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  “Yes...and no,” she answered, unable to recall the anger that had assailed her when she’d first arrived home from her date. What difference did it make what he’d told Frank? She knew with certainty that although Frank had seemed to be a nice, attractive man, he wasn’t the man for her.

  Just as Johnny wasn’t the man for her—though he was closer. Still, even knowing that there were questions she needed answered. For the past ten years there had been the ghost of a tragic girl in Marissa’s heart. For all of those years she’d wondered about Sydney and Johnny’s relationship and always...always she’d been afraid of the answers.

  “Johnny?”

  “Hmm?” He stroked her hair with a gentle touch.

  “Tell me about Sydney.”

  His hand froze, and she felt his body tighten and fill with tension. She raised her head and looked at him. His gaze was dark and cold, cutting through her. Despite her desire to the contrary, she didn’t look away. She held his gaze, knowing it was time she heard about the events, the emotions, the winds of fate that had brought them to this place, this here and now.

  He disentangled from her, swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up. He raked a hand through his hair and looked at her once again. “That question comes about ten years too late.”

  Marissa reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “Please, Johnny.”

  He frowned and dragged a hand across his jaw. “What do you want to know?” His voice was flat...emotionless.

  “When? How did you meet her?”

  He stretched out beside her once again, this time not touching her. He propped himself up on an elbow, staring not at her, but at some point over her head.

  “I met her a couple of months before I met you. It was late one evening, near sunset, and I was out working the fields near the old shed. My tractor broke down. As I worked to get it running again, I heard the sound of somebody crying. I found Sydney in the shed.”

  Marissa scrunched the pillow beneath her to raise her head higher, then pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness. “Why was she crying?”

  He frowned. “She never told me. But she seemed so young, and so lonely. We talked that night for hours. It was like she was starved for conversation with somebody her own age. Her mother and Brad kept her so isolated, and her sister, Gillian, was nothing more than a little kid at the time.”

  He sighed, a deep, mournful sound that made Marissa want to draw him into her arms, but she didn’t. She simply waited for him to continue.

  “Sydney needed a friend, and I tried to fill that role for her. About three nights a week, I’d find a red scarf tied to my tractor. That was her secret signal letting me know that she’d managed to sneak out of the house and was waiting for me in the shed.”

  He fell silent for a moment, his features soft and reflective. “She was like the little sister I never had. She seemed so innocent, so out of touch with the rest of the world. And yet there was a deep unhappiness in her, shadows of secrets in her eyes that I couldn’t get her to share with me.”

  “You loved her?” she asked the question even though she now knew the answer. He hadn’t loved Sydney as she once feared he had. Marissa had been wrong all those years ago...wrong to believe that Sydney had somehow been her rival for Johnny’s affections.

  His eyes were dark, tortured as he gazed at her. “I loved her, but it wasn’t a romantic love. There was no desire between us, nothing physical, nothing more than deep friendship.”

  He rolled over onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as if lost in another world. “That night ..the night of the prom... was the night Sydney was killed.” He closed his eyes and was silent for a long moment.

  In the passing of those seconds, Marissa looked at him, remembering that prom night when he’d looked so handsome he’d stolen her breath away. He was just as handsome now...although older, with life experience stamped onto his features. He now had a maturity in his eyes, and to his face, that was every bit as breathtaking.

  “After I dropped you off at your house, I went back home. The scarf was tied to the tractor. Even though it was late, I figured Sydney would still be at the shed. It had become her retreat from her family, her little home away from home.”

  “How was she able to get out of her house and spend so much time at the shed?” Marissa asked curiously.

  A whisper of a smile crossed his features. “Sydney was nothing if not resourceful and apparently her mother was an early to bed kind of woman. Sydney would go to bed, then sneak out her window and down an old trellis She figured as long as she was back in her room by dawn, nobody would know she’d been gone half the night.”

  With one hand, he rubbed a circular pattern at his temple, as if trying to ward off the approach of a headache. “Anyway, that night, like a hundred other nights, I went to the shed. She always brought a lantern with her, and I saw the light seeping out the cracks of the wood. I found her there...lying on the ground. At first I thought she must be asleep.”

  Up until this point, his voice had remained a flat monotone. Marissa felt his building tension, saw the anguish that twisted his features and her heart ached with his misery. “She wasn’t asleep,” his voice no longer lacked emotion, but rather drowned in it. “I tried to rouse her. I called her name, then picked her up in my arms. She was dead. I had only a moment to realize it before the sheriff and his boys moved in on me” He released a sigh, then drew several deep breaths of air.

  “How did the sheriff know to go to the shed?” Marissa asked.

  “An anonymous phone call. Somebody called the sheriff from the Roundup and told him he thought somebody was being hurt at the old shed.”

  Johnny sat up. “I’ve thought and thought about it, and what I think happened is that the killer left Sydney and went to the Roundup. Whoever he was, somehow he knew Sydney was expecting me to show up and when he saw my truck pass as I was going home, he called the sheriff and set me up as the killer.”

  “But why? Why would anyone want to kill Sydney?”

  Johnny smiled ruefully. “If I knew that, I’d be that much closer to finding out who killed her.”

  “Then who would want to set you up for such a heinous thing?”

  Again Johnny smiled, but the gesture held no joy, only a sharp bitterness. “Why not me? I was young, poor, had a reputation for getting into trouble. I made a perfect patsy.”

  Marissa sat up and shoved her hair away from her face. She owed him an apology. For years she’d believed he’d been two-timing her with Sydney. That belief had caused her to back away from him, kept her from seeing him while he was in jail.

  “Johnny, I’m sorry.” For a moment she wondered if he’d know what she was apologizing for.

  His features hardened and his eyes glittered with a cold-blue intensity that sliced through her. “Your apology, like your questions, comes ten years too late.”

  “But, Johnny, I thought you and Sydney... I believed you had deceived me, that you were romancing Sydney at the same time you were romancing me. That’s why I didn’t go to see you when you were arrested. That’s why I never came to visit you in jail.”

  In one smooth motion, Johnny stood and grabbed his clothes. He pulled on his briefs, quickly followed by his jeans.

  “Johnny?”

  He didn’t answer. He picked up his shirt and yanked it over his head.

  “Johnny? Please...” She needed him to say something, anything to absolve her from the knot of guilt that suddenly thudded like a fifty-pound weight in the pit of her stomach.

  “Please what?” He glared at her, his eyes once again blazing hot flames of blue heat. “Please tell you all is forgiven? I can’t do that, because I can’t forget those hours... days... weeks... I spent waiting for you to come and see me, praying that you’d show up and tell me you believed in me.”

  “Johnny, I was young...scared. My heart had broken and I couldn’t see anything but my own pain.”

  He laughed, an ugly, b
itter sound that pieced through Marissa’s heart “You think I wasn’t? I kept thinking everything would be fine as long as you came. I could have endured whatever was ahead if I knew you stood beside me.” He turned and left the bedroom.

  Marissa flew from the bed, cursing as her feet tangled in the sheet and she nearly fell. Grabbing her robe, she raced after him, not wanting to leave it like this. needing him to understand. She pulled her robe around her as she ran.

  She caught up with him at the front door and grabbed his arm. “Johnny, can’t you understand how devastated I was to think that you were making love to me, then leaving me and making love to Sydney?”

  He paused and turned back to her, his eyes cold as the snows in the mountains of Montana. “You can try to fool me by pretending that’s the reason you didn’t stand beside me, but I know the truth.” His voice was laced with a combination of hurt and anger.

  “What truth?” she asked softly and dropped her hand from his arm.

  “The truth is you were ashamed. You didn’t want your friends to know, your family to know that you’d been seeing that poor trash Johnny Crockett. It’s bad enough you thought I could be so duplicitous as to two-time you with Sydney. But, what’s worse than that, what I’ll never be able to forgive, is that deep down in your heart, you weren’t one hundred percent certain that I didn’t murder Sydney Emery.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to respond. Instead he stormed out the door and into the dark of night.

  Chapter 10

  Marissa groaned beneath her breath as the bell sounded over the door announcing her first customer of the day. The last person she wanted to see first thing on a Monday morning was Millie Creighton.

  The older woman wore one of her many infamous hats, this one a wide-brimmed straw covered with sunflowers and realistic bumblebees. Nobody in the town of Mustang knew why she wore the crazy hats, but she had been for so long they had become as much a part of her as her double chin.

  Millie approached her with a vacuous expression and a friendly smile, but Marissa knew beneath the superficiality and ridiculous hat was a mind as sharp as a cattle prod.

  “Good morning, Millie,” Marissa forced a welcoming smile to her face.

  “Morning, dear.” Millie set down her purse on the counter. “I need to order a fresh-cut flower arrangement. My dear friend Gloria Townsend is in the hospital.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious,” Marissa replied, contrite that she’d assumed Millie’s visit was for gossip purposes.

  “Gallbladder,” Millie replied. “I was on my way over to the hospital and thought I’d stop and get a nice bouquet... something festive, to bring her.”

  “Do you have any particular kind of flowers in mind?”

  “No. I trust your judgment.” She beamed at Marissa. “You do such wonderful work.”

  “Do you know about how much you want to spend?” Marissa asked, her mind already whirling with possibilities for a nice arrangement.

  Within minutes, Marissa was busy working and Millie was seated on an upholstered chair chosen with the comfort of customers in mind.

  “Lovely program that the children put on the other night, wasn’t it?”

  Although Millie smiled at her innocently, Marissa heard the rattle of a coiled snake in the seemingly innocuous question.

  “I always enjoy the school plays,” Marissa replied.

  “That boy of yours sure can sing,” Willie said, the words filling Marissa with a burst of warm pride. “I couldn’t help but notice you attended the performance with Johnny Crockett. It’s not everyday you see the daughter of the mayor with a convict.”

  The warmth that had momentarily filled Marissa seeped away as she realized she’d been right initially. Gloria Townsend might truly be in the hospital, but Millie was here for more than flowers. She was nibbling for gossip for her society column in the Mustang Monitor newspaper

  “Ex-convict,” Marissa replied stiffly. “An innocent man who was wrongly convicted and served ten years in prison.”

  “How is he adjusting to civilian life?” Millie asked, obviously not put off by Marissa’s cool tone.

  “You’d have to ask hum.” Marissa cursed inwardly as she clipped the stem of a daisy too short for use She tossed the ruined flower in the trash and grabbed another one.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that your son and Johnny appear to share common features.”

  “That’s not unusual in a father and son.” Marissa stopped working and glared at Millie. “And if you put that fact in your column, I will see to it that your column is pulled and you’ll be out of a job.”

  Millie reared back in the chair and huffed indignantly. “Well, there’s no reason to get all hostile.”

  “I promise you, if you write a column about Johnny and Benjamin, I will not only get hostile, I’ll get even,” Marissa retorted.

  Again Millie huffed indignantly, the motion causing the bees on the top of her hat to vibrate and emit a tiny buzzing noise. “I would never do anything to harm that sweet little boy of yours.”

  “It’s not just Benjamin I’m worried about. I don’t think it’s in Johnny’s best interest for his name to be mentioned in the paper. He’s having a difficult enough time trying to clear his name He doesn’t need any publicity.”

  “He’s trying to clear his name?” Interest colored Millie’s tone. “What exactly is he doing?”

  Marissa cursed herself for saying anything at all. She poked the last flower into the arrangement, then shook her head. “No more, Millie. If you want information about Johnny, then you need to go talk to him,”

  With a sniff of dissatisfaction, Millie paid for the arrangement, then left, bumblebees bouncing and buzzing with each step.

  When she was gone, Marissa sank down into the chair behind the counter. She rubbed her eyes. They felt gntty with exhaustion. It had been near dawn when she’d finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. Johnny’s words, his accusations, had whirled around and around in her head. She tried to tell herself he was wrong, that she hadn’t been ashamed of him or their relationship. He was wrong to think that any part of her believed for a minute that he’d harmed Sydney. But, the inner voice that denied it all was weak and reedy, not strong with conviction.

  She’d told herself for all these years that Johnny had betrayed her, that he’d been two-timing her with Sydney. It had been the excuse that had kept her away from him and it had been the reason for the anger that had sustained her the last ten years.

  Last night, he’d taken away her anger, banished it with the truth...a truth she could have discovered ten years ago if she’d had the nerve to ask for it.

  Had she stayed away from Johnny because she’d been afraid of what people might say? What they might think of her? Had there been a tiny place in her heart that wasn’t sure of his absolute innocence?

  It frightened her that the answer might be yes. And if that were true, it spoke poorly of her, spoke dismally of the love she’d thought she’d felt for Johnny. It made her the kind of person she didn’t want to be.

  She also now knew at least part of the root of Johnny’s rage. He might have kissed her with desire the night before, might have made love to her with exquisite skillfulness and tempestuous passion, but his heart beat with loathing where she was concerned.

  And despite the fact that her body ached for his again... and again, he’d made it crystal clear that he would never, could never forgive her, that his heart would always be closed off and unattainable to her.

  She stood and rubbed her temples, the turmoil of her thoughts creating an ache of confusion to pound a maddening rhythm. She didn’t want to care about Johnny, but she did. She didn’t want to want him, but God help her, she did.

  Their lovemaking the night before had only confirmed the reality of her memories, and the reality was that their bodies were born to love each other, created as perfect male/female counterparts.

  “Enough,” she said She’d spent enough time thinking, obsessing, r
emembering and pondering Johnny Last night had been an aberration, an anomaly that would not be repeated. Knowing now that Johnny hated her, that he would never be able to forgive her, let her know that making love with him again would only complicate their relationship further.

  She jumped as the phone rang. “Flowers By Marissa,” she said into the receiver when she answered.

  “Good morning, Marissa.”

  She instantly recognized the pleasant, clipped tones of Rachel Emery. “Good morning, Mrs. Emery.”

  “I was wondering if perhaps you would have an opportunity to meet with me here at the ranch sometime today,” Rachel said.

  Marissa frowned thoughtfully. She assumed Rachel wanted to discuss the floral decorations for the upcoming prom. “I could close up the shop around noon and drive out there, if that would work for you.”

  “That would be fine. I’ll see you then.” Rachel, rarely one for small talk, hung up.

  Marissa had been expecting a call from Rachel concerning the prom decorations, although she was rather surprised by Rachel’s desire to meet at the Emery home. The past four years Marissa and Rachel had made the arrangements with a flurry of phone calls to one another.

  At quarter after twelve, Marissa hung the Closed sign in the shop window and headed toward the Emery place. It was a pleasant drive, a warm breeze signifying the promise of summer just around the corner.

  However, Marissa wasn’t enjoying the beauty of the day, instead she found herself playing and replaying the night before...the night of loving Johnny.

  It would be easy to blame him for seducing her into doing something she hadn’t wanted to do. But, she knew that wasn’t the truth. The truth of the matter was that she’d wanted to make love with him again, she’d hoped that by doing so, she could finally put him behind her, forget her first love in anticipation of finding a new, more mature love that would last a lifetime.

  But somehow, the night with Johnny had not moved him out of her heart, rather it had simply added to her confusion where he was concerned.