Sara Orwig - The Rancher's Secret Son

“Very much. Sometimes it’s frustrating and occasionally it’s disillusioning, but overall, I like politics and plan to run for a US Senate seat in the next election that will be four years from now.”

“You’re ambitious, but I knew that before. I’m sure you’d make a good senator, Nick.”

“Thanks,” he said, aware of her walking close beside him, catching a faint whiff of an exotic perfume he didn’t recognize, but liked. He remembered how silky her hair had felt. In spite of their fiery split, he had never been able to forget her, yet there was no point in trying to see her after tonight. They would have the same difficulties, only now much more so, and he wasn’t going to get hurt by her again.

When they exited the hotel, the valet opened the car door for her and she slid inside with a flash of her long legs that the valet admired as much as Nick did. He walked around to the driver’s side, tipped the valet and thanked him for holding the door.

They drove out of the hotel’s circular drive and in seconds were on the freeway. The winter sun had already set behind the tall buildings and the darkness was the perfect backdrop for the bright Christmas lights that gave a festive feeling to the night.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her question breaking the silence that had descended in the car.

“I’m taking you to a private club I belong to. It’s quiet enough to talk and they have dancing on certain nights, more often now that it’s December and there are more Christmas parties,” Nick said. “We can dance a few times, if I haven’t forgotten how. I don’t go out except with family or for business.”

Her eyes widened as she turned to look at him. “That surprises you,” he said.

“Yes. Somehow I pegged you for the type to sort of bounce back, if one ever can from that deep a loss.”

“I guess I’m not,” he replied abruptly. He didn’t want to talk about that loss. His late wife and the child he’d never known were subjects best left for another time. If they had another time. Changing topics, he said, “The deal went smoothly today. Do you do much business in Dallas?”

“Very little,” she replied. “We did this as a favor to a long-time client who suddenly went into the hospital and couldn’t possibly come.”

“Are you running the agency?”

“Yes, I am. They’re giving Grandpa physical therapy and he hopes to regain his strength, but he can’t ever be in charge again. Still, he can come to the office and be part of it, and that expectation keeps him going. One nice thing that made him happy—the agency has grown since I took over.”

“That’s what counts,” Nick said. He wasn’t surprised by her success. He’d always known she would be competent in running the agency and in dealing with people.

Soon he turned into well-tended grounds, winding through trees strung with miniature multicolored lights until they came to a sprawling stone building. Leaving his car with the valet, they entered the lobby where a huge Christmas tree stood in the center, and red ribbon and bows had been artfully strung along a hallway. Nick led her through the clubhouse to the dining room where they were seated at a corner table beside floor-to-ceiling windows that afforded a panoramic view of a golf course. More Christmas lights lit up the covered veranda and, beyond that, a pond that held two fountains.

In one corner of the dining room a man played a ballad on a piano while two couples danced. The waiter came to take their orders and Nick asked for white wine. When it was poured, he raised his glass. “Here’s to a successful deal that closed easily today.”

“I’ll drink to that, Nick,” she said solemnly, her dark eyes filled with unfathomable secrets. He wondered about her life now. For all she’d said so far, she’d told him nothing except that she was head of the family real estate agency.

“Let’s see if I’ve forgotten how to dance,” he said, standing, curious if she would dance with him. She was cool, standoffish and seemed preoccupied tonight. He wondered whether she was worried about her grandfather or if something else was disturbing her. Or was it a lasting anger with him over their breakup? She wasn’t the light-hearted, fun-filled Claire he had known, but he wasn’t the same person anymore, either.

They went to the dance floor where he put his hand on her waist, careful to keep distance between them as they danced to a soft ballad. “You’re not out of practice,” he said, remembering other times they’d danced together, him holding her close, his heart racing. Even now, he had a sharp awareness of her as she gazed at him intently.

“You’re not out of practice either, Nick.” He accepted her compliment. “You know, if you’re so steeped in politics, I imagine you are out and about plenty.”

“Usually at stuffy dinners or fund-raisers. Not much time to find a pretty woman and dance at those events.”

He wasn’t sure but he thought he saw her cheeks blush before she turned her head. He pulled her slightly closer and gave himself over to the dance. He liked the sensation of having her in his arms. She felt good. Familiar. From out of the blue, one thought kept reverberating in his head. This woman could have been your wife .

He still felt heartache thinking about what could have been.

Four years ago when Claire had turned down his marriage proposal and he returned to Washington, he’d turned to Karen. They had dated in college and law school, and known each other since high school, so their relationship seemed only natural once she’d accepted a job in DC working in the office of a friend of her father’s.

Nick couldn’t work things out with Claire and Karen was there, in DC, wanting to go out, charming him and filling a big void. She was from Dallas, their parents were friends and she would live wherever he wanted. She had wanted marriage. His firm wanted their young attorneys married and so did his parents. He still loved Claire but he knew it was over between them.

Doing what his family, his firm and his career indicated he should, he had proposed to Karen. He could still remember a moment at his wedding when he had been hit by a wall of longing, knowing that it should have been Claire beside him, but he had banked those feelings. Karen had been a good wife, seductive and beautiful, and he had grown to appreciate her more each year. She catered to him, bolstered his career, moved with him, and in return he gave her the social life she wanted. Both sets of parents were happy. Claire was out of his life.

But he had never forgotten her.

Even now, as he danced with her, he had to remind himself that there wasn’t any point in trying to see her again after tonight. She was tied to her family and to Houston more than ever, while he had his life in Dallas and DC and he had a political career that held golden promises for the future.

What about the sizzling current he felt as they danced? There was no denying she still had a physical effect on him, but that might simply be because he had been alone for so long now.

As he spun her around and dipped her in time to the music, he was swept away by vivid memories of holding her tightly, kissing her, making love to her. For an instant desire flashed, hot and unwanted, as he looked down at her mouth, wanting to hold her close, feel her softness while he kissed her. He remembered how soft and sweet her lips had been, and more than anything he wanted to taste them again. The desire was undeniable. Lust slammed into him, rising to the surface and surprising him after two long years of total numbness.

But he wouldn’t kiss her.

He couldn’t.

He swung her up to continue dancing, trying to cool down, to forget the scalding memories. There was no future in seeing Claire and he would not start that again.