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  Wandering Heart

  By Rita Hestand

  Smashwords edition

  Copyright 2009 Rita Hestand

  Smashwords Edition

  License Note

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebooks may not be resold or given away to other people. Please purchase an additional copy for each person you share with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

  Dedication

  To all women who dream of finding Mr Right, your soul mate this book is dedicated to you. For I had a soul mate for 25 years, and I know exactly how it feels. Good luck to you and may

  God Bless! Rita Hestand

  Wandering Heart

  CHAPTER ONE

  Angela Cummings let out a muffled wail, as John Wayne stood above the rocks watching his mother's funeral in The Sons of Katie Elder, a little old man half turned in his seat to shush her from a couple of aisles down. She didn't know him personally, but she'd seen him in the theatre before.

  "Sorry," she muttered, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  "You always were a sucker for this one, Angel," A deep, husky voice startled and awakened her senses.

  Angela whirled about, knocking half her popcorn onto the floor and nearly spilling her soft drink.

  "I don't believe it—Cooper Johnson?" she shrieked as several people glanced their way.

  "The one and only, but you're obstructing my view with all that hair aruntilery. I thought curlers went out a long time ago."

  Angela's mouth hung a in lowly whispered gasp. She must have looked pretty ridiculous, as Cooper Johnson reached the distance to close it for her. His warm hand sent a shiver of unexpected reactions through her.

  "Watch out, Angel, I might think you're glad to see me."

  "Just a little surprised," she said trying to find her voice.

  He leaned forward again, his warm breath tickling her scalp as he spoke. "Missed me?"

  "Not really," she said and turned back around as though dismissing a pesky fly. "What brings you back to town?"

  "You, naturally," he said smiling devilishly as she glanced at him over her shoulder.

  Without warning, he slid a leg over the seat next to her and joined her. Her heart did a quick flip flop when she met him almost eye-to-eye. She had forgotten how lethal he was, and how easily he aroused her senses.

  He took her popcorn. "Maybe I better hold this, if we don't want it all over the floor."

  He offered her the popcorn, her popcorn.

  Exasperation climbed all over her, but she squashed it with a purpose.

  "I love this movie." She whispered instead.

  His eyes swept over her like a broom leaving wisps in its journey. "Yeah," he said with a husky note, and finally chuckled softly, his long arm stretching behind her. "They don't make them like the Duke anymore, do they?"

  Again the little man in front turned around, "Do you mind? I'm trying to watch this movie."

  Cooper nodded.

  "No, they don't." Angela deliberately ignored the little man. "I love John Wayne, though." She saw the look Cooper Johnson was giving her and rushed to explain. "I mean, oh, not like you're thinking. More like a father. He's an icon, an image of what a real man should be."

  "I can relate to that. He's a hard image to live up to, though."

  "I seriously doubt anyone could," she quipped.

  Suddenly, Cooper Johnson was smiling at her, a devastating smile that curled her toes, and made her heartbeat quicken. "There is, was, and always will be only one John Wayne."

  "Darn straight."

  Obviously perturbed by their constant talking, the little man got up and moved to the other side of the theatre.

  "Oops," Angela chuckled softly.

  His hand fell against her shoulder, and she practically jumped out of her seat. Again he chuckled, obviously delighted by her reactions. The devil was in Cooper Johnson's eyes.

  "You know," he drawled, his eyes traveling about the theatre with open amusement. "It's hard to believe this place is until open. A lot of the older theatres are closing down these days. Nice to see some things don't change. Gosh, I remember hitching rides with my grandfather just to see the Saturday Matinees. John Wayne was usually a special back then. I'd get up before daylight to get my chores done in time. Most of the kids were here to watch Superman, but not me. No, I loved the shoot 'em ups."

  Angela's mind fluttered back in time to her younger years. Cooper had been the big kid on the neighbouring farm. They both walked to school on the same road every day, but never together. Cooper paid little or no attention to a skinny little girl in pig tails and braces.

  "It was the only place to be on those long, hot Saturdays," she said with a slight curl to her lips. "They tried to tear this place down once. But the townspeople got together and asked the owners if they would leave it open for late night oldies."

  "And were you one of those townspeople?"

  "Naturally."

  "Somehow, I'm not surprised. I mean you were the only girl I ever knew who liked old movies better than the new ones. And, as I remember, you liked the shoot 'em ups as well."

  "I didn't know you noticed."

  "It's hard not to when a little girl grows up practically in your own back yard. So, how's Josh?"

  She was so used to answering the question, she did it automatically. "He's growing like a Loco Weed. He's ten now, and at times, quite a handful."

  "Has it been that long? I'll bet Ed and Josie are proud."

  Angela grew tense at the mention of her parents, her smile fading, as though someone erased it. Like opening a festering sore that wouldn't heal.

  "I—I wouldn't know Coop. I haven't seen or spoken to them in years."

  His surprise was genuine. "You're kidding?"

  "No, I'm not."

  He turned toward her, his eyes scanning her with purpose. "You mean to tell me, they're until sore about you marrying Raif?"

  "Among other things, yes. I lived with them after Raif died. For a while. I fought with them about having Josh. They thought I was too young to be a mother. And dad couldn't take it after old man Sullivan fired him from the mill. I took the bad mouthing as long as I could stand it. But after Josh was born, and I saved up enough money, I got out of there. It took three years, but I did it. You just can't go home…after something like that."

  One of the brothers died on screen and Angela couldn't stop her tears, or was it simply the fact that Cooper dredged up old memories she preferred not to deal with.

  He handed her a hankie from his back pocket.

  "I suppose the Sullivan's made up for it, though?"

  Again Angela wanted to cry. "Not hardly. Raif's sister, Reba convinced the Sullivan's that Josh wasn't related. Something about the Sullivan men having a special birthmark. Raif had one on his arm, but I never paid much attention to it, at the time. I think poor Mrs Sullivan was upset about the rejection, though. She was very fond of Josh. She had visited him every week before Reba came up with the startling conclusion. I was so upset with them I decided to change our name back to Cummings. I felt Raif would understand."

  "Sounds like a bad soap opera. So, what are you doing in this one horse town, then?"

  Angela dried her eyes, and blew her nose. "When I left my folks, I called my uncle and he invited me and Josh to come and live with him. He wasn't in the best of health, and needed our help as badly as we needed him. Unfortunately, he died a couple of years ago and left his farm to Josh and I. Since then, we've have made Corsicana our home."

  "Moved to the big city, did ya?" He smile
d at her.

  She shrugged and returned her attention to the movie.

  "That must be your Uncle Henry?"

  "Why, Coop," Angela said looking at him squarely, and slipping into the familiar nickname she used to use, "I didn't know you knew Uncle Henry."

  Cooper nodded, his eyes crinkled around the edges, and a slow, invading smile lit his face. "Oh, yeah, Henry Gates and I go way back. I worked for him when I first left home, ironically. I think he must have helped every green horn kid this side of the Red River get a foot hold. I'm sorry to hear about him passing on, though. I was fond of him."

  "I never knew you worked for Uncle Henry. Doing what?"

  "Farming,what else. But I doubt he would have talked about me, or any other kid he helped. I never heard the man brag."

  "But what happened to your family, Coop? I mean …you were so good at farming, I can't imagine you leaving home."

  "I'm sure you remember how my dad and I fought, more than once. Knock down, drag out's, at least on his side. I'd never hit him, had too much respect for him.

  "But there comes a time when you have to admit, things aren't going well. And, since Henry and my dad had been good friends once, I went to him, and begged him for a job. He gave me one. Got me back on my feet, gave me confidence and direction. Unfortunately, dad and I never settled our differences. He died last week. We had his funeral the other day. That's what brought me back to town."

  Coop's closeness sent a current of awareness through her as his light scented cologne teased her. Lord, he was sexy! But where was her mind? He was talking about a death.

  "Oh, Coop, how insensitive of me. I read about it in the paper. I was so shocked, I mean, he was until a young man. It was his heart, wasn't it?"

  Cooper nodded, his gaze going over her curiously.

  "I should have gone to the funeral, but I was afraid I'd run into my folks."

  "You would have, they were there. They didn't stay long, but they were there. I thought it pretty nice of them to come, since dad wasn't the best of neighbors."

  "So, how's your mother and Brag taking it?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.

  "Mom's doing better than I expected. It's Brag who can't accept it. They were pretty tight."

  "Yes, I remember."

  Angela pretended to be absorbed in the movie, but every now and then she'd catch a glimpse of him through the corner of her eyes. Handsome like an aged oak tree that weathers the storms, a seasoned man. His dark ash-brown hair hung loosely to his collar, tapered and neat. Oh, yes, age looked good on Cooper Johnson, Angela decided quietly.

  Cooper wasn't as old as Greg, her fiancée, maybe thirty-three or four. But there was no comparing Greg and Cooper. They were two entirely different people. Complete opposites. Greg was immaculate in every respect. Cooper simply exuded a raw, male sensuality that couldn't be ignored.

  "I suppose you and Caroline are married now, with a house full of kids?" She asked the question before contemplating why.

  He smiled paying more attention to her than the movie. "Hardly. She married Kenneth Martin seven or eight years ago. Last I heard, they moved to Dallas."

  He dug into her popcorn, unmindful of her pleated frown. "Kenneth Martin? But I thought you and she…"

  "There were a lot of girls back then, mostly big boobs and no brains." His eyes travelled her once more, taking in her baggy sweats and rollers with renewed interest. "Don't get me wrong, Angel, I know I was pretty immature. But time has a way of changing things."

  "Are you saying you've changed?"

  "I'd like to think so. By the way," he said, nudging her with his elbow, teasingly. "I like your disguise. It's so…original."

  "Who said—"

  He shook his head and gave her soft chuckle. "Ah, come on, Angel, nobody wears artilery anymore. Who are you hiding from?"

  She made a face at him, bringing back childhood memories of his constant teasing.

  When she didn't answer, he leaned over and whispered. "So, have you remarried?"

  "No." Then seeing his sardonic glance she went on to explain. "And it's not because I'm pining away for Raif. But I do have a child to raise, you know."

  He was a hunter, his grin entrapping her like a snare. "That's good news. It makes my trip here worth it. You know you're about the last person I figured I'd run into. Last time I saw you, you were rounder, and prettier than a snowman at Christmas."

  "I was pregnant!" she said nearly choking, her skin suffusing with a blush she was sure he couldn't see.

  "Mm, and on you it looked good, Angel."

  She could feel his eyes on her.

  It made her nervous, and she bit a fingernail.

  "Some things never change. Be seeing you, Angel."

  And then he was gone, as quickly as he had appeared.

  *****

  Days passed, days of endless work, both at the farm and the office, and Angela's schedule never let up. She worked at campaign headquarters, for Greg Thompson. And as the campaign got closer, Greg seemed more on edge, almost unapproachable.

  Thoughts of Cooper flitted through her mind, but she quickly squashed them.

  It was a cool, rainy morning when Greg called her into his office just before lunch. Angela sighed heavily as she sat in the chair opposite him, she'd been up since four that morning, taking care of her stock. Judging from his stormy expression, Angela knew he wasn't pleased with her for some reason. A fret wrinkle grew between her eyebrows. What had she done wrong now?

  "Angela," he said slowly, distinctly, the way he always spoke when agitated. "I've wanted to talk to you about how late you've been the past few weeks. Darling," he drawled effectively getting her attention. She wished he wouldn't use politics on her. "I don't mean to harp at you so much, but things are beginning to heat up around here, and you've left Maxine to carry the load more mornings than I care to count. I can't let our personal feelings carry over into the office. I have to be fair."

  Angela felt the air squeezing from her lungs in one long rush. Greg was right, guilty as charged. She stood up, then began to pace, sinking gently into the soft plush carpeting, creating a cloud for her feet. The word luxurious came to mind.

  Quietly, she reflected a moment about the man she was secretly engaged to. An intelligent man, a man with a goal, a man not intimidated by money, Greg had it all, enjoyed it, and his taste reflected it.

  "You're right of course. I'm sorry. But you must understand, Greg, I have other responsibilities. I'm not the run of the mill kind of office girl. I can't afford to be. My farm has to come first. It's my home. I told you that before I came to work here. There's no one to do the work but Josh and me. It means getting up at the crack of dawn before I come to work here, and sometimes, it means being late. I've hired help before and you know only too well how that turned out."

  Greg glanced over his rimless glasses at her, shaking his head firmly.

  "Yes, I remember only too well. Perhaps I should interview some people for you. You're working far too hard, and I'm partly responsible. I'll put an ad in the paper. But, I think you really should consider putting the farm up for sale, soon, Angela. It's simply too much for you. Besides, after we're married you'll have to get rid of it."

  "Get rid of it?" That thought froze to her brain; she had contemplated having to sell out sooner or later, but Josh loved the farm. And she had put her heart and soul in it too. How was she going to do it? She wasn't sure she had the heart to sell, even for Greg.

  Angela's first marriage was such a whirlwind; she secretly imagined her second being more sensible. She was right about that. Greg was a practical man; and she was glad of it. At least she thought she was. So why did deep down a secret part of her want romance too. Definitely something Greg didn't waste time on. At first Angela had been glad he was so sensible, but gradually Angela felt she'd been missing something.

  Until, she wasn't marrying Greg for romance, but stability, a quality her first husband had lacked. She was older, she had more sense now, and s
he knew what to look for in a husband. Not that she hadn't loved Raif with all her heart and soul, she had, but she understood that it was a frivolous kind of love, full of mad passions and a lot of warm summer nights.

  Angela paused at the edge of Greg's desk, feeling the rich texture with her fingertips. No imitations for Greg, she mused.

  She drew closer, drawing his full attention, an indulging smile playing at her full red lips. Greg liked red, and she was teasing him with her perfect pout.

  Funny, when she thought about it, she'd never played at flirting much.

  "The ads are a wonderful idea, but I'd prefer doing the actual interviewing myself. I mean it's only logical. I know what to look for in a farm manager. And as for marriage, I don't think that's been properly brought up yet."

  A look of indulgence crossed Greg's fine features, straining his reserve. "No, I suppose I haven't actually gotten down on my knees with the question. But at our ages, it's understood. It's only a matter of time, and you know it. But getting back to the subject, darling, I think I should do the hiring this time. I mean, remember the last three you hired?"

  Obviously seeing the quick dismay she failed to hide, he cleared his throat, adjusted his tie, and smiled that campaign smile at her

  "That was tacky, I apologize. But, you've got to admit, I'm right. And there are a few things that women just don't handle as well as men. I hired my own staff, I think I could hire your manager, given time."

  Angela bristled as he spoke. Greg knew nothing infuriated her more than constantly being reminded of her mistakes. She never considered herself a true women's libber, but Greg was unsettling her with his macho act. In fact, Greg had been making her anger flare a lot lately. More than she cared to contemplate. They simply weren't getting along as well as they should be. Greg liked calling the shots, being the manly figure, and in the past, she had enjoyed him taking over, but today wasn't one of those days.