Page 36 of Point of Mercy

His lips twitched. “He’s in Montana. Won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

“What about Mazie?”

“She doesn’t remember much about that summer, but she does think you called, that you wanted to talk to me.”

“She doesn’t remember me practically begging her for your address—for a phone number where I could reach you?” Heather said in disbelief. Though she hadn’t confided in Mazie, she’d been near tears, her voice choked with emotion. But Mazie had probably taken more than her share of teary phone calls from women Turner had left behind.

“She didn’t say.”

“Well, it’s the truth, damn it!” Heather cried, then threw her hands up in despair. Turner still acted as if she were a criminal, and she was no better about trusting him. One minute she was fantasizing about him, the next she wanted to wring his neck. “Why don’t we go for a ride,” she suggested.

“A what?”

“A trail ride. Like we used to.”

“Why?” The look he sent her silently called her a lunatic.

“Because I can’t just stand here and have you start accusing me of God only knows what! It used to work,you know. Whenever we were angry with each other, we’d ride—get rid of our aggressions. You do have horses around here, don’t you? What about Sampson?” She didn’t wait for a response, just stormed off toward the barn where she’d seen the ugly reddish horse earlier in the day.

He caught up with her in three long strides. “You’re crazy, lady,” he accused, as she flung open the barn door and stepped into the dark interior. She reached for a switch, found none and fumbled in the dark. “We have a son, a kid I didn’t know about, a boy who needs a transplant, for God’s sake, and you want to ride?”

“I just don’t want to argue anymore!” She swung around and faced him. High in the rafters of the barn a bat’s wings fluttered. “I’m scared, Turner. Scared out of my mind. And I don’t want you or anyone else to start in on me about what I did or didn’t do wrong. I only want to deal with the here and now!”

“You want me to forget about six years?” he asked, his voice low and angry.

“Yes. Because it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except Adam’s health!” She found the latch to a stall and opened it, but the stall was empty.

“For God’s sake, Heather, I have questions. A million of them.”

“What you have is accusations!”

He grabbed her so quickly that her breath came out in a rush. Suddenly she was slammed against his chest, her back pressed into the rough boards of the barn walls. “I’ve spent the last six hours wondering how the hell this happened and why you didn’t tell me about Adam.”

“I explained that I—”

“I heard your story, Heather, but it doesn’t wash. You didn’t have to jump into marriage right off the bat. You could’ve waited.”

“For how long, Turner?” she asked, tears clogging her throat. “Until you got back to the Lazy K? Until you were through with the circuit? Until you couldn’t ride anymore because you’d suffered too many injuries? I had a baby to think about. I didn’t have any time to waste.”

His lips curled in disgust and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her arms. “You weren’t thinking about the kid. You were worried about your reputation. You’d told me often enough about your sister and what she’d suffered in Gold Creek—and then you turn up pregnant, with no husband. You couldn’t face the thought of being a single mother. People would talk. Everyone in Gold Creek would know. You probably couldn’t face your parents!”

“Oh, Lord,” she whispered, shaking her head. How far apart they were and yet how close. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and lifted her chin a fraction. “I thought I loved you, Turner. I had myself convinced that you were the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And you walked out. It’s that simple.”

“Not quite. You were pregnant. I’d say things got a lot more complicated.”

She felt the heat of his body, smelled the scent of soap on his skin and stared at the small cleft in his chin. Her breasts were flattened against his chest, her thighs imprisoned by his legs. She ignored the tingle that swept through her blood and told herself that he no longer attracted her.He was a broken-down cowboy, cynical and cold.

“Just what kind of a woman are you?” he asked, but his hard grip loosened a bit.

“I just want to start over,” she said. “For Adam’s sake.”

“Like nothing between us ever happened.” His hands moved down her arms to manacle her wrists, and a thrill shot through her—a thrill she refused to acknowledge.

“I… I can’t forget what happened, Turner, and I don’t expect you to. But if we could just start out without being enemies, it would be best for Adam.”

His hands, warm as the breath of summer, tightened a little, and pulled her even closer. She noticed the thin line of his lips, and her stomach seemed to be pressing hard against her lungs, her blood heating despite her determination to ignore his sensuality.

“So what’re you going to do, Turner?” she asked with surprising calm. “Are you planning to keep punishing me for the rest of my life—are you going to try and find ways to make me atone for my mistake?”

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