LITMIR.BIZ

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turned and gathered up one of the huge baskets.

      “I’ll help you carry this one.” Cook promptly collected the other basket from the table and followed Angela outside.

      At the west side of the house, Angela opened the door to Geraldine’s work truck and carefully placed the basket she was carrying on the floorboard. Behind her, Cook snorted.

      “Why did you interfere in there, honey? I could’ve gotten you out of this little job. It’s plain to me that you don’t want to go to Jubal’s house.”

      “It’s all right, Cook. The man probably isn’t home anyway.”

      “Angie, maybe you should fess up to Geraldine,” Cook suggested. “Tell her that there’s bad blood between you and the doc.”

      Angela swallowed down a sigh. “There’s not bad blood, Cook. Just painful memories. Besides, I can’t complain to Miss Geraldine. I’m not important to her and she could easily replace me. Now Jubal—everyone on the ranch already thinks he’s just dandy and his job here is very important.”

      Angela took the basket from Cook’s arms and thrust it into the truck.

      Scowling, Cook said, “You’re important to me. That counts for somethin’, don’t it?”

      Smiling now, Angela turned and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “It counts for everything. Now don’t worry about me. I can handle myself around Jubal Jamison.”

      With that brave statement, she climbed into the truck and headed it toward Jubal’s.

      As Angela bounced over the rough dirt road washed out from a string of fall rains, she turned up the heater and glanced at the gray sky. Winter in south Texas never lasted long, but it was a dismal time for humans and livestock. This morning Angela was feeling particularly shivery, but she had a feeling the weather had nothing to do with the chill deep inside her.

      Facing east, Jubal’s cedar-sided house was located on a low, grassy hill with a small creek running in front of it. As she crossed a slab of concrete that spanned the shallow path of water, Angela geared down the truck, then urged the vehicle on up the hill to where a spreading live oak shaded a large, graveled driveway.

      She parked the truck, relieved to note that there was no vehicle near the house or the barn. Hopefully, if she worked quickly, she could deposit the baskets inside and be on her way before Jubal showed up.

      Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, she grabbed up one of the baskets and hurried toward the wood-planked porch leading up to the entrance. Along the way, she caught the scent of wood smoke on the wind and looking up spotted a few white puffs coming from the red brick chimney at the right side of the structure.

      Stepping up onto the porch, she noticed wicker lawn furniture at one end and a row of potted succulents lined along the wall. Jubal’s place looked homey and inviting, a place for a family. But Jubal didn’t have a family, she thought with dismay.

      The baby Evette had been expecting had never been born. The fact still continued to shock her. Down through the years, she’d imagined Jubal and Evette together, raising their child together, while she and Melanie had struggled by themselves.

      Oh God, why couldn’t she forget about it? Let it go?

      After several knocks on the door, she tried the handle and found it unlocked. Feeling like an interloper, she opened the door wide enough to place the gift basket inside the room, then hurried back to the truck for the second one.

      She was in the kitchen, putting the perishable food items in the refrigerator, when she heard the hum of an approaching vehicle minutes later.

      Of course it would be Jubal, she thought with sinking dread. At this time of year, no one else would have reason to come back this way.

      Bracing herself, she fought the urge to run and waited instead for him to appear. When his tall, lanky body finally stepped through the open doorway of the kitchen, an unexpected thrill rushed through her.

      Jubal spotted Angela standing beside the kitchen table and stopped in his tracks. “Oh. It’s you,” he said with surprise. “I saw Geraldine’s truck and thought she was here.”

      She took an awkward step forward and Jubal could see her cheeks were flushed red, but whether from embarrassment or anger, or simply the cold, he couldn’t be sure. In any case, she looked completely uncomfortable.

      “Uh—Miss Geraldine sent me over with gift baskets. There was some food I needed to put in the refrigerator.”

      The last time he’d seen her, she’d told him that she never wanted to see him again. Jubal was relieved to see her for any reason. He only wished she was happier to be here.

      Pushing the brim of his black Stetson back a fraction on his forehead, he walked over to her. Here in the morning light, she seemed even more petite than he remembered. Her head would barely strike the middle of his chest, yet the curves hidden beneath her jeans and sweatshirt were all that he recalled and more. “I’m glad you brought them.”

      Stepping to one side of her, he poked through the items in one of the baskets on the tabletop. Angela tried to ignore his nearness, tried to pretend he still didn’t look like the sexy cowboy she’d first fallen in love with when she’d been a mere nineteen years old. But she had to admit there was a sensuality about the man that she’d apparently forgotten and it was calling far too loudly to her now.

      “Mmm, looks good,” he said. “I’ll have to thank Geraldine for being so thoughtful.”

      “I’ll tell her you’re pleased—as soon as I get back to the ranch house.” Turning, she quickly started out of the room.

      “Angie, wait.”

      Her heart hammering, she paused to look over her shoulder. For a moment, as her gaze skittered over his face, their eyes clashed and the brief meeting jolted her senses, reminding her of the wild, sweet taste of his kiss.

      He cleared his throat. “The weather is miserable today. Why don’t you take a minute to warm yourself at the fireplace?”

      Was he trying to be thoughtful? Did he think being polite could wipe away the past, she wondered crazily. Forget that, Angela, she chided herself. Jubal doesn’t want anything from you. Not now.

      “That’s hospitable of you, Jubal. Especially after—the things I said to you.”

      One of his shoulders lifted and fell. “You were upset,” he explained. “I’m just glad you decided to see me for any reason.”

      She didn’t know how to reply to that without raking up more of the past so she said, “I suppose I could stay for a few minutes.”

      Smiling faintly, he gestured toward the doorway and Angela preceded him out of the kitchen and into the living area.

      The long room was filled with comfortable leather furniture and bright Navajo rugs. A snappy fire on the hearth radiated a welcome warmth.

      For years she’d been haunted with the image of Jubal, Evette and their child sharing a home together. Now she had to rearrange those images and she wasn’t at all sure how she felt about that. The wounded part of Angela had been happy to hear that Evette hadn’t been able to hold on to him. But she wasn’t happy about his losing the baby. The child had been an innocent victim in the whole affair. Just like Melanie.

      Turning her back to the flames, she noticed that Jubal hadn’t taken a seat. Seeing him standing so tall and strong in the middle of the room made her even more aware of the attractive picture he made and how vulnerable it made her feel to be alone with him.

      “Did you know the family that lived here before?” he asked.

      She nervously clasped her hands together. “No. They moved out before I had a chance to meet them.”

      “Geraldine told me that the man had respiratory problems and had to move to the western part of the state.”

      “Yes.

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