Читать книгу Taming Blackhawk - Barbara McCauley - Страница 9

The sound of a car door slamming startled Grace awake. She hadn’t meant to doze off, but after only five hours sleep the night before, the early-morning board meeting, the flight to San Antonio, then renting a car at the airport and driving one hundred miles, her eyelids had simply grown too heavy to keep open.

She rose from the comfortable easy chair in Mary Sloan’s living room and looked out through the lace curtains. Mary and Rand had already stepped out of an old, dust-covered tan truck. A second truck, newer, deep blue with dual cab, pulled up in front of the house, as well. Two men younger than Rand, also tall, with dark-brown hair climbed out.

Grace glanced at her wristwatch, surprised that the Sloan family was back so soon from the funeral. The service must have been a short one, and the reception, if there had been one, even shorter than that.

Grace hadn’t intended to stay at the Sloan house. As badly as she wanted—needed—Rand’s help, she knew she couldn’t intrude at such a difficult time. But it was a long drive to San Antonio, and after Rand had left her standing in the barn, Grace had knocked on Mary Sloan’s door to ask for a glass of water before heading back to the airport. Next thing Grace knew, Mary had sat her down at the kitchen table and asked point-blank what Grace wanted with Rand. Grace had told Mary about the foundation and the horses, then Mary had insisted that Grace stay and join them for dinner.

Grace had politely turned down Mary’s offer, but the older woman had refused to take no for an answer. It had been a long time since she’d had any company, Mary had said, and she would certainly appreciate another female in the house tonight.

The genuine concern in Mary’s eyes, the sadness, made it impossible for Grace to say no. Since Rand had turned her down, Grace had nowhere to go, no one else to turn to, anyway. So why not stay a few hours if Mary wanted her to? Grace could only imagine how devastated her own mother would be if anything happened to her father. If Mary Sloan wanted female companionship, then it was the least Grace could do for the woman.

She looked up when Rand opened the door and stepped inside. He’d obviously showered and shaved since she’d seen him last. He now wore black dress jeans, a white shirt and shiny black boots. He glanced at her, unsmiling. Obviously, Rand did not approve of his mother’s request that Grace stay.

Well, the hell with him. The man was just going to have to deal with it.

Their eyes locked for one long moment, then he boldly slid that dark, intense gaze of his all the way down her body, then slowly back up again. It annoyed Grace when her breasts tightened and, dammit, her nipples hardened. She pressed her lips firmly together. She decided he was crude and coarse and…just about the sexiest man she’d ever met.

“I heard you’re staying for dinner,” he said at last, bringing his gaze back to hers.

“Your mother—”

“Mind your manners, Rand Sloan.” Mary swept in the house behind her son and moved past him. “I asked Grace to stay. A woman needs a breather with all that testosterone that’ll be filling this house tonight. I need some feminine balance.”

“Matt and Sam will be here,” Rand called after Mary, then turned and looked at his brothers as they strode through the front door. “That should balance the femininity about right.”

Surprised, Grace glanced at Rand. The man had actually made a joke, she realized. A sarcastic one, true, but a joke nonetheless. She wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.

“I’ll give you feminine when I’m picking your teeth out of my knuckles.” One of the brothers walked toward Grace and stuck out his hand. “I’m Matthew Sloan,” he said with a smile. “This is Sam.”

Heavens, but the Sloan men were a handsome lot. Though Rand had darker hair and eyes than his brothers and his face was more sculpted, they were all rugged and tall, with killer smiles. Not that she’d seen Rand smile, she thought dryly.

“Grace Sullivan.” She shook each of their hands. “I’m sorry about your father.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, as there always was with condolences, then Matt said, “Thanks for staying. After looking at Rand’s ugly mug all day, my eyes could use a break.”

Rand frowned at his brother, but there was no malice in the look. If anything, Grace thought, it was the first sign of affection Rand had displayed.

“Matthew and Samuel,” Mary called from the kitchen. “Get your butts in here now. I need help.”

Matt and Sam excused themselves, leaving Grace alone with Rand. “I…I should go help, too,” she said.

He took her arm when she started toward the kitchen. “In all the years I’ve known her, my mother hasn’t asked for help in the kitchen once.”

Confused, she simply looked at him.

“She’s thinking we need a minute alone.”

“Oh, I see,” Grace said, then gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the last thing you want is to be alone with me.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Grace felt her throat go dry at the flare of interest in his black eyes. She looked down at the hand he’d laid on her forearm. A working man’s hand. Large, with long fingers and tanned, rough skin. Against her smooth, cream-colored silk jacket, the contrast was amazingly sensual. The heat of his fingers burned all the way through the fabric.

She really needed to get a grip on her hormones.

“Rand,” she said carefully, “your mother asked me to stay, but I have no intention of intruding on your grief. Just forget why I came here and think of me as you would any other guest in your mother’s house.”

It might be hard to explain to the woman that his mother rarely had guests in her house, Rand thought. But it really wasn’t anything that Miss Grace Sullivan needed to know, anyway.

“Samuel Sloan, you get your fingers out of that potato salad right now!”

Rand watched Grace’s head snap toward the kitchen. At the sound of a loud thwap, those deep-green eyes of hers went wide.

“Shoot, Mom, someone’s gotta make sure it tastes right,” Sam told his mother.

“You saying I don’t know how to make potato salad?”

Another loud thwap!

Rand heard the sound of Matt’s laugh, then again, thwap!

“Hey! What’d I do?” Matt complained.

“It’s for what you’re gonna do,” Mary said. “I saw you eyeing that cake.”

“You hold her, Matt,” Sam said. “I’ll grab the cake.”

“You so much as—” Mary’s reprimand was cut off abruptly and there was a lot of hollering.

A good sound, Rand thought. When Edward Sloan had been around, the family rarely joked. The best times in this house had been when the old man was gone, either on a business trip or one of his hunting and fishing excursions. Fortunately for everyone, Edward took those trips often. It was the only time they ever really relaxed, the only time they could have fun like this without Edward hollering they were all making too much noise.

“Matthew Richard Sloan,” Mary yelled from the kitchen. “Get your fingers out of that frosting right this minute!”

Grace looked at Rand, her brow furrowed with concern. “Shouldn’t you go help?”

“Why would I do that?” Rand shrugged. “Unless you want some cake. I could probably grab it while they’re all busy and be out the back door before they even noticed. My mom bakes a chocolate cake that could make a grown man cry.”

“Chocolate cake, you say?” Grace lifted a brow and glanced at the kitchen. “With chocolate frosting?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“I suppose I could start my car and you could jump in,” she said thoughtfully. “I’d expect a fifty-fifty split, though.”

Rand felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. It felt strange to joke with a woman, especially a beautiful one. His entire adult life, when there’d been interest between himself and a woman, there’d been few preliminaries. There’d been the usual amount of flirting and silly banter, he supposed. But there’d been no pretenses, no long courtships. If he wanted a woman, he simply said so. If she wanted him back, then fine. If she didn’t, then that was fine, too. He respected a woman’s right to say no. There were always more women in the next town he’d drift to.

Not to say that he slept with every pretty female that came along. In spite of the rumors, Rand had always considered himself a man of discriminating—and careful—tastes. He was no fool, and he wasn’t stupid when it came to sex.

He looked at Grace, watched those big, green eyes of hers widen at the sound of a crash from the kitchen. She wasn’t going to be around long enough for him to give it a lot of thought one way or the other, Rand knew. She’d be gone after dinner, and he would never see her again.

And that, he thought as he looked at those gorgeous lips of hers and killer body, was a damn shame.

Unlike the worn and neglected exterior, the inside of the Sloan house was neat and tidy and clean. The furniture was utilitarian: a plain brown sofa and chair in the living room, maple coffee and end tables. A bookcase filled mostly with history and ranching books. No TV, no DVD or video equipment, not even a stereo, that Grace could see. Simple and practical and down to the basics, would best describe the Sloan residence.

It wasn’t a cold house, but it wasn’t exactly a warm one, either. Except for the dining room, Grace thought, where the family had gathered around an oval pine table to eat. She felt comfortable here, relaxed. Well, not completely relaxed. It was pretty difficult to truly relax with Rand sitting across from her, those incredible black eyes of his watching her. Not that he was staring. In fact, it seemed that every time she’d looked at him, he was intentionally not looking at her.

Nevertheless, she felt his eyes on her, felt the intensity of that dark gaze. No man had ever made her so…aware. Of him, of herself, of everything around them. The feeling confused her, made her unsteady. It also annoyed her that she was being such a nervous Nelly. Such a scaredy-cat. A big, fat—

“Chicken?”

Startled, she snapped her gaze to Rand. “What?”

“Would you like a piece of chicken?” He held a large platter of fried chicken in front of her.

“Oh. Yes, of course.” She helped herself to a leg and smiled at Mary. “This all looks wonderful.”

A person would have thought that an entire football team was coming to dinner instead of three men, Grace thought. Mile-high, fluffy mashed potatoes beside a tureen of velvety brown gravy; a heaping bowl of baby peas; golden, steaming biscuits with a tub of honey-sweetened butter. The smell alone was enough to make Grace’s mouth water.

And when she took a bite of the chicken, it was all she could do not to groan. Mary’s sons, on the other hand, were not subject to the same restraint. Every one of them, including Rand, expressed their pleasure with sighs and groans and enough compliments to make Mary beam with delight.

“Lord, I’ve missed your cooking,” Matt said around a bite of biscuit. “When you sell this place and move, I’m just gonna have to follow.”

“You’re selling the ranch?” Grace asked as she scooped up an extra ladle of gravy. She didn’t care if she had to do three extra miles on her treadmill at home. This meal was worth every calorie.

“She’s moving to Sin City,” Sam said. “Las Vegas, Nevada.”

“I have a brother there,” Mary said. “I haven’t seen him in ten years. It’ll be nice to catch up.”

Grace listened while they all talked about Mary’s move and their uncle Steve. It seemed odd to her that not once was there any mention of the funeral or Edward Sloan. No shared memories of their life together. And not one person had stopped by to pay their respects. It was almost as if the man had never existed.

“My mom says you’re from Dallas, Grace,” Sam said, interrupting her thoughts. “What do you do there?”

She glanced at Rand, who appeared intent on buttering a biscuit. She’d promised not to mention the wild horses, but she supposed it was all right to mention the foundation. “I work with Edgewater Animal Management,” she said.

“I saw an article in the Dallas Chronicle about Edgewater Animal Management.” Matt teased his mother by reaching for her already buttered biscuit. Without missing a beat, Mary slapped her son’s hand and kept on eating. “If I remember correctly, the piece mentioned its founder was the daughter of some mega-millionaire Dallas businessman.”

“Probably some spoiled, buck-toothed debutante who wouldn’t know the backside of a mule if it stared her in the face,” Sam muttered.

“I do believe I would know,” Grace said curtly and stared at Sam.

There was a long beat of silence, then Sam’s eyes widened, and he had the decency to blush. Matt and Mary both started to laugh, and even Rand had a grin on his face. Sam took his knife and made motions of cutting his wrists.

“Hot damn, Grace,” Matt said, still laughing. “Any woman who can put my brother in his place is the woman I want to marry.”

“The fact that she’s beautiful and rich don’t hurt, either,” Sam added. “Come on, Matt, I’ll arm wrestle you for her.”

Mary shook her head at her sons’ nonsense while she offered Grace more chicken. Grace declined, shocked that Matt and Sam actually had their elbows on the table and hands locked, ready to wrestle. Never in her life had she seen anything like this. Dinner at her parents’ house was always quiet and sedate, a five-course meal prepared by a cook and served by a maid on fine china and linen tablecloths.

Dinner with the Sloan family was like getting on a roller coaster at Six Flags, Grace decided. An exciting, fun, adventure-filled ride that took your breath away.

Rand was the only one that held back, she realized. Not that he wasn’t at ease with his family. He was. But there was something about Rand that Grace couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was subtle, but he was different somehow from his brothers.

He was watching her now, she knew, ignoring his brothers’ shenanigans and focusing his attention on her. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. The worst of it was, she couldn’t look away.

“If you want that chocolate cake,” Mary said to her sons, “you boys best get your elbows off that table. I taught you better manners than that. And, Rand, stop staring at Grace. You’re embarrassing her. Just look at her, she’s all red in the face.”

Grace dropped her gaze. She hadn’t been embarrassed, she’d simply been hot and extremely bothered. But she couldn’t very well tell Mary that.

The meal finished in relative peace—relative being a very broad term when it came to the Sloans. Sam and Matt flirted shamelessly with her, plus there were more wisecracks and insults between the brothers. Even Rand jumped in a time or two, but for the most part he was silent and thoughtful, as if his mind was somewhere else.

When Mary rose to get the cake, Rand told her to sit right back down, then looked at his brothers. Matt and Sam went out the front door, with Mary wanting to know what all the fuss was about. The two younger Sloan boys came back in a few moments later, carrying a large, blanket-covered box. They set it down at their mother’s feet and pulled the blanket back.

“Happy Birthday, Mom,” Sam said quietly.

It was a thirty-five-inch color TV with remote control and picture-in-a-picture feature.

Mary stared, then blinked furiously, got up without a word and walked out the front door.

Bewildered, Grace watched while the brothers all looked at each other and smiled.

It seemed that Rand wasn’t the only Sloan family member who wasn’t inclined to show emotion, Grace thought.

“Let’s set it up,” Matt said, then he and Sam carried it into the living room.

“It’s your mother’s birthday?” Grace asked Rand.

“Sort of,” he said cryptically and looked at the door his mother had walked out. When he glanced back at Grace, there was a grin on his face. “She just might need a little ‘feminine balance’ right about now,” he said. “Would you mind?”

She had no idea what he was talking about, but if Mary needed company, then Grace would be happy to sit outside with her. She looked at all the dishes on the table, but he took her by the arm and led her to the front door. “Never mind the mess. We’ll take care of it.”

It was the second time he’d put his hand on her today, the second time her body reacted with a mind of its own. Grace opened her mouth, but hadn’t time to speak before he’d opened the door, gently shoved her outside, then closed the door again.

The light from the living room window illuminated the front porch, but beyond the porch railing, it was pitch-black. Grace could see Mary on the porch swing, staring out into the dark. Grace waited, not certain if she was intruding or not.

“Come sit by me, Grace,” Mary said.

Grace sat and together they listened to the loud er-rick-er-rick-er-rick of an army of crickets and the rhythmic squeak of the swing. Inside the house, the sound of Mary’s sons talking and laughing in the living room drifted out into the warm night air.

“Rand doesn’t mean to be rude,” Mary said after a few moments. “He’s having a tough time right now.”

“You mean because of his father?”

“Heavens, no. There was no love lost between Rand and my late husband.” Mary sighed. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about or why I wanted you to stay.”

“Why did you want me to stay?”

“Rand needs a woman like you right now,” Mary said.

Grace missed a beat on the swing, then picked it up again. “Excuse me for saying so, Mrs. Sloan, but I don’t think your son needs anyone, especially me.”

Mary laughed softly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Grace. I know my boy and I know what I see. He might not even know it yet, but believe me, he needs you.”

“Mrs. Sloan—”

“Mary.”

“Mary,” Grace said, shaking her head. “I came here because I need Rand’s help. He turned me down flat. The only reason I’m still here is because you asked me to stay.”

“And I’m glad you did.” Mary patted Grace’s hand. “It was refreshing to have another woman around. Sometimes living out here, without any woman friends stopping by for coffee or cookies, makes me forget I’m a woman myself.”

The sound of a baseball game blasted from inside the house, and Mary’s eyes lit up. “Well, I suppose I should go take a look at what they bought me,” she said matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“Would you mind if I sat out here for a while?” Grace asked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been away from the city lights.”

“Take your time,” Mary said. “I’ll make sure my boys save a piece of cake for you.”

“No easy task, I’m sure,” Grace teased.

Smiling, Mary went back into the house. With a sigh, Grace settled back in the swing and mentally went over the events of the afternoon and evening. The Sloan family perplexed her. The sons had buried their father, Mary her husband, but Edward Sloan’s name had not been mentioned once amongst them. Mary had plainly said that Rand and his father did not get along. Then the boys had given their mother a television for her birthday, only it really wasn’t her birthday.

Rand needs a woman like you.

That comment from Mary had to be the most perplexing of all. Though there was no question there was chemistry between herself and Rand, Mary certainly hadn’t been speaking of need in a physical nature. She’d been speaking of something else, something on a deeper, more meaningful level. Grace couldn’t imagine what Mary meant, but it really didn’t matter at this point.

Grace couldn’t put it off any longer. It was almost nine and she needed to leave in a few minutes. It was a long drive back to San Antonio. She’d need to find a place to stay for the night, then catch the first flight back to Dallas tomorrow.

She knew she was leaving her last hope behind her, but she refused to think about that right now. Grace knew that she was still foolish enough to believe in miracles, and she also knew that it would take one now to save those mustangs.