WHEN I SEE YOUR FACE Page 5

  The darkness seemed to lessen, and she felt comforted. It was the oddest thing…

  * * *

  Chapter 4

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  Rory spotted Shannon straddling the rail fence of a paddock when he arrived shortly after noon the next day. Megan was working with a young stud she was training for a rich dude who, in his opinion, had no business trying to raise horses. The man was rarely at his vanity ranch, as the locals called it, and was totally inept when it came to ranching and livestock.

  After parking next to the stable, Rory clipped a fanny pack around his hips. It contained the lunch he'd missed by coming out here. He joined Shannon at the fence.

  "Good morning. Rory, isn't it?" she said.

  Her smile was bright enough, yet he sensed the uncertainty that she carefully hid. There was the slightest hint of a tremor in her hands as she toyed with the zipper on her jacket. It made his chest give that painful twang that was becoming disturbingly familiar whenever he was around her … or thought of her … or remembered how soft her mouth was … or… Enough of those thoughts. They made him hot and hard.

  "Yeah. What gave me away?"

  "First your truck. I thought I recognized the engine. Then your footsteps. You have a longer stride than anyone else I recognize. I also know Megan's in the paddock, so that leaves you as the prime suspect"

  He smiled, then realizing she couldn't see it, chuckled at her reasoning. "Spoken like a true cop. You ready for a ride down to the lake?"

  She cocked her head saucily. "I'm not sure. How will I know which end of the horse is the front?"

  He sucked in a harsh breath. She looked particularly beautiful with the sun picking out the red-gold tints in her hair, which flowed past her shoulders in graceful waves. He wanted to touch it.

  "Grab one end and give a yank," he suggested. "He'll let you know which end you got a hold of."

  She burst into surprised laughter at his advice. "I don't think I want to get into a debate with an indignant horse. He can kick harder than I can."

  "I won't let you get into trouble," he promised. "Hey, Meg, you ready to go?"

  Megan declined. "Tinseltown Johnny is acting up. I don't think I'll trust him on the trail. You and Shannon go on. I've saddled your mounts. They're on the other side of the stable."

  "You're going to miss a great lunch. I had the diner pack us some barbecue sandwiches."

  She wrinkled her nose at him, then had to concentrate to stay in the saddle as the young stallion plunged and snorted. Six months of expert training would be undone in six weeks of riding by the cowboy dude. Too bad. The stud had good conformation and excellent bloodlines.

  "You ready?" he asked Shannon.

  "Maybe we should go some other time," she suggested.

  He realized she really was nervous. In fact, she seemed very ill at ease this morning, much more than last night. He paused and wondered if it had been that rash kiss.

  "Don't worry," he said with forced casualness. "I won't pounce on you without warning."

  Looking at her perched on the fence, he admitted he still had a mad desire to grab her and kiss that pert mouth into sweet, wild response…

  Whoa. Let's not go there, he cautioned his libido. Consider this a good deed for the day, not a lover's tryst.

  "Come on, no arguments."

  Reaching up, he slipped his hands under her down jacket and clasped her waist. He was surprised at how tiny she was. Again, as in the hospital, he sensed her vulnerability. It puzzled him. He pulled her forward, valiantly resisting a strong urge to crush her against his chest.

  "Oh," she said and instinctively threw her hands out to catch herself.

  She whacked him right in the nose. "Ouch." He set her on her feet and examined the injured part.

  "I'm sorry. What happened?" she asked anxiously. "Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to."

  He started laughing. "It wasn't your fault. I should have told you what I was doing instead of thinking about how much I wanted to ravish you."

  A hand flew to her mouth. She stared up at him as if she had X-ray vision and could see through the black eye patches. Finally, "You're weird," she told him sternly.

  "Well, if you knew how sexy those eye patches are, you wouldn't think that. Kissing a lady pirate should be almost as exciting as kissing a lady cop."

  "Yeah, well, you'd better behave, or I'll handcuff you to a post and leave you."

  He took her arm and led her away. "I'll try. My word is my pledge, ma'am, so I'm not making any out-and-out promises on my future behavior."

  After a pause, she laughed, as if deciding to take the hunger he couldn't quite ignore as a joke. In the pasture on the other side of the stable, he found a piebald gelding and the mare, saddled and ready to go.

  "I'm going to lift you up, so don't go flailing around with those dangerous fists, okay?"

  "I'll try to restrain myself."

  Her laughter sounded more natural this time. Maybe she had decided to trust him.

  When they were on their way – her on the mare with the convalescing leg – he noticed her head tilted to one side as if listening intently while she tried to figure out a puzzle.

  "We're riding south toward the lake," he told her. "I thought we'd stay in the sun and soak up some warmth. The temperature is around thirty-five."

  "But no wind to add a chill factor," she said. "That's good. It feels wonderful to be out and about again."

  The smile disappeared and she became pensive as they rode farther across the sixty-acre pasture that led to the path to the lake. He left her to her thoughts. His own were troublesome enough.

  Maybe she'd thought he was joking about the ravishing part, but he wasn't. His libido was acting up in a most curious fashion. Since his earlier experiences with other women, he'd maintained strict discipline in that department. Adults should be able to control their baser instincts, especially when it came to forcing them on people who weren't interested.

  He studied his riding companion. "You have good hands and a natural seat," he complimented her.

  "I feel rather stiff. I'm afraid he's going to make a move I won't anticipate in time."

  "He's a she. Haven't you ever been thrown?"

  "Oh, yes. The memory of the last time is what's making me so cautious. Megan asked me to practice a steeplechase with her so her horse would get used to being crowded at the jumps. My horse stopped at one. I didn't."

  Her dimples winked at him when she compressed the corners of her mouth to subdue a wry grin when he laughed. A burst of warmth spread through him like a shot of brandy on an empty stomach. Glancing down, he was glad she couldn't see the ridge behind his fly as his body hardened with hunger, or else she might have had second or third thoughts about riding out alone with him.

  Actually, since moving to a larger office and buying the small ranch near here, he hadn't had time to even think of the opposite sex, so his reaction surprised him.

  "We're coming up to the gate," he warned when they neared the end of the pasture. "I'll open it and let you through, then close it. We'll have a picnic by the lake."

  "Is it frozen over?"

  "Not yet. There's ice out to six or eight feet from the shore, but not in the middle yet. There will be soon if it stays as cold as it has been recently."

  "We used to ice-skate here. Kate and Aunt Bunny taught me and Megan. It was such fun."

  "Bunny. She was Megan's mother, wasn't she?"

  "Yes."

  He was sorry he'd said anything. Shannon looked sad as he opened and closed the gate for them. Her aunt had drowned in a boating accident. In silence, they rode down to the water's edge. A gazebo with a picnic table free of snow beckoned. That was their destination.

  "Here we are." He swung down from the saddle and tied the gelding to one of the sturdy gazebo rails.

  Shannon dismounted before he could help her. She felt around in front of her, found the rail and tied up, too.

  "You did that very well," he told her.


  "I remember this place. We came here often as kids. It was a playhouse, fort, ship, stage. Megan and I used to put on terrific shows. We danced and sang to our own made-up songs. Kate was our audience."

  "I'd have liked to have seen that. Maybe you'll sing for me after lunch."

  "No way. I sound worse than a frog with a bug in its throat. Megan has the voice in our family. She probably could have made it as an entertainer."

  "I didn't know that." He escorted her to the picnic table with a hand at the small of her back. "Three steps," he warned when they came to them. "I'll make a snow well for our drinks."

  He gathered two piles of snow from a railing and made holders for the two cans of soda, then put out the sandwiches and chips.

  "Umm, kosher dill pickles from the café one of my favorite things," she said.

  He paused. "How did you know that?"

  "I can smell them." She opened the wrapping on the sandwich. "You know, it's true that your other senses seem to become stronger when one is shut off. I think it's because you concentrate on them. I find myself really listening to what's going on around me since the robbery. I notice scents more, too."

  "So do I," he murmured, thinking of her.

  "I know a lot of people by their movements and footsteps now whereas I never noticed before. I wonder if I will after they take the patches off."

  When I can see again, was the unspoken assumption behind that statement.

  "What will you do if you can't see?" he asked quietly.

  Her lips trembled before she pressed them together. He suppressed an urge to take her into his arms. He'd want to do more than merely comfort her.

  "Well," she began, a shade of uncertainty in the word, "I hope to start my practice—"

  "Practice?"

  "Family counseling. I need to write my dissertation, then I'll have a Ph.D. in psychology. I already have all my notes in order."

  When her voice faltered, Rory gave her a quick glance.

  "Assuming anyone will want to consult with me," she finished with a wry grimace.

  "You'll need someone to read your notes," he said. "You can probably hire a teenager for a reasonable sum to come over in the afternoons. Kids love to earn extra money, especially at easy jobs."

  "Yes." Her smile bloomed once more. "That's a good idea, if I need help," she added. "There's a fifty-fifty chance that … that it'll be okay."

  "Yeah, that's what Kate said."

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. He noticed she wiped her mouth often. It occurred to him that a barbecue sandwich might not have been the best choice in her situation, but she was handling it fine.

  Admiration grew in him. It wasn't a familiar emotion in regard to women. He'd respected his mother. And Kate. Megan since he'd come to know her. A few others who had treated him as a person rather than a prize. Now this woman.

  Even if she ended up blind, he knew she would make it. The three cousins had determination and grit. Shannon had something more. An inner fire that caused a very definite spark in him. She didn't seem to know it.

  He pictured her as she'd looked that evening on the street, leading the little parade of children across, a sparkle in her eyes, as if all of life existed in her.

  Her eyes … they were blue, he suddenly recalled. With a touch of gray. Smoky. Sexy.

  He took a breath, finished off the soda and packed their debris away. He needed movement, exercise, anything to divert the direction of his thinking. "How about a walk by the lake?"

  "Okay." She rose and waited.

  He took her hand, tucked it in the crook of his elbow and started off. However, he forgot to warn her about the steps this time.

  When she tumbled forward, he leaped in front of her, pivoted on one foot and grabbed her before she could fall. Holding her in his arms, he stepped down the final step to the safety of the ground.

  She clutched the lapels of his old bomber jacket, her breath coming fast between parted lips. Fear was replaced by confusion on her expressive face. He'd never realized that a mouth could tell a watchful person so much about another.

  "I'm – I'm sorry," she said in a near whisper.

  "It was my fault."

  He didn't let her go, but stood there, the sun warm on his back, her in his arms. She was on the step above him, her mouth at a level with his and no more than six inches away. He only had to lean his head forward a little.

  Don't, he warned, but he knew he wasn't going to heed the warning.

  Dipping his head, he touched her lips. They trembled slightly under his, then she pressed them firmly together. It was a challenge he couldn't ignore. He wanted movement, response, not denial.

  He caressed them lightly again. With his tongue, he traced their outline. He liked their soft, lush feel against his lips. "You have the sexiest lips. Soft. Very feminine."

  "I…"

  When her lips parted, he didn't let her finish the statement. Instead, he took the kiss deeper without thinking about it. He ran his tongue along the edge of her teeth, then dipped inside. Her taste was incredibly sweet.

  And exhilarating.

  Shannon inhaled deeply, seeking stability when she felt shaky and confused. His aroma engulfed her in balsam, a lime aftershave, horses, leather and the great outdoors, reminding her of the scent of fresh, crisp air and cold brilliant light on snow.

  Flashing back in time, she knew when she'd last experienced this. Sometime after the shooting. When she'd been tormented by blinding heat. Someone had touched her with hands so cool, they had soothed the hot ache in her head. When she'd opened her eyes, she'd seen only a brilliant burst of light surrounding him before she'd slipped into the darkness again. And blue. Something blue.

  Joy flashed through her. She knew his touch. This was her guardian angel. Sighing, she reached for him, needing, welcoming the pure bliss of his embrace. At last … at last she was safe.

  When her arms slipped around his neck and she gave a tiny moan of pleasure, Rory thought of home and bed just a short ride around the edge of the lake, no more than a half mile. Or that the picnic table would do.

  Shocked that he'd gone from a simple kiss to thinking of bed and more in a flash, he eased back from the kiss.

  Shannon frowned in protest. She didn't want to give this up, not just yet. It was too wonderful, soothing and exciting at the same time. Different from anything she'd ever experienced. Wanting it to last, she clutched the cool leather of his jacket and pressed upward.

  With a soft groan, he caught her to him in a sweet hard embrace. His mouth became more urgent on hers. Leaning into him, she felt the hard evidence of his hunger. Pleasurable need shot through her, surprising her. She hadn't thought she was a sensual person.

  But she could be, she realized a second before the hazy fog of desire engulfed her completely.

  "I want…" She didn't know how to say it.

  "I know," he murmured huskily. The need was a deep hot hunger in him, too, passion so strong he marveled at it. "So do I. More than I ever thought possible."

  Shannon felt his hands move behind her back, then his bare fingers raked through her hair, cupping the back of her neck. She tugged off one glove, too, and touched the side of his face. His skin was cool to her palm, then it was warm.

  "But … why?" she asked, again experiencing the peculiar confusion he caused in her, the strange exciting combination of warmth and coolness.

  His lips touched her temple, her ear, a sensitive spot under it. "Madness," he whispered, supplying an answer. "From the moment I saw you on the street."

  She held his head between her hands, covering his ears to keep them warm. "You should wear a hat," she scolded with a great deal of tenderness. She didn't understand that feeling, either.

  "Hate them, always have."

  He opened their jackets. The momentary rush of cold air didn't cool his blood. Then it was gone, replaced by the warmth of her body against his.

  In spite of the hunger, he again had an impression of her slenderness, of h
ow vulnerable she was at this moment to any demands he might make. And of how wrong it was for him to make them.

  With an effort, he eased back from the kiss. A frown nicked two faint lines over the bridge of her nose. She pushed closer. He pressed his face into her clean shiny hair and held her, simply held her.

  He regretted the moment sanity returned and she pulled away from him.

  "I'm sorry," she said in a husky voice. "I don't know what … what came over me."

  He quieted a bark of sardonic laughter. She was sincere. It was the damnedest thing – a woman apologizing to him for her passion.

  "The same thing that came over me, darlin'," he told her lightly. "We have a thing for each other, it seems."

  Shannon listened intently to the intonations of his voice. Humor, an edgy, sardonic anger – only a trace, but still there – and the hardness of resolve, as if he'd decided it wouldn't happen again.

  For another moment, they stood there, facing each other like combatants in a fierce battle in which they were the only two survivors.

  "We'd better go for that walk, then get back," she said. She licked her lips, which felt warm and rosy. A momentary sadness riffled through her. To find this mind-blowing passion now seemed unfair.

  He certainly didn't want to get involved with her, and she didn't want to be involved with anyone. Not at the present. She had a future to figure out, once she knew what it was going to be.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to face facts. No sane man would want the burden of a blind or even partially blind wife. For a moment, lost in this man's arms, she had overlooked that fact, but now she was thinking straight again.

  "Right." Rory lightly touched her on the shoulder. "Uh, I don't usually accost women without warning," he said by way of apology for his unthinking actions.

  "But you do after giving sufficient notice?" she asked with mock seriousness, remembering he'd said something similar back at the paddock, then she spoiled it by grinning.

  Her smile, her humor, her courage, made Rory want to kiss her all over again. He frowned, angry with himself. She was basically helpless and in his care, although she didn't seem to realize that fact.