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  He gripped her arms, dragging her up against him. "Isn't it?" His glare was savage. "You were a coward, turning tail, too chicken to even show up and face me … give me the courtesy of a 'nice knowing you, Kyle, don't get shot.' My God, Maxie—" he shook her "—you humiliated me beyond belief! You were self—"

  "You're right."

  He blinked, choking back his tirade. "What?"

  "And I owe you an apology."

  He released her, his tone sarcastic. "Say again?"

  "I want to apologize." His gaze narrowed, then sharpened with icy calm and Maxie knew it was now or never. "It was cruel and immature, abandoning you like that, especially when you were about to go fight for your country." Mortal shame showered over her, years of repressed guilt unleashing. "I should have done the grown-up thing and come to you." Her vision blurred and she blinked rapidly. "But I wasn't grown-up. I was scared and feeling rushed and I knew if I saw you…" She swallowed back burning tears. "I wouldn't have told you what I needed to say and I would have gone on with the lie."

  "It wasn't a lie," came in a soft hiss. "I was in love with you!"

  Her gaze locked with his. "If you loved me so much, why didn't you answer my letters? Why didn't you call?"

  "I was hurting," he rasped. "You knew I was licking my wounds over there."

  "You cut me off. Like that," she said with a snap of her fingers. "You didn't even make an effort when you came back. For all you knew, I could have been dying. Is that how a man treats the woman he claims to love?"

  Kyle didn't want to hear the truth of her words, not after all this time. "I was ready to marry you."

  "But I wasn't. Not then, not that fast. I'd tried to talk to you days before, Kyle. But every time I mentioned waiting until after you came back, you would kiss me or make love to me or joke, anything but listen." She inhaled a short breath. "Anything but hear me."

  Kyle searched his memory and his features tightened. "But we were good together, we could have worked it out."

  "We were mismatched and you know it," she said. "I wanted marriage and kids, and all you wanted was to party and to cheat death at every opportunity."

  He folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her. "I liked having fun and as I recall, so did you."

  "Sure, I did. But you were too irresponsible for a man who insisted he was ready to settle down." His look defied her, and she said, "You lived in a barracks and ate in the mess hall, but you were always penniless come payday with nothing to show for it." His scowl darkened, and she knew he didn't need his failings thrown in his face, but he had to understand why she left and she needed to say it. "You intentionally risked your life. On a regular basis. It was plain dangerous to be with you sometimes. But you could persuade me into anything."

  His lips quirked, wild memories in his dark eyes. "You regret all of it?"

  "No, no." Her smile was faint and sad. "But you scared me every time you raced, went skydiving or rock climbing, not to mention that bungee jump that nearly took your leg off. That's not the behavior of a man preparing for stability."

  Kyle tried to see her fears, her misgivings. He didn't want to admit he'd been lying to himself for a very long time. "I was willing to give up that life-style. It gets old quick. I was ready then, Max, even if you didn't believe me."

  "You're right. I didn't believe you." His face was mapped with hurt, and Maxie tried desperately to explain. "But I didn't show up not because I wasn't certain about you, Kyle," she explained, her tone pleading, "but because I wasn't sure about me. I didn't leave you, I left us. I was in love with the idea of marriage, of having what I wanted. I don't know if we were truly in love then, but I know we lusted more. Or if it would have lasted beyond Desert Storm."

  His features tightened, and he broke his gaze. How many times had he thought of how it would have been—where they would be if they'd married then? "Maybe it would have lasted if you'd given us the chance."

  "Maybe, maybe not. But those weeks before, we were confused and reaching out." She gripped his bare arms, forcing him to look at her. "You were heading into the middle of war within hours and you wanted someone to miss you."

  Her voice softened. "You didn't have any family except Mitch. Married, you'd have a wife who had to miss you." A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  She searched his gaze, but when he continued to stare at her, almost in a daze, she shook him and said, "You can rant at me some more, if it will make you feel better."

  "No." He let out a long heavy breath. "Then I'd look stupid, and it was better when you did."

  She smiled weakly and he reached out, his thumb brushing back a tear moving down her cheek. Her gaze bored into his. She felt better for apologizing, but that didn't mean he'd accepted it. "I'm sorry, Kyle."

  "I see that."

  Her lip trembled pitifully and he groaned, gathering her into his arms. She rested her cheek on his bare chest, her arms around his waist.

  "I didn't want to break your heart." She inhaled raggedly, her voice a sorrowful whisper. "You have to know that." She sobbed helplessly.

  Kyle closed his eyes, willing back the burn rising behind them. He never once stopped to think how hard that day must have been for her. "I think I do." He cupped her jaw in his palm, tipping her face. He searched her features. "Does this mean you did miss me?" He still didn't believe she never loved him, masochist that he was.

  She smiled tearily, sniffling and thinking of the day Mimi was born, of how badly she'd wanted him with her. "Yes."

  He didn't speak for a moment, occupied with pushing her hair off her face, touching her features as if reacquainting himself with them for the first time. "Can we start this reunion over?" he asked softly.

  Instantly wary, she eyed him, backing out of his arms and swiping at her cheeks. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  Boy, if ever a guard went up fast, he thought dismally, yet remained relaxed as he rested his hand on her shoulder with a gentle weight. "Hiya, Max. It's good to see you again."

  She smiled, leftover tears spilling. "Hello, Kyle. Good to see you, too."

  His gaze skimmed her gold satin pajamas and the black-and-gold vertical-striped robe. It clung in all the right places. "You look great, baby." His voice was low and husky.

  A blush colored her cheeks, her gaze slipping over his bare muscular chest, the jeans unbuttoned against his flat stomach, before lifting to collide with his. "So do you."

  "I'm cold."

  She laughed shakily. "Considering you're half-naked…"

  Suddenly his arm swept around her waist, pulling her hips sharply against his. "Wanna get all the way naked?" He wiggled his brows.

  Maxie sputtered, pushing at his chest, trying to muster some anger, but she couldn't. His dark eyes were glittering with irresistible mischief.

  "Gotcha," he teased, then kissed her quick and hard, a heady stroke of lips and tongue before releasing her so hard she dropped to the bed.

  She blinked, expecting him to take the kiss further, but he was already halfway to the door.

  "Kyle." Warning, wary.

  "Yeah," he said as if talking to the walls. "That was much better." Then he was gone.

  Maxie flopped back onto her bed, her heart pounding as much from his kiss as from the emotional upheaval of the past half hour. She closed her eyes and raked her hair back, holding it there. She'd glimpsed the man she'd known, the fun-loving Kyle Hayden who'd made love to her outdoors or gift wrapped silly little gum-machine toys she still secreted in a box in the top of her closet. The man she'd defied her father to keep seeing. Okay, she thought they'd cleared the air. Somewhat. But that didn't mean everything was hunky-dory. As long as he was here, she couldn't let her guard down. She couldn't afford to have her secrets exposed.

  He was Mimi's biological father and nothing more. He'd never wanted kids. In fact it was one of the issues they'd argued about when he'd first proposed. She'd no reason to believe he was any more receptive to the idea now. He'd refused contact and, as far as she was conc
erned, he'd lost his chance seven years ago. She was already both mother and father and damn good at it. Mimi was a happy, healthy hole girl, and her mother would keep her that way.

  It didn't matter that her knees quivered every time he touched her, or that she'd enjoyed their kiss more than any other in the past years. Mimi came first. Maxie didn't trust herself around Kyle, didn't trust her judgment, her feelings. And certainly not him. Whether he was an old flame or not, her daughter's happiness wasn't going to suffer because her mother couldn't be the adult here. She had to stick to the routine, keep more than an emotional distance and act like nothing was wrong. She scoffed. Yeah, right. Act like the father of her child wasn't in the same house with them?

  Pushing off the bed, she left her room. Kyle was strangely absent, and she was relieved. After she loaded the washer and turned it on, folded a basket full of laundry, ran the vacuum, then emptied the dishwasher, she headed back to the privacy of her rooms. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she checked the time, then flipped open her address book lying on the nightstand and hurriedly dialed her friend Gina's number. Mimi should be about ready for bed by now.

  Gina answered, said hello and they chatted for a few moments before the sound of a high-pitched squeal in the background made her cringe.

  "Ready for a couple of tranquilizers?"

  Gina laughed tiredly. "It gets a little wild just before bedtime—you know how they are together. Playing dress-up, tons of popcorn and a chic cartoon, then the pillow fight."

  "I take it they're at the pillow-fight stage?"

  "I've got the cordless phone. Let me check." The giggles got louder. "Bryan's already asleep, the little trouper, and Scott's supposed to be keeping an eye on them, but—"

  "Dream on, girlfriend, it's basketball season."

  "Yeah, and he's asleep in the recliner, the rat. And it's not even halftime." Over a squeal, she heard Gina call to Mimi.

  "Hi, Mom!" came an answering shout.

  Maxie let out her breath, soothed just by the sound of her daughter's voice. "Hey, sweetie, how's it going?"

  "A real blast, Mom. Me and Dana had hamburgers and fries and soda and popcorn."

  "And you're going to be sick if you don't settle down. You might wake the baby."

  "Okay, sure," she said, but Maxie knew when she was being ignored. "Mrs. Trask said we could stay up till ten if it's okay with you."

  She's going to be a crab in the morning, Maxie thought, checking the time. "Nine."

  "Mom," she whined softly.

  "Nine-thirty."

  "Yes!" came excitedly, and Maxie grinned.

  "But you have to be quiet in the morning. Mrs. Trask needs some rest. Deal?" Mimi promised she and Dana would watch cartoons until Gina was up. "Good night, baby."

  "Mom? What's up? You sound … funny." Mimi was always too insightful for one so young. An old soul, she liked to think. "Funny ha-ha or funny weird?"

  "Funny weird."

  "I just miss you. It's lonely here, just me and the horses and mules."

  "But Grandma said we had a boarder."

  Maxie thought of her boarder and the kiss they'd shared earlier. "Yeah, he's an old friend."

  "Then why are you lonely?"

  "Good question." She tried to sound relaxed.

  "I love you, Mommy," her daughter said, and Maxie closed her eyes, thanking God for giving her this little angel.

  "I love you, too, princess. G'night."

  Gina got on the line. "They're going down for the count."

  Maxie smiled, shaking her head. "Girl, you're a saint."

  "Yeah." She laughed lightly. "Only you and God know that, though. Hey, is it all right if she stays tomorrow, too, since there's no school on Monday? We're going to the carnival."

  Maxie wanted to say no, that she needed Mimi home, needed to feel her arms around her, tuck her in at night, but she had to think of her daughter and a six-year-old's need for friends. "You sure?"

  "Oh, yeah," Gina said comfortably. "She's an angel and it's easier, believe it or not, with the pair of them."

  Why did children always behave when they were in other people's houses and were holy terrors in their own? Maxie wondered.

  "Sure. But you pick the weekend, and it's a slumber party at my place. Bryan, too, of course." Gina protested about adding the baby to the barrage of kids, but Maxie wouldn't hear of it. "You and Scott can have a real date and go out alone."

  "Alone? Out? What's that?"

  Maxie laughed, said goodbye and hung up.

  She rubbed her face, plowing her fingers through her hair. When she lifted her gaze, she found Kyle standing just outside the bedroom door. He'd covered his incredible chest with a faded black sweatshirt emblazoned with the Marine Corps emblem.

  "Eavesdropping?" Maxie felt warm beneath the strength of his stare.

  Kyle had heard enough to know she'd been talking to her daughter, and that she loved her, deeply. He felt suddenly like a bothersome ant and wondered if she'd deliberately kept her daughter from him. He didn't like that at all.

  Maxie stood. "Answer the question."

  "No, not intentionally."

  She believed him, though she had no reason to right now and tried to decipher the odd look in his eyes. "Hungry?"

  "I can always eat." He was still staring intently.

  She advanced, holding his gaze. "What do you say I make us a snack? Hmm?"

  He'd like to snack on her, he thought wolfishly as his gaze slipped past her to her room. More specifically the four-poster bed he hadn't noticed before, the rich colors of maroon and pale gray, a complete contrast to the rest of the house. Royal in appearance, yet it was exotic with the majestic draping, the canopy like something out of a harem. He wanted to brush back the fabric, to lie with her on the huge empty bed, stripping those clingy pajamas off slowly and reacquainting himself with every inch of her delectable body. He brought his gaze back to hers as she made to slip past him.

  "Nice bed, Max."

  She froze at his intimate tone, gazing up at him. "I like it fine," she managed to say with him so close. I should have dressed in something more defensive, she thought, brushing her hair back off her cheek and hating that her hand shook.

  Kyle noticed and realized that no matter how much she tried to ignore it, the electricity was still there. Something in him wanted her to acknowledge it.

  He braced his palm on the frame, blocking her freedom, unable to resist rattling her cage. "Still sleep in the nude?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she said, and ducked beneath his arm and headed to the kitchen.

  Kyle spared another look into the lavish bedroom. Now, that's the old Maxie, he thought, then followed her, trying to forget her bed, her daughter and make the best of the remaining evening, at least.

  Maxie could feel his eyes on her back and ignored the sensation as she rummaged in the refrigerator for fruit and cheese, the cabinets for crackers. After preparing a pot of coffee, she switched on the CD player, then carried the filled platter to the living room. Chopin in the background, she set the platter on the desk, gesturing for him to help himself as she slid behind the desk and into the leather chair. She pulled a calculator close and opened her ledgers. The music soothed her frayed nerves as she worked, engrossed with tallying the figures. Tossing the pencil on the desk, she worked a kink out of her shoulders and lifted her gaze. He was near the fireplace, finishing off an apple, watching her.

  "What?" she said nervously.

  "I don't remember you having an appetite like that."

  She glanced down at the near empty platter. "I didn't work as hard as I do now."

  "What made you decide to board horses?"

  "This place came cheap, and working with horses was the only thing I was really good at." She chuckled softly, sinking back into the chair. "Still is the only thing I'm good at."

  He scowled. "That's bull." He tossed the core into the fireplace.

  "Is it?" she said, arching a brow. "It took me five y
ears to finish college."

  "I think I contributed to some of that," he confessed, adding a log to the dying blaze.

  She offered a small smile of memory, of her recklessly abandoning her senior classes to be with him. "I suppose. But with sisters who excelled at everything they did, I was mostly a total failure."

  Kyle scowled, not liking that she thought of herself that way. "Taking a while to finish college is no crime, Max."

  "No, but marrying and divorcing in the space of a year isn't exactly a glowing track record, either."

  He tried not to show his shock. Married! Mimi's father, he assumed. "I always knew you were a heartbreaker."

  Maxie blanched, wondering what was going on behind his strained smile and wishing she'd delivered that news with a little more tact. "Forget I mentioned it." She hopped up to get coffee.

  Kyle watched her go, wisely keeping his mouth shut. They were having a civil conversation, and he wanted the peace to last. Yet he wondered about her marriage, who she'd loved enough to say "I do" and why it had ended.

  She returned with a carafe of coffee and two mugs, offering him one, then filling it.

  "You were telling me why you board horses…" he prodded, hoping to maintain the easy atmosphere.

  She blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Well, Mia and Mariah wouldn't get near Dad's horses, and handling them was something I did better." She took her mug with her as she went back to the desk, curling into the chair. "I have two of Dad's colts, by the way." She watched him as he poked at the fire, stirring it to a crackling blaze. "Anyway, when I had the chance to buy this place, I did. Started out with just a couple of mounts and tack that had seen better days, but—" she shrugged "—now we do all right."

  We. She and Mimi, he thought. Alone. "It's a lot of work." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Do you have help?"

  Her soft smile caught him square in the chest. "Mimi does sometimes, bless her heart, but as to hiring help—can't afford it. Besides, I'd rather do it alone."

  His lips tightened. Running a ranch alone was wearing her down to ten pounds thinner than she ought to be, he thought with a scrutinizing glance, yet didn't comment. It sounded too possessive anyway. Which he was not. He adjusted the screen and faced her.