Heather's Song

She jerked her mind back to Emma’s running commentary on the ranch, and her efforts to set up a day-care center for children of working mothers in the area. That was it, she’d only imagined Cole’s interest. But in the back of her mind, she could still hear his male voice, quiet and dangerous, awakening dormant longings deep inside her.

Three days later, Heather was convinced that she’d imagined it all. Cole was pleasant but distant with her; there was nothing romantic in his attitude. He didn’t go out of his way to find her, but he didn’t avoid her either. He was his old self, on the surface at least, and Heather began to relax as her voice and her confidence slowly returned. But sometimes she caught his silver eyes flashing toward her, and once she met a look from them that held a strange anger, almost hatred, and the intensity of it unnerved her. What had she done to make Cole dislike her so? Perhaps, she mused, he was regretting that remark he’d made and hoping she would be adult enough not to take it seriously.

* * *

Tessa swept in like a conquering army the next day, all false smiles and sweetness. She was playing up to Cole as usual while Heather sat and watched with a new emptiness in her heart.

“I was so sorry to hear about your accident.” Tessa sighed, waving a perfectly manicured hand toward Heather. “You never were much of a driver, were you, darling? I remember the day you ran Cole’s Ferrari through the corral fence.” She laughed cuttingly, her black eyes snapping at the taller woman. “What a mess! And Cole was simply furious, weren’t you, darling?” She laughed huskily, worshiping the man beside her on the couch with her eyes.

Cole smoked his cigarette silently, and his eyes narrowed, moving deliberately over Heather’s slender body. She was wearing a silky beige pantsuit that hugged her slim curves like a caress.

Heather looked at his brown leather boots instead of his face, and she was alarmed at her own reaction to his blatant stare. He was only doing it to needle her, she told herself. He wasn’t really interested.

Tessa continued her monologue. “We had a lovely time in San Antonio,” she told the younger girl. “It was a Bach concert, so pleasant on the ears. Nothing like this vulgar modern stuff,” she added with distaste. “I don’t like pop music.”

And that, Heather thought, was a nice dig. Just the right touch of backhanded courtesy. Tessa knew full well that Heather sang pops. Or had, until the accident.

“Have you tried singing since the accident?” Tessa asked with feigned concern. “Cole told me you’re pretty nervous about how your voice will be—I guess this could mean the end of your career, couldn’t it?”

Heather got up from her seat and left the room without a look or a backward glance. She was hurting too much to fight back, even if she’d had a voice to fight with.

“Oh, I shouldn’t have said that, should I?” Tessa murmured, a good imitation of regret in her silky voice. “Poor little thing…”

Heather kept right on walking.

* * *

She lay awake late that night, the harsh words haunting her. Would she sing again? Did she have the courage to go back to Houston and pick up the pieces of her career? Memories of the emptiness, the loneliness, the long hours of singing in dark, smoky clubs filled her mind.

The door opened in the middle of her deep thoughts, and Cole came in, closing it behind him. He was in evening clothes, devastating in his elegant dark suit and spotless white silk shirt. His tie was off and his shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, where bronzed skin and curling black hair made a dark wedge against the whiteness of the silk. He looked sublimely masculine, sensual, and Heather felt vulnerable in her frothy pink nightgown, even with the quilted coverlet pulled up over her waist. She had to fight to keep from pulling it up to her throat, especially when Cole’s glittering eyes narrowed on the curves of her small, high breasts exposed by its plunging neckline.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked quietly.

She swallowed hard and shook her tousled blond head.

He paused beside the bed, his hands on his slim hips, and stared boldly down at her.

“Nervous, honey?” he asked with amusement when she jerkily pulled up the covers.

She flushed and glared up at him.

He chuckled softly. “Little saint,” he chided. “I probably know more about a woman’s body than you do.”

I don’t doubt that for a minute, she thought furiously, and knew he could read the thought in her mind.

He reached down and touched her tousled hair tenderly. “What’s the matter?” he asked quietly. “Did Tessa upset you?”

She chewed on her lower lip and averted her gaze. “Yes,” she said softly.

“She doesn’t understand,” he reminded her. “Tessa never wanted a career. She’d rather work at being a woman.”

Her eyes darted up to his curiously, searching them in the silence that followed.

His eyes narrowed at the scrutiny. “No, I don’t sleep with her,” he said harshly.

Her lips parted slightly as she gasped. She hadn’t been wondering about that at all.

“And even if I did,” he added ominously, “it wouldn’t be any business of yours.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She couldn’t understand what had set him off.

“But then, you’ve never been interested in that side of my life, have you, Heather?” His silver eyes darted over her face. “You’ve never wondered if I had women.”

That was true. But she was beginning to be curious about him in ways that shocked her.

He laughed, but without mirth. “It’s just as well, little one. There wouldn’t be any future in it. I’ve got thirteen years on you.”

She’d never thought about the age difference between them before. It hadn’t mattered. But suddenly it seemed to matter, to Cole anyway.

“We’re going to Nassau the first of the month,” he tossed out. “I need a break as much as you do, and it will do Emma good to get away from here for a while. I can spare two or three days. The sun will help you relax.”

She smiled up at him. Nassau was one place she’d always wanted to see, but Cole was so busy that holidays with him were rare. Perhaps this trip would provide an opportunity to bridge the rift that was steadily growing between them.

“Lovely little girl,” he murmured, looking down at her with a half-smile on his dark, hard face. “You glow when you smile at me.”

Her smile widened and she reached out involuntarily to catch his hand and clasp it tightly. She felt him stiffen at the touch and draw away from her.

The smile left her face and she looked down at the coverlet with a wounded expression. She felt his silent rejection as keenly as a knife twisting inside her.

“Get some sleep, Heather,” he said roughly, turning away. “Things will look better in the morning.”

* * *

But they didn’t. Not the next morning, or the morning after that. Cole’s temper became legendary over the next few days. It was increasingly dangerous to go near him.

“I only asked him if I could drive into town,” one of the cowboys moaned to Emma, “and he threw a bridle at me.”

“Thank your lucky stars that there wasn’t a horse attached to it,” Emma told him calmly. The mischievous smile she gave him made her look twenty years younger. “You know how Cole is, Brandy.”

“Yes’m,” agreed the grizzled old cowboy. “But usually he only gets like this when something awful goes wrong. Like that time Moze ran the jeep over his favorite shepherd dog. Or during roundup when the calves give us fits.”

“Pretend it’s roundup and bear with him,” Emma said in a conspiratorial whisper.

Brandy drew a long-suffering breath. “He threw a board at Herb,” he muttered, turning to stride away. “Only asked could he go to Johnson’s house to see his girl.”

Heather smothered a smile, shaking her head.

Emma glanced at her. “You wouldn’t know what’s wrong with him, I suppose?” she fished.