Texas Tall - Janet Dailey Page 0,13

a man does at a time like this. By the time Abner finished with me, I wasn’t fit company for you or anybody else.” His hands lingered on her shoulders. “How’s Erin?”

“Fine. When I last checked, she was doing her homework in the dining room.” The old memory tugged at her, standing in the ranch kitchen, feeling the brush of his stubbled whiskers on the back of her neck . . . She felt the heat rising, her body warming. Even after eight years apart, she wasn’t immune to Will’s raw masculinity.

But there was only one sensible choice here, and Tori forced herself to make it. “I hope you can keep Erin company awhile,” she said. “I was about to leave. I have a date tonight.”

His hands dropped from her shoulders. He took a step backward, widening the space between them. “You had a date last night,” he said.

“Yes, I know.” Turning, she slipped off his coat and thrust it toward him. “My plan is to drive back here afterward, with a bag packed for a night or two. How long I stay here will depend on how Erin is doing. If we agree that she’s better off on the ranch for now, I’ll call the school on Monday and arrange for her lessons. But you can’t keep me here, Will. I’m not a prisoner. I have a life.”

Stony-faced, Will took the coat. “But will that life be safe? Damn it, Tori—”

“I’ll be just fine. And for heaven’s sake, don’t wait up for me. I’m not sixteen anymore.” Sweeping past him, Tori strode into the house to get her purse and say good night to Erin. Was Will more concerned about her safety or about her being with another man? Either way, she couldn’t let his problems dictate her life. She was going on a date with Drew Middleton, and, by heaven, she was going to have a good time.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the front hall struck the hour of twelve. Will counted the chimes from his bed, where he lay on his back, staring up into the darkness. Midnight, and Tori still hadn’t come back from her so-called date. She was out there somewhere with some goody-two-shoes bastard who held the power to change all their lives—Tori’s, Erin’s, and his own. Will had never met Drew Middleton. If he ever did—and it was bound to happen sooner or later—it would take all his restraint to keep from punching the man in the face.

Damn it, Middleton didn’t belong in the picture. He didn’t have a clue about Tori, didn’t even know her. He hadn’t watched her grow up, changing from a coltish youngster who tore around the ranch with Beau and Natalie to a stunning woman, returning home with a brand-new law degree. Her beauty had knocked Will’s socks off back then. It still did.

It wasn’t Drew Middleton who’d driven Tori to the Lubbock hospital in a blue norther the night Erin was born. It wasn’t Middleton who’d walked the floor with Erin when she had the croup. And it sure as hell wasn’t Middleton who’d held Tori in his arms while she sobbed over the loss of their second baby, five months into her pregnancy.

The man was an outsider. He didn’t belong in Tori’s world or in Erin’s. Why couldn’t Tori see that?

Twelve-fifteen. Was Tori in Middleton’s arms right now, or maybe even in his bed?

Stop it! Will forced the image from his mind. It was time he quit agonizing over his ex-wife and opened his eyes to the reality that was staring him in the face. He had every right to be concerned about Tori’s safety. But her romantic life was her own business. The two of them shared a much-loved child. For Erin’s sake, he and Tori kept their connection, talking and meeting often, even sharing Sunday dinners on the ranch. But that didn’t make her his. Whether he liked it or not, she hadn’t been his in a very long time.

A faint sound shocked him to full alertness—a smooth engine gearing down as it approached the house. Will sat up, ears straining in the darkness. Tori’s aging wagon had a distinctive rumble and a squeak in the chassis. He would know the sound of it anywhere. But this vehicle was almost silent, more like a late-model high-end sedan.

Tires crunched on gravel as it pulled up to the porch. Will was already grabbing for his clothes, yanking them on, shoving his bare feet into his

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