Читать книгу One Hot Texan - Jane Sullivan, Jane Sullivan - Страница 10

“YOU SHOULDN’T have let your girlfriend drink that much.”

Cole glared at the bartender. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Whatever. I just want her out of here. Puking customers are bad for business. Where does she live?”

“I never met her before tonight. I have no idea where she lives.”

The bartender slapped a purse onto the bar in front of Cole. “Find out.”

Cole spit out a disgusted breath and unzipped Virginia’s purse. He hauled out a notepad, a checkbook, a pink plastic thing containing feminine hygiene products and one of those little blue-and-white packets of tissues. Finally he located her wallet and pulled out her driver’s license.

Virginia White. Seven-fourteen Oakdale. Coldwater, Texas.

Damn. Coldwater was a good twenty miles from here. The chances of her making it home without ending up in a ditch or wrapped around a tree were approximately zero.

“What are you doing with my purse?”

Cole looked up to see Virginia staggering toward him. She was even paler than before, her eyes heavy-lidded, and she seemed to be having a hard time focusing.

“You live in Coldwater?” he asked her.

“Yeah.”

“That’s twenty miles from here. You can’t drive home.”

“Of course I can drive home.”

She grabbed for her purse, but Cole pulled it out of her reach. He fished out her car keys and stuffed them into his pocket.

“What are you doing?”

“Any woman who can’t hold three beers ought to have her license revoked.” He reached into his other pocket, extracted some change and slapped it into her palm. “There’s a phone by the front door. Go call someone to come get you.”

She stared at him blankly.

“A friend? Relative?”

She shrugged.

“You mean there’s no one you can call?”

“It’s no concern of yours. Now, may I have my keys?”

She was right. It was no concern of his. She wasn’t his problem. So why didn’t he just order another beer, forget he’d ever met her and move on to more important matters?

She held out her hand, her mouth a firm line of determination, but he could tell from her bloodshot eyes and the way she swayed like a willow in a light breeze that she’d be lucky to make it to the front door. A tiny shred of decency he would have sworn he didn’t have nagged at him like an itch in the middle of his back he couldn’t quite reach.

Cole rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then let out a disgusted breath. He crammed her belongings into her purse and thrust it at her. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m taking you home.”

“That won’t be necessary. I said I’m quite able to drive.”

“Yeah. Right into a telephone pole.”

“No. I’m an excellent driver.” Her testiness almost offset the drunken slur in her voice. “I made a hundred percent on my driver’s test when I turned sixteen.”

“You think a cop’s gonna care about that when he stops you?”

“I have a perfect driving record. I’ve never had an accident. I’ve never even had a parking ticket.”

Cole wanted to beat his head against the bar. “You’re full of alcohol!”

“Not completely.”

She was right about that. “You’re still drunk, though. Believe me.”

“Yes. Well. Comparatively speaking, that would simply make me a mediocre driver. The road is full of mediocre drivers. Do they take every one of them to jail?”

He’d already determined she was both naive and insane. Now he could add illogical to the list.

She held out her hand. “My keys?”

“Fine.” Cole pulled her keys from his pocket and slapped them into her hand.

“Thank you very much,” she said, with a queenly nose-in-the-air thing that really irritated him. She swung her purse over her shoulder in a wild arc, the momentum practically knocking her over. She righted herself, took a deep breath and started for the door.

“Have a nice drive,” Cole called. “Of course, the minute you’re out the door I’m calling the cops and giving them your license number. And after you walk that little white line, you’ll spend the night in the drunk tank.”

She turned around, her eyes wide. “Drunk tank?”

“Yeah. Right after they strip-search you.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Strip-search?”

“Don’t worry. If they get too carried away, you can always sue. You have a good lawyer, don’t you?”

She squeezed her eyes closed and slumped with resignation. “What about my car? If you take me home, it’ll still be here in the morning.”

“That’s your problem.” Cole put a firm hand against her shoulder and turned her toward the door. “I’ll get you home in one piece. Past that, you’re on your own.”

Shelly’s, Tiffany’s and Tonya’s eyes flew open with disbelief as he passed by their table, his arm wrapped around Virginia’s shoulders, dragging her along. He took her to his car, unlocked the passenger door, then shook a finger at her. “Don’t you dare throw up in my car.”

“I won’t.”

Her words said she wouldn’t, but her sickly expression said it was a distinct possibility. That would be the last straw, of course. If she messed up his car, he wouldn’t think twice about tossing her out on the side of the road and letting the buzzards have at her.

He opened the door. She collapsed on the seat, but that’s as far as she got. He picked her legs up, stuffed them into the car and slammed the door.

He slid behind the wheel and jammed the key into the ignition. He was saving her from driving drunk. That was a good deed. Good deeds were supposed to make a person feel wonderful.

Yeah. Right.

He checked his watch. He had only a few hours left. He didn’t need someone throwing a wrench in the works, and he had a feeling Virginia White had a whole toolbox in her hip pocket. He intended to dump her at home, turn around and head back to the bar.

Twenty minutes later he pulled up to 714 Oakdale, a tiny white clapboard house on a tree-shaded street. It was one of those houses that had been born ugly, with a flat elevation, an aluminum storm door and casement windows. Still, it was well-kept, with a neat St. Augustine lawn, a bed of pink petunias and a wreath beside the front door. At least somebody was trying.

Virginia had fallen asleep about two minutes after getting into his car, and she still slept, breathing gently, her hands clutching her purse, her lips parted. A stray strand of hair lay across her cheek. She looked peaceful. Innocent. Helpless. The kind of woman he vowed he’d never go near again.

No lights shone in any of the windows. She lived alone, he guessed, or she’d have called someone to come pick her up. He slipped her keys out of her hand and unlocked the front door. He came around the car and pulled her out. He tried walking her toward the porch without much success, then gave up and picked her up. He climbed the porch steps with her in his arms, nudged the storm door open with his foot and flipped on the living-room light with his shoulder. He carried her into the first bedroom he came to, those goofy boots of hers banging against the door frame. He dumped her on the bed, then yanked her boots off.

A quilt lay folded at the end of the bed, and he pulled it over her. She turned on her side, squirmed around for a minute, then hugged the pillow and played dead. And dead was just how she was going to feel in the morning.

Cole went into the living room. The house was stuck in a time warp. Green shag carpet, heavy gold drapes, brown plaid furniture. But even though it was probably the dreariest decor he’d ever seen, the inside of the house was as clean and well-kept as the outside had been.

He decided he’d lock up behind him and stick her keys in the mailbox. He found a magnetic notepad stuck to the refrigerator and wrote her a message to that effect. He put it on the kitchen table and started to walk away when he noticed several envelopes and their contents scattered on the table. He saw utility bills, pay stubs, several credit card bills and a letter. He picked up the letter. It was from her landlord. She was a month behind.

He retrieved her purse from her bedroom, pulled out her checkbook and flipped it open to see a balance of sixty-two dollars and seventeen cents.

He went to the kitchen and looked through the rest of the mail. A bill from a funeral home. A whopper. Fishing through a few more papers on the table, he found a program from the funeral of Margaret White, age sixty-two, who’d gone to meet her maker about three months ago. And judging from what he’d seen so far, she didn’t have a father, either.

Growing nosier by the minute, he dug deeper and found a college catalog from the University of Texas at Austin. Several banking and finance courses were circled, but looking at her checkbook, she hadn’t paid a dime for tuition for next semester. The course bulletin was a dream book, nothing more.

As he put the pieces of her life together, he started having second thoughts about her suitability as a wife. With her abysmal financial condition, would she really be so horrified at the prospect of a temporary marriage if he made it worth her while?

She might be the kind of woman who met her soul mate in the church choir, but after Cole divorced her in six months she’d still have the opportunity to find Mr. Right wherever she wanted to look. Daddy didn’t appear to be around, so he wouldn’t have to worry about turning a corner and finding himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun. She was a little on the plain side, which distressed him a bit, but kissing her hadn’t been half bad. Maybe a woman who wasn’t obsessed with her looks would be a pleasant change. For his own sanity he needed a halfway intelligent woman, and her college aspirations said she probably fit that description. And as far as college tuition was concerned, she’d probably jump at the twenty-five thousand dollars he was willing to give her for taking six months out of her life to become Mrs. Cole McCallum. And best of all, she was naive and innocent, which meant he’d be able to control the situation and call the shots. It just might work.

Cole smiled. It looked as if the good deed he’d done tonight had paid off, after all.

VIRGINIA BLINKED her eyes open and was met with early-morning sunlight filtering through her bedroom curtains. She lay motionless, a little disoriented. A few seconds later her senses woke up, and she let out a low, agonized groan.

A bass drum was playing inside her head, boom-boom-booming in sync with the rhythm of her heart. She tried to move, but every muscle ached, and when she swallowed her mouth was dry as parchment.

Then she felt something. A gentle tap on her shoulder. A pause. A harder tap.

A man’s voice.

“Virginia. Time to get up.”

Her eyes sprang open. She flipped over like a hotcake on a griddle and found herself staring directly into the eyes of Cole McCallum.

With a strangled scream, she pushed herself to a sitting position and backed against the headboard. She almost screamed again as she realized he was wearing nothing but a towel draped around his hips. His dark hair was damp and slicked back, and droplets of water clung to his shoulders.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Virginia sputtered.

“Thought I’d catch a quick shower. But don’t worry. I left you plenty of hot water.”

She couldn’t think. She couldn’t even breathe. But her eyes were in fine working order, roaming over Cole’s body like those of a hungry diner checking out a smorgasbord. Her gaze traveled from his strong, sculpted shoulders, to his broad chest tapering down to a narrow waist, to a sharply defined set of abdominal muscles that made her think of a statue she’d once seen in an art-history book. She stared in awe at every inch of tanned skin, every ripple of muscle, every sexy bit of him that showed beyond the towel. For a split second her mind wandered to what lay beneath the towel and she wondered if it was perfection, too, then chastised herself for even thinking it.

Cole gave her a lazy smile. “I haven’t had my body examined this closely since my last doctor’s visit.”

Virginia jerked her gaze away, feeling a hot blush rising on her cheeks. She’d just been surprised, that’s all. That’s why she’d stared. The man was clearly some kind of exhibitionist. Why else would he enjoy parading around nearly naked in front of a total stranger?

“I—I’d appreciate it if you’d put some clothes on.”

He backed away a step or two, then turned and walked casually to a chair in the corner where his clothes lay.

“Better turn your back, sweetheart. I’ve been known to send a woman or two into shock.”

Virginia turned away and focused on the ceramic butterfly music box on her nightstand, trying to keep her thoughts north of Cole’s waist and south of his knees. Behind her she heard the faint thud of a damp bath towel hitting the hardwood floor. She told her heart to settle down, but it clearly intended to ignore her brain and beat her chest to death. She imagined him pulling his long, lean legs into those tight, faded jeans he’d worn last night, easing them up over his thighs and…and other things. Finally she heard a zipper, and she took a breath for the first time since she’d averted her eyes.

“All clear,” he said a moment later, and she turned to see him shrugging into his shirt.

She peered at him tentatively. “Have you been here all night?”

That smile again. “I guess you don’t remember, do you?”

Slowly the memories came together, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle scattered about. Moving to music. Cole’s arms wrapped around her. Her head on his shoulder. A long, incredible kiss…then another. And then…

And then the getting sick part. No wonder she felt so awful.

Then she remembered him saying something about key possession and drunk tanks and strip searches that was all a little fuzzy but retrievable, but as she played out the rest of the evening in her mind, panic set in. The last thing she remembered was being in Cole’s car, driving home. Past that, she drew a blank. She glanced to the bed beside her and saw rumpled sheets and blankets.

She wasn’t the only one who’d occupied it.

As she put two and two together and it started to look an awful lot like four, her heart shifted into overdrive. “Where did you sleep?”

He glanced at the bed beside her, then smiled. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

She ducked her head, feeling that long-lost color returning to her cheeks. Could she actually have become a fallen woman and remembered nothing on the way down?

“Cole?” she said, barely able to croak out the words. “Did you…last night…?”

He buttoned one cuff, then started on the other. “Did I what?”

“You know…” She gestured toward the mussed blankets.

“Ah. You want to know if we made love.” He shrugged. “Would it be a problem if we had?”

Oh, God. Virginia’s hand flew to her mouth, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Every warning her mother had ever issued her came back in a huge rush of condemnation, and she thought she was going to be sick all over again.

A little music, a little fun and a lousy beer or two. That’s all she’d wanted. Then, like some kind of naive fool, she’d allowed herself to fall into the hands of a man who practically made it a profession to rip the reputation out from under any girl he came in contact with. Embarrassment welled up inside her, then took a sharp turn toward anger.

“You—you had no right to do this!”

“No right to do what? As I recall, you were the one flashing cash around last night, looking for a good time.”

“A kiss! That’s all!”

“Now, didn’t I tell you that sometimes you get a whole lot more than you bargained for?” He lifted an eyebrow and dropped his voice. “I’m one of those guys you don’t mess with around closing time.”

“But I wasn’t of…of sound mind,” she argued. “I’d had far too much to drink—”

“Whose fault was that?”

“And then…and then you dragged me home—”

“Saving you from driving drunk, if you’ll remember.”

“And then you did…did this,” she went on, waving her hand wildly over the scrambled sheets and blankets. “And I didn’t even know it!” She buried her head in her hands. She’d done it now. What had probably been heaven last night had bought her a one-way ticket for the other direction.

When she glanced up, his teasing smile had faded. “Is that what you really think, Virginia? That you passed out and I took advantage of you?”

“You were standing in my bedroom half-naked! What else am I to think?”

“Use some common sense, will you? You’re wearing the same clothes you were wearing last night. I’ve undressed a lot of women in my life, but I can’t say I’ve ever put any of their clothes back on.”

She looked at herself and for the first time she realized that her blue jeans, horseshoe blouse and push-up bra were still intact. A little wrinkled here and there, but intact. Only her boots were missing.

“And where I come from,” he went on, “we always undress when we take showers.”

“You could have dressed in the bathroom!”

He gave her a cocky grin. “But that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.”

She glared at him, starting to get a little fed up with his attitude. He thought this was funny. She didn’t see anything funny about it.

“Don’t worry. Your virtue was safe last night. See, I’ve got this weird sexual preference. I prefer my women conscious.”

She had to admit he was probably telling her the truth. If he’d made love to her, chances are she’d have remembered. Thinking about the way he kissed, she was pretty sure he could drag a woman out of a coma if he set his mind to it.

She closed her eyes, and for a brief moment she was back at that bar last night, standing under that neon beer sign with the music pulsing through her, and Cole was kissing her. She had no idea a simple kiss could feel like that, except that there was nothing simple about it. Sensations had bombarded her from all directions, turning her insides to mush and making her feel all dizzy and disoriented. She remembered the way Cole had smelled, that warm, musky, man smell she’d never experienced before because she’d never gotten close enough to a member of the opposite sex. She remembered that boneless, melting feeling that had taken over her body as he crushed her breathlessly against him, and the way he tasted when he slipped his tongue into her mouth and she found out firsthand what all the fuss was about French-kissing. Just thinking about it made her cheeks burn, and she turned away from him, knowing she was blushing. Just once in her life she wished she could keep her circulatory system from betraying every embarrassing thought she had, particularly where Cole was concerned.

She’d asked for a kiss, and he’d delivered. Boy, had he delivered. Thankfully, it appeared that was all he’d delivered. She sighed with relief, feeling as if her one-way trip to hell had just been canceled. When she finally got around to doing that, she swore it would be with a man she loved and a man who loved her, too, even if it took forever to find him. A man she was married to, for heaven’s sake. She’d never make the same mistake her mother had. Never.

She inched her gaze around. “But if we didn’t… I mean, if all we did is sleep, then what are you doing here?”

Cole sat on the chair and pulled his boots on, then stood. He sauntered to the bed where Virginia sat. He towered over her, and she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.

“I have a proposition for you.”

Virginia closed her eyes. “Oh, God.”

“Take it easy, sweetheart. Not that kind of proposition.” He sat on the bed next to her. She instinctively shrank away from him, and he slumped with frustration. “Are you always this uptight?”

“Yes! When I find a naked man in my bedroom who won’t go away, yes! I get a little uptight!”

“Is that what you really want? For me to go away?”

“Yes!”

“Sorry. That’s not an option.” He checked his watch. “Look, Virginia, I’m a little short on time here, so I’m going to get right to the point. Listen up and try to follow, because I don’t want to have to explain it twice. My grandmother died six months ago. She had a ranch about fifteen miles south of Coldwater that she willed to me, but she attached a few conditions. Part of the deal is that I have to be married and live on the ranch for six months before I get the deed, because she had this crazy idea that I needed to get married and settle down. Are you following me?”

Virginia’s brain still felt fuzzy. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Living on the ranch for six months is no problem. It’s the other thing. The marriage thing.”

She stared at him blankly.

“If I’m going to inherit that property, I need a wife, and I need one now.”

He took a deep breath, then rubbed his hand across his mouth as if he’d give anything to hold back the words that were getting ready to come out.

“What I’m trying to say is…will you marry me?”