past five years, he’d traveled all over south Texas and had never seen her or even heard anyone mention her. Never would he have dreamed she’d be living here on the Sandbur. And never would he have imagined himself grabbing her like he had and kissing her as though they were still lovers.

Jubal swallowed hard as emotions left the inside of his throat tight. Last night had been too early to tell her about Evette and the baby. But she’d asked and it would’ve been even worse to avoid the truth. And then he had touched her and every scrap of common sense had left him. Especially when he’d felt her body soften against his, felt her lips begin to respond, the way they’d used to kiss him. Or was that only wishful thinking on his part?

“Hey Jubal, look over there,” Matt spoke up. “Something is wrong with that cow’s milk bag.”

Turning toward Matt, he followed the line of the rancher’s pointing finger. “Let’s go see. She might need attention.”

Moments later, Matt had the cow roped and the lariat secured to his saddle horn. Down on the ground, Jubal stood in knee-high grass as he examined the new mother. “Looks like her teats are inflamed,” he told the two men. “She’s going to need a shot of medication for the next few days, otherwise her new baby might have to be bottle fed.”

“You gonna lead her home, Matt?” Lex asked with a taunting grin. “You’ve already got her caught.”

“Hell, no! She might decide to horn old Ranger. You wanta lead her for five or six miles back to the ranch?” he dared Lex.

For answer, Geraldine’s son reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll think I’ll just have some of the boys bring out a trailer.”

Jubal held up a hand. “Wait. She needs to stay right where she is—with the herd, where she feels safe. It would be best not to put her through the stress of loading her into a stock trailer, then putting her in a dry lot. I’ll drive out and take care of her for the next few days.”

“I knew there was some good reason we hired you, Doc,” Lex said with a happy grin. “I think I just found out what it was.”

“Lex, just remember I’m the one who insisted we needed Jubal,” Matt told his cousin, then turned a grateful look on Jubal. “I hope you don’t regret taking the job.”

Regret? The only thing Jubal regretted was losing Angela five years ago. Taking this job had led him back to her. And this time he was going to do things right.

“Not for a minute,” Jubal told him.

Chapter Three

Two days later, Angie was back in the kitchen of the big house helping Geraldine wrap dark blue cellophane around two huge baskets.

“Angie, I want you to take these two holiday baskets to Jubal’s. Not the clinic, but his house,” she said. “They’re full of useful little things for his new home and some goodies for him to eat. Men aren’t too good about cooking for themselves, you know. You do know how to get there, don’t you?”

Angie stared blankly at the woman. She loved her boss and certainly wanted to do everything to please the woman. But go to Jubal’s house? The last time she saw him, she’d said that she never wanted to see him again. After that, there was no telling what he’d think when he saw her driving up.

“I—I believe so. It’s over the hill, north of the ranch yard. On the left of the road.”

“That’s right. But the road is too rough for your car. You’d better take my old truck.”

The tall, slender, silver-haired woman gathered the cellophane paper at the top of one of the baskets and tied it off with a small piece of grass twine. A masculine touch, for an extremely masculine man, Angela thought wryly.

“Uh—what if he isn’t there?” Angela asked.

“Doesn’t matter. I seriously doubt he’ll have his doors locked. Just take the baskets inside and put the perishables in the refrigerator.”

Please, God, don’t let him be there, Angela silently prayed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Take care of what?” Cook asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

Geraldine looked around as Cook approached them. “I’m sending Angie to deliver these baskets to Jubal’s house. I want him to feel really at home here on the ranch. Maybe these few things will help.”

A tiny frown pulled Cook’s brows together as her dark eyes glanced over at Angela. “She don’t need to deliver those baskets,” she said to Geraldine. “I’ll get Alida to do it.”

“Alida is over at the Sanchez house,” Geraldine reasoned. “And Angela isn’t helpless.”

Even though she knew the two women had a close relationship that spanned decades, Angela didn’t want Cook to get into a rift with Geraldine over her. So when Cook opened her mouth to utter another protest, Angela quickly jumped in. “It’s no problem, Cook. I’ll get these delivered and be back in no time.”

Frowning, Geraldine’s glance swung suspiciously back and forth between Angela and Cook. “Is something wrong? Why shouldn’t Angela deliver these baskets to Jubal?”

Forcing a cheery smile to her face, Angela swiftly reassured her. “There’s nothing wrong, Miss Geraldine. Cook just wants me to help her with a dish we were planning for tonight’s meal. That’s all.”

Seeming to accept Angela’s explanation, the ranch lady glanced at the cuffed watch on her wrist. “Well, it’s still a long time before supper. You’ll have plenty of time to help her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angela replied, then turned and gathered up one of the huge baskets.

“I’ll help you carry this one.” Cook promptly collected the other basket from the table and followed Angela outside.

At the west side of the house, Angela opened the door to Geraldine’s work truck and carefully placed the basket she was carrying on the floorboard. Behind her, Cook snorted.

“Why did you interfere in there, honey? I could’ve gotten you out of this little job. It’s plain to me that you don’t want to go to Jubal’s house.”

“It’s all right, Cook. The man probably isn’t home anyway.”

“Angie, maybe you should fess up to Geraldine,” Cook suggested. “Tell her that there’s bad blood between you and the doc.”

Angela swallowed down a sigh. “There’s not bad blood, Cook. Just painful memories. Besides, I can’t complain to Miss Geraldine. I’m not important to her and she could easily replace me. Now Jubal—everyone on the ranch already thinks he’s just dandy and his job here is very important.”

Angela took the basket from Cook’s arms and thrust it into the truck.

Scowling, Cook said, “You’re important to me. That counts for somethin’, don’t it?”

Smiling now, Angela turned and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “It counts for everything. Now don’t worry about me. I can handle myself around Jubal Jamison.”

With that brave statement, she climbed into the truck and headed it toward Jubal’s.

As Angela bounced over the rough dirt road washed out from a string of fall rains, she turned up the heater and glanced at the gray sky. Winter in south Texas never lasted long, but it was a dismal time for humans and livestock. This morning Angela was feeling particularly shivery, but she had a feeling the weather had nothing to do with the chill deep inside her.

Facing east, Jubal’s cedar-sided house was located on a low, grassy hill with a small creek running in front of it. As she crossed a slab of concrete that spanned the shallow path of water, Angela geared down the truck, then urged the vehicle on up the hill to where a spreading live oak shaded a large, graveled driveway.

She parked the truck, relieved to note that there was no vehicle near the house or the barn. Hopefully, if she worked quickly, she could deposit the baskets inside and be on her way before Jubal showed up.

Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, she grabbed up one of the baskets and hurried toward the wood-planked porch leading up to the entrance. Along the way, she caught the scent of wood smoke on the wind and looking up spotted a few white puffs coming from the red brick chimney at the right side of the structure.

Stepping up onto the porch, she noticed wicker lawn furniture at one end and a row of potted succulents lined along the wall. Jubal’s place looked homey and inviting, a place for a family. But Jubal didn’t have a family, she thought with dismay.

The baby Evette had been expecting had never been born. The fact still continued to shock her. Down through the years, she’d imagined Jubal and Evette together, raising their child together, while she and Melanie had struggled by themselves.

Oh God, why couldn’t she forget about it? Let it go?

After several knocks on the door, she tried the handle and found it unlocked. Feeling like an interloper, she opened the door wide enough to place the gift basket inside the room, then hurried back to the truck for the second one.

She was in the kitchen, putting the perishable food items in the refrigerator, when she heard the hum of an approaching vehicle minutes later.

Of course it would be Jubal, she thought with sinking dread. At this time of year, no one else would have reason to come back this way.

Bracing herself, she fought the urge to run and waited instead for him to appear. When his tall, lanky body finally stepped through the open doorway of the kitchen, an unexpected thrill rushed through her.

Jubal spotted Angela standing beside the kitchen table and stopped in his tracks. “Oh. It’s you,” he said with surprise. “I saw Geraldine’s truck and thought she was here.”

She took an awkward step forward and Jubal could see her cheeks were flushed red, but whether from embarrassment or anger, or simply the cold, he couldn’t be sure. In any case, she looked completely uncomfortable.

“Uh—Miss Geraldine sent me over with gift baskets. There was some food I needed to put in the refrigerator.”

The last time he’d seen her, she’d told him that she never wanted to see him again. Jubal was relieved to see her for any reason. He only wished she was happier to be here.

Pushing the brim of his black Stetson back a fraction on his forehead, he walked over to her. Here in the morning light, she seemed even more petite than he remembered. Her head would barely strike the middle of his chest, yet the curves hidden beneath her jeans and sweatshirt were all that he recalled and more. “I’m glad you brought them.”

Stepping to one side of her, he poked through the items in one of the baskets on the tabletop. Angela tried to ignore his nearness, tried to pretend he still didn’t look like the sexy cowboy she’d first fallen in love with when she’d been a mere nineteen years old. But she had to admit there was a sensuality about the man that she’d apparently forgotten and it was calling far too loudly to her now.

“Mmm, looks good,” he said. “I’ll have to thank Geraldine for being so thoughtful.”

“I’ll tell her you’re pleased—as soon as I get back to the ranch house.” Turning, she quickly started out of the room.

“Angie, wait.”

Her heart hammering, she paused to look over her shoulder. For a moment, as her gaze skittered over his face, their eyes clashed and the brief meeting jolted her senses, reminding her of the wild, sweet taste of his kiss.

He cleared his throat. “The weather is miserable today. Why don’t you take a minute to warm yourself at the fireplace?”

Was he trying to be thoughtful? Did he think being polite could wipe away the past, she wondered crazily. Forget that, Angela, she chided herself. Jubal doesn’t want anything from you. Not now.

“That’s hospitable of you, Jubal. Especially after—the things I said to you.”

One of his shoulders lifted and fell. “You were upset,” he explained. “I’m just glad you decided to see me for any reason.”

She didn’t know how to reply to that without raking up more of the past so she said, “I suppose I could stay for a few minutes.”

Smiling faintly, he gestured toward the doorway and Angela preceded him out of the kitchen and into the living area.

The long room was filled with comfortable leather furniture and bright Navajo rugs. A snappy fire on the hearth radiated a welcome warmth.

For years she’d been haunted with the image of Jubal, Evette and their child sharing a home together. Now she had to rearrange those images and she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that. The wounded part of Angela had been happy to hear that Evette hadn’t been able to hold on to him. But she wasn’t happy about his losing the baby. The child had been an innocent victim in the whole affair. Just like Melanie.

Turning her back to the flames, she noticed that Jubal hadn’t taken a seat. Seeing him standing so tall and strong in the middle of the room made her even more aware of the attractive picture he made and how vulnerable it made her feel to be alone with him.

“Did you know the family that lived here before?” he asked.

She nervously clasped her hands together. “No. They moved out before I had a chance to meet them.”

“Geraldine told me that the man had respiratory problems and had to move to the western part of the state.”

“Yes. Cook said everyone hated to see the family go.”

Jubal nodded. “I get the impression that once a person starts working here, he pretty much stays for life. Is that the way you feel?”

Was that his subtle way of asking about her plans for the future, Angela wondered. Or was he simply making conversation? Either way, it felt more than strange to be standing a few feet away from him, hearing his voice. For so long now he’d simply been a memory. Right now, she wasn’t quite sure which was the best—the reality of being in his presence or the memory of being in his arms.

“I…right now I’m just concentrating on getting through the last of my college studies. This job is a blessing because Miss Geraldine allows me enough time to deal with my classes.”

Interest flickered across his face. “Oh. You’re still working on a college degree?”

Maybe at one time in her life, she’d behaved as though being his wife was going to be her career. Dear God, how humiliating. The two of them had only dated three months, yet Angela had already started planning a future with him. She’d been aware that he’d dated the mayor’s daughter before her, but she’d truly believed that Evette was out of his life. He’d even insisted that the woman had only been someone to spend time with, not someone he seriously cared about. But then Evette had started making ugly noises, demanding that he come back to her. Jubal had refused. Then she’d announced she was pregnant, and everything had changed. Angela’s life had changed.

Glancing away from him, she said, “Yes, I’m studying to be a teacher. But classes have broken for the semester right now.”

Across the few feet of space separating them, she saw admiration in his green eyes. The reaction surprised her. It also made her think. Five years ago she and Jubal had been passionately involved, but they had not really known each other. Not in the way they should have.

“I didn’t realize you wanted to be a teacher,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

She tried to tell herself that his compliment was hollow, that it meant nothing to her now. But she couldn’t stop a tiny spurt of pleasure from spiraling through her.

Shrugging, she said, “I like working with children and I think the job will suit me.”

“Elementary or high school?”

“Both, if I can pass the certification exam.”

“You’re a smart woman, Angie. You’ll pass.”

There it was, she thought with an inward groan. That endearing smile of his, the one that had once melted her heart, made her believe that she was the most special woman in his life. She couldn’t let it affect her again. She had to be strong, had to remember that he couldn’t be trusted. Ever.

“Well, that’s a long way from now,” she told him. “I still have another semester to go before I get my degree. And then I’ll have to do my student teaching.”

As the warmth of the flames seeped through her clothing, she noticed that everything about the house was nice and neat. That didn’t surprise her. The Jubal she’d known had been a fairly tidy person. What did pique her curiosity was the absence of family photos. The only sign he even had a family at all was a small photo of his sister sitting on a nearby end table.

As she recalled, he’d been close to his family. Maybe he hadn’t always agreed with them, but he’d loved them. As for Angela, the time she’d spent with the Jamisons had been brief and strained. They’d not exactly approved of their son’s relationship with a much younger woman. Especially one from a poor background. But Angela had never blamed the Jamisons. She’d realized they were only looking out for their son’s interests. Now she could only wonder if there had been a rift in the family.

“Well, I should be getting back to the ranch house, Jubal. Cook is waiting on me.”

He cast her a pointed look. “You’re in a big hurry to get away from me. I wonder what that means? That I’m getting under your skin, or that you hate the very sight of me?”

Stepping away from the warm hearth, she walked over to him. Her expression was as cool and distant as the high winter clouds and it chilled Jubal even more than the cold wind blowing across the Sandbur.

“Look, Jubal, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have no interest in starting things up—” her lips pressed together in a grim line “—where we left off.”

Did he want to start things up with Angie? Jubal asked himself. A few days ago, he might have convinced himself that she was in the past and out of his life. But looking at her now, he was staggered by how much he wanted to start everything over with her.

“What would you say if I told you that I had an interest?”

For one brief second he saw her bottom lip quiver, but then a frown took the flash of vulnerable emotion away.

“That you’re wasting your time,” she said flatly.

For nearly five years he’d told himself to forget this woman, Jubal reminded himself, as his gaze wandered over her silky, brown hair, the rosy color staining her cheeks. He’d not searched for her because he’d figured she’d moved on and married someone else. He knew now that he’d made the wrong choice. He should have searched to the ends of the earth.

His throat thick, he said, “I don’t blame you for hating me.”

Her nostrils flared. “Hate is a mighty strong word, Jubal. And I like to think I’m not capable of hating anyone. But you—well, I just regret that I ever trusted you.”

The groan inside him was so great Jubal couldn’t stifle it. What could he possibly do or say to make up for the ugly mess he’d dragged her through?

Angela needs years of love and devotion, Jubal. Not just sweet words or kind acts.

Jubal realized the little voice in his head was right, but he also knew he had to try to fix things at the moment, otherwise, he’d never have a chance at anything long-term with this woman.

“Angie, God knows I didn’t want to marry Evette. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

She stared at him so coldly that he glanced over his shoulder to see if the front door had jarred open and the chill racing down his spine was actually from the north wind.

“Jubal, I’m not nineteen anymore. I don’t believe everything that spouts from a man’s mouth. Especially yours. So don’t insult my intelligence by trying to feed me a bunch of manure.”

She didn’t have to point out that she’d grown from the nineteen-year-old that had knocked him off his feet the first time he’d met her. She no longer looked at him with love and admiration. Now her eyes were full of mistrust and forced independence.

He raked a hand through his hair. “Angie, it ripped me apart to turn away from you and go to Evette.”

She looked away from him. “Maybe it did. But you obviously managed to glue yourself together enough to marry her. And I—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” he interrupted.

Her eyes bore down on his and he wondered how something as soft as sweet chocolate could look as hard as steel.

“The way I see it, you could have dealt with things differently. You could have offered her child support and help with raising the child,” she said accusingly. “You didn’t have to go so far as to marry her!”

Frustration clenched his jaw. “Everything in life isn’t just right or wrong, black or white. And for your information, I tried giving Evette those options. She wouldn’t hear of it. She kept insisting that she’d swallow a bottle of pills and end her life and the baby’s.”

Angela shook her head. “Evette was too in love with herself to do such a thing and you know it. She was the town princess. She refused to accept that there was anything she wanted that she couldn’t have. And the baby was a convenient way of snaring you.” She turned away from him and walked back to the fireplace. As she stared into the flames, she spoke in a raw, accusing voice, “When you and I first met, Jubal, I admired you for being honest with me about dating Evette. But you also assured me that your relationship with her had never been serious—and that it was over. Then I find out—”

“It wasn’t serious! And as far as I was concerned, it was over.”

Clearly aghast, she stared over her shoulder at him. “Not serious! You were making love to the woman!”

“That was before I met you. Not after. And having sex and making love is hardly the same thing,” he countered defensively.

Sarcasm twisted her lips. “So that makes it okay.”

“Nothing that happened to us was okay. But it would be better—for both of us, I think—if you could understand—”

“Well, I don’t and I never will.” She pulled her gloves from her pockets and began to jerk them on. “I’ve heard enough, Jubal. This is pointless. We were over long ago and rehashing everything is—”

Pushed by need, he walked over and curved his hands over the top of her shoulders. Instantly, her eyes closed and he watched her soft pink lips began to tremble once again. Everything in him longed to bend his head, to kiss away her pain. But he didn’t want her to get the idea that the only thing he wanted from her was physical gratification.

Like heavy stones, regret lay in the pit of his stomach. “Angie—I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

She sounded shaken, accusing, bitter and Jubal was reminded all over again that the choices he’d made five years ago hadn’t just affected his life. They had clearly impacted Angie in all the wrong ways and he couldn’t feel any guiltier about that.

“I’m asking you to forgive me,” he said lowly.

Angela’s heart was racing out of control, urging her to run out the door as fast as she could, but her knees were too weak to move. And when he tugged her toward him, she fell awkwardly against his chest.

Planting her hands against his hard muscles, she pried enough space between them to allow her to look up at him. “Why should my forgiveness matter to you now, Jubal? Surely your conscience has gotten over abadoning me.”

For one split second Angela believed she saw real torment on his face. Or was that just delusional wishing on her part?

“I’ve never gotten over you, Angie. Never.”

Oh God, she wanted to believe him. Because, like it or not, she’d never been able to forget him. Even after he’d hurt her so badly, even after all these years, she’d not been able to turn off the memories of their time together.

“Please, Jubal—”

“Angie, there’s something you need to know. The baby—Evette’s baby—wasn’t mine. After she miscarried, she confessed to me. The real father was a married businessman from Victoria.”

His revelation struck her, numbing her with shock. “Oh, God! No!” she whispered hoarsely.

He nodded stiffly. “See, Angie, I was manipulated, lied to, betrayed. Evette only used me. When her lover refused to divorce his wife and marry her, she turned to her old boyfriend—me, the sucker that I was. I thought I was doing the noble thing. I wanted that child to have a real family. But in the end my efforts made no difference and I lost you in the process.”

Crushed by the utter waste, the injustice of it all, Angela struggled to breathe, to even think. She had to get out of there and away from him before she broke into screaming sobs.

Quickly, without giving him a chance to stop her, she jerked away from his grasp and stumbled out the door. By the time she reached the truck and climbed inside, she was shaking all over. And as she quickly drove away, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want to know if he was watching her leave. The same way she’d watched him leave five years ago.

Driving back to the ranch house, Angela turned the heater on high and hoped the warm air would help her shivers subside. She didn’t want Cook to see her in such a shaken state or have to explain why she and Jubal and Melanie weren’t a family. It was simply too painful. Yet she had no doubt that Jubal would eventually see Melanie—their daughter—and then what? Would he put two and two together?

You’ve got to tell him, Angie. The man has lost a child he’d believed to be his. He had no way of knowing that at the same time you were carrying his baby. Even if he did hurt you, now more than ever, he has a right to know he has a daughter.

The voice inside her head was like a thorn in the heel. She couldn’t move forward or backward without it hurting and she wondered how much more time would have to pass before she found the courage to finally pull it out.

Two nights later, Angela was sitting on the couch flipping through a text book for the coming semester, when Melanie, with an armload of storybooks, plopped down beside her.

“Read me a book, please Mommy? The one about the elephant that carries the sick little boy to the doctor.”

Smiling indulgently, Angela reached to take the book from her daughter’s grasp. “You like that story, don’t you?”

Melanie’s little head bobbed up and down. “Yeah! ’Cause the boy gets well. And everybody’s happy—even the elephant.”

“All right. Snuggle close so you can see the pictures,” Angela instructed her as she helped her daughter scoot next to her side.

Thirty minutes later, she’d not only read the elephant story to Melanie, she’d gone through four more books and was about to start on the fifth. Then a knock sounded on the front door.

Excited at the idea of a visitor, Melanie jumped from the couch and raced toward the door. “Somebody’s here! Maybe it’s Jess!”

“Mel, remember what I told you about opening the door? We have to see who’s knocking first.”

Jigging from one foot to the other, Melanie waited impatiently while her mother turned on the porch light and peeped out the small square window.

“Who is it, Mommy? Is it Jess?”

Shocked, Angela stared numbly at the man standing on the small porch, his back to the door. Even without seeing his face, she knew it was Jubal.

What was he doing on her doorstep, she wondered wildly. She’d not seen or spoken to him since she’d delivered the baskets to his house two days ago.

Darting a frantic glance at Melanie, she realized there was nothing to do but invite him in and hope he wouldn’t recognize his own features on her little face.

“It’s a friend,” she finally said to Melanie. “So be on your best behavior. Okay?”

“I’m good, Mommy.” Melanie’s grin was nearly as wide as her face. “You know that.”

Bracing herself, Angela opened the door and waited for Jubal to turn toward her. When he did, she was surprised to see a huge poinsettia plant in his arms and another box jammed under his arm. But it was the sexy grin on his face that really snagged her attention.

“Hello, Angela. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

What could she say? That he’d interrupted her days, her nights, her very dreams for the past five years? No. Boiling the past over and over only cooked up a pot of trouble. She needed to deal with this man in a civil, impersonal way. But the flutter of her heart mocked that plan.

“You’re not. Come in,” she invited.

He was about to step over the threshold when he suddenly spotted Melanie’s gamine face peeping curiously around her mother’s pant leg. He smiled at the girl, then lifted a questioning gaze to Angela.

Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that she felt faint, but she somehow managed to shove the door wide and gesture for him to enter. Once he was inside the small living room, Angela quickly shut the door and turned to face him.

She sensed Melanie clinging to her side, waiting to see if the tall man with the big black hat was someone she wanted to get to know.

“I didn’t expect you to be babysitting,” he said. “I should have called first. But I figured you’d tell me not to come. So I invited myself.”

Breathing deeply, Angela looked down at Melanie. There were so many things about Jubal that she could see in her daughter—their daughter—but hopefully, for tonight at least, he wouldn’t recognize them.

“I…actually, I’m not babysitting, Jubal. Melanie is my daughter.”

Chapter Four

Jubal stared at her in stunned silence. Then finally, after what seemed like ages, he seemed to collect himself.

“Your daughter,” he repeated in stunned fascination. “I didn’t realize—you never mentioned her.”

Angela shrugged casually, but in reality she felt as though a volcano was erupting inside her. “It—the chance to speak of Melanie never came up.”

The look Jubal slanted her said he doubted her excuse, but he didn’t question her. Instead, he squatted to Melanie’s height and offered the child his big hand.

Never one to shy away from strangers for long, Melanie plopped her tiny hand in his palm and tilted her head from side to side as she studied him candidly.

“What’s your name?” she asked bluntly.

“My name is Jubal. And yours is Melanie?”

She nodded vigorously. “Melanie Jane Malone.”

The last name must have caught his attention because he tossed a questioning glance up at Angela. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Seeing Melanie for the first time with her father had choked her with unshed tears.

Thankfully, instead of pressing Angela for explanations, he turned his attention back to Melanie. “That’s a very pretty name,” he told her.

“My mommy calls me Mel. Specially when she’s mad.”

Angela tried to smile, but tears were welling up in her heart, making her whole chest ache. Dear God, don’t let me cry in front of my daughter, she prayed.

“I’ll bet your mommy doesn’t get mad too often, does she?” Jubal asked.

Melanie giggled, then shook her head. The movement sent her brown hair flying and she tucked it behind her ears as though she was a teenager instead of a four-and-a-half year-old.

“No. She’s good! Really good!” To emphasize her point, Melanie flung her arms around Angela’s thigh and hugged herself closer to her mother.

“I’ll bet,” Jubal said softly, then slowly rose to his feet.

Angela swallowed hard as he turned his green eyes on her. He was looking at her as though he were seeing her for the first time and the close inspection was shaking the floor beneath her feet.

Forcing herself to be mannerly, she gestured to the couch. “Uh—would you like to have a seat?”

He thrust the poinsettia at her. “Since Christmas is coming I thought you might like this.”

The plant was full and lush, the velvety leaves a bright red. She’d never had a poinsettia before. There had always been too many necessities to buy at this time of year to splurge on plants. To think that Jubal had thought of her in this way sent soft emotions tumbling through her.

“It’s very beautiful. Thank you.” She took the flower from him and carried it over to a low coffee table in front of the couch.

“Here’s something else, too,” he said. “If Melanie has a sweet tooth, she might like these.”

Angela placed the plant on the table, then turned to see him holding out a large box of fancy chocolates. Her questions about the reason for the two gifts must have shown on her face because he gave her a sheepish smile as she accepted the box.

“Thank you again, Jubal,” she murmured.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I had planned to see you yesterday, but an emergency came up with a foaling mare and I couldn’t leave her. I wanted to apologize for upsetting you when you came to my house the other day.”

Upsetting her! She was still reeling from everything he’d told her. Evette hadn’t given birth to Jubal’s baby. She hadn’t been pregnant with his child at all!

“What’s in the box, Mommy? Can I have some, please?”

Shaking away her swirling thoughts, Angela guided her daughter over to the coffee table and selected three of the chocolates for Melanie. “It’s candy,” Angela told her. “And you may eat some after you thank Jubal.”

Melanie promptly thanked their guest for the candy then sat on the floor to enjoy the treats. Angela turned to see that Jubal had taken off his jacket and hat and seated himself on the couch. He was making himself at home and that notion disturbed Angela. A part of her was terrified to have him around Melanie, worried that he’d recognize her as his daughter. Yet having him here felt oddly right somehow, as though he was filling an empty place in the house. Or was it an empty spot in her heart? Oh God, don’t let me think like that, she prayed. Don’t let me fall in love with the man again.

Extending the box toward him, she asked, “Would you like a piece?”

Smiling faintly, he leaned forward and picked out a square filled with caramel. “Sure. It’s the time of year for eating.”

She recalled his big appetite and thousands of other little things about him. Yet she realized they’d not spent a Christmas together and she wondered how much he threw himself into the holiday.

“Cook says Christmas has to be celebrated with your stomach, along with your spirit,” she told him.

Angela placed the candy on the opposite end of the coffee table from Melanie, then took a seat two cushions down from Jubal.

“Smart lady,” he agreed, then gestured toward the candy box. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

Angela shook her head. “No. I had a big supper. Cook made pot roast and insisted I bring a bunch of it home with me.”

“Cook,” he repeated curiously. “I’ve met her. And I’ve been meaning to ask Lex if that is the woman’s real name or just what everyone calls her.”

“Her real name is Hattie Thibodeaux. I hear Miss Geraldine call her Hattie sometimes, but not often. She’s quite a lady. I love her.”

His green eyes studied her with quiet regard. “You say that as though you really mean it.”

The light from a nearby table lamp shed a golden hue over his face and hair. Angela tried not to notice the light and dark streaks in his wavy hair, the rich amber flecks in his green eyes. Had he always been this handsome? Had just looking at him years ago made her heart beat as fast as it was beating now? Oh my, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling like this. But she couldn’t seem to make it stop.

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Cook has made coming here to the Sandbur extra special for me and Melanie.”

Apparently Melanie was listening to the subject of their conversation, because she looked up and talked around the gooey lump of candy in her mouth. “Cook is my granny. She says she’ll always be my granny. And she’s pretty, too.”

Jubal’s expression softened as he glanced over at Melanie and Angela couldn’t help but wonder how he’d dealt with Evette’s miscarriage. She knew he’d wanted the best for the child. And she suspected that even if he’d known he wasn’t the father, he would have raised him or her with just as much love. That much she did believe about Jubal.

To Angela he said, “I’m sure your parents are very proud of their granddaughter. Are you going to spend Christmas with them this year?”

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