Don't Tell Me You Love Me (Destiny Bay Romances~The Ranchers Book 6) Read online

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Copyright © 2015 Helen Conrad

  Cover Copyright © 2015 DoorKnock Publishing

  Cover images from Shutterstock.com

  First Edition January, 2015 published by DoorKnock Publishing

  Don’t Tell Me You Love Me

  by

  Helen Conrad

  Destiny Bay Romances~The Ranchers, Book 6

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Info

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  My Mailing List!

  Also in the Destiny Bay series

  ABOUT AUTHOR

  Chapter One

  Cheyenne Carrington was running wild.

  She was riding Flamethrower, her brother’s big black stallion, riding him hard, riding like the devil was behind her. A sundowner was blowing through her hair, tossing its rich brown waves like a flag in a hurricane, slapping her in the face so hard she could barely breathe. But she wasn’t cold. Her blood was running hot, excitement pumping through her body, making her feel fierce and alive like she hadn’t felt since…..since the last time she’d been with Johnny.

  No, she wouldn’t think about that. She was marrying Frank Markham in just a few days and she wasn’t going to think about Johnny ever again. Never, never, never again!

  She bent down close to Flamethrower’s neck, so that his mane was slashing her cheeks and she felt the power of the animal beneath her. Blood and muscle, heat and raw nerve. The horse was running wild, too. They were a pair.

  Sometimes, when she rode hard enough, she could lose herself in it. She could enter another level of being, a place where the wind held her and the sun warmed her and the angels sang in her ears.

  But this was different. There was no sun. Twilight washed over the hills with an eerie sheen that set her heart pounding and it wasn’t angels that sang in her ears. It was something deep and hot and urgent. There was a feeling in her that wanted to fly, wanted to race across the sky, wanted to blot out thinking and hoping and trying and do nothing but grab hold of feeling. She was doing her damnedest to follow through.

  Why? What was the matter with her? She didn’t know, and she didn’t dare analyze it. She only knew she had to ride hard and fast until she left all doubts and fears behind her and raced her way into something else. Her days were spent being careful to say the right thing, to smile enough, to hold back emotion. When she had a chance to get away and ride in the evening, she could shed all that, could let her real feelings surge up and spill over.

  It happened often. But for some reason, tonight was extra intense. Tonight, she was in another world.

  She never heard the hoof beats behind her. How could she? Flamethrower, his hoofs smashing against the rocks, his breath coming hard, was making enough noise to drown out a jet plane, let alone another rider. So she didn’t hear him at all.

  But she felt him. Suddenly, she knew he was there. Something changed in the air. A new light slanted in against her eyes, making her squint and turn away. The earth, the trees, the very grass beneath their feet—they all knew. He was there and he was riding up hard behind her and he would catch her if she didn’t make tracks.

  She gasped and leaned even further down against Flamethrower’s neck, crying out encouragement to the gallant horse, her knees pressing in tightly, her fingers clutched in the mane, holding on, urging speed. She cried out the same words over and over, like a prayer.

  He couldn’t catch her. She couldn’t let him. She had to get away. She had to beat him. She had to win.

  Darkness was closing in on her, too. A high full moon laid out a ribbon of light along the road, but she turned Flamethrower into the fields, into the hills, as though she thought she could lose the other rider there. But he was still behind her, riding as hard as she was, sticking to her.

  Despair poured through her soul. She would never lose him, never get rid of his hold on her. It was almost as though he were a part of her—always had been. How did you tear lose a part of your being and banish it from your life?

  Finally, she allowed herself a look back. Her hair covered her eyes and she tossed it aside. Yes, there he was, just as she’d known he would be, and her heart leaped up as she filled her gaze with the look of him. The horse he rode was huge, powerful, and she knew right away he could have overtaken her in a heartbeat if he’d wanted to. He was hanging back, taking his time, letting her run herself out of energy and out of pride. A sob tore deep at her throat. There was no escape. She couldn’t lose him. He would always be there. And he’d always known how to reel her in.

  She hated him, hated his confidence, hated that he was so strong, so sure. “I hate you!” she tossed back into the night air. She thought she heard his laughter in return.

  She swung back and searched the hills for a refuge. Maybe she could make it to the Aragons’ ranch. It wasn’t much farther—just over the next rise and down into the canyon. She pictured the scene with her clattering up alongside their patio, calling out to Jeffrey, waving at Cindy, sliding down off her horse with a gaggle of friends coming out to meet her, drinks in their hands. And she would turn to smile in triumph as he came riding in behind her. He wouldn’t dare do anything with all her friends around her. Would he?

  But then she remembered the time she’d gone with a group of those same friends to see him compete at a rodeo, when she’d taunted him, mocked him, egged him on until a strange, dark look had flashed over his face and he’d reached out without a word, swung her up over his shoulder, and carried her off right in front of everyone, carried off in a way that brought up images of buccaneers raiding foreign schooners for their cargo of gold and silver.

  No! She wasn’t going to think of things like that ever again. Not ever!

  She had to get away from him. She urged Flamethrower on, whispered promises against his neck, coaxed him and pleaded. She could see the Aragon ranch in the distance. She could make it. She had to.

  She heard him call her name. He was close, too close. She turned her head and looked back, and at the same time, Flamethrower swerved to avoid a fissure, and then she was falling, sliding right off the horse and into the grass, hitting with a thump that sent her sprawling. He must have leaped from his horse at the same time, because she’d hardly had time to draw in a full breath and shake herself to see if anything was broken, when he was there, standing over her, looking down.

  She looked up.

  Johnny.

  Her heart seemed to swell in her chest. She couldn’t help it. That proud, handsome face she’d loved so well, that thick, dark hair she’d dug her fingers into, the scar on his cheek, the way his ears lay flat against his head like shells—he was just the same. She knew every part of him almost as well as she knew herself. She’d been crazy about him for most of her life. There’d been a time when she would have said he was her soul mate and her destiny.

  But not anymore. No, not now.

  He was dressed in a fringed buckskin jacket and jeans worn
baby blue and snug with repeated washings and the way he stood bespoke challenge and bitterness. She met his gaze and saw nothing but her own reflection in his silver eyes.

  And then there was something more. His mouth twisted, and it wasn’t a smile.

  “No,” she said, though her heart was beating a wild dance in her chest. “No,” she said again, shaking her head.

  But he wasn’t asking for her permission. She could see his intentions plainly on his hard face. He’d raced her and he’d won. Now he meant to claim his prize.

  His hand took her arm, sending a shudder through her soul, and she lost her breath again, as though she were still racing, still running wild. His fingertips trailed down her cheek, raked into her hair, as though he were reminding himself of what she felt like, and then his fingers tightened, pulling her closer, and his arms held her and his mouth was on hers. Fear mixed with the thrill that shot through her. There had been a time when he could turn her into molten need with just a touch. He’d always been a magic man when it came to raw desire. She’d been so helpless in his hands.

  Those memories must have been what held her now, what kept her from tearing away from him. As he held her, she could smell the sweat, feel the heat, sense the hunger and she moaned as he pulled her closer to him, pressing his hand in her back. His body was hard, harder and stronger even than she’d remembered, and though she tried to keep herself rigid, to show him she didn’t care, she was melting--melting at his touch. His mouth was hot on hers and she felt herself responding to the ecstasy of its promise. For just a moment—for old time’s sake….

  But that was crazy. “No,” she whispered again, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Maybe the blood was pounding in his ears as it was pounding in hers. Maybe the race had driven him to an excitement hard to control. Maybe it had been so long since they had been together….so long even since they’d seen each other….and it felt so good….

  But it was wrong. She knew it. He knew it. There were too many things between them now. And she was marrying another man. This couldn’t happen. She had to be the one to make sure it didn’t.

  “No,” she managed to murmur, trying to twist away. He wasn’t responding. He wasn’t listening.

  For a moment, she was afraid he was too far gone to understand. He was still staring at her. She felt a shudder go through his body and when she tried to pull away, he wouldn’t release her. But finally his fingers loosened, and slowly he began to draw back.

  She pulled her shirt in place, tucking the tails into her jeans, and glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, still shaken and breathless.

  He stared at her for another moment, then turned away and looked at where the horses had stopped. They were grazing gently in the moonlight, as though no drama were taking place only a few yards away. A long moment passed before he turned back to face her. He straightened his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair and looked at her mockingly from beneath his straight, dark brows. He was back under control.

  “I just dropped by to say ‘hello’,” he drawled, hooking his thumbs into the wide leather belt riding low at his hips.

  “You have a rather extreme way of doing it,” she said accusingly, facing him, dusting off her jeans as she did so. It wasn’t so hard, really, now that she’d gotten her feet back under her and her blood had stopped racing. She chanced a look into his silver eyes. He was just a man, after all. Not a demon. Not some wild desperado. Just a man she used to know. She took a deep breath and went on. “Whose horse is that?”

  He glanced at it. “Jake Travers let me take him for a ride. I’ve got to get him back soon.”

  She sighed with relief, glad he had a deadline. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  He gave her a long, impenetrable look before he answered. “I heard you were getting married. I always thought I’d be involved in one way or another when that happened.”

  She searched his face, tried to read his emotions, but his eyes were like panes of tinted glass in the moonlight. She couldn’t read a thing there. But she felt something. She could still sense his emotions. If she closed her eyes, she would still see him, just as she always had. That wasn’t a good sign.

  She had to cut off those feelings. He was a part of a past she had to wipe out. Maybe he didn’t understand that.

  “Johnny….” she began, stepping toward him.

  He stepped back, as though he didn’t want to be too close to her again. “So, I guess it’s not going to be the way we used to plan, is it?” he said lightly. “Still, I thought I might be useful. I thought you might need me to give the bride away. I know you like things done the traditional way.”

  She glared at him, pushing back her hair with a hand that hadn’t quite stopped trembling. “I hardly think a man who did what you just did is the one to hand me over to my new husband.”

  He shrugged and his wide mouth twisted. “Hey, what’s wrong with a little lust for old time’s sake?” His gaze swept over her, from her thick, tousled hair to her pointed, tooled boots. “I’m sure Frank won’t mind. He knows how close you and I have been in the past.”

  She stopped the retort that rose in her throat. Bickering wouldn’t get them anywhere. Sighing, she opted for the truth. “That’s just it, Johnny. All that is in the past. It’s gone forever.”

  “Forever?”

  He stepped closer now and reached for her, taking up a handful of her thick chocolate hair and crushing it between his fingers. His silver gaze caught hers and held.

  A lump rose in her throat. For a moment, she couldn’t get speech around it. There had been something in his voice when he’d said the word, forever--something that vibrated and touched something deep within her. She couldn’t let him affect her. His emotional state was none of her business. She took a deep, deep breath and finally managed to grate out a warning.

  “Stay away from me,” she said, pulling back and pushing his hand away.

  His lean, handsome face took on a slow, lopsided grin. “That wasn’t what you were saying a few minutes ago.”

  She met his gaze and stared at him. How could he be so much the same—and yet so different? “You’re despicable,” she said, though she said it lightly, almost as an afterthought.

  “I do my best.” Immediately, he made an impatient movement, as though he regretted the words, wanted to take them back, and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, normal, almost friendly.

  “Look, Cheyenne, I didn’t come to fight with you. I want us to be able to deal with each other like normal adults.” He shrugged. “About the kiss…I guess I shouldn’t have done that.” He made a gesture with his open hand. “It just came naturally. Chasing you across the chaparral like that made me think about the old days.” He smiled and his eyes softened. “Remember that time we raced to the beach through Los Olivos Canyon?”

  She shook her head, not because she didn’t remember, but because she couldn’t let herself think about things like that. “That was then,” she said softly. “This is now.”

  He nodded, as though accepting her way of viewing things. “We used to love each other,” he said, like a man singing half forgotten words to an old, beloved song.

  She had to fight the instinct that swept over her—the urge to go to him, to take him in her arms. It would have been so natural. She’d done it so often in the past. “That was before you betrayed me and my family,” she reminded him, reminding herself at the same time. “You’re the one who killed that love.”

  An expression of pain flashed across his handsome face. He hesitated, then began, “I know you think I caused your father’s heart attack, Cheyenne….”

  She was shaking her head so hard her hair was sweeping the air around her shoulders. “It wasn’t only that. What you did to my father was only the last straw, Johnny. There was so much more. You know there was.”

  He stood silently and she turned, calling to her horse. Flamethrower lifted his head and looked at her. She wanted nothing so much as to swi
ng up on his back and ride away and never look back. But she couldn’t leave yet. She turned back to face him.

  “Okay, Johnny. I know you never do anything just for the hell of it. Why did you really come? What do you want?”

  He stood in the moonlight, his weight balanced, his arms at his side. “You do know me too well, Cheyenne,” he told her softly. “So I’ll level with you. I came for my son.”

  Her heart stopped in her throat and she felt the world begin to spin wildly around them. This was something she had never anticipated. “You….what?”

  “Zachary. Isn’t that his name? My son. I’m his father. You’re marrying Frank. I won’t have Frank act like a dad to him. I want him with me.”

  Shock quivered through her. “Oh Johnny, no.” She shook her head, one hand to her throat. She couldn’t believe he could mean it. She’d never dreamed he might want Zachary. It didn’t seem possible. “You can’t do this.”

  “Oh yeah?” He smiled that old Johnny smile, the one that had once made her love him so hard she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it. “You just watch me.”

  She stared at him. This would have been her worst nightmare if she’d ever imagined it as a possibility. But she hadn’t. Johnny had never shown any interest in seeing Zachary, much less in being a real father to him. He’d been gone so long. Why now?

  “I’ll fight you,” she warned, her mouth dry as cotton.

  “Good,” he replied. “That ought to be interesting.”

  She stared at him, hardly believing she could ever have loved him. Then she turned blindly, reaching for her horse. She had to get away from him, get to someplace where she could think. Swinging up on Flamethrower’s back, she made a clicking sound that he knew well, and soon she had him trotting toward home. She didn’t look back.

  Johnny watched her go, swearing softly to himself. He’d made a mess out of it. He hadn’t meant to threaten her that way. He hadn’t even meant it when he’d said he wanted to take their son. Something in him had wanted to hurt her, and he’d instinctively found the thing that would wound her. He’d forgotten that hurting her would only hurt him, too.