Читать книгу Fit To Be Tied: Fit To Be Tied / The Lyon's Den - Carol Finch, Carol Finch - Страница 11

JESSICA WAS SO TIRED by the time she returned home from work that she had trouble putting one foot in front of the other. Thanks to Devil Devlin’s prank that caused sleep deprivation she had dozed off at her office and awakened to find a debit and expenditure form stuck to her face. If her secretary hadn’t volunteered to stay late to type up the tax sheets and drop them in the mail, Jessica couldn’t have gotten the federal forms and payroll checks completed on time. Teresa, devoted employee that she was, shooed Jessica from the office, insisting that she go home and get some rest.

That was precisely what Jessica planned to do—after tending her animals and mowing a few rounds on the riding mower. One glance at the ominous sky indicated a soggy weekend ahead. The TV meteorologists were forecasting a break in the drought that would undoubtedly test the strength of the trench Jessica dug in her pond dam.

Halfheartedly, Jessica made the rounds to feed her animals. As usual, Mother Goose followed like a shadow. After fueling the mower, Jessica shoved the machine into high gear. It was nearly dark before she found time to sit down, prop up her feet and nibble on the dinner she had nuked in the microwave oven.

A firm rap resounded at the door. Frowning curiously, Jessica set aside her plastic plate. She opened the door to see Devlin Callahan decked out in a starched and pressed Western shirt, trim-fitting blue jeans and polished boots. Her jaw dropped to her chest, and she stood there gaping at him like a tongue-tied idiot.

Good gracious, no man—especially not this man—had a right to look so devastatingly attractive. When he flashed her a knock-you-to-your-knees smile that generated enough wattage to see her through a blizzard, an unwilling jolt of attraction zapped her. In one tanned hand, which was devoid of jewelry, Devlin held a bouquet of roses.

Roses for her? Couldn’t be. The man hated her, she was sure of it.

Jessica was not mentally, physically or emotionally prepared to confront this handsome rascal. She was too exhausted to go another round with him, most especially when he looked like every woman’s secret dream standing there on her front porch. This man redefined the words dangerous and tempting, but Jessica had made a pact to play it safe. She wanted no part of him.

“I brought the roses for—” he began.

Jessica did the only thing she could possibly do to prevent being overwhelmed by the devil’s own temptation, who had caught her off guard while she looked and felt her absolute worst.

She shut the door in his face.

The roses he had extended to her got caught inside the doorjamb, and the door snipped off their delicate heads in one vicious whack. Jessica glanced at the decapitated flowers that lay on her grungy barnyard boots, then took quick inventory of her attire. Gawd, she looked like an abandoned orphan in her jungle-print T-shirt and holey jeans that were tucked in the tops of her boots. Her off-center ponytail dangled in tangles on one side of her head. The long strands were snagged with twigs and coated with grass clippings. There wasn’t a speck of makeup on her face to conceal the circles under her eyes. In short, she was a pitiful mess, and he, damn him, looked scrumptious enough to eat.

Well, she had blown any chance of reconciliation, even if now was the time for one—which it wasn’t, not when she didn’t look presentable or feel mentally alert.

Frustrated, exasperated by her purely feminine reaction to a man she wanted very much to dislike, Jessica marched across the room to plop down on the sofa, hoping Devlin would give up and go away.

DEVLIN STARED at the stems in his hand and willed himself not to lose his temper. He managed a grin, recalling Jessica’s disheveled appearance and stunned expression. She didn’t remotely resemble the sophisticated professional woman he had encountered earlier in the week. He approved of Jessica’s looks when she was all mussed up like a hardworking farmhand. She appeared more approachable.

With that image firmly etched in his mind, Devlin rapped on the door. “Porter, I came by to ask you out to dinner,” he called politely.

“I already ate,” she called back.

“Well, then, how about tomorrow night?”

“Not interested,” she hollered.

Hoo-kay, this wasn’t going well, thought Devlin. Now what?

Tired of talking to the door, Devlin stepped carefully into the flower bed and tapped on the living room window. He could see Jessica sitting rigidly on her leather sofa, staring at the far wall.

“So how about going to the ice cream social with me Sunday evening?” he asked politely.

She turned briefly to glance in his direction, then faced forward again. “I’d rather eat gravel, but thanks so much for asking. Just go away.”

When she bounded to her feet and headed toward the kitchen holding what looked to be a plastic food container, Devlin scurried around the house…and came face to beak with the guard goose, which quacked an objection to his presence.

“Well, tough,” Devlin muttered as he veered around the feathered obstacle.

Devlin leaned close to the kitchen window to gain Jessica’s attention. He had girded himself to be nice to this woman and, by damned, he wasn’t leaving until she agreed to speak to him in a civil, rational, mature manner.

When Jessica saw him standing there, she gasped in surprise and clutched her chest as if her heart was about to pop out.

Before she could yell at him, he turned up the voltage on his smile and asked, “Okay, so how about if we take in a movie Saturday night?”

She glared at him even as she backed away from the window. “I’d have more fun dating a corpse,” she said before she pivoted and stalked off.

Struggling for hard-won composure, resolved not to drop the reins on his temper, Devlin watched Jessica veer toward the staircase. He glanced at the rickety lattice and second-story balcony and decided to go for it. Never let his brother say that Devlin hadn’t done all within his power to make amends with the dragon lady.

Tossing aside the rose stems, Dev stepped upon the supporting beam of the trellis, then hauled himself to the roof. He grabbed the base of the balcony railing to hoist himself upright, stepped over to the warped door, then rapped lightly on it.

Jessica shrieked in alarm. “Are you trying to spy on me while I’m undressing to take a bath, you pervert?” she asked huffily. “Be warned. Sheriff Osborn is definitely going to hear about this!”

“Calm down a minute, Blondie,” he called before she made a grab for the phone. “I’m only trying to be neighborly and make amends for my prank. Only it wasn’t exactly a prank, because I was trying to muffle the jungle sounds so my cattle wouldn’t bolt and run again. And thank you for trenching your pond dam. My brother and I sincerely appreciate it.” He tried out another charming smile. “If you’ll only let me come in so we can sit down and work out our differences—”

“No,” she interrupted.

Devlin noted Jessica was a decisive kind of person. She didn’t take time to consider his offer, just cut him off with an unequivocal no. He, however, wasn’t leaving until they negotiated some kind of truce.

“I want to talk to you, Porter. You might as well accept the fact that you aren’t getting rid of me easily.”

“Then I’m calling the cops, Peeping Tom!” she threatened loudly.

When he saw her lunge for the phone, Devlin tried to open the door. Unfortunately, his foot went through a rotted board on the balcony, and he staggered to regain his balance. He howled in alarm when the rickety railing gave way behind him.

Devlin cartwheeled across the sloped roof, clawing desperately for a handhold—and found none. When he took a header off the roof, he attempted to twist in midair so he could draw his legs beneath him.

Waste of time. The crape myrtle shrub that shaded the back porch came at him at alarming speed.

“Argh!” He landed spread-eagle in the bush, ripping a hole in the elbow of his brand-spanking-new shirt. Swearing and thrashing, he tried to dislodge himself from the shrub.

“Are you all right?”

Devlin twisted sideways to see Jessica standing on the broken balcony, staring at him with a mixture of amusement and concern. When she broke into a full-fledged smile, the frustration seeped right out of him. Damn, she had an engaging smile that affected every feature on her bewitching face.

He lay there, dazzled by the effect of her smile, wishing something besides his clumsiness was the cause of it. Despite his embarrassing position in the shrub, he grinned at her, hoping to assure her that he was capable of laughing at his own foolishness.

For a few moments their gazes locked and they smiled easily at each other.

Then, to his complete bemusement, her expression closed, her back stiffened and she stepped away from the broken railing.

“I’d like you to leave, Callahan. I want to take a bath without being spied on. I want to go to bed so I can get some rest.”

Devlin suddenly wanted to go to bed himself, but getting some rest was far down on his list—after seeing his neighbor in a totally different light. Damn, he couldn’t believe how quickly desire had hit him. Came right out of nowhere and nailed him the instant her face lit up in a dazzling smile. His perception of her changed in a heartbeat.

“I hope I can count on you not to serenade me and my exotic animals with that hillbilly music tonight. I don’t think I can go another night without sleep.”

Having said that, she wheeled like a soldier on parade and marched into the house. He heard the door slam shut behind her. Whatever ground Devlin thought he’d gained for that split second out of time was lost forever.

Cursing the temperamental woman and his attraction—which was apparently one-sided and a total waste of time—Devlin squirmed out of the shrubbery, dusted himself off, then panned the area to see that dozens of pens and cages, shaded by groves of trees, sat a hundred yards from the house. When the goose honked at him, the caged animals struck up their usual racket.

“To hell with this,” Devlin grumbled as he limped around the house to return to his truck. “The ball is in her court now. I tried my best to call a truce.”

Propelled by self-righteous irritation, Devlin hopped in his truck and sped off, then remembered that he hadn’t unplugged the extension cord. He stamped on the brake, whipped around and backed into the driveway beside the pasture gate. Within five minutes he had disconnected the extension cord from the outdoor outlet on the electric pole, packed up the stereo and headed home.

He had tried the direct, confrontational approach, then the charming, tactful approach with Porter. The only option left was to beg forgiveness. But Devlin had vowed seven years ago that he wouldn’t beg a woman for anything, not after Sandi had hurt and embarrassed him and left him to deal with smalltown gossip while she sauntered off to the big city on the arm of her new lover. As for Jessica Porter, she could sit on her forty acres and rot, for all he cared—as long as she did it quietly!

JESSICA SCRUBBED her hands over her face and cursed herself soundly for freezing up the moment Callahan had flashed her an honest-to-goodness smile. It had made her protective armor crack wide open and her heart slam against her ribs—and stick there. Even worse, her reaction to him inspired dangerously reckless and tempting feelings. Being hurt and humiliated in the past, Jessica was wary of men, and she had a tendency to back off the instant her hardened resolve began to soften up.

Reluctantly, Jessica smiled at the image of Devlin sprawled in the shrubs. She had to admit that his smile hadn’t seemed predatory, manipulative or cajoling. He’d seemed natural, willing to admit that he’d looked pretty silly. It was at that precise moment, when Devlin had looked his most vulnerable and human, that he became devastatingly attractive to her. In that instant she had liked him, liked the looks of him, reacted to his boyish grin.

That was also the precise moment when Jessica felt most vulnerable, feared that a disaster was waiting to happen. Given her history with Rex, she knew she had a weakness for rugged, athletic men. She thought she had known Rex well enough to trust him, but she had been wrong. Humiliatingly, mortifyingly wrong. She knew even less about Callahan, except that he was persistent, that he could laugh at himself, that he didn’t always take himself so seriously.

Yet Jessica suspected that Devlin had come by to kiss up to her, making an effort to mend fences. The fact that he probably had to put forth an effort made her leery—and yes, a little disappointed that it was such a chore for him to be nice to her. She couldn’t afford to feel anything, especially not fierce sexual attraction to a man who wasn’t totally honest and sincere.

Jessica inhaled a steadying breath and discarded all thoughts of the handsome cowboy. She had a weekend jam-packed with strenuous work and she desperately needed rest.

Jessica peeled off her clothes on the way to the bath and sank into the steamy water, letting her mind drift where it would. Her eyes popped open when Devlin’s smiling face materialized out of nowhere. She banished his image and scrubbed herself squeaky clean.

Wrapped in an oversize towel, Jess padded to her bedroom and plunked on the bed. She fell asleep while mentally listing the chores that needed her attention this weekend…and she was too far gone to banish that cowboy’s smiling image when he followed her into forbidden dreams.

THUNDER RUMBLED overhead as Jessica sped down the gravel road toward home. After mowing five acres of weeds and brush, she had changed into her business suit and made a hurried trip into town to restock microwavable meals. She had yet to hook the chain to her car and move the big cat cages farther west. If she didn’t complete the task quickly, she predicted she’d be mired in mud and forced to ask her nearest neighbor to pull her out.

As if he’d lift a hand to help, she mused as she watched lightning spike from the low-hanging clouds. Last night had pretty much nixed her chances of a civilized friendship with Devlin. In spite of that, Jess detoured by his ranch to apologize for dismissing him so rudely and to insure Devlin hadn’t suffered serious injury in his fall into the shrubbery. He hadn’t been home to hear the polite apology she had rehearsed.

Thunder rumbled again, and huge raindrops pelted the windshield. Jessica increased her speed, hoping to outrun the storm so she could feed her animals before the sky opened up.

A half mile from home the rear tire blew out. Jessica gripped the wheel to steer toward the side of the road. “Great, just great,” she muttered, then glanced at her royal blue silk suit, matching pumps and panty hose. “What are the chances of changing the tire without ruining this suit?”

Scowling at her damnable luck, Jess climbed from the car, then opened the trunk. Fat raindrops splattered on her back and hips as she bent to rummage in the trunk for the jack and doughnut tire. By the time she wrestled the tire from the trunk she had grime stuck to her jacket and skirt.

Hunkering down, Jess groaned and strained to work the lug nuts loose with the tire tool, but the darn things wouldn’t budge. Bracing her feet, she tried to apply more muscle, but the tire tool slipped sideways, causing her to trip over large chunks of gravel.

“Ouch! Damn!” Jessica hissed in pain when her ankle landed at an unnatural angle. She stared at her skinned knees and shredded panty hose, then glowered at the offensive tire tool.

Pushing upright, Jessica tested her injured ankle. Minor damage, she diagnosed as she hobbled over to retrieve the tire tool and try again. Rain came down in torrents as she squatted to battle the lug nuts.

It was a waste of time.

Hope rose within her when she heard a vehicle approaching, but Jessica cursed colorfully when she recognized Devlin Callahan’s pickup. He rolled down the window to give her the once-over, taking in her soggy silk suit, muddy blue pumps and wet blond hair that drooped around her face like a stringy mop.

“Having trouble, Blondie?” he asked around the wry smile that twitched his lips.

“No, I’m doing this for practice,” she snapped, certain he was silently laughing—at her expense.

NOTHING was more gratifying for Devlin, after last night’s fiasco in the shrubbery, than seeing Jessica doused with rain and mud, struggling in vain to change her tire. It was second nature for Devlin to lend a hand to a neighbor in times of need, but this wasn’t the usual, garden-variety neighbor. This was the infuriating female who refused to negotiate the terms of a truce over a peace-treaty dinner.

Fact was, Devlin wasn’t accustomed to being turned down flat, and his male pride was still smarting. If Porter wanted his assistance, then she could swallow her pride and ask for it.

“This is the drought buster I’ve been waiting for. Sure is wet out there, isn’t it, Blondie?” he commented conversationally.

“Brilliant, Einstein.” She threw the words over her shoulder as she stabbed the end of the tire tool at the lug nut. Devlin could have—should have—offered assistance, but he sat in his truck, watching her fumble with a task that she didn’t have the physical strength to accomplish. He kept waiting for her to ask for his help, but after she had rudely rejected his attempt at a truce he figured she had too much pride to request assistance, for fear Devlin would tell her to fix her own flat.

Teeth gritted, Jessica pushed up her sleeves, then grabbed the tire tool once more. She braced herself, favoring her tender ankle, then strained to loosen the lug nuts.

While Jessica battled the lug nuts, Devlin sat there, grudgingly admiring her determination. Few women of his acquaintance would tackle such a task. But Jessica was as independent as the American flag and fully capable of teaching stubborn to a mule. She also had a jalapeño-flavored temper—not unlike his own, which was why he and Jessica clashed at every turn.

Devlin chuckled to himself when Jessica, her patience worn threadbare, threw down the tire tool, then kicked the flat tire in frustration.

“That’ll help,” he called over the sound of pounding rain.

She lurched, steam practically rising from her soggy collar. “Oh, you…you—”

“Yes?” he prompted, grinning devilishly.

Jessica was so frustrated and furious that she couldn’t think of a suitably nasty name to hurl at him. Not that he could have heard her, because thunder boomed overhead.

Defeated, she whirled, deciding to hike home and return later to tackle the tire. She stalked off with more speed than dignity, then instantly regretted her tantrum. Her tender ankle gave way when the heel of her muddy pump spiked against an oversize chunk of gravel.

She skidded across the road, bumping her knees, hips and elbows, then wailed when hellish pain shot from her ankle. Jessica lay facedown on the road as rain hammered at her back. Near tears, she gritted her teeth against the pulsating throb that shot up her left leg to duel with the burning sensations in her kneecaps.

Despite all the trials and tribulations she had encountered and conquered, the triumph of rising above her lowly birth, she was reduced to wailing sobs. This was her reward, Jessica thought broodingly. She lay sprawled on a gravel road in the middle of the boondocks, pelted by rain. To compound her humiliation, the man whose opinion shouldn’t have mattered in the least—but did, damn it—had witnessed her defeat. He had every right to taunt and ridicule her, because she had gone out of her way to irritate him every chance she got.

So when Devlin pulled his pickup beside her, she expected him to tease her unmercifully, then go his merry way. To her surprise, he bounded from the truck and dashed through the pouring rain.

DEVLIN CURSED HIMSELF soundly as he swooped to scoop up Jessica. The moment he saw her ankle give way on the uneven gravel, saw her skid on her knees and elbows, he knew that he was personally responsible for her injuries. Damnation, why hadn’t he ignored his battered pride and replaced her blown-out tire before she lost patience and hiked off in the rain? If he hadn’t wasted time harassing her, Jessica’s ankle wouldn’t be swelling up like a balloon and she’d still have skin left on her knees and elbows.

Yep, no doubt about it, everything backfired in his dealings with Jessica Porter.

“I won’t waste time asking if you’re all right, because I can plainly see that you aren’t,” he said as he carried her to the passenger side of his truck. Carefully, he situated her on the seat. He grimaced when he saw watered-down blood dripping from her shins. “I’m sorry, Jess.”

She stared owlishly at him. “Why? I thought you’d enjoy this. I thought you hated me.”

“We obviously have our differences, Blondie, and your temper and obstinacy are an equal match for mine, but I swear that I never wanted to see you hurt.”

When he shut the door, then trotted around the truck to slide beneath the steering wheel, Jessica stared at him in amazement. She had seen concern glowing in the depths of those eyes that were as dark as a moonless night. He cared that her ankle hurt like hell blazing? He was sorry he hadn’t intervened before she injured herself?

Pain, frustration, temper and exhaustion combined to put tears in her eyes. Lordy, she hadn’t cried since she was a frightened kid who had been uprooted from one set of foster parents and passed along to another. She’d become tough, resilient…and she was on the verge of blubbering like a damn baby!

“Hurts, huh?” Devlin murmured as he shifted into drive, then started off. Involuntarily, he reached over to squeeze her fist, which was clenched in her soggy skirt. “Just hang on for a couple of minutes and I’ll have you inside your house. We’ll scrub the dirt from the skinned spots and ice down your ankle.”

“Th-thanks,” she said on a hitched breath.

Devlin flashed a cheery smile. “Hey, no problem. What are neighbors for? I’ll have you know I was selected as Good Samaritan of the Year twice. Got plaques to prove it, too.”

“Really?” Her voice crackled in attempt to bite back a shuddering sob.

“No, but if Buzzard’s Grove handed out such an award I’m pretty sure I would’ve won, being the swell guy I am and all.”

His attempt to cheer her up worked. Jessica smiled past the pain. “I should have asked for your help instead of trying to do the job myself,” she murmured awkwardly. “I guess I’m just accustomed to taking care of myself. After the way I treated you last night…” She drew a shaky breath, then met his warm, sympathetic gaze. “I’m sorry I decapitated the roses. That was a thoughtful gesture on your part, and I was inexcusably rude.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively. “I deserved to have the door slammed in my face a couple of times. I’m the one who holds the title for rude and obnoxious.”

“No, I do,” she contradicted, then sniffled.

“Since we both made lousy first impressions, how ’bout we start over?” Devlin suggested as he came to a stop in her driveway.

Jessica nodded and extended a skinned hand. “Deal. Hi, I’m Jessica Porter.”

He squeezed her fingertips gently and offered her a smile. “Devlin Callahan. My friends call me Dev. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jessica wiped her eyes on her grimy sleeve, then waited for Devlin to climb down and stride around to her side of the truck. When he slid his arm beneath her knees and around her waist, Jessica objected to being carried inside. “I think I can manage on my own. The last thing I want is for you to hurt your back.”

“I’ve lifted hay bales heavier than you,” he insisted as he hoisted her easily into his arms. “I’m sure you can manage on your own, but why risk aggravating the injury?”

When he unintentionally bumped her ankle on the edge of the door, she shrieked abruptly and coiled against his chest. “Sorry,” he apologized. “I…”

His breath clogged in his throat when she cuddled against him and he saw a fresh batch of tears welling in those rain-forest eyes. Devlin swallowed uncomfortably, then cursed his all-male reaction to the feel of her supple body in his arms, the feel of her head pressed to his shoulder. The whisper of her breath stirred against his neck like a lover’s caress….

Whoa, boy, don’t go there, Devlin cautioned himself. The lady is injured, and it’s all your fault. This isn’t the time for an inflammation of testosterone.

“House key?” he squeaked, cursing the effect her nearness had on his voice—among other things.

Jessica reached into the purse slung over her shoulder and handed him the key. The symbolism of the gesture didn’t escape her, and she was a little uneasy about letting this man slip inside her defensive walls. “The door sticks when it rains, which hasn’t been very often,” she informed him. “You may have to nudge the door with your shoulder.”

Balancing Jessica against his thigh, he freed one hand to shove the key into the lock. The door didn’t budge when he turned the knob, so he rammed it with his boot heel. Once inside, he gently laid Jessica on the couch and elevated her foot on the armrest. He glanced around the expensively furnished room, noting all the landscape paintings that featured animals as the main subjects. The lady obviously had a soft spot for God’s four-legged creatures, he decided. He also noticed the modernized wall texture and fresh coat of paint. Although the old farmhouse looked battered on the outside, it was obvious that Jessica had been busy refurbishing the inside.

When he saw the complete set of how-to books and videos for home remodeling on the shelves, he glanced at her. New admiration for Jessica dawned when he realized that she had made the remodeling improvements herself. The lady wasn’t exaggerating when she said she was accustomed to taking care of things herself.

When he ambled into the kitchen to locate an improvised ice pack for Jessica’s swollen ankle, he noticed the shiny new oak cabinets and Formica counter. Yup, Jessica was surrounding herself with modern conveniences and luxuries. He was impressed by her good taste and her willingness to work. This old house was coming back to life, thanks to her improvements.

Devlin rummaged through the drawer to locate a plastic bag, then filled it with ice. “Here we go,” he said as he sailed into the living room. “I really like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Thanks.” Jessica grimaced when he placed the ice pack on her aching ankle. “I haven’t had time to refurbish the upstairs yet, because it’s taking a lot of time to get my accounting business established. I’m hoping to strip that atrocious wallpaper, then texture the walls in the bedrooms. I’m not too confident of my plumbing skills, so I’ll probably hire someone to redo the two bathrooms.”

“If you need help, my brother and I take on construction and carpentry projects when farming and ranching chores slow down in the winter.”

“You do?” Jessica peered at Devlin, startled by the various facets she had learned about the man in the course of an hour. She’d discovered that he had a dry sense of humor, that he could be gentle and compassionate and that he obviously didn’t hold a grudge, even if he was quick to temper.

“Yes, we do,” Devlin affirmed. “We remodeled those apartments on First Street two winters ago and replaced all the appliances.”

“That’s where my secretary lives,” Jessica said, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I’ve seen Teresa’s apartment. You do good work.”

“Thanks.” Devlin glanced over his shoulder. “If you’ll point me toward the bathroom I’ll get some antiseptic and bandages for your hands and knees. You might want to remove those shredded panty hose while I’m gone.”

Jessica looked at the mutilated stockings and smudged skirt. Lord, she looked like road kill. “Um…would you bring my robe from the upstairs bathroom? I’d like to get out of these wet clothes.”

“Coming right up.” Devlin climbed the stairs and entered the bathroom, noting the organized array of feminine upkeep. The room had yet to be remodeled. Jessica was going to have one hell of a time getting into the old cast-iron bathtub without putting pressure on her ankle. She needed a modernized shower.

In the medicine cabinet Devlin found the antiseptic and bandages. He glanced around to see the flimsy nylon robe that definitely wouldn’t be thick enough to conceal what he was sure was a curvaceous feminine figure.

Devlin clutched the robe and swallowed uneasily, then reminded himself that he was here in the capacity of a caregiver. That’s where his attentions were supposed to stop—and he better not forget that.