The Forgotten Cowboy. Kara Lennox

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      He’d been crazy for her, just about as horny as an eighteen-year-old boy could get. But he’d never gotten the idea that Willow was similarly inflamed. She went through the motions and her technique improved. But Cal never sensed that she was getting carried away.

      Last night at the wedding, however, had been a whole ’nother story. The woman had been on fire, just as he’d been. Maybe that was the difference between the girl he’d fallen in love with and the woman she’d become. The girl had kissed him because she loved him and wanted to please him. The woman had kissed him because she’d wanted to.

      He wondered what else about Willow had changed. She was taller and she’d filled out slightly, though she still had that reed-slim body and waist-length hair that haunted his dreams. But had she changed inside? Could he push his outdated memories of Willow into the past where they belonged and fall in love with the woman she’d become?

      He looked forward to finding out.

      Her grandmother’s house looked the same as it always did when he pulled up out front. The large, two-story frame house, almost a hundred years old, had a wide, inviting front porch with a swing. The front yard was practically overrun with roses in every color, blooming like crazy. Willow had grown up in Mooresville, on the other side of Town Lake. Her parents owned the bank there, and they both worked there full-time. So Willow had spent summers living with Clea.

      Clea Marsden was the perfect grandmother. She baked cookies and made fresh lemonade and sewed quilts and grew roses. But she was a modern thinker and a lot more liberal than Willow’s parents. While Willow’s parents had disapproved of her romance with Cal because of the age difference, Clea had encouraged it. She’d told Cal once that she could tell from the very beginning that the two of them belonged together. So Cal had run tame at Clea’s big, homey house all summer long.

      Even after Willow had broken up with him, Cal had stayed close to Clea. He did odd jobs for her now, fixing little things around the house, checking the oil and tire pressure in her car, mowing the lawn. She’d been a widow for a long time, and she was pretty self-sufficient, but everyone needed help now and then.

      Now it was seven o’clock on the nose. Willow had always valued punctuality, so Cal had made sure he wouldn’t be late. With one final glance in the rearview mirror, he got out and headed for the door, his stomach tumbling with nerves. Those weren’t butterflies in there; it felt more like a herd of rhinoceros.

      He rang the bell. Heard footsteps. Swallowed, his mouth suddenly full of cotton. The door opened, and Clea stood there, a pleasant, welcoming smile on her face. Her smile faltered a moment when she recognized Cal, but then it returned, even bigger than before. Had Willow not told her grandmother to expect him?

      “Come in, come in, Cal. It’s so good to see you. Willow’s just finishing her hair—she’ll be down in a minute.” She showed him into the living room, where a plate of cookies sat invitingly on the coffee table. “Would you like a cookie?”

      Cal groaned. “Are those your oatmeal peanut-butter cookies?”

      “Mmm-hmm. Just baked them this afternoon.”

      “I don’t want to spoil my—okay, just one.” He couldn’t resist. He took a cookie and bit into it, savoring the sweet, rich taste that brought back a thousand memories. He and Willow used to pack picnic lunches and hike into the woods that ran through the back of the Hardison Ranch. They would spread out a quilt by the creek, gorge themselves on fried chicken and potato salad and at least half a dozen cookies each, then swim in the creek.

      Clea disappeared briefly, and when she returned, she had her purse in her hand. “I hope you won’t think I’m rude, but I have bingo tonight. You kids have fun!” She waved and disappeared again. Moments later, Cal heard the back door open and close.

      Less than a minute after Clea’s departure, Cal heard another door open and close, then footsteps coming down the stairs.

      He bounced to his feet just as Willow entered the living room. She looked like a goddess in a white gauzy summer dress. It wasn’t short or clingy or low-cut, but Cal found it sexy as hell, the way it gently conformed to her breasts and the curve of her hip. Her dainty feet were encased in high-heeled white sandals, and she’d woven her long hair up into a sophisticated twist of some kind.

      “Hi,” she said with a shy smile.

      “Hi, yourself. You look gorgeous.”

      She looked around. “Where’s Nana?”

      “Oh, she said she had to go to bingo.”

      A look of panic overtook Willow’s face. “What? You mean she’s gone?”

      “Yeah. Is something wrong?”

      Willow headed for the kitchen. Cal followed, curious as to why her grandmother’s departure would upset Willow. Was Clea in ill health? Willow opened the back door, stared out, then slowly shut it. She turned toward Cal, looking very upset indeed.

      “You’re right. She’s gone. Bingo? I didn’t know the church had bingo on Sunday nights.”

      “She could have gone somewhere else. The Elks Lodge, maybe. Willow, is something wrong?”

      Willow seemed to pull herself together. “No. I just didn’t realize she was leaving, that’s all. She surprised me.”

      Apparently so.

      “We should probably go,” Cal said. “I don’t want to miss boarding.”

      WILLOW COULD NOT believe her grandmother had run out on her like that. Had she forgotten she had an important mission? How was Willow supposed to go out on a date with a man when she didn’t know his name?

      Well, she supposed if her mystery date were a known ax murderer or recently released from the mental hospital, Nana would have said something. Unless he did away with Nana while Willow was primping….

      Now she was being paranoid. Willow supposed it was safe to go out with him. But how could Nana have forgotten to tell Willow who he was?

      Was Nana getting senile? Something else to worry about.

      She would try very hard to put her worries out of her head for now, however. She was going out dining and dancing with a handsome—at least, she thought he was handsome—man, and she was going to enjoy it. She decided to assign him a fictitious name, just until she discovered what his real one was.

      Let’s see. Bill? Fred? No, those weren’t right.

      Hank. She would think of him as Hank.

      “Just let me get my purse and I’ll be ready.”

      Hank drove a truck, she soon discovered. An old brown Chevy, sturdy and utilitarian, recently waxed and immaculate inside. He helped her into the high seat, his gaze lingering on her leg when her dress rode up a few inches. She gave him a look that let him know she’d caught him, but at the same time, his frank interest caused something to ignite deep inside her.

      Oh, Lord, it was too early in the evening to deal with those kinds of feelings. She had to keep her wits about her, be alert for any sort of clue to her date’s identity.

      His job. She would ask him about СКАЧАТЬ