Читать книгу Texas Christmas - Nancy Robards Thompson - Страница 12

Chapter Two

The flight from Paris barely made it to the gate at JFK International Airport in time for Pepper to go through customs, recheck her luggage and catch her connecting flight home. Delays leaving Charles De Gaulle Airport out of Paris had cut it dangerously close for her to catch the red-eye home. Yet, luck was on her side. She was one of the last passengers to board the plane bound for the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.

Once onboard, she struggled to stash her carry-on in the overhead compartment, astounded that there was still space available at this late hour. Thank goodness Ethan had purchased her a ticket in business class where the seats were generous and they weren’t packed in like sardines.

The man who was sitting in the seat directly below the compartment she was claiming tossed the black cowboy hat he’d been holding on his lap onto the seat next to him, stood while doing an agile bend and dip to avoid whacking his head on the overhead console and unfolded to his full height in front of her.

“Here, let me help you with that, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Only because she detected a slight Texas twang in his speech did she not take offense to him calling her ma’am. Instead, she chose to think, What a gentleman.

“Thank you,” she said as she looked up into brown eyes as dark and rich as Maya’s chocolates. They contrasted sharply with his spiky, sandy-blond hair. Good-looking guy. Polite, too, she thought.

And he was tall. Very tall. Probably six-four. The big, manly cowboy variety, with long, jean-clad legs and broad shoulders that flexed underneath his blue oxford cloth shirt as he lifted and stowed the bag in one fluid motion.

Pepper forced her gaze from the delicious show of muscles and strength, scooted past him and picked up the man’s cowboy hat before she tucked herself into the seat next to the window. When she’d settled herself and glanced out the window she breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had she made the connecting flight, but she was back on U.S. soil. No one in the New York airport had hassled her. Of course, along her sprint to get from customs to her Dallas-bound flight she hadn’t paused long enough for anyone to recognize her and not that anyone would in New York. But it was highly possible that anyone on board this flight might realize she was Harris Merriweather’s daughter and start something.

But so far so good. Keeping her face toward the window, she heaved another sigh of relief.

It was good to be home. Or almost, anyway.

“Sorry, I’ll take that from you,” the male voice said.

When Pepper looked, he was motioning to the hat.

“Oh, right, here you go,” she said. “And thanks again for helping me stash the suitcase.”

As he accepted the hat, there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “No problem.”

His brow furrowed, and his gaze searched her face.

Oh, no, here it comes. She braced herself.

“I’m Rob Macintyre. Have we met?”

Okay, not as bad as what she’d feared. But she needed to nip this in the bud. “No, I don’t think so, but it’s a pleasure meeting you now.”

Her brain raced as she tried to think of a diversion, a way to change the subject without being rude or, worse yet, antagonistic.

It was only a three-hour flight from New York to Dallas, but it could feel like an eternity if things got out of hand.

Thank goodness the flight attendants began their demonstration on the hows and whys of the emergency exits and oxygen masks. Rob...what did he say his last name was? Macintyre, right.

Rob Macintyre... It did sound a little familiar... Hmmm...

Anyway, Rob Macintyre turned his attention to the safety instructions, and Pepper adjusted her seat belt and settled back into her seat.

Then it hit her—Robert Macintyre?

Of course. She stole another glance at him to make sure she had the right guy. With his square jaw and sculpted cheekbones, his profile was just as handsome as his face was full-on. Not only was he one of the youngest oil barons in Texas, but he was also the enigma of the Dallas social scene; at the top of everyone’s guest list but always declining invitations.

No one could figure out why he was so antisocial, and that made him all the more appealing. Pepper had never met him personally—until today, and he certainly seemed anything but antisocial—but everyone in Dallas knew of him. And why not? He was young, rich, single and gorgeous.

He caught her staring and she looked away, only to glance back a moment later to have the same thing happen again.

Pepper felt heat ignite in her décolletage and begin to trail its way up her neck to her cheeks. With hopes that he wouldn’t notice, she bent down and picked up her purse, and to have something to do—and to keep herself from looking at him—she rifled through her handbag.

When she came across the box of chocolates that Maya had given her before she left St. Michel, she took it out of her purse, removed the lid and offered Rob one of the truffles. “As a thank-you for helping me with my bag,” she said.

He regarded the box, then looked up at her. Suddenly, she wasn’t quite sure what had compelled her to share her chocolate treasures, limited as they were. Of course, she didn’t need to eat a dozen truffles, but she hadn’t really planned on giving them away, either. Not until she found herself offering them to her seatmate. Oh, well, it was too late to withdraw the offer, especially after he said, “Thanks, those look delicious.”

As he bit into the candy, she decided that if he did figure out who she was—the same way it had dawned on her who he was—at least he couldn’t say she wasn’t nice to him. After all, she had shared her chocolate.

Yep, when all else failed, bribe ’em with chocolate. That was definitely becoming her motto.

“I’m sorry, you’ll need to stow your purse under the seat in front of you,” said the flight attendant. “We will be taking off momentarily.”

Pepper complied, and much to her relief, she and Robert carried on an easy, nonconfrontational conversation—talking about everything and nothing, steering clear of the personal—for the entire trip as the Boeing 757 carried them through the night from New York to the Dallas/Fort Worth airport.

* * *

After the plane landed, Robert retrieved Pepper’s carry-on, setting it down for her so that all she had to do was wheel it off the plane.

“Hey, it was really nice talking to you,” he said.

“It was,” she agreed. “I really enjoyed it.” She paused, hoping he would ask for her number, even though the last thing she needed right now was a new man in her life. But as she stared up at him as he casually stood in the aisle, leaning in toward her with his elbow braced on the back of the seat—good body language—she decided she could make exceptions for Robert Macintyre.

But he didn’t ask for it. Instead, he gestured to her with his hat and said, “Take care.”

Momentary disappointment washed over her, through her. But then she bucked up and reminded herself how busy she was going to be for the foreseeable future.

It was for the best.

But he was so darn gorgeous.

Oh, well.

She made her way off the plane and into the terminal. She just had to pick up her luggage at baggage claim, and then a taxi would take her home where she could sleep in her own bed for the first time in two weeks. If seeing Robert Macintyre again wasn’t an option, that sounded like the next most heavenly prospect.

“Hey, I know you,” said an unfamiliar, belligerent voice behind her.

Pepper tensed but kept walking without looking back. The voice didn’t belong to Robert Macintyre. She knew that without turning around. This man sounded much gravellier and quarrelsome. The person might not even be talking to her.

Just keep walking.

But then there was a hand on her arm. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Pepper turned around to the pig-nosed, scarlet face of a man who had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. He seemed as wide as he was tall. His breath was an alcoholic cloud, and his eyes were hooded and bloodshot. She sidestepped out of his grasp and wheeled her carry-on between them. As if that would help.

She looked around the terminal, but it was mostly empty. At this late hour the only life seemed to be the janitorial staff and other passengers who were disembarking from the flight she’d been on, and they seemed not to notice—or not to care—that the drunk man was hassling her.

“You’re the daughter of that Merriweather bastard, aren’t you?”

“Sir, it’s late. I’m sorry, I need to go meet the person who is picking me up.”

The taxi driver could wait all night, of course, but Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty didn’t need to know that. Pepper turned and tried to walk away.

“I’m not finished with you,” the man yelled after her. “Your daddy stole my money, little girl. Every single cent of my savings and retirement. But you were sitting up there like a princess in first class, weren’t you?”

Pepper was paralyzed and nauseated. Rooted to the spot. She wanted to tell him No, you’re mistaken. It’s all a big misunderstanding that will be sorted out once my father gets his day in court. But the words wouldn’t leave her throat.

“How do you sleep at night living like royalty when I may not even be able to feed my family?” The man reached out and shoved Pepper and she landed against something firm and warm. In a similar motion as he had handled her carry-on, Robert Macintyre whisked Pepper behind him and was staring down the man.

“Did you hear the lady, sir?” The emphasis in the way he said sir was less polite and more of a power play. It helped that Robert seemed to hulk and tower over the squat man. “She needs to leave now. She has people waiting for her. It’s rude to keep people waiting. So don’t detain her and everything will be fine. Okay?”

The man didn’t say anything else. He simply turned and staggered toward the exit and the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered after Robert had confronted the man began to disperse.

When most everyone was out of sight, Pepper started shaking, but she finally found her voice.

“Thank you for that,” she said meekly. “I had really hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble. But...”

She braced herself for the inevitable request for an explanation, but all Rob said was, “I will stay with you until you meet whoever is picking you up.”

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I still have to go to baggage claim. Security will be there. I should be fine. But thank you.”

“I’ll go with you to baggage claim. That guy seemed pretty looped. I don’t want you to take a chance.”

Pepper didn’t refuse. How could she? So, they walked side by side through the ghost town of an airport, passing all the closed shops, restaurants and newsstands until they finally found their way to baggage claim.

Pepper was relieved when she didn’t see Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty at the baggage carousel.

“He’s gone,” Pepper said. “I should be fine now. Good night, Mr. Macintyre.”

“No, I’ll wait with you until your ride is here.”

She sighed, realizing the only way he was going to understand was if she told him the truth.

“I really appreciate your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you back there. But I’m taking a cab home. Nobody is meeting me. I’ll just go—”

“I’m happy to give you a ride home,” Robert persisted. “My truck is parked in the garage.”

The guy might have been a social recluse, but he certainly was relentless. Equal parts Southern gentleman and bulldog with his jaws locked, refusing to let go. And it was that slow-boiling persistence—and his gorgeous, hulking presence—that thrilled her.

He might have been at the top of everyone’s invitation list, but she didn’t know him and he didn’t seem to know her, either. Unless it was an act. What better time to exact revenge on the daughter of the man who was at the top of everyone’s most-hated list? There was no way in hell she was getting into the car with him at three o’clock in the morning.

As she wheeled her bags out to the taxi stand at ground transportation, there wasn’t a cab in sight.

Dammit.

“I really appreciate your help. No offense but I don’t know you, and it’s three o’clock in the morning. So, I’ll wait for a taxi.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” But he didn’t move.

“I do want you to know how grateful I am for your help.”

“In that case, I suppose I’ll have to wait with you until a cab comes.”

At this time of night, that could take an hour. She looked around the desolate area. If he was going to kill her or hurt her he could’ve already made his move. The guy was twice her size and there was no one around to hear her protests. And what if he left and Mr. Drunk-and-Nasty came back? Then what?

Suddenly, taking the red-eye to save money and to avoid the crowded morning flights didn’t seem like such a smart idea. And stubbornly refusing the only viable ride home seemed even dumber.

“I live in Celebration,” she said. “Are you sure you’re up for the drive?”

“I live not too far from Celebration myself. Come on. The car is this way.”

He stopped. “You know, I don’t blame you for being hesitant to get into the car with me—not after that crazy guy in the airport. And it’s just the way the world is these days. I have a sister. If she were in your shoes right now, I can’t say I’d want her to get in the car with some strange guy at three o’clock in the morning.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, opened it and handed her a business card and his cell phone.

“What’s this?”

“Why don’t you use my phone to call a friend or family member and tell them to expect you in no less than thirty minutes? You have my name there on the card. My cell number will register on their phone.”

She must’ve been giving him a weird look because he shrugged and said, “Hey, it’s all I’ve got. Unless you can think of a better idea.”

He held out his driver’s license for her to see and pointed to it. “See, face on the license matches the face on the man. Name on the license matches the name on the card. Feel better?”

She glanced down at the card. Sure enough, it was engraved with the name Robert Macintyre. She traced her finger over the gold-embossed Macintyre Enterprises and Macintyre Family Foundation logos. She hadn’t realized the handsome, reclusive oil baron had a foundation. Though he obviously had a heart—or at least a strong protective streak. She glanced up at him...and a smokin’ pair of lips that looked delicious.

She must’ve been more exhausted than she realized because not only was she accepting a ride home at three o’clock in the morning from a man she’d met only hours ago, but she was also fantasizing about kissing him.

She decided to dial her friend Sydney’s number because Sydney was her only single friend. Her other close friends AJ and Caroline had recently met the loves of their lives and were living with their fiancés. No sense waking up two people when Sydney was still living alone.

“Hello?” Sydney’s groggy voice came through the phone.

“Hi, it’s Pepper. I’m so sorry to call and wake you up.”

She explained the situation, and after assuring Sydney five times that she did not need her to come to the airport and pick her up, Sydney compromised by saying that she would wait for a call from Pepper saying she was safely at home, and if not she would send an entire fleet of Celebration’s finest out searching for one Robert Macintyre.

Her British accent sounded so proper.

Especially when she said, “Is this the Robert Macintyre?”

“Yes, I do believe it is.”

“Wait right there and let me come ride with you,” she said breathlessly. “From pictures I’ve seen of him, he is positively yummy.”

Pepper’s gaze fell on Robert’s lips again.

“I’ll be sure and let you,” she said.

After they found his black Range Rover, they fell into the same easy dialogue that they’d shared on the plane ride. As he drove, Pepper studied his profile. A bump on the bridge of his otherwise straight nose made his silhouette slightly imperfect, and a strong square jaw offsetting a full bottom lip made the imperfect look just right. At stoplights he would glance over at her and smile a smile that made her lose her train of thought.

Finally when they pulled up in front of her house, he settled back in his seat and let his gaze meander over her face, taking a long, unapologetic leisurely look.

“I can’t thank you enough for how you handled things in the airport,” she said.

“You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves to be treated like that. I’m just glad I was there to help you.”

* * *

All he’d wanted since the moment he’d first set eyes on her was to know how she would fit in his arms, how her lips would feel on his, how she would taste when he ravaged her mouth with his own. And he’d be damned if he was going to leave her tonight without knowing the answers to those questions.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but the next thing he knew he was kissing her.

She gasped a little when their lips first touched. The sound she made was barely perceptible—more of a shudder. Rob wondered if maybe he’d felt her more than he’d heard her reaction. But the important thing was she didn’t pull away, she didn’t break contact.

He shouldn’t be doing this—for so many reasons. But she was kissing him back. He knew that, but her mouth was soft and warm and inviting. That little taste wasn’t enough. It tortured and tempted him more than it satisfied. As they sat there, arms around each other, lip to lip, the feel of her urged him to lean in closer. When he did, her mouth parted and she invited him in.

Want swirled around him, as if his taking possession might bind her to him and fix everything that was broken. The taste of her—like cinnamon sugar and roses and something bright, like golden honey or sunshine—made him reel.

* * *

Robert Macintyre might have shied away from Dallas society, but he certainly hadn’t fallen out of practice when it came to kissing. That was the one lucid thought Pepper had as she melted into him.

Rob made a noise deep in his throat, and desire coursed through Pepper, a yearning that only intensified the spell he’d cast on her. For a few beautiful seconds she thought she never wanted to catch her breath again. She could be perfectly content right here breathing his air for the rest of her life.

His rugged hands on her waist held her firmly but gently against him. Who would’ve guessed such a sturdy man could kiss so tenderly...yet with so much smoldering passion?

Then, just as naturally as they’d come together, they slowly released each other, staying forehead to forehead while the magic lingered.

“That was nice,” he whispered. “You taste good, like that truffle you shared with me on the plane.” He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.

He gave her one more wistful kiss, this one featherlight, before saying, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Caught in the twilight between longing and lucidity, she couldn’t find her tongue, but she was able to force her legs to carry her out of the truck and around to the back of the vehicle where he helped her with her luggage.

When they were standing at the door she could still taste him on her swollen lips.

“You have my card. If you ever need rescuing, you know where to find me.”