Made for Marriage

Oh, I’m interested all right. But not in Janelle Evans.

She was talking fast and Noah knew she was eager to end the call. Bulldozer, he reminded himself. “Ah—sure.”

He took the number she rattled off and had to ask her to repeat the last few digits because she spoke so quickly.

“Well—goodbye.”

He hesitated, feeling the sting of her reluctance to engage in conversation. “Yeah, okay—goodbye.”

She hung up and he dropped the telephone on the sofa. He needed a shower—as cold as he could stand. Then he’d go to bed and sleep off the idea that he wanted to make love to Callie Jones more than he’d wanted to do anything for a long time.

* * *

On Sunday morning Callie woke at seven, after spending a restless night fighting with the bedsheets.

It was all Noah Preston’s fault. She didn’t ask for his late-night call. She didn’t want to hear his sexy voice just before she went to bed. She didn’t want to spend the night thinking about him.

She dressed and made short work of a bowl of cereal topped with fruit, then grabbed her hat and headed outside. The sun was up, already warming the early October morning air. She fed Tessa then headed for the stables, where Joe waited outside Indiana’s stall.

“Are you taking the big fella out this morning?”

Callie shook her head. “Not today.” Indy’s long head swung over the top of the door and she ran her hands down his face. “‘Morning, my darling boy.” She turned back to Joe. “He did well yesterday, two firsts and a third, so he gets a day off. Give him a feed, will you, and then tack up Kirra. The English saddle please.”

Joe made a face. “What do I tell the kid?”

Callie frowned. “What kid?”

“The one who’s here for a lesson.”

Callie shook her head. “I don’t have anyone booked until eleven.”

“I know,” Joe said. “I checked the booking sheet. But she’s here.” Joe pointed to the office. “I put her in there,” he said, then more seriously, “and told her not to touch anything.”

Callie strode the twenty meters to the office and swung the half-opened door back on its hinges. She stood in the threshold and looked at the young girl sitting at her desk.

“What are you doing here?”

Lily Preston swiveled in the chair and got to her feet. “Um … I’m here for my lesson.”

Callie inhaled deeply. “You’re not having a lesson.”

“But I thought—”

Callie placed her hands on her hips. “You have to go home, Lily.” She turned on her heels and went to walk away but stopped when the teenager spoke.

“Please.”

She turned back and looked at the teenager, whose green eyes were wide open, their expression sincere. Lily was sorry. Callie could feel it. Something tugged at her heartstrings.

Callie took a deep breath. “Indiana is my horse, Lily. And as quiet as he is, you could have been badly hurt. And I would have been responsible.”

Lily’s chin lifted, half defiant. “But I can ride a bit.”

“A bit isn’t good enough for a horse like Indiana, especially in an ill-fitting bridle and without a saddle.”

Lily looked shame-faced beneath her makeup. “I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” she said. “I just … sometimes I just do things. I don’t know why. I do things I know are stupid, but I can’t help myself.”

The tug on Callie’s heart grew stronger. She knew exactly what Lily meant. Kindred spirits, she thought. But, oh, God … what should she do? Say yes to this girl who looked at her with such raw intensity. A girl, she suspected, who rarely showed that side of herself to anyone. But a girl whose father she couldn’t stop thinking about. Who, without even trying, was making Callie feel, imagine.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Lily said quickly, almost desperately. “Please teach me.”

Before Callie could reply Joe stuck his head around the door to tell her Kirra was ready. She thanked him, then returned her attention to the teenager. “I’ll tell you what—you stay out of trouble while I work my horse and we’ll talk after.” She stood aside for Lily to pass. “No promises, just talk.”

Callie led Lily from the stables and told her to stay put near the dressage arena. She gave her an old soda crate to sit on and then took the red bay mare into the arena. She worked her for twenty minutes, trying to concentrate on the maneuvers and transitions from trot to canter. But her mind wasn’t really on the job. Lily sat on the sidelines, watching her, masked behind her makeup.

Ten minutes later Noah Preston’s silver utility vehicle pulled up outside the stables. Callie continued with her ride, watching as he got out and opened the back door of the truck. The children stepped out. The older boy grabbed the hands of the twins and listened as his father spoke to them. Then he headed for Lily. He had a great walk, she thought. And he looked so good in jeans and a black T-shirt. Way too good.

Callie watched as the kids followed behind him. And again it stirred something inside her. An old longing. And it gave her a snapshot of a life she’d never have.

Ryan …

The longing turned into a pain—a piercing, incredible hurt that always took root behind her ribs when she thought about the beautiful baby boy she’d lost when he was just two days old.

I miss you Ryan … I miss holding you … I miss watching you grow up and become the person you could have been.

Kirra sensed her distraction and started prancing sideways at a trot. Callie got her quickly under control and eased her to a halt in the center of the arena. And she watched as Noah began talking with his daughter. Lily nodded, he shook his head. Lily said something, he replied. The conversation lasted for some minutes and the three younger Preston children stood quietly behind their father. Finally, Lily waved her arms about and stomped off toward the truck. He said something to the three kids and they sat on the soda crate. Then he headed through the gate and into the arena.

Callie dismounted and pulled the reins over Kirra’s head, collecting them in her left hand. She fought the ridiculous impulse to take off her safety hat and smooth out her hair or rub her hands down her breeches.

He stopped about two feet in front of her. “Hello,” he said.

Callie swallowed. “Hi.”

He went to say something but then stopped. He patted the horse instead. He had nice hands, she noticed. Tanned and strong looking. She quickly snapped herself out of her silly female fantasy. “I was going to call you,” she said. “You beat me to it.”

“I knew she’d be here.”

“You did? How?”

“Because you were the last thing we talked about last night. And I know Lily—when she gets her mind stuck on something, she can be impossible to deal with.”

Callie raised her brows. “Looks like you’re surrounded by impossible women.”

My God, am I flirting? That’s what it sounds like.

And he smiled. As though he liked it. “I could think of worse things.”

Everything around her suddenly felt hot—the air in her lungs, the sand beneath her boots. “Anyway—she didn’t do any harm while she was here.”