Читать книгу Taming Blackhawk - Barbara McCauley - Страница 10

When Rand first stepped out onto the porch, he thought that Grace had fallen asleep on his mother’s swing. With her eyes closed and her hands resting lightly on her knees, she looked completely at peace.

He told himself to go back into the house, to leave her alone and let her enjoy the quiet. But he quite simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Long strands of soft, auburn hair tumbled around her serene face. Dark, thick eyelashes rested against pale, delicate skin. There was a regal quality to her straight, sculpted nose, angular eyebrows and bow-shaped mouth. He could picture this woman in a past century, smiling and waving to her loyal subjects as the royal carriage carried her through the cobblestoned streets of her dominion.

It amazed him that after a day of airplanes and cars and the hot San Antonio desert, she stilled looked so fresh and neat. Her white suit had no smudges or wrinkles. Even those low heels of hers appeared as if she’d just taken them out of the box.

He had a strong, sudden desire to put his hands on her and muss her up.

She opened her eyes, smiled at him as she stretched, and he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than simply muss her up.

Desire slammed through his body. Pure, primal passion. He struggled to get a grip on it, to wrestle the beast down. But even when he did, he felt it pulsing, breathing inside him. Waiting for him to let down his guard even the tiniest fraction.

“I brought you some cake.” He clenched his jaw when she stretched again, wished to God he’d stayed in the house.

“Thank you.” Her voice had a low, throaty quality to it. “But it wasn’t necessary. I was going to come inside in a minute.”

When he moved in front of her, Grace’s eyes widened at the huge slice of cake he handed her.

“Good grief,” she gasped. “I can’t possibly eat all that. I already had to loosen the button on my skirt after that meal your mother served.”

The thought jumped into his head that he’d like to loosen more than a button, then slide that skirt down those long legs of hers. Or better yet, shove the skirt upward and save time.

He felt the beast jump inside him again, and he fought it down. “Well, if you don’t want it…”

Her hand snaked out and snatched the plate. “Mister, men have died for lesser evils than depriving a woman of chocolate.”

She took a bite, closed her eyes and groaned deeply. The pleasure on her face bordered on sexual. Rand groaned silently.

Damn this woman.

“Will you sit with me for a minute?” she asked when she opened her eyes again.

Bad idea, Rand, he thought.

But he sat, anyway.

“I like your family,” she said. “They’re…”

“Obnoxious?” he supplied when she hesitated.

She shook her head and smiled. “Bigger than life.”

“That’s a new one.” Rand settled back on the swing, watched Grace slice another piece of cake onto her fork. He followed that neat little bite all the way to her mouth and instantly went hard.

He dragged his gaze away, forced himself to stare into the darkness. It had been a long time since he’d sat out here on this swing, the first time he’d ever sat here with a woman other than his mother. He caught the faint scent of Grace’s perfume, something light and exotic, then cursed himself when he dragged the fragrance deep into his lungs.

Annoyed with his wandering thoughts and overactive libido, Rand turned his attention to the sounds coming from inside the house. His brothers arguing over who got the bigger piece of cake and his mother reprimanding both of them. Just like the old days, he thought with a smile, only better.

Much better, now that Edward Sloan was six feet under.

His smile faded as he thought about the letter he’d tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He’d been carrying the letter since he’d opened it this morning. He hadn’t read it again, he’d just wanted it close….

…Seth Ezekiel Blackhawk and Elizabeth Marie Blackhawk…were not killed in the car crash that claimed the lives of their parents

…not killed…not killed…

He heard the sound of Grace’s voice, but it took a moment for her words to register. She’d asked about the television set.

“It was Sam’s idea,” Rand said absently. “We all figured it was about time she had one. When my brothers and I were little, we’d go into Maiman’s Department Store and we’d see her staring at all the televisions on display, watching whichever show happened to be on. She always had a look of such longing on her face.”

“You mean she’s never had a television before now?”

“Not for twenty-nine years.” Rand rocked the swing into motion with the heels of his boots. “To quote Edward Sloan, ‘They weaken a man’s mind and spew propaganda.”’

“So your father—”

“Not my father,” he said sharply. “Edward and Mary adopted me when I was nine, after my real parents were killed in a car accident, but he was never my father.”

The tone of Rand’s voice alone spoke volumes, Grace thought. Mary had said there was no love lost between Rand and Edward. Grace was beginning to see more than a glimpse of that.

“Sam and Matt,” she said carefully. “Were they adopted, too?”

Rand shook his head. “Sam came along a year after they adopted me, Matt a year after that. Quite the joke, isn’t it?” he said dryly. “The doctors told Mary she could never have children, so she and Edward adopted me, then right away she has two kids of her own. Just goes to show you can’t believe a damn thing people tell you.”

Grace had the distinct feeling that Rand’s last comment wasn’t directed at the doctors. That there was something else behind that dark, mysterious mask of his, something that had nothing to do with Edward and Mary or being adopted.

Something that was none of her business.

In the dim light, Grace watched the play of shadow on Rand’s face. She had to resist a sudden and overwhelming desire to reach out and touch that handsome face, to run her fingertips over the hard set of his jaw and lay her palm on his smooth-shaven cheek. The thought alone made her pulse skip; she couldn’t imagine actually doing it. Not only were she and Rand practically strangers, she was certain he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture at all. Rand Sloan did not strike her as being the kind of man who wanted, or needed, comforting.

“You wasted a trip here, Grace.”

Her hand hesitated on the bite that was halfway to her mouth. Well, now, that was certainly to the point, she thought. No, “I’m sorry,” or, “It’s too bad,” or, “Wish I could help you.” Just, “You wasted a trip.”

“Hardly,” she said lightly, then slid the cake into her mouth and licked the frosting off the fork. “This cake alone made the trip worthwhile, not to mention that dinner your mother made. She should open a restaurant when she gets to Vegas. She’d make a fortune.”

There was a light in Rand’s eyes Grace hadn’t seen before. When he turned that light on her, she felt her breath catch.

“What makes these horses so important to you?” he asked.

He wasn’t the first person who’d asked her that question. Her father had, her mother, every person she’d ever hit up for a donation. She’d never been quite sure how to answer. Wasn’t certain herself that she knew the answer.

She looked out into the night, heard the distant howl of a coyote, felt the loneliness there.

“Was there ever something you felt,” she said softly, “something that went so deep and was so important, that words simply fell short?”

When he said nothing, she went on, “My uncle has a ranch in Austin and I used to spend three weeks every summer there, riding and taking care of his horses. I’ve been riding since I was eight.” She stared at the plate in her hands and shrugged. “Starting this foundation just happened. One morning I was sitting at my kitchen table, drinking orange juice and eating cinnamon toast, trying to decide what to wear to my mother’s hospital charity luncheon that afternoon. If my pink pumps would look better with my floral skirt or my leather dress sandals.”

Rand lifted a doubtful brow. “Pink pumps?”

“Hey—” she pointed her fork at him and lifted her nose “—these were serious decisions in my life. A girl can never be too careful about her footwear.”

Grace could swear she saw a smile tug at the corners of Rand’s mouth. Shaking his head, he drew in a slow breath, then said, “Somehow I’ve missed the connection between shoes and wild horses.”

“While all these important things were going on, I was watching the television, too,” she said. “A documentary about an organization in Nevada that was formed to save a band of wild horses outside of Reno. I ended up calling the number asking for donations and spoke to a man named Mitch Tanner. He invited me down to see what their group was doing. I accepted, then came back and started my own foundation. The rest,” she said, stabbing another bite of cake and popping it into her mouth, “is history.”

Rand’s gaze rested on her mouth. That light she’d seen in his eyes a moment earlier turned dark and sensuous. There it was again, that heat simmering between them. Grace felt her pulse stumble, but she steadied herself before she did anything foolish.

“Why are you here?” he asked, leveling his gaze back with hers. “Why me?”

“These horses—” she hesitated “—this roundup, is a little more complicated.”

“Why?”

“The horses managed to break off from the main herd we’ve already rounded up and disappeared into Black River Canyon, a canyon that’s notorious for flash floods. If they are still alive and we don’t get them out soon, they will either starve or drown.”

He stopped rocking and looked at her. “You’re telling me you want to go into a dangerous canyon after a bunch of horses you aren’t even certain are still alive? How many horses are you talking about?”

She swallowed hard. “Four or five, maybe six.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He sat up straight now, his brow furrowed. “You’d risk your life, or someone else’s, to maybe save maybe six horses?”

“If they are there, and they are still alive, they haven’t got a chance if we don’t go down there and get them out.” Grace closed her eyes. “Everyone else has turned me down. Told me it was a waste of time.”

“They were right.”

She opened her eyes again, narrowed them at him. “I refuse to believe that. You could do it. You’re probably the only one who can. I’ve got two volunteers waiting to hear from me, two good horsemen who are willing to go down into the canyon with you and help.”

“Mother Nature can be brutal. Life is that way sometimes and there’s no way around it.” He sighed, then added more gently, “Some things are best let go, Grace. Accept it.”

She shook her head, not certain if her overwhelming disappointment was that Rand wouldn’t take the job, or that he didn’t believe in it.

Whichever it was, the bottom line was that he wasn’t going.

He was right, she thought sadly. She had wasted her time coming here.

As much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t cry. At least, not now. Later, after she checked into her motel room and crawled under the covers, maybe then she’d give in to the pain in her chest.

Forcing a smile, she stood and looked down at him. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. I’ll just say goodbye to everyone and be out of your hair.”

He nodded, followed her into the house where Mary sat in front of her new television, a soft smile on her face as she watched a rerun of Frasier. The Sloan family stood, and they all said their goodbyes, then Grace surprised Mary by hugging her and wishing her well with her sale of the ranch and her move to Las Vegas. When Grace shook Matt’s and Sam’s hands, they flirted shamelessly once again, making her blush.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Rand said when she turned to shake his hand, as well.

“That’s not nec—”

But he was already holding the door for her, waiting, so she said goodbye one more time to his family, then walked outside.

She stopped on the porch and offered her hand again. “Thank you for your time, Rand. I—”

“I said I’d walk you to your car.”

He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her down the porch steps and to her car. Her body betrayed her by responding to Rand’s touch. Grace pressed her lips together in irritation. Damn this man. He frustrated the hell out of her, in more ways than one. Heat shimmered up her spine; her skin tightened; her pulse jump-roped.

There was no other word for her reaction to him than pure, man-to-woman, simple lust.

She’d had boyfriends; she’d been attracted to men before. But she’d never experienced anything like this. She suspected she might never again.

There weren’t very many Rand Sloans in this world.

Grace wasn’t certain if that was a good or a bad thing.

He opened the car door and she half expected him to pick her up and toss her inside, he seemed so anxious to be rid of her. Instead, he hesitated, looked down at her in the dim light that shone from the house.

“I appreciate you being nice to my mom,” he said, his hand still on the door. “Things haven’t always been easy for her.”

Or you, either, Grace almost said. “She’s a nice woman. I’m glad we met. If I get to Vegas, I’ll look her up.”

He nodded.

But still he didn’t move.

“Well,” she said awkwardly, then held out her hand again. “Thank you again.”

He ignored her hand. His gaze fell to her mouth; Grace felt her heart lurch.

His jaw tightened. When he turned away from her, Grace’s heart sank.

She nearly laughed at herself as she stood there and watched him walk back to the house. Good heavens, what had she thought? That he was actually going to kiss her? That would be ridiculous. Absurd. They’d just met, and he’d made it clear he wanted no part—

Oh, dear.

He’d whipped back around toward her, a determined, intense expression on his face.

Her breath caught.

As he approached, she opened her mouth to say something, but the words were lost when he reached out and dragged her to him.

“I have to know,” he said fiercely, then covered her mouth with his own.

Nothing could have prepared Grace for the onslaught of emotions swirling through her. His mouth was hard, demanding. A little angry, even. She tried to hang on to reason, but it seemed as if the ground had opened up under her and sucked her into a world where reason and logic simply didn’t exist. She held on to him, not just because she wanted to, but because she needed to. Her legs had turned to the consistency of overcooked noodles.

His kiss shocked her, but what shocked her even more was the fact that she was kissing him back.

She felt the heat of his long, hard body press against her, smelled the masculine scent of his skin. His mouth moved over hers; his teeth nipped at her bottom lip, then his tongue invaded. She welcomed him, met every hot, wet sweep of his tongue with her own.

She thought what she’d felt for him before had been simple lust. How wrong she’d been. There was nothing simple about this at all. It was the most complex, most complicated, most mind-blowing experience she’d ever encountered.

And then it was over.

Just like that, he released her and stepped away. She had to reach for the door frame or she would have slid to the ground.

“Goodbye, Miss Grace,” he said, his voice rough and husky.

Then he turned and walked not to the house, but toward the barn. Still struggling to breathe, she watched him disappear into the darkness.

Two hours later Rand could still taste her.

Even as he swung the hammer and slammed it down on the head of the nail, the taste of rich, sweet chocolate lingered in his mouth. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils. The feel of her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest sang in his blood.

He had to be the biggest fool that ever lived.

He’d thought that one little taste of her would put her out of his mind. That whatever attraction he’d been feeling toward the woman would dissipate if he wasn’t left wondering what it would be like to give in, to wrap himself around her and just let himself feel.

Big, big mistake.

As if his life hadn’t been difficult enough right now, he’d had to go and make it even more complicated.

Swearing under his breath, he reached for another plank of wood and fitted it snugly against the one he’d just hammered in place. Eleven o’clock at night might be an odd time to repair broken stalls, but what the hell. He wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon, anyway.

He appreciated that his brothers understood his need to be alone tonight. They knew about the letter, too. He’d shown it to them when it had first come. Matt had whistled under his breath; Sam had sworn softly. They hadn’t asked him what he was going to do. They both knew that Rand would tell them when he was ready.