Vows of the Heart Read online

  "Do you want some kind of commitment from me?" A speculative gleam darkened his eyes.

  "I'm not asking for one, Cole."

  "But there can be nothing more between us if I don't make one," he surmised grimly, yet without anger.

  "That's right," Veronica murmured, suddenly unable to think of anything but the promise of heaven she was forcing herself to give up.

  "Then I guess I'll see you at breakfast." Cole's total attention returned to what he'd been working on when she'd interrupted. Veronica accepted the aloof dismissal and retreated dismally to her room.

  CHAPTER NINE

  For the next two weeks, Veronica's life settled into a pattern of work and exercise. She walked a mile a day and took Honey Lamb out regularly, riding the gentle mare around a small pasture near one of the barns where the gregarious Shorty was within shouting distance.

  The increase in exercise had been hard on her, but in the past day or so her body seemed to have adjusted and her physical therapist was pleased with her progress. She would be trading in her crutches for a walking cane any time now and she was eager for the change.

  She saw Cole only at mealtimes, unless he was in the house doing paperwork. Even then, if she wasn't pre­paring a meal or cleaning up after one, she slipped out­side for a walk or to work in the flower beds.

  Curtis was home a lot more, but he was with Cole, ex­cept when Cole went out for the evening. Then Shorty or Teddy's teenaged sister, Brenda, would come in.

  Veronica had a lot of early nights, partly because she was worn out by seven-thirty, but more because she didn't want to know when Cole came home. She'd heard enough speculation from Shorty to guess that on most evenings Cole was with Jessie.

  It hurt that Cole could so quickly and completely turn to pursuing Jessie. But it was just as well, she told her­self, that she'd seen how easily the shallow interest Cole had shown in her could be switched to someone else. If Veronica had entertained any fairy-tale notions about Cole being the man of her dreams, they were gone now.

  Cole's remoteness made Veronica feel they were no longer even friends. She could see that soon she would find living in the same house with Cole and his recalci­trant son intolerable.

  "Your mother called while you were in town," Cole said as he came into the kitchen for a glass of iced tea. Veronica had just returned from a session with the phys­ical therapist and was tiredly contemplating a nap before she started dinner preparations.

  "I'll call her later," Veronica replied as she tossed her car keys onto their usual spot beside the sugar canister.

  "She sounded upset," Cole added, and Veronica al­lowed herself to look at Cole for the first time since he'd come into the room.

  Unfair! her heart cried when she was suddenly weak­ened by the sight of Cole leaning against the counter, sipping his tea, his indolent pose reminding Veronica what it felt like to be pressed against the length of his solidly male form. Unaware that Cole had seen both the slow sweep of her violet eyes and the tinge of color that had come into her cheeks, Veronica tried to bring her at­tention back to what he had just said.

  "What did she want?" Veronica was too tired to waste any of her available rest time on the phone for a false alarm. Sometimes her mother tended to exaggerate.

  "She was upset with me," Cole said, the quirk of his lips telling her what he thought of that.

  "It seems to me we agreed you would be polite to my mother," she reminded him, a touch of anger coming into eyes that had seemed almost spiritless to Cole for the past two weeks.

  "I was the perfect gentleman," he assured her. "Even when she jumped all over me for taking advantage of you."

  A frown crossed Veronica's face. "Where did she get an idea like that?" She could think of nothing she'd said that would have given her mother that impression.

  "She doesn't like the idea of your working for me. She says I've taken advantage of your generosity long enough."

  "Mother said that?" Veronica couldn't imagine her mother standing up to Cole or challenging him in any way. Men like Cole had always cowed her.

  "That, and more." Cole sipped his drink, watching her over the top of the glass.

  "More?"

  "She's afraid you're going to fall in love with me." High color stung her cheeks at Cole's words. "She's afraid you're too vulnerable after what Eric did to you."

  Veronica was mortified. What else had her mother told him?

  "I apologize. I'm sorry Mother jumped to such awk­ward conclusions." Veronica hastened across the room toward the phone extension. "I guess this is one call that shouldn't wait." Veronica hoped her brisk manner would assure Cole that her mother's fears were unfounded. She couldn't let either of them know that it was a little late for motherly concern.

  She had just begun to dial the number when Cole came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Enveloped in the electric warmth that pressed against the entire length of her body, Veronica misdialed. Surprise brought her head around just in time for her lips to brush Cole's. But before she could succumb to their firm sen­suality she turned her face away again, then silently en­dured a further shock to her system when Cole nudged aside her shoulder-length hair and began placing slow lingering kisses on her neck just beneath her ear.

  Lethargy spread through her system, clouding ra­tional thought. She opened her mouth to voice some false words of vague outrage and heard herself give a melting sigh. Cole evidently took that for encouragement and nuzzled against her ear before he traced the delicate shell with his tongue and nibbled the sensitive lobe.

  "Now," Cole whispered with husky satisfaction when he felt her go slack in his arms. "Now you can tell your mother all about how living with me hasn't affected you much one way or the other."

  It took a few seconds for Cole's gently mocking words to penetrate the seductive haze. When they did, Veron­ica made a movement of protest and Cole released her to accommodate her step away from him.

  She had just turned toward him, her face awash in embarrassed color, when he picked up his glass of iced tea and left the kitchen. Veronica put down the telephone receiver, then picked it up again and shakily redialed, hoping her mother would not detect the tremor in her voice or the confusion in her less-than-honest denials.

  "Are you certain this is what you want to do?" Hel­en's voice, coming from the hall outside Cole's bed­room, reached Veronica's ears.

  Her fitful nap was due to be over soon, but the sounds of activity in the house awakened her a few minutes ear­lier than she had planned. She stepped into the bath­room and ran a brush through her hair hoping to give Helen a chance to go back into the main part of the house. Evidently she had arrived with Curtis.

  But when Veronica went out into the hall, she heard Helen in Cole's bedroom. As she reached the doorway, she could see Helen and Cole standing in front of the large closet, boxes littering the floor nearby. Cole hap­pened to glance Veronica's way and she allowed his gaze to hold hers only momentarily before she continued past the door on her way to the kitchen.

  "Hello, Curtis," Veronica called cheerfully as she en­tered the kitchen. Curtis mumbled a response but didn't favor her with a look. Standing on the counter top in his dusty sneakers, he was busy going through one of the upper cupboards.

  "What are you looking for?" Veronica hoped to find some way of getting his dirty shoes off the counter with­out directly asking the boy to get down.

  "I'm hungry," Curtis announced.

  "There's some fruit in the refrigerator, but if you'd rather have something else, the cookie jar is full. Just be sure you put the milk away if you get it out." Veronica made her way to the sink and washed her hands while she waited for Curtis to get down. But when she turned around again, he was digging into another shelf.

  "Why don't you get down from the counter, Curtis? There's nothing up there but canned goods and baking supplies."

  "No."

  "Come on, Curtis," Veronica prompted, pasting a neutral smile on her face as she cross
ed to the boy and touched his arm. Curtis jerked away as if her fingers had burned him, but Veronica gave every impression of not noticing. "You get out the milk and I'll put some cook­ies on a plate."

  Her suggestion was ignored. Curtis continued to shove canned goods around, making chaos of the precise placement Veronica made in order to keep better track of what to buy on her weekly grocery trips to town. She and Cole had spent a lot of time organizing what Curtis was so pointlessly disrupting.

  "Can you read the labels on those cans?" she asked as he moved to a lower shelf and continued to rummage.

  "I can read," he answered sulkily, and Veronica felt her irritation rising at the boy's continual show of defi­ance.

  "Good," she said. "Then when you've finished look­ing for something that's not up there, you can go back and put every can and box back exactly the way you found it." That earned her Curtis's complete, although hostile, attention.

  "That's your job." Those words had become Curtis's pet refrain.

  "Normally it is," Veronica agreed, her patient-sounding voice and manner worthy of an award. "But when you come along and make a mess of my work, I think it's only fair that you fix it. It's a good way to make certain you don't make the same mistake again."

  "This is my house—mine and my dad's," Curtis cor­rected. "You just work here." Curtis returned to what he was doing, obviously satisfied that the matter had been dealt with.

  "I hope you aren't this rude to everyone, Curtis," Veronica commented before she braced herself for more unpleasantness. "You can begin with the top shelf."

  There was complete silence for a fraction of a second before Curtis gave the canned goods on the lower shelf a parting shove. The cupboard door banged shut and

  Curtis started to get down. Veronica stepped deliber­ately into his path.

  "I don't have to do what you want." Curtis's sassy look was far removed from the solemn-eyed reserve she'd once found so adorable.

  She was suddenly reminded of how she'd felt when a new man began making inroads into her mother's life. After Jessie's comment that day two weeks ago, Curtis likely believed her presence threatened Jessie's relation­ship with his father. Despite her momentary irritation with the boy, Veronica felt compassion for him, con­cerned about the needless worry he was being put through. Nevertheless she didn't intend to allow Curtis to bully her.

  "I'm afraid you do this time, Curtis," she said firmly. "I need to start working on your supper." They stared at each other for a moment, defiance sparkling in his gray eyes before they wavered toward a movement in the doorway to the hall. Instantly his little lip thrust out en­dearingly and his gray eyes went tragically woebegone.

  "What's going on, Veronica?" Helen demanded as she bustled across the room and reached to cuddle Curtis protectively in her arms.

  "Curtis just made a shambles of this cupboard and I told him he had to straighten it up," Veronica told her.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Helen scolded as she pulled Curtis down from the cupboard, forcing Veronica to move aside quickly or collide with the boy's body. "This kitchen is your responsibility, not Curtis's." Helen gave Curtis a nudge toward the porch door. "Go on outside and play until supper." Curtis hurried out, his face the picture of childish glee.

  Veronica was trembling with anger. "Please don't ever interfere like that again," she told Helen once Curtis was safely out of earshot. "I'm having enough problems with him without you rushing in to take his side and cast me in the role of villain."

  "Someone needed to take the boy's side just now and I intend to speak to Cole about what just happened," Helen said huffily.

  "Go ahead," Veronica invited, keeping her voice even. "But be sure to tell him all of it. Cole can come in and see for himself what has become of the cupboards we spent all that time organizing."

  Helen looked a bit disconcerted at that, but Veronica didn't give her a chance to say more. She moved aside to another section of cupboards and noisily began taking out the things she needed to start supper. Wordlessly Helen left, easing the angry tension in the room.

  "What's Cole doin'?" Shorty asked as he started lay­ing out the Scrabble game he was so fond of playing. "I seen all them boxes he hauled outta here and put in Hel­en's car." Veronica smiled at Shorty's avid hunger for gossip. It was something he didn't even pretend to sup­press.

  "I think they were Jackie's things, but he didn't say," she replied as she set the controls on the dishwasher and started it.

  "You didn't ask?" Shorty would have, but Veronica was not quite so bold, especially since she was almost certain she was right. Cole would probably not appreci­ate any questions from her about Jackie. Veronica shook her head and Shorty grunted.

  "I noticed Curtis's got his ma's picture on his lamp table. It was the one that was in Cole's den from the looks of the frame." Shorty's voice lowered. "Once I seen that, I noticed Jackie's wedding keepsakes were gone out of the china cabinet in the dining room."

  "Shorty!" Veronica scolded. "You are without a doubt the most. . ." She hesitated, a teasing grin on her face. "Let's just say you're observant."

  "Observant?" Shorty looked somewhat offended.

  "I'm too polite to tell you I think you're nosy. Obser­vant sounded much more tactful," Veronica said, then giggled when Shorty pointed at her waggishly.

  "You'd better watch that, gal," he threatened. "T-a-c-t don't get as many points in Scrabble as n-o-s-y does," he said, referring to the point values the game gave each letter.

  "Is that so?" Veronica challenged as she stationed herself across the table from the weathered old cow­hand. "You're going to have to think of some more clever uses for any high-value letters you happen to draw tonight," she warned him playfully. "I plan to give you a little stronger competition than I did last time."

  Veronica was a bit embarrassed to admit it, but when she and Shorty first started playing Scrabble together, she hadn't expected him to be so good at a vocabulary game. Her rather low expectations had left her unprepared for her repeated losses to him. Shorty might have been one of the most casual speakers she'd ever known, but his reading vocabulary was really quite vast.

  "It looks to me like the boss is fixin' to pop the ques­tion on someone about any time now," Shorty piped up later as he carefully laid out the right combination of letters on high-value spaces to earn himself twenty-seven points. Veronica added the total to Shorty's rapidly climbing score, his statement bringing a pain she could barely conceal from her pale features.

  "Do you think he's really ready to remarry?" she managed in her best casual manner, shocked at the real­ization that she found the thought of Cole's remarrying intolerable.

  "Yep, I do."

  Veronica laid out the letters for her next word and si­lently counted up the pitifully low number of points it gained her. Suddenly she just wanted to finish the game— anything to hasten the end of this distressing turn of conversation.

  "Course, at this point, it's mighty hard to tell which one the boss'll choose," Shorty jabbered on.

  "What do you mean, which one?" Veronica couldn't help asking. Was there someone besides Jessie? "I thought you said Cole was seeing Jessie nearly every evening."

  "I didn't say that," Shorty corrected as he rearranged the letters on his rack. "He mighta gone over to see her once or twice, but he had some business with her daddy. Besides, I got my own private thoughts as to where he's been takin' hisself off to."

  With that, Shorty fell maddeningly silent and Veron­ica tried to focus on the game. She chanced a look up every now and then, as if she could tell from Shorty's weathered face what thoughts he was keeping to himself. But all she could detect was the same unwavering con­centration that would likely make tonight's game an­other one of his triumphs.

  Veronica rested her chin on her hand and continued to stare unseeingly at the letters she'd drawn. Her thoughts moved back into the same track they'd followed for hours, trying to find the logic in Cole's sensual assault that afternoon.

  Th
e only conclusion that made any sense was that he'd been irritated by her mother's call and had taken some kind of perverse pleasure in making certain Veronica would have a problem convincing her mother she had been unaffected by him. In her romantic heart of hearts, she hoped he'd done it because he really did feel some­thing for her and didn't want her to deny there was nothing between them. But, Veronica reminded herself, those kind of romantic fairy-tales happened only to oth­ers.

  "There's a lot of that goin' around," Shorty said. Veronica had only half heard Shorty's comment.

  "Hmm?"

  Shorty pointed to the word he'd just laid out.

  "D-a-y-d-r-e-a-m," Shorty spelled aloud, then chuck­led. "Seems to be affectin' two-thirds of the people who live in this house."

  Veronica's gaze turned away from the teasing in Shor­ty's dark eyes as a heavy blush settled on her cheeks. She quickly tallied the score he'd managed to get by adding the word "dream" to the "day" she'd put down. The fact that the "m" covered the triple-word space set his score even further ahead of hers.

  The little lackluster word Veronica put down next failed to get her any substantial point count, but it forced Shorty to return to contemplating the five letters he'd just drawn and kept him from making any more observa­tions about her and Cole. At least she assumed Shorty had meant her and Cole. He certainly hadn't been talk­ing about Curtis.

  Veronica's attention was drawn to the sound of Cole's pickup coming up the driveway. She'd hoped to finish this game long before Cole returned, and now she fidg­eted impatiently with her letter tiles while she waited for Shorty to play.

  Cole's booted feet clunked up the porch steps and into the kitchen almost before she could adjust to his unex­pected return. The black Stetson made its usual twirling arc toward the coat tree in the corner and managed to catch the same hook it always did. A wide grin split the usual sternness of Cole's demeanor as his eyes flicked from Shorty and lingered warmly on Veronica.