Redwolf's Woman. Laura Wright
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see him every week, were the ladies in town willing to overlook his heritage?
The scent of an old wedding bouquet hanging from the ceiling permeated the increasingly humid air. Johnny Mathis crooned a plaintive love song on a small radio in the corner. And Ava felt as though she were suffocating inside her pretty satin bridesmaid dress.
Jared was at the diner. So close by she could almost feel him, breathe in that heady scent of sun and sweat he always possessed. She wanted to see him, God help her. But she knew how dangerous that would be. He would have questions and he would demand answers. Lord, what if he’d already heard she was back in town?
Beads of sweat trailed a path down her neck. She needed to get out of the shop. She couldn’t risk running into him, not yet anyway. Not until she was ready to tell him about…
She swallowed the thought, looked down at Mrs. Benton. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. B., but I’ll have to come back later.”
The older woman frowned. “What? Why?”
“I have to go back to Rita’s.”
“For what?” Rita asked quickly.
“I need to check on—”
The bell located above the door of the shop’s front entrance chimed merrily, interrupting Ava’s bogus explanation. She glanced up into the three-sided mirror to see who had come in. Through the generous slit in the curtain behind her, she glimpsed a man walking through the shop door like he owned the place, as though the modest storefront was too small to contain him.
Ava froze, but against her ribs her heart pounded violently. Just ten seconds more and she would’ve escaped him.
Jared Redwolf.
Without thinking, she reached up and released her long, blond hair from the rubber band that had held it tightly in place all morning.
Jared was here. Though to her, he’d never left—her memory or her thoughts—for the four years she’d been away from Paradise.
Time seemed to slow. She put a hand to her mouth and exhaled, swearing that she could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers as he raked his callused palms up the bare skin of her back.
She tried to swallow, tried to breathe correctly. But it took significant effort. After all, she hadn’t seen him face-to-face in such a long time, and this was not how she’d imagined their reunion.
“I’ll be out to help you in a minute,” Mrs. Benton called, without looking up as she fitted another pin, no doubt hoping to finish Ava’s dress before she could run away.
But Ava was going nowhere at the moment. She was bolted to the pedestal, watching Jared as he stopped at a display of bolo ties, handling one in particular with great reverence. She felt free to look at him because she knew he hadn’t noticed her through the slit in the curtain.
Free, but certainly not easy.
Her back to him, she just stared into the mirror, her gaze moving over him like an animal who hadn’t seen food in days. Like the first day she’d seen him driving cattle on her father’s ranch—bulging muscle and covered in sweat as he sat atop the fierce palomino he’d broken himself.
He’d taken her breath away.
If it was possible, he looked even more handsome today than she remembered. Dressed more like a cowboy than a multimillion dollar businessman in a blue chambray shirt, faded jeans and boots, he was easily the best looking man in Texas. Who was she kidding? He was the best looking man in the world. He was far past six feet now, with a man’s body. Long and lean and hard. He’d let his thick, black hair grow past his shoulders, his high cheekbones were more prominent and his eyes, those heavy-lidded steel-gray eyes that charmed, thrilled and terrified you all at the same time, were cool and calm.
But of course, he hadn’t seen her yet.
“Just here to return the tux, Mrs. Benton,” he called out.
Rita gasped at the voice that was far lower, but just as seductive as Ava had remembered. So did Mrs. Benton, but she quickly recovered before calling out, “You can bring it back here, Jared. We’re all decent.”
“No.” Ava fairly cried at the woman, panic welling up inside her.
Rita reached up and touched her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. But the gesture helped little. Ava felt as if her chest would burst. She couldn’t see him now, or ever again.
Her gaze darted right and left as she searched for somewhere to hide, but there wasn’t time. He was coming.
Every muscle in her body tensed.
Not now. Not like this.
But the white curtain parted anyway and Jared Redwolf walked into the circular space, a dark garment bag slung over one broad shoulder. Ava felt her breath catch at the sight of him, so dark and masculine, bracketed on both sides by pure femininity: racks of snowy-white wedding dresses. What would he think when he saw her? she wondered, apprehension threatening to choke her as she turned to face him. What would he say?
The only sign that Jared Redwolf wasn’t a full-blooded Cheyenne was his full lips, but when his gaze landed on Ava those lips thinned dangerously.
Mrs. Benton cleared her throat. “I’ll take that suit and get your receipt, Jared. Be right back, girls.”
Ava barely noticed her departure. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the man who’d ruled her mind since puberty. She simply stared at him as the only sound in the room came from a wily DJ announcing the time and weather on the radio.
Ten a.m. and hot as hell.
Ava felt another bead of sweat fall from her hairline to her neck, then snake down her back.
It was the weather, not her relentless attraction for Jared Redwolf that caused this reaction, she told herself as she watched his eyes blaze fire and his jaw twitch as he stared at her.
Finally she gathered her courage and found her voice. “Hello, Jared.”
But he said nothing, just continued to stare at her as though she were an apparition—and a very unwelcome one. She felt like a caged animal in her pretty pink satin gown that hadn’t been fitted to flattering yet.
Awkwardly Rita cleared her throat. “So, Jared. Back from Dallas early?”
“Too early, it seems,” he said, his tone bordering on venomous.
A tight knot formed in Ava’s stomach. But she understood his anger, and tried once again for polite conversation. “Jared, listen, I—”
“By the way, Rita,” he interrupted, ignoring Ava. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
Rita smiled halfheartedly, her gaze flickering toward her sister. “Thanks.”
“I’d like to get you and your fiancé something, but—”
“We would’ve invited you, Jared, I just didn’t think you’d be in town,” Rita explained awkwardly. “But now that you’re back, you’re more than welcome to come.”
Ava felt her mouth drop open. This wasn’t happening. She’d been so careful with her plans in coming here.
“I appreciate the thought,” he said. “But I don’t think so.” His gaze was intense—and back on Ava.
“Sakir and I would love it,” Rita insisted.
He shook his head. “Thanks, but I can’t do it. I have a desk full of work and a client flying in that night.”
“It’ll be just a few hours.”
Ava clamped a hand down on her sister’s shoulder. “If he doesn’t want to come, he doesn’t want to come. Don’t force the issue.”
The humidity was barely noticeable when compared to the weight of sentiment that passed between her and Jared. His eyes had turned from fuming