Читать книгу Platinum Cowboy - Rita Herron - Страница 7

Lora Leigh’s chest tightened as Flint McKade’s gigantic palm swallowed hers. She’d seen photographs of him in the newspaper as well as in several magazines—once on the cover, as one of the top ten eligible bachelors in Texas—and had braced herself to remain unaffected by his good looks and his money.

She refused to swoon over a man, especially one who ran roughshod over the working people.

But in spite of her resolve, a sliver of undeniable attraction splintered through her as his dark brown eyes raked over her. He was taller than he looked in his photographs, at least six-two, and had a linebacker’s shoulders and a washboard stomach. She knew that from the charity calendar for which he’d posed shirtless. His skin was bronzed from the sun and his shaggy, dark-brown hair brushed his shoulders like a renegade cowboy.

And surprisingly, his hands were calloused.

So the stories were right: he actually did work on the ranch himself, and did not just delegate and oversee his minions.

“Dr. Whittaker, it’s nice to meet you,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about your father.”

His comment immediately shattered the moment, jerking her back to her mission.

And the fact that she hated Flint McKade. That she was here to get dirt on him and find her little brother.

She dropped his hand yet refused to reveal her emotions, so she shifted slightly and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then gestured for her to sit again, and he claimed the soft leather chair across from her. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, or something stronger?”

“No, thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, and she settled her sweating palms on her legs and inhaled. His big body was taking up all the air in the room.

“I trust my manager worked out the details of your contract,” Flint said. “Your salary, benefits, days off.”

She nodded, hating to concede that his offer had been more than generous. And she needed the money, dammit. “Yes, that’s all settled.”

“Housing on the Diamondback is optional,” he continued. “If you prefer to commute, that’s up to you. But we start early around here, at the crack of dawn.”

“Housing on the ranch is fine,” Lora Leigh said curtly. “And I’m well aware of how early ranch life starts, Mr. McKade. I grew up on a working one myself, with horses and cattle.”

His eyes darkened, narrowing beneath thick dark brows. “Call me Flint, Lora Leigh.”

She licked her lips. She didn’t want to get personal, and the way his hoarse, throaty voice murmured her name sounded way too personal. “I’d prefer Mr. McKade.”

“I’d prefer Flint.” His voice deepened, brooking no argument. “All my employees, including my ranch hands, are on a first-name basis. I consider them part of the Diamondback family.”

Unprepared for that comment, she bristled. He had destroyed her family, so thinking of herself as part of his was unacceptable.

“Can I ask you a question, Lora Leigh?”

She stiffened. “Of course.”

“Why did you accept the position here?”

A sliver of unease rippled up her spine. Had he discovered that her brother had come there to spy on him?

Did he know that she was here for the same reason?

FLINT COULD BARELY DRAG his eyes away from Lora Leigh as she squirmed under his scrutiny, her efforts at maintaining that cool facade failing miserably at his question. She looked as if she was sinking into quicksand, and he almost wanted to toss her a rope to save her. Instead, he remained focused, intent on waiting her out. If she was going to work for him, he wanted to know she was loyal, especially after today’s horrific events.

“Lora Leigh, why did you accept the job on the Diamondback?” he asked again, quietly.

His gut tightened at the way she clamped her teeth over her lower lip. A lip that was going to be bruised if she didn’t stop chewing on it.

His hand itched to reach up and soothe the delicate skin with his finger—or his lips.

He silently cursed. He didn’t like the way she’d mesmerized him a damn bit. He had enough on his plate right now, dealing with Viktor’s death and the sabotage and murder of his employees. He didn’t need the distraction of a woman.

Especially one who obviously didn’t like him.

The reason intrigued him and pissed him off at the same time. She’d made up her mind about him before they’d even met, no doubt because he’d bought her father’s property, and instead of seeing him as a good guy who’d saved her father from financial ruin, she saw him as the enemy.

“You have one of the largest and finest spreads in Texas,” she said. “You breed thoroughbreds for racing, with incredible results, as well as quarter horses that have won numerous awards.” She gestured at the Triple Crown trophy encased in glass, along with other trophies his quarter horses had earned. Just last year, Salamander won the National Cutting Horse Association Championship. “What veterinarian wouldn’t want to work at such a famous and prestigious ranch?”

The ones who wanted their own pieces of the pie. He’d been one of them growing up. His father had been a ranch hand and his mother a cook on another big spread, but Flint had wanted to own his own land. Be his own boss.

Master the business himself, not work for someone else. It was one reason he treated his hands like family.

“You’ve obviously done your homework,” he said, although he wasn’t surprised. According to her references, she was smart, motivated, a hard worker who took initiative.

A small smile graced her face, offering him a glimpse of what she might look like if she really smiled.

“Of course. You’re even larger in person than in your photos.”

He arched a brow at that, noting the way she instantly averted her gaze, as if she hadn’t meant to personally comment on his looks.

A dozen different clips of articles that had been printed rolled through his head. Some complimented his skill as a businessman and rancher, especially his innovative breeding techniques and efforts at conservation. Others noted his charity donations, and the hunting regulations and wildlife preservation measures he’d championed.

But there were others that were not so flattering.

Ones that painted him as a conniving, cold son of a bitch who ruthlessly bought out small-time farmers to build his own empire.

And then there was that damn calendar. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to pose for the stupid bachelor thing, except that it had raised millions for charity and he liked to give back.

“Well, don’t believe everything you read,” he murmured.

She folded her hands but refrained from commenting. “I heard you imported some Arabians.”

His mouth tightened. “Yes. Then I guess you also heard about the trouble at the airport.”

She shook her head and he explained, pure horror mounting on her face. “Are the horses all right?”

Ah, so she did sincerely love horses. She’d do a good job.

Except she was so damn small and delicate. Could she really handle herself?

Only time would tell.

“Thankfully, yes.” He checked his watch, then scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, fatigue wearing on him from the strain of the day.

“I’m anxious to see them, along with the rest of your stock. I watched Diamond Daddy win the derby. What an incredible animal.”

He nodded and smiled. “That he is. He’s a descendant of Diamondback Jack—”

“The horse you named the ranch after.”

He angled his head to study her again. “Right. You obviously researched me.”

“Oh, yes. I wanted to be prepared.”

He grinned. Prepared for what? To dislike him?

Hell, the fact that she did irritated him, but he’d change that. He could be charming when he wanted. Sooner or later, he’d win her over.

And get into her bed.

Don’t go there. You have enough to do with breeding season, and with a murderer to catch.

He stood, shaking his head to clear it. “It’s too late to show you around tonight. How about we meet in the morning, and I’ll give you the grand tour?”

She tensed slightly. “I know you’re a busy man, Mr. McKade—”

“Flint.”

She sighed. “Flint. One of your ranch hands or managers can give me a tour.”

He gritted his teeth. Her attitude was starting to annoy him. “Nonsense. If you’re going to work with my horses, I want to see how they react to you.”

She arched a brow. “So this is a test?”

“No, it’s just that I can usually judge if an employee is going to click by their interaction with my other workers and with the animals.”

Her blue eyes darkened. “And how am I doing so far?”

He grinned. “Let’s see how it goes in the morning. Now I’ll show you to your quarters.”

She stood, brushing down her skirt. “Fine.”

He dragged his gaze from her legs and started to tell her to dress for work in the morning, but then he remembered her comment about growing up on a ranch and bit back the gibe. He didn’t want to piss her off any more than he already had.

He just hoped she was more endearing to his animals than she was to him.

LORA LEIGH CLIMBED IN her Jeep and followed Flint in his truck down the graveled road, past the most beautiful pastureland she’d ever seen and several barns, to a small white wooden cottage shaded by giant live oaks and elms. A large weeping willow also shadowed the porch with its sweeping, spidery arms, as if to reach out and embrace her.

A swing on the small front porch and a pot of pansies added a homey flair. Dust swirled around her as she parked and climbed out. She went to retrieve her suitcase from the back, but Flint grabbed it and her cosmetic bag, so she retrieved her laptop.

“I have some apartments on the west side and a few small cottages throughout the ranch for other employees,” he said. “But I thought you’d be more comfortable here. It’s closer to the barns for the horses you’ll be in charge of and will give you some privacy from ranch hands.”

She’d read about his housing projects, the apartments both on the ranch and in town.

“Besides the ranch hands, grooms, trainers and their assistants and vets, I have a wildlife biologist on board as well as scientists specializing in crop production. Each of the vets is assigned to a specific area, but I also have a vet clinic near the main house. It has an office and a computer set up and is fully equipped with medical supplies and equipment. It adjoins the office space for my managers.” He gestured toward a long white building from which a plume of smoke arose.

“That’s the cafeteria. We serve breakfast starting at five o’clock, and meals are available throughout the day.” He led her up the narrow pebbled walkway to the porch, then climbed the steps. She couldn’t help but notice the way his tight jeans hugged his butt and the way his denim shirt stretched across those massive shoulders.

Heaven help her. She had to stop ogling him. He was the enemy.

Flint unlocked the door and pushed it open, then gestured for her to enter. “It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable, ” he said as she entered.

“It’s fine,” she said, although it was more than fine. A comfortable oversize blue sofa and a chair sat in the living room, in front of a braided rug, and the area opened to a modern kitchen with a breakfast bar and a pine table.

“It’s just one bedroom,” he said, “but there’s a nice bath, and the view’s not bad. You can see the sunrise from the porch in the mornings. The kitchen is stocked with basics to get you started. You’re welcome to take meals at the cafeteria, or you can eat on your own.”

She enjoyed cooking, and when she closed her eyes, she could still smell the scent of her mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls and buttermilk biscuits in the oven and the fresh sausage frying in the pan.

But she intended to use every minute she could here to find out what had happened to Johnny.

Flint strode into the bedroom and settled her suitcase on a luggage rack at the foot of the bed. Two windows, with billowing curtains, flanked the antique four-poster bed, which was covered by a quilt in various shades of blue and white calico.

She stopped to admire the intricate pattern and tiny stitch work. “Oh, my, this is a Dresden plate pattern. Is it handmade?”

He nodded, an odd expression lining his chiseled face. “My mother made it. Quilting was kind of a hobby of hers.”

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

He stepped back from the bed, his gaze meeting hers. “Do you quilt?”

She hesitated, reluctant to share anything personal with this man who she was supposed to hate. “Yes. My grandmother and mother were both quilters. They taught me when I was a little girl.” And her mother had left her a wedding-ring quilt for her hope chest, the last one she’d made before she died.

Not that Lora Leigh ever planned to marry. She didn’t trust men. Some were intimidated by her degree, some thought she was too much of a tomboy, while others implied she wasn’t sophisticated enough. She just never seemed to fit…

“Well, I guess we have something in common,” Flint said quietly. “Other than our love of horses.”

Emotions bounded up to her throat. She didn’t want to have anything in common with him. To like him at all.

In fact, she felt like a traitor for being on his land. And especially for thinking for even a moment that Flint McKade was handsome.

That he might not be the bad guy she’d pegged him to be.

No, he was bad. He’d said he was sorry about her father’s death, but he hadn’t apologized for driving him to suicide. Stealing her father’s land had been the last straw.

Flint might as well have put the rifle in her father’s hand.

All that blood on the wall…

She couldn’t erase the image from her head. Her father’s vacant eyes, pale skin, his body covered in blood…

“Well, it’s late,” Flint said quietly. “I’ll let you settle in, and I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll come by around six.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded and forced herself not to turn around and watch him leave. But when she heard the door click shut, the tears began to fall.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked to the window and looked out into the night. Somewhere in the distance, frogs croaked, a coyote howled and horses whinnied, reminding her of all she loved about ranch life. The land was rugged in places, dotted with rocky areas, boulders, sagebrush and wild animal life, yet crops survived, cattle thrived and breeding season was in full swing. The stars shimmered in the inky night sky like glittering diamonds, the smell of horses and hay and lush green grass welcoming her as if she were home.

But she wasn’t home. She’d lost her home because of Flint.

Angrily, she swiped at the tears and cursed herself for being weak and for admiring for even a second the ranch that Flint had built. She’d find out what had happened to Johnny, make sure he was alive and safe; then she’d get the hell off the Diamondback and start over someplace else.

But she’d have to watch herself, force herself to be nice and professional. Flint was so influential in the ranching and farming community; if he wasn’t pleased with her work, he could ruin her professional reputation in Texas. And she had no one to take care of her now, no one to turn to, no one to rely on but herself. She had to maintain her reputation and integrity, no matter what.

Of course, if worst came to worst, she could leave the state. Once she found Johnny, there would be nothing holding her here.

She turned to look at the northernmost part of the ranch, at the acreage that had held her home around which swirled the memories that had shaped her life. She had no idea what Flint intended to do with the paltry spread.

But that piece of land would always hold her heart.

And no one would ever touch her heart, especially not Flint McKade.