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  Jesse stared at his beautiful wife for several seconds in silence. Then he said, “That’s cold, Meg.”

  “You think so?”

  She walked to him and put her hands lightly on his chest. “I know a little bit about passion,” she said, her eyes darkening. “Were they at that bend in Handbasket Creek where we saw the deer?”

  “What deer?”

  “Oh, Jesse! You know what deer. That day we went riding…when our grandfathers forced us to come back here together. Surely you remember.”

  He smiled. “I remember.”

  “I was lying there in the shade with my eyes closed, thinking…thinking that if you’d ever once say you needed me, everything would work out all right between us. I wanted you to tell me that you couldn’t live without me.”

  “I couldn’t, Meggie. You know that.”

  “I know it now. Then, I wanted to hear you say it. You knelt beside me and put your hand over my mouth, which nearly scared me to death. Then you pointed to a deer drinking on the other side of the creek. It was one of those magical moments that you never forget—at least, I never did.”

  “I didn’t, either.” He kissed her eyelids.

  “Th-then the deer saw us and ran away. And you kissed me—the first time you’d done that in five years.”

  She’d tried to hold him off, but the magic of the moment had been too strong. She’d curled her fingers in his shirt, as she was doing now, and drew his head down.

  Their lips met. The feelings rushing over her then were strong, but not as strong as they were today, after three decades of marriage. A melting languor flowed through her, into every extremity, leaving her weak and yearning yet again.

  Then, he’d drawn back and said, “Look, we’re about to dive into some deep waters here. We need a time-out, some kind of distraction while we get our bearings. Want to go into Hells Bells for the big Fourth of July celebration?”

  Now, neither one of them needed bearings to know they were exactly where they were meant to be. When Jesse scooped her into his arms, she clung to him, her rock and her love.

  No way did Randy have this kind of passion with that strange girl.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CLEMENTINE RETURNED Thursday, just in time to join the rest of the family at a barbecue at Joe Bob Brooks’s Hell-on-the-Handbasket Dude Ranch. After the tension-packed week she’d had thus far, Maxi was delighted to greet Rand’s sister.

  Maybe Clemmie could help her forget that she’d made an awful mistake telling Rand her life story. At the time, she’d rashly thought it might encourage him to be a bit more open to her questions. It hadn’t, and now she felt more vulnerable than ever.

  Nor did it help that Meg didn’t like her new daughter-in-law. Not that Meg said or did anything overt; her manners were far too good for that. But Maxi could feel Rand’s mother watching, always watching…. It was completely unnerving.

  And Jesse…Maxi sighed. Jesse seemed to like her, all right, but he didn’t believe in the marriage, either. Or maybe he simply didn’t believe in his son. Rand and his father circled each other like a couple of big dogs, their expressions hostile and their mouths tight.

  Clemmie’s presence brought relief to everyone. Bright and pretty and ready for fun, she swept everyone along with her, including her father and brother.

  As now, when they all stood gathered in the front yard for the short trip over to Joe Bob’s. Clemmie took command.

  “Rand, you and Max go in your rental car and I’ll ride with Mama and Daddy. That’ll give you time to warn her about ol’ Joe Bob.” Her smile wrinkled her nose.

  “You could come with us if you want,” Maxi invited.

  “Max, don’t argue,” Clemmie said. “You and my big brother hardly have any time alone at all, except at night, I mean.” She said it with perfect aplomb. “I’ll ride back with you if the old folks decide to leave early.”

  Meg, who must be in her early fifties, laughed. She could afford to; she didn’t look a day over thirty in her linen slacks and yellow silk blouse. “Who are you calling old folks, young lady?” she scolded, draping an arm over her daughter’s shoulders and drawing her toward the sports-utility vehicle parked on the graveled driveway.

  Jesse fell in beside them. “Speak for yourself, woman. I only go to these things because Joe Bob’s an old friend. Leavin’ early is the only thing I have to look forward to.”

  Smiling, Max climbed into the rented convertible next to Rand. When they were headed down the lane for the road, she said, “I have a question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why do you call your parents ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ while your sister calls them ‘Mama’ and ‘Daddy’?”

  He seemed to give that serious consideration. After a couple of miles, he said, “Mama and Daddy are real Southern. I’ve known sixty-year-old men who still called their parents that.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “Max, I’m not Southern. Or maybe I’m part Southern, but most of me is…”

  “Is what, Rand?”

  “I started to say pure New England, but that isn’t true, either. If I was pushed, I’d have to say I don’t really belong anywhere.” He glanced at her, his expression guarded. “I’m a citizen of the world, I guess you could say.”

  She felt a twinge of sympathy for this man who’d grown up with everything she hadn’t: wealth, of course, but also an extended family. “It doesn’t have to be that way,” she said.

  “What way?”

  “Estranged from your father.”

  “Estranged! I’m not—”

  “You are, Rand. You and your father strike sparks, and your mother is constantly tense with the effort to keep peace. Only Clementine seems able to bring everybody together.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said flatly. “I’m not close to my father, I’ll admit that, but it’s nobody’s fault. We don’t know each other very well, but what he knows, he doesn’t like.”

  He’ll like it even less when he finds out you’re on the wrong side of the law, she thought, but didn’t say. How had a man with Rand’s advantages got himself into such a mess?

  For she’d just about come to the conclusion that the Coconutty escapade was a mess, and he probably hadn’t intended to do anything wrong. He had doubtless rationalized the whole thing long ago.

  But he couldn’t rationalize Helen, an innocent victim of his greed. Maxi must keep that firmly in mind. She couldn’t get mixed up in his family problems.

  So she said, “Let’s change the subject. Tell me more about this Joe Bob.”

  Good choice; his stiff shoulders relaxed. “Joe Bob rodeoed with my dad—my daddy.” He cast her a challenging glance. “When his first wife divorced him, he quit the circuit, bought the old Bar B and turned it into a dude ranch. I understand he recently remarried, but I don’t know who.”

  “You like him,” she guessed.

  “He’s a man’s man, if you get my drift—a bit crude and occasionally rude, but a good ol’ boy nonetheless. My mom, on the other hand, can barely stand him, though she tries to hide it.”

  “And this event tonight is…?”

  “Just a big cookout and talent show for his current crop of dudes. He likes to include us Taggarts because he and Dad go back so far.”

  Ahead loomed the entrance to the dude ranch with the name emblazoned on a wooden sign suspended above the road, complete with the slogan: Punch A Cow With Old Joe Bob.”

  This, Maxi thought, should be interesting.

  ONCE HE’D CLIMBED out of the convertible, Rand helped Max out and slid an arm around her waist in a friendly gesture. She must be getting used to it; she didn’t jump or glare, just tensed ever so slightly.

  “There’s Joe Bob.” Rand pointed toward a cluster of Western-dressed men and woman. “Come meet him, and then we can kick back and enjoy the proceedings.”

  Joe Bob turned from his dudes, saw Rand, grinned and waved. His belly sagged even farther over his ornate silver belt buckle than it had th
e last time Rand saw him, and his white Stetson was even bigger. The plaid shirt strained at the pearl snaps holding it over that massive expanse, making his hips and legs look downright spindly.

  Rand stuck out his hand. “Joe Bob.”

  Joe Bob yanked and Rand found himself mashed against the big chest, fists pounding on his back. “Dang it, boy, that’s no way to greet your daddy’s oldest and best buddy,” the man declared. Shoving Rand away, he grinned, then gave him another crushing hug.

  Out of breath and disconcerted, Rand found his voice and regained his space at the same time. “Joe Bob, I want you to meet my wife, Maxine.”

  “I heard you got hitched. Mighty glad to make your acquaintance, little lady.”

  Joe Bob turned on Maxine, and darned if she didn’t submit to his embrace with good grace. By the time he let her loose, she was gasping for breath, but apparently not unhappy about it.

  Joe Bob beamed. “Now I gotta little surprise for you. You remember Donna, don’t you?” He gestured for a slender dark-haired woman to join them. She did, smiling mischievously.

  “Sure.” Rand returned the smile. “Good to see you, Mrs. Dobbins.”

  “She ain’t Miz Dobbins no more,” Joe Bob crowed. “She’s Miz Brooks. Her boy, Shane, is around here somewheres, too.” He faced Maxine. “Your pa-in-law saved Shane’s bacon when he was just a button. He—”

  “A button?” Maxine inquired.

  “Just a kid,” Joe Bob explained. “Knee high to a grasshopper—you know.” He cocked his head. “Where you from, Maxine?”

  “Chicago.”

  “Well, that explains it.” Joe Bob gave Rand a pitying glance. “Anyway, twenty years or better ago, J.J.—that’s what I call Jesse James Taggart, knowin’ him so long and all—J.J. bulldogged a horse rid by Little Billy Vaughn that was about to stomp Shane into the dirt. Happened on a Fourth of July. I’ll never forget it if I live to be a hundred. There we were, havin’ a good time, when—”

  Donna clapped her hand over his mouth, cutting him off in midrant. “Joe Bob, don’t go into one of your long tales. Let these kids get something to drink and meet a few young people. Honestly, they couldn’t be less interested.”

  “I’m interested,” Max said quickly. At their curious glances, she smiled. “I’m very interested. I have a lot to learn about the Taggarts and you seem to know all about them.”

  “See?” Joe Bob gave his wife a triumphant glance. “Ol’ Randy found himself a real smart gal, even if she is a damnyankee.”

  “Go,” Donna said to Max and Randy. “Go before he gets started again.”

  They went, laughing, heading for the big washtub overflowing with ice and beer.

  MAXI, Randy, Meg and Clementine loitered beneath the shadows of a cottonwood tree, watching the party flow around them.

  “So,” Clementine said to Maxi, “did you meet our host?”

  Maxi rolled her eyes. “I sure did. He’s a real character.”

  “And then some. Watch out for him, though. He’s the worst practical joker in the world.”

  Meg sniffed. “Some of his jokes aren’t all that funny.” She glanced around almost accusingly at Jesse, standing across the ranch yard in conversation with several men. “Excuse me, I need a word with my husband.”

  Clementine watched her mother go, then looked at Maxi. “I’ll bet you wonder what that was all about.”

  “I’m mildly curious.”

  “Randy, did you ever hear that story?”

  “Apparently not, since I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Clementine’s tone grew conspiratorial. “The way I’ve pieced it together, it happened while Mama and Daddy were tryin’ to reconcile—you know, Randy, when you were five or six and I was just a gleam in Daddy’s eye? It was when the great-grandpas blackmailed them into coming back to the old cabin.”

  “I know about that,” Maxi assured her.

  “But you don’t know the whole story, I’ll bet. See, Joe Bob never liked Mama much because she was a damnyankee and took Daddy away to boot. Apparently Joe Bob wasn’t all that keen on a reconciliation, so he put a pair of black lace unmentionables in Daddy’s pocket. Naturally Mama found them. I don’t know exactly how it played out, but there was hell to pay.”

  Maxi was horrified. “What a rotten trick!”

  “I’ll say.” Rand shook his head in disbelief. “I’m surprised Joe Bob survived to tell about it.”

  “I don’t think he did—tell about it, I mean,” Clementine said. “I picked up bits and pieces from Mama and Grandpa Thom T. or I wouldn’t know myself. Anyway, he’s paid for what he did big-time, so it’s probably better off forgotten.”

  She glanced around, waving at a handsome young cowboy loitering near the glowing barbecue, beer can in hand. “There’s Shane Dobbins. Let’s say hi.”

  “Shane Dobbins.” Maxi glanced at Rand. “Son of Donna Dobbins Brooks, saved from being horse-stomped by J. J. Taggart?”

  “One and the same.” His approval warmed her. “Let’s go watch him moon over Clemmie for a while. I see Little Billy’s joined him—”

  “Little Billy Vaughn?” Maxine stared at the huge man in cowboy gear. “That’s Little Billy Vaughn?”

  “He wasn’t called little because he was little,” Rand said. “He was called that because his father, who’s about five-five, was already Big Billy. The son just naturally had to be—”

  “Oh, Rand!” She squeezed his arm, laughing up at him. “It must be wonderful to be part of all this. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

  And I never truly realized how unlucky I was, Maxi thought as they strolled toward the little group consisting of Clemmie and her admirers. If this was real…if I was really about to become a part of all this—

  But she wasn’t. It was stupid to think about it.

  “HAVIN’ A GOOD TIME, honey?” Joe Bob dropped a heavy, if friendly, arm around Max’s shoulders and squeezed.

  Rand frowned. He wasn’t too crazy about seeing his wife manhandled, but she didn’t seem to mind, judging by the way she smiled up at the bulky dude rancher.

  “We’re having a great time, aren’t we, Rand?”

  “Yeah, great.”

  “Wal,” Joe Bob drawled, “it’s about to get better. Maxine, I want you to come on over here and sample the world’s greatest chili.”

  A chorus of groans from Clemmie and her admirers greeted this invitation.

  “Don’t do it,” Clemmie cautioned. “Joe Bob’s chili could peel the hide off a buffalo—if you could find one dumb enough to eat it.”

  “Ah, stop that,” the chili cook complained. “I’ve reformed. By Texas standards, my chili’s downright mild these days.”

  Max turned questioning eyes toward Rand, who shook his head.

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. Joe Bob’s been feeding that stuff to unsuspecting tourists and dudes for decades. It’s guaranteed to scorch your tonsils.”

  Max’s eyes widened. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. A nice man like Mr. Joe Bob Brooks wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

  Joe Bob looked alarmed. “Not on purpose,” he blustered. “But if you thank it’s too much for you—”

  “Not at all. I’d love to try your chili.”

  “Maybe you better not. I wouldn’t want to—”

  “Relax, Joe Bob. It’ll be fine.” An almost-smile tickled the corners of her mouth. “Lead the way.”

  “If you’re sure…” A bit wild-eyed, he glanced at Rand. “Is it okay with you, Randy?”

  Rand laughed. “Max is a big girl. She’s been warned. She wants chili, give her chili.”

  The small knot of people headed for the chuck wagon, set up at one edge of the broad meadow fronting the ranch house. Apparently intrigued by the procession, others began to tag along. By the time they reached the chuck wagon, just about everyone in attendance was with them.

  Joe Bob picked up an apron cast over the wooden tailgate. Cinching it around his broad middle, he said defensive
ly to Max, “You sure you’re sure?”

  “Very sure.”

  “Okay, but everybody remember—” He appealed to the audience. “She asked for it.”

  “Joe Bob Brooks, don’t you dare give that girl any of your awful chili!” Meg Taggart thrust her way through the fringes of the crowd. “Make him stop, Jesse!”

  Jesse, at her heels, laughed. “Lighten up, Meggie. Maxine’s probably never eaten chili with rattlesnake meat and possum gizzards in it before.”

  Finally Max looked shaken. “Do possums have gizzards?”

  Joe Bob nodded. “They do in Texas. I also use special imported tomatoes and all kinds of larrupin’ stuff. Here.” He picked up a ladle and plunged it into the simmering pot of red. After filling a foam cup, he selected a plastic spoon and offered both to Max.

  Who was looking something less than confident. With a tentative smile, she took the cup and spoon from the beaming cook.

  Clemmie leaned close. “I wouldn’t.”

  Max eyed Rand. “Does this stuff really have rattlesnake and possum in it?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “That’s just window dressing for dudes. But it does have more chili peppers than you’ll ever want to meet up close and personal.” He slipped an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “You don’t have to do this, hon.”

  “I want to.” She dug into the cup, pulled out a heaping spoonful and stared at it for a moment. Inhaling deeply, she lifted the spoon to her mouth.

  Rand held his breath and so did everyone else, it seemed. Max chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, picked up another bite and ate that, too.

  They all let out their breath on a long, anticlimactic “Ahhhh….” Even Joe Bob, who stood to take a lot of flack if his chili did any real damage, appeared disappointed.

  “So how is it?” he finally asked.

  “Good. Really good.” Max scraped the last big spoonful out of the cup. “Have a bite, darling.” She lifted the spoon toward Rand.

  Her casual use of the endearment sent a shiver shooting down his spine. Damn, he liked hearing it. He liked it when she treated him as what he technically was: her husband.