Heather Graham (10 page)

What was her problem?

He paused at the door, turning back. “You want a catch, Ms. Galway? All right. I want this job for at least a month. There’s no way Ed Rice can pick it up before then.”

He stayed there, waiting, still caught in shadow so that she read no emotion on his features.

She stood up, planting her thumbs in her pockets and stiffening her spine. “That’s your catch? Why?”

“Why? Catches don’t get explained, Ms. Galway. That’s why you get to call them catches or strings that are attached.”

She hesitated, watching him.

“Well? Do you want some cattle? Do you want to give your ranch a fighting chance?”

“Oh, damn the cattle!” she told him irritably.

He smiled. The shadows couldn’t hide the triumphant gleam in his eyes or that white flash of his teeth.

Why shouldn’t he smile? He’d gotten his way.

“There’s something else you should know, Ms. Galway,” he added mockingly.

“And what’s that?” She lifted her chin.

“When I say mine, I mean mine. My intentions are passionate and carnal—and quite honorable. I intend to marry you too.”

She frowned instantly, but to no avail. He was already gone, and she was suddenly shaking too badly to go racing after him.

That night Martie discovered she was too restless to do anything. She’d cleaned the kitchen spotlessly after dinner, vacuumed the entire house, dusted, and done two loads of laundry.

She’d even decided that Kane Montgomery was definitely good for one thing: making her productive simply because he made her so unsettled that she had to find an outlet for her energy.

At eleven o’clock he still wasn’t back. She made herself a cup of tea and eventually wandered outside with it. The clouds that had brought shadows that afternoon had also brought a little rain, but the sky was clear again. Everything seemed fresh, and the air carried a beautiful scent of flowers on it.

Martine watched the play of the moon and the house lights on the water of the pool, making a mental note that she should get the sweeper going the next day and add chlorine.

She grimaced, thinking that she hadn’t spent much time lately in the water. And then her grimace became a grin because she realized that the best thing to do to tire herself out a little and forget about Kane Montgomery would be to plunge into the pool. It was after eleven o’clock, but she hadn’t been night swimming in ages, and it certainly was warm enough.

She hurried back to her room, changed into a sleek black one-piece suit, grabbed a massive beach towel and her terry-cloth robe, and headed back through the game room.

She paused to gaze at the pool table and remember Kane’s prowess there. “One day I’ll beat you at that game,” she muttered aloud. “I’ll beat you at all your damn games!”

And then she wondered if she wasn’t going swimming simply because she hoped he would come home soon and join her. She had felt so restless since he had left, so on fire.

Because he had said that they were going to go to bed together? Or because he had said that he was going to marry her?

She inhaled and exhaled deeply as she walked out onto the patio and stared into the water. Why did he have the power to make her so mad yet useless to resist him? He really was crazy if he thought he could decide just like that to marry her; he hardly knew her! And the worst of it was that he was right about her: She did want him. It was almost as if she were anticipating him, as if she had wanted to dispense with the “games” as much as he did. …

She made a clean dive into the water. The chill gave her body a definite little shock, but she remained below the surface, easily swimming the length of the pool.

It wasn’t until she reached the shallow end that she had a thought that sent her quickly to the surface, gasping for breath.

The ranch!

Oh, God, she thought feverishly, did he want the ranch? He had come riding in just in time to save her—and it—from Ken Lander. He’d been determined to help her keep the place, and it was obvious he sure as hell didn’t need a job, not to survive anyway. And he was very determined to keep the ranch going.

But it didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t anything that special about the Four-Leaf Clover. It was good property, it had a lot of beauty and a really fine house, but it was really special to her only because it had belonged to her family for so long—

“Were you waiting up for me?”

His low drawl brought Martie spinning around. He was down at the deep end of the pool, still in a plaid shirt and jeans, grinning tauntingly with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes seeming to catch the moon’s glitter as if they belonged to a true demon.

She watched him for a long moment, straightening her shoulders and rising in the water. “Maybe I was,” she replied coolly.

Kane caught the tone of her voice and raised a brow slightly. She said nothing else, and he shrugged. “Is the hired hand allowed to join you?”

“Please do,” she said dryly, crossing her arms over her chest. So far, so good. She was irritated and certainly composed enough to do battle with him.

But he immediately put a dent in her composure as he started unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes were locked with hers, and Martine managed to meet his gaze until he started to undo his belt buckle.

“I wasn’t talking about skinny-dipping!” she snapped. “Please don’t tell me you can’t afford to have a bathing suit!”

He laughed, and she was very aware then that he was purposely trying to upset her. “Oh, I have one. Several, actually. It’s just that it would take so much time …” He paused, sitting on one of the lounges to pull off his boots and his socks.

“No skinny-dipping!” Martine reasserted firmly.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he told her, standing to shed his jeans. Naked except for his briefs, he walked to the edge and plunged in. She watched his body, lean, sinewed, and dark in the bright aqua light of the pool, as he repeated her earlier performance, propelled himself smoothly to the shallow end, and rose right before her. The moonlight caught his shoulders, and they shone with droplets of water, very broad for all that he appeared so tall and lean. His chest was thickly covered with short dark hairs that narrowed to a neat line and disappeared at the waistline of his briefs.

Martie quickly turned her eyes to his. “You could have taken the time to change,” she said tersely.

He smiled. “Am I that tempting?”

“That insufferable!” she retorted, swimming away to put some distance between them. But the water was still over her head, so she backed herself against the poolside to grip the inner tile frame with her fingers while she idly treaded water.

He swam to her and watched her curiously as he hovered before her, staying afloat with very little effort.

“I wish you’d keep your distance,” she said flatly.

“Oh, God!” He groaned. “What is this? Your touch-me-touch-me-not mood?” He scowled suddenly. “I think I like you better inebriated.”

“You probably do,” she said agreeably. She braced herself against the wall, then used her feet for a firm push and went gliding out again. But before she could reach the other side, she felt a strong tug on her foot. She twisted furiously, but the movement sent her straight into his arms, and she had no choice but to flounder there, treading the water quickly with her feet brushing his.

“What now, Martine?” he demanded harshly. “Races? Tag? Don’t try it. I can beat you every time.”

“But you don’t play games, do you?” she inquired heatedly.

“That’s right,” he replied, his voice lowering in warning. “So I ask you again, what is this? You invite me in and then start with the princess routine. What’s up?”

“Why do you want my ranch?” she asked abruptly, her hand brushing his chest as she raised it to smooth hair and water from her brow.

Later, and much too late, she would wonder if he hadn’t hesitated too long.

But at that moment all she saw was his dark scowl and the way that his lashes fell over his glittering eyes, then lifted again with flurry of sparks that seemed to radiate a quivering heat straight into her limbs.

“Your ranch?” He spit the words out. Suddenly she found that he was swimming and that she was being swept back against a wall, cornered there by his body, his chest against hers, his arms, taut and sinewed, forming bars at her sides.

“Who in bloody hell would want your poor excuse of a ranch?” he demanded. “Broken fences, no cattle to speak of, and an old house that probably needs half a dozen renovations if it’s going to stand another five years?” His voice was harsh and ridiculing; his eyes seemed to pinion her with greater power than the strength of his body. Martie longed to take back the words, but she couldn’t, so she forced herself to raise her chin slightly.

“You seem to be putting a lot into such a wreck of a place,” she told him.

He moved closer. She could feel the strength of his thighs against hers, hard and bare, and she swallowed uneasily because she responded so quickly to him. She could feel her nipples swell and harden as his chest rubbed against her. And his hips …

His briefs left very little to her imagination. There just wasn’t enough clothing between them. She could feel him like a blazing fire, hard and sure and warm.

Yet he hardly seemed aware of it in his anger.

“Dammit!” he said, flaring at her. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Why?” she gasped with one last, valiant effort.

“Why?” He shook his head in confusion, and his lips formed a rueful smile. “How much more honest can I be?” he asked. “Because I want you, because I’m fascinated by you, because—”

He broke off, swiftly lowered his head, and took her lips with his. The kiss was not a tender brush this time, nor was it at all slow. It was as if he were plundering and reaping from already charted waters. Passion exploded as his mouth consumed hers with a hunger and longing that left her shaking. She clung to him, feeling the full force of his body against hers. Rivulets of fire seemed to race along the length of her where his body touched hers. Her fingers tangled into the ends of his wet hair, trembled when they fell to his shoulders, and felt the heat of his flesh, the motion of the muscles beneath. He held them to the wall with one hand as he continued endlessly to drink of her lips. His free hand cupped her cheek, followed the line of her throat, then fell between them to cradle her breast, to knead it with his palm, as if testing that firmness had been a desire he could no longer resist.

She gasped deep in her throat when his hand moved again, boldly curving over her hip, slipping beneath her suit at her thigh. His lips moved from hers to nip lightly at her throat as he continued his aggressive seduction, caressing her intimately with a fluid movement that left her both stunned and quivering with need.

“Stop!” she cried at last, and he did, chuckling, catching her lips again briefly. Then he planted his hands on the edge of the pool and hoisted himself out.

He turned back to her, bending to offer her a hand. “This is it, Martine,” he whispered huskily.

She stared at him for several seconds, and in all her life she would never know if she had given him her hand of her own volition or if he had hypnotized her into doing so.

She gave him her hand. He caught the other, and before she was really aware of it, she was out of the water and his arm was around her. He was staring down at her as he led her toward the bath that led to his room.

It was pitch-dark in the bedroom. He didn’t seem to need light. He walked swiftly through the bath; she could feel all the tension in his arm, could hear the pad of his feet against the tiles.

“We’re dripping wet” was all she could think to say.

“We’ll dry,” he said gruffly. But as they passed through the bath he quickly snatched a towel from the rack.

In the bedroom he turned her to face him, and his fingers slipped beneath the straps of her suit. He peeled it from her body with ease, and she could allow him to do so because it was dark and because … she already felt as if she were his. It was as if the moment had been preordained since she had first met him, standing there in the sunlight, a stranger yet a friend.

She closed her eyes, then felt the brush of the towel against her flesh. He was drying her, and even that simple act took on an erotic appeal. He moved the terry cloth gently over her throat, over her breasts, down to her abdomen and over the length of her legs, then between her thighs until she gasped lightly, because everywhere he touched her with the towel, he followed with the touch of his calloused fingers and the promise of his velvet lips.

The darkness swirled around her deliriously, casting her into a realm of pleasure so intense that it was almost pain. She found his hair and tugged against it, and when he held her, she found herself bolder than she might have ever imagined. She pressed against him, fusing to him, melding with him, needing him with an intensity that amazed her. Slipping her hands around his neck, she brought his head to hers and kissed him almost savagely, giving her fingers free roam of his back, lightly raking her nails along his spine and buttocks. His groans of pleasure added fuel to the soaring fire of her hunger, and she found herself nipping lightly against his throat, exploring him eagerly with her palms and fingertips, gasping slightly against his throat when she touched the full potency of his desire.

He whispered something against her ear, grazing the lobe with his teeth, and then she was lifted and the softness of the mattress was greeting her … and him. She felt the weight of his body, and it seemed glorious; she loved the texture of his hair-roughened legs against her, the strength of his knees, driving hers apart. She reached up to touch his cheek, and it seemed that just as the clouds had brought shadow that afternoon, the moon suddenly rose to a new peak to bring light to the room.

His features were dark with his desire; his shoulders gleamed. His eyes were still like those of a demon, yet they shone as much with tenderness as they did with deviltry.

“Kane …” she whispered.

He lowered his lips against hers, lightly, and stared at her in the moonlight, as if sensing that she still needed assurances. “I have never wanted anything in my life as I want you,” he said.