Crazy for Lovin’ You

“Yes,” Taylor said without hesitation. “Because you deserved it. You were so mean to me, you made a hornet look cuddly.”

He laughed, but stopped quickly as memories washed over him. He met Taylor's gaze. “You're right. I wasn't fit company that night. But, as I recall, I tried to warn you off.”

She shrugged and the movement reminded him that she was still pressed against him. Her soft, sweet breath fanned his face. The close proximity sent what felt like all the blood in his body to points south. That acute awareness made him think of things he had no right to, especially about Taylor.

She tightened her hold around his neck. “Would you mind putting me down?”

Mitch decided he would mind
very
much….

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

“G
o 'way, kid.”

“But, Mitch—”

“I don't want to see or talk to anyone named Stevens.”

Taylor Stevens stared at the dark expression on Mitch Rafferty's face and wondered what had happened and how fast she could change her name. Her sister must have done something. Only Jen could put Mitch's nose out of joint like this.

If only he would notice her instead, Taylor thought dejectedly. She might be younger than he, but she was more mature than he thought. Certainly old enough to notice his sandy-brown hair, his broad shoulders that made all the girls sit up and take notice, and those bad-boy blue eyes. Especially his eyes. Whenever he looked at her, her heart beat so hard she got a little scared.

The Texas state high school rodeo championships in Abilene had just ended. Tomorrow they would go
home to Destiny. It was their last night at the Lamplighter Motel and she'd found Mitch by the pool. She took a deep breath and a heaping dose of courage as she sat down on the lounge chair next to his.

Other teenagers sat nearby, but didn't seem to be paying any attention to her and Mitch. He looked like a volcano about to erupt and she was afraid for him. Afraid of what he might do. She just couldn't leave him alone. The feelings she had for him were so deep, so big she felt she might burst any second.

Taylor touched his arm, then started when he flinched away. “Okay. Don't look at me. Just tell me what's wrong, then listen while I talk.”

“Get lost, kid,” he growled. “Don't you get it? I don't want you here. I want to be alone.”

Kid? She wanted to grab his shirtfront and show him she was no kid. In fact, she would pit her fourteen years against his nineteen any day of the week and twice on Sunday.

She took a deep breath. “You're acting like someone took away your favorite toy. At least tell me why. What's wrong? I thought we were friends.”

“Jen and I are through.” The smoldering look in his eyes hinted that there was more. But all he said was, “I could never be friends with anyone related to her.”

Taylor's first thought was stunned disbelief that her sister was dumb enough to let a guy like Mitch go. Her second: she was going to hell for being so happy that he was no longer spoken for.

“I'm sorry,” she said lamely, not meeting his gaze in the dim light surrounding the pool. If he looked at her he would know she wasn't sorry at all.

Silence stretched between them. It was late and everyone else who was at the motel had turned in. Or
almost everyone. Behind her, she could hear the kids around the pool talking, and muffled voices and giggles beyond the shrubs that shielded her and Mitch. On the far sidewalk, a guy with a square competition number attached to his long-sleeved Western shirt walked hand in hand with a girl Taylor recognized from the rodeo week queen's court. Crickets chirped and the muted sound of television drifted to them from nearby rooms.

“I'm really sorry,” she said again. And she truly did feel bad that he was hurting so. When he remained silent, she added, “But she's not the only girl on the planet, Mitch.”

“She is for me.”

Taylor cared about him more than her sister ever could. Why couldn't he see that? How could he not know that he was the first person she thought about in the morning and the last one to cross her mind before sleep took her at night? Every waking second in between she wished she were with him, just to be in his presence, just to look at him.

Mitch had brushed her off the night before, when she'd tried to tag along with him to the lake. But now she knew he wasn't going steady with her sister. Taylor knew it might be her best chance to make him notice her.

“What about me?” she blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. “
I
love you.
I'd
never hurt you. Not in a million years.”

Maybe if she showed him. Before she could think it over, she leaned forward and touched her mouth to his. She tasted surprise and hesitation in his unyielding mouth. Then he pulled back and stared at her. The look in his eyes made her wish she could take it all back—especially the kiss. Or better yet, if only a twister would
swoop out of nowhere and dump her in Kansas so she wouldn't have to see that bitter, cold expression on his face. He stood up, inches from the deep end of the pool. She stood, too, because he towered over her and she didn't like him looking down at her.

“You kiss like a little girl.”

She heard laughter behind her. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but it was nothing compared to the pain just starting to seep into her heart.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Even if I hadn't sworn off women, you've got three strikes against you.”

“Like what?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“You're her sister. That kiss proves you're a baby. And you're skinny as a—”

“I know I'm not pretty,” she interrupted, not wanting the words to come from him. He'd just rubbed salt in an open wound. “I'm not pretty
yet.
But you just wait, Mitch Rafferty. I'll show you.”

Without thinking, Taylor put her hands on his chest and shoved for all she was worth. He went backward into the pool, his cold expression changing to one of stunned surprise just before he went under. She turned but she knew he surfaced behind her. The spluttering was a big clue.

She walked away before he could see that the moisture on her cheeks had nothing to do with the splash his big body had made. With every step, she vowed she
would
show him if it was the last thing she ever did.

Ten years later…

M
itch Rafferty was back in town.

And she was going to see him any minute. Taylor Stevens looked out her living room window wondering if he would be on time. As the newly appointed commissioner of the high school rodeo association, it was his job to find a site for the state championships. It was an event she desperately wanted. When she'd found out Mitch was the man who held her future in his hands, she'd been stunned. Even now she wondered which of the gods she'd offended and how she could make amends.

She needed him to pick her—or rather her ranch, the Circle S. She had a lot riding on this. But if history repeated itself, she was in a lot of trouble.

The sound of a car engine drifted to her over the hum of the central air conditioning in the house. She
cracked the shutter in the front room enough to peek out. The late-model, extended cab pickup crunching rocks and dirt as it came to a halt in her circular driveway was unfamiliar. Her stomach dropped; he was here.

Ever since finding out Mitch was back, she'd been as nervous as a small kitten up a big tree. And not only because he could impact her life. Over and over she'd repeated to herself that she didn't care about him anymore. She was a big girl now and he couldn't hurt her.

Tell that to her hammering heart.

She turned away and took a deep breath as she brushed her hands down her khaki slacks, then adjusted the belt, at the same time making sure her buttercup-yellow blouse was neatly tucked in. No point in meeting him wearing the dirty jeans and work shirt she'd worn to muck out stalls that morning. She might be country, but she cleaned up pretty good and wanted to put her best boot forward.

There was a knock on the door and she took a deep breath as she counted to ten. Heaven forbid she looked too anxious.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, opening the door wide.

Her heart nearly stopped. Mitch was a decade older, but he looked even better than she remembered. His eyes were still bad-boy blue and hinted of mischief. His hair was the same sandy-brown, and his well-formed nose crooked enough to keep him from being too perfect. The angular face and square jaw were somehow more rugged. Why did she find that so incredibly appealing?

Right there on her front porch stood Mitch Rafferty, the same man who had two-stepped on her tender, four
teen-year-old heart. Shock sanded ten years away. Feelings that were every bit as big and deep and painful as they'd been that night engulfed her again. She wished she didn't remember, but she did. All too clearly.

The humiliation of their last encounter washed over her as it had countless times since. It had become the standard by which she judged all disasters. She'd said
way
too much. Followed by a kiss that even with a decade in between made her cheeks burn now. She couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone get a word past the Texas-size lump in her throat.

He looked at her for several moments before recognition jumped into his gaze. “Taylor?”

“Mitch. It's been a long time.”

No kidding. It had taken him several moments to know her. But, she'd been a skinny kid the last time they'd seen each other. He'd told her she kissed like a little girl. If there was any cosmic justice, she would
not
blush at that thought. She was a grown woman now, not the kid who'd pushed him into the pool. The memory had dominated her recollections ever since learning he was the new commissioner.

Would he hold it against her? Even worse, would he recall how she'd bared her soul?

When her silence dragged on, he cleared his throat. “How have you been?”

“Fine. You?” she asked.

“Great.”

“Did you just get into town?” she asked.

He nodded. “I drove in from El Paso this morning.” He continued to stare at her. “
You
look great.”

“Skinny little me?” she asked, unable to resist the jab, testing the waters, so to speak. Then she smiled, hoping the nerves line-dancing in her stomach didn't
make her mouth quiver. “You don't have to say that, Mitch.”

“I mean it. You've really changed,” he said grinning his good ol' boy grin, the one that showed his even white teeth to perfection.

It was also the one that told her he said something equally flirtatious to all the girls. Although she'd tried to forget about him, over the years she hadn't escaped reading about him in tabloid and magazine stories that had touted the sexy bull rider's athletic and romantic conquests. Before dropping out of sight, he'd been linked to women she could never compete with. Why would he remember that they'd once been friends?

“You've grown up.”

“That happens in—” She paused for what she hoped was just the right thoughtful expression. “How long has it been? When did I last see you?”

Fiddle de dee, she wanted to say in her best Scarlett O'Hara voice. If God was
her
witness, Mitch would never know that she clearly remembered the last time she'd seen him he'd been going backward into the deep end of the pool.

“I can't say. And I try not to think back too far.” For just a second, a frown chased away the mischief in his eyes. “Offhand I'd say it's been a long time because I haven't been back to Destiny for ten or eleven years.”

“That long?” she said with as much innocence as she could dredge up.

He nodded. “Give or take. These days I feel like I've been rode hard and put up wet.”

Just these days? He'd been wet the last time she'd seen him. But right this minute, she thought he looked awfully good. Better than good. In fact, better than he
had ten years ago. That wasn't supposed to happen. Wasn't his hairline supposed to recede? Not only
didn't
he have forty square miles of forehead, but his hair was thick and she couldn't detect a single gray hair in the sandy color. It was cut conservatively short. She knew it would curl with a bit more length.

A man his age should have at least the beginnings of a beer gut. He had to be pushing thirty. Surely his belly had gone doughy. But one glance at his white shirt tucked into the waistband of his soft, worn Wranglers confirmed that his abdomen was washboard firm. And his long sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, right where she thought a man's sleeves ought to be. It was a look that got her every time.

Okay. Get a grip. There was some good news. She was no longer a lovesick fourteen-year-old. She didn't care about him anymore. They would probably touch on her embarrassing confession of ten years ago followed by that impulsive kiss, chalk it up to high school hormones, then forget about it.

“So you don't remember the last time we saw each other?” she asked fishing to find out what, if anything, he recalled.

“Should I?” He looked thoughtful.

“I guess not.”

He didn't remember. Wasn't that good news? Then why was she flirting with annoyance that her all-around most humiliating moment wasn't important enough for him to store in his memory?

He shook his head. “All I can say is you've really changed.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“I almost didn't recognize you. Your hair is different.”

Of course he would remember her long, straight, unflattering mousey-brown hair. After two years at Texas A&M, her roommate had helped her find a flattering hairstyle and shown her that lipstick was good for more than writing messages on the bathroom mirror. Finally Taylor had taken her first step in the struggle to repair the confidence that a few moments with Mitch had destroyed. And her social life had soared from there. Right until a year ago when her fiancé dumped her for the woman who had once dumped him. That had reminded her how fragile her confidence truly was.

Mitch studied her thoroughly. Was there an appreciative sparkle in his eyes? Was that a glow spreading through her? A direct reaction to his subtle but nice words? Doggone it! She thought she'd prepared herself for him. Why could he still get to her? She'd worked so hard to nurture a spine along with her self-esteem. Two minutes facing Mitch Rafferty, once known as Texas' most eligible cowboy, and the glow he generated threatened to melt her backbone into slush.

She realized he was still on the porch. “I didn't mean to keep you standing out there. Please come in. Where are my manners?”

In the manure heap along with her self-confidence.

His boots rang on the wooden floor as he stepped inside. “Thanks.”

One word, just a single syllable, but uttered in his deep voice and it was enough to shake her up as surely as a tumble from a stubborn horse.

She shut the door, closing out the beginning of May warmth. It wasn't hot yet, not like it would get in August. But she'd set the inside thermostat to keep the interior comfortable. She didn't want to give him any reason to thumbs-down her ranch for the event. Getting
even with her would be reason enough. But only if he remembered, and knew how much she was counting on a go-ahead.

He stood in the entryway, sliding his black Stetson through his hands as he looked around. A frown drew his eyebrows together. What was he thinking, she wondered. Her glance swept the area. To her right was the living room with the flagstone fireplace that dominated the large square area. Two blue and green plaid love seats, with a simple oak coffee table between, sat in front of it.

To her left was what her family had always called the parlor, also with a large fireplace, this time brick, and a new, expensive, state-of-the-art reclining sectional in front of a big-screen TV. Beyond that was the dining room and the kitchen. The dark wood floor extended throughout all the rooms on the first floor. The house had been built in the 1930s and the land it stood on had been in the family for several generations. The money she'd spent on new furnishings was part of her plan to see it stayed that way.

“How's Jen?” he asked.

She should have known he was remembering the other member of her own generation. Her sister. Before she could prevent it, there was a dull pain right near her heart. “Jensen is fine. She works in Dallas,” she added.

Best let him know up-front that he wouldn't be seeing a lot of her. At least not in Destiny. In case that was why he'd come back.

“A lawyer?” he asked.

“She specializes in family law.”

She tried like crazy not to let it bother her that he remembered Jensen had always talked about becoming
a lawyer. No doubt they'd told each other all their hopes and dreams. He'd barely recognized her, but remembered that Jensen had always wanted to be an attorney. Even though she'd broken his heart by eloping with someone else. Did he still not want to see or talk to anyone named Stevens?

“So what have you been up to for the last ten or eleven years?” she asked to fill the silence.

His gaze settled on her. “Rodeo. At first.”

“I heard you gave up your scholarship.”

“Seemed like the thing to do at the time.” He frowned and the thundercloud expression on his face took her back to that night by the pool.

She wanted to bite her tongue. In all these years, she hadn't managed to activate the mechanism in her brain that would refine or remove anything stupid on the way to her mouth. Or maybe it was Mitch Rafferty who deactivated it. She never could think straight around him.

Nervously she tucked a bothersome strand of hair behind her ear. “Why don't we go into the kitchen? Can I get you a glass of iced tea?”

“I'd like that.”

She held out her hand for him to go first and he found his way as surely as if he'd been there only yesterday. She hated herself for noticing that the back of him was almost as impressive as the front. Broad shoulders tapered to his trim waist. His backside, hugged by impossibly soft and worn denim, was practically a work of art. And that was strictly objective female appreciation for an above average looking man. Because she had no feelings for him whatsoever.

But when her hormones subsided, she noticed that he limped slightly. She recalled reading a small blurb
about an injury, but the celebrity magazine articles mostly proclaimed that his playboy points matched his impressive rodeo stats. Was there more to his story? Probably. The fact that he was acting commissioner of the high school rodeo association was a clue.

The fact that she wanted to hear every last detail just made her a candidate for crazy. She needed him to look at the ranch and tell her it would work just fine for his purposes. Then she prayed that he would go away and never come back. But she'd opened her mouth and offered him iced tea. Taking back the offer probably wasn't the best strategy to win friends and influence people.

The kitchen was arranged in a large U, part of which formed a bar with stools. Instead of sitting on one of them the way he'd always done, he invaded her work space inside the U, parking himself with his back propped against the beige ceramic-tile counter. She felt his gaze on her as she pulled the pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator beside the stove and opened the cupboard above to retrieve a glass.

More memories came flooding back as she poured the amber-colored liquid and handed it to him, not easy to do with trembling hands. She'd poured him iced-tea all those times she'd kept him company while he'd waited for Jen to come downstairs. She tried to clamp the lid tight on the details but failed miserably at forgetting how she'd pined for him, hoping and fantasizing that a miracle would happen and he would notice
her.
That someday he would wait downstairs for
her
to get ready to go out with him.

“How did you wind up in charge of the high school rodeo association?” she asked. “It wouldn't have any
thing to do with the fact that you were once the state bull-riding champion, would it?”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

A muscle in his jaw contracted for a moment before he continued. “As you pointed out, I gave up my scholarship to join the pro rodeo circuit. I did okay that first year, although I wasn't the overall point winner. But I took nationals in Wyoming. I was nineteen. It was a sign to make hay while the sun shines, so to speak.”