The Girl with the Golden Spurs (14 page)

“You go to hell, Cole Knight,” she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t hear her fear and the aching need beneath her bluster. She felt like a scared, heartbroken little girl who needed to bawl her eyes out in his arms. She was mad at him, but she needed him, too. She almost hated him for making her feel pulled two ways.

He swallowed. That muscle in his jaw ticked furiously.

Good. He hadn’t seen through her. She’d managed to hurt him.

“Get dressed! Now!” His face changed. “Or would you rather me do it for you?”

“What?”

“Hey, maybe we could start the day with a dress-tease. Get the juices flowing so to speak.”

“How dare you! I do hate you!”

“You’re repeating yourself, darlin’.”

“Don’t call me—” Just as she was about to launch into a rather passionate and in-depth explanation as to why she disliked him so much, her doorbell buzzed.

Lizzy gasped. “Oh, God. Mandy’s downstairs with Vanilla. They’re early.”

“No kidding. Guess she got tired of baby-sitting. My first thought was she didn’t much look like the baby-sitter type.”

“Nobody asked you.”

Cole strode toward her and pressed the button that unlocked the doors downstairs. “I’ll stay here and get the door. You get dressed.”

“But you’re stark naked.”

“So the hell are you, darlin’.”

They stared at each other. He was broad-shouldered, tanned and virile—a hunk if ever there was one. Blood pounded in her throat. In spite of herself, she shivered.

“Too bad we don’t have more time,” he said knowingly. “You look good. Too good. And your soap smells like roses.”

“You swore you’d keep your distance, remember?”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

His black gaze raked her. Not that she cowered like a Victorian maiden or even covered herself with her towel—much as she was tempted. No, she stood frozen like a deer caught in a pair of headlights and endured his knowing, insolent eyes as he assessed her charms. She endured his slow, appreciative grin, too.

Not that she grinned back. But she looked at him with equal fascination.

Finally he broke the spell by leaning toward her and snatching the towel she’d been holding. As he tightened the
thick cotton folds around his waist, he shot her a smile that was so sexually charged, she almost kicked him.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he goaded her, she gritted her teeth.

She did not want him. She couldn’t
.

“If looks could kill,” he teased, grinning charmingly at her again as he finger-combed his black hair.

“Exactly. You’re a cad.”

“Cad? That word’s old-fashioned. You need to expand your vocabulary when it comes to insults—city slicker.”

“If you stick around, I probably will.”

“So, there’s a chance for us?” He winked at her.

“No. Hell, no.”

“Darlin’, we both know all I’d have to do is touch you.”

“Shut up. Just shut up. And you’d better remember to stick to your promise to keep your distance.”

“I hear your friend. They’re almost up the stairs,” he said warningly. “You’re still standing there naked.”

Lizzy scampered into the bedroom at the exact moment he opened the door for them.

“Where’s Bryce? Who the hell are you?” Mandy demanded upon seeing Lizzy’s handsome, towel-clad guest.

“Cole Knight. Bryce is history. I’m here to take Lizzy home to Texas.”

“Well, you’re fast. I’ll give you that. Did you two meet at the party or what?”

“You know Lizzy—never a
dull
moment.”

Lizzy sagged against her bedroom door and groaned.

“Hi, there little darling,” Cole murmured, his voice so sweet and tender, Lizzy ached. “Do you want to come to Daddy? Long time no see, little love.”

You don’t even remember her—cad
.

Think up another word
.

Jerk. Jerk. How’s that for a more modern word?

The last thing Lizzy heard as she dug through the clothes heaped on her floor for something decent to wear was Vanilla clapping.

The little traitor!

BOOK TWO

Smart Cowboy Saying:

Don’t worry about bitin’ off more than you can chew. Your mouth is probably a whole lot bigger than you think it is.

—Anonymous

“H
i there.” Cherry’s voice sounded soft and excited.

He smiled at her as he pushed the door open and walked inside her small, rented apartment. No sooner had he shut the door than the dingy walls seemed to close in on him. He preferred open spaces to cities. He would never have come here if it weren’t necessary. A man had to do what a man had to do.

Cherry was wearing her glittery cowgirl outfit and her silver sequined hat just like he’d told her to. The only bit of brightness in the drab room, she was so pretty, it was kinda sad. All she’d ever wanted was to be a star. How she’d loved the media attention she’d gotten as a result of her engagement to Caesar.

She was too pretty and too young to die
.

“I put these on just for you,” Cherry purred, wiggling so that her breasts bounced.

She damn sure knew all the tricks.

“You look good,” he said as he turned on the music just in case something went wrong. “Now, will you take them off—just for me, too?”

“I can’t wait, baby. Did you bring the money?”

He held up his briefcase. “You did good.”

“How is he?”

“Later, baby.” He turned the pounding music even louder. “Dance for me.”

She began to strip, slowly, the way he liked it, showing her big boobs first, jiggling them for him, and then her silver, Texas-shaped pubic hair. Flirtatiously she combed the hair with her fingers.

When she was naked, he told her to come to him, spread her legs and sit on his lap, which she did.

She began to kiss him, first his lips, then his throat. Next she stood him up and pushed him against her wall, pulled his jeans down and licked his erection with her velvet, pulsing, talented tongue. She kissed him everywhere until she had him breathing hard.

She was too pretty to die
.

Then he thought about his mother and all the boyfriends she’d had when he’d been a kid. That got him angry.

He carried Cherry to the bed, yanked his jeans and boots off, put on a rubber and buried himself inside her.

“Oh, baby, that feels wonderful,” she said when he began to pump.

Soon they were writhing to their own rhythm separate from the music. She made all the right moaning and cooing noises. Her pelvis arched in ever quickening spasms.

“Don’t fake it,” he growled, seizing her wrists and pinning her down as he pumped even harder.

“I’m not.”

“Just don’t—I want this to be real. This time, it has to be real.”

He thought about Caesar. He liked fucking her because Caesar had fucked her. Following in the big man’s footsteps, so to speak. But then wasn’t that the point? Hell, he’d selected her for Caesar. It was her rotten luck she’d looked so much like Electra.

“Who’s better? Me or old Caesar?”

She grinned. “Guess?”

As his hands moved into her hair, he felt her relax and get wetter down there as he pounded ever more violently into her. When he felt himself on the verge of ecstasy, his hands slowly circled her throat, gently, caressingly, so as not to alarm her.

She began to squirm to free herself, but he was stronger, far stronger. And he’d planned this, planned it so carefully down to the last detail. He was on top of her, his muscular body holding her down. The more she fought him, the more excited he grew, until the exquisite sensations were almost unbearable.

His hands tightened. When her eyes grew huge with terror, he loosened his grip on her throat ever so slightly.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered, kissing her quivering mouth. This was the part he liked the best, giving them hope. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He eased off on the pounding, but only to make the thrill of it last. Only she felt so damn good, so hot and wet, so tight he couldn’t control his passion. He was furious—furious at her for using her whorish tricks to make his body shudder too soon.

His fingers became talons. Gripping her neck again, he squeezed with all his might.

Her mouth opened. She bucked against him and tried to scream. But he was stronger.

No, this was the best part, when he knew they knew. When they knew he was all powerful. In the end, all she could do was gurgle helplessly and stare up at him with dumbfounded, frantic eyes that knew.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.” It was so much fun to lie to them.

He stared into her eyes, plunging again and again, harder and faster until he finally exploded, filling the condom at the
exact moment the blank terror in her eyes glazed over and her hands and legs went limp.

He felt alive and all powerful, on the edge of something vast and grand. He lingered over her inert body, his member still swollen and rock hard inside her. When finally he pulled out of her, he stared down into her open, dead eyes for a long, delicious moment.

Then he kissed her mouth one last time, wondering what it would be like to do it to a dead woman.

He’d never done
that
before.

But he had work to do.

“Y
ou’re practically kidnapping me,” Lizzy said gloomily as she heaved herself into the seat behind Cole’s in his twin-engine Cessna. His pilot, John, who had spent his entire time in New York near the plane, was standing on the tarmac, going over the flight plans.

“Drama queen,” Cole bit out. “Make my day, darlin’—fly commercial.”

She snapped the ends of her seat belt together defiantly.

“Did you ever reach your mother?” he demanded.

“While you and John were talking to the weather guy. She was very understanding when I explained why I took my phone off the hook.”

In truth her mother had been the cool, distant mother Lizzy remembered from her childhood—icily polite, but on some deep level utterly rejecting.

Lizzy popped a white rectangular piece of sugarless chewing gum into her mouth and chomped guiltily. “I’ll never forgive you for last night, though. If you’d told me earlier, I would have called her sooner.”

“Fine. Blame me.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me about my father?”

“Why’d you dress up like a hooker if you didn’t want some chump to seize the bait? Maybe you were lucky it was me.”

“Ohhhh!”

“Besides, darlin’, I couldn’t tell you. I had to catch you first, remember? I went into that room intending to tell you, but you came on to me like a real hooker, offering to indulge my wildest fantasies. Let me clue you in about the male mind, sweetheart. A man like me can have the best of intentions, but when a woman does something like that, she derails a guy—big-time.”

“I don’t want to talk about last night.”

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?”

“You didn’t have to sleep with me,” she muttered.

“Neither the hell did you.”

“I didn’t know about Daddy. You did.”

“Right.” Cole turned around and began checking the instruments.

In response, she clenched her hands together in utter exasperation.

It never occurred to her he might be on a guilt trip, too. He took another long breath. When he looked over at her again, his eyes were blazing blue. “So, is the baby buckled up? Does anybody besides me want to get this mother airborne?”

John climbed inside and began discussing technical questions with Cole. Lizzy faced forward, notched her chin up and chewed her gum. Every time she caught a glimpse of Cole, his face was even darker and more closed than it had been during their quarrel before Mandy’s arrival earlier. He was more like the old Cole—guarded, demanding, less giving. Everything he’d said and done in the past two hours had been abrupt, mechanical and cold.

He’d made her pack in such a hurry she’d probably
forgotten everything she needed. He’d put up walls—against her.

Good. This is good
. She wanted walls. She unclasped her hands. She munched her gum a little too loudly, liking it when it annoyed him so much that a muscle in his jaw jumped.

She was too susceptible to that other Cole—the sexy, teasing Cole of last night. She didn’t want to go back to Texas. Not with the vengeful, bitter Cole when she couldn’t forgive herself for last night.

When he turned to check Vanilla, who was buckled into a car seat as well as the airplane’s seat belt, his face softened. Vanilla put her hands together and beamed at him adoringly. If he’d been a marshmallow roasting over a bonfire, he would have dripped white goo all over the ground.

“You gonna clap for me, little darlin’?” he whispered playfully, patting his hands together.

When she did, he clapped, too. “Patty-cake,” he said.

Vanilla batted her eyelashes at him and squealed in delight.

When Cole looked at Lizzy again, the warmth in his dazzling blue eyes froze. When he turned back to John without another word to Lizzy and focused on the plane and what the two men had to do to get it airborne, Lizzy’s throat constricted. She wished she could tune him out as easily, but every time she cast a furtive glance his way, the sight of his square, determined jaw unnerved her.

What was he thinking? Would he brag to every hand on the ranch that she’d thrown herself at him? Would he share the embarrassing details of her costume and racy underwear with Kinky and Eli?

She remembered Cole coming into the shower. How incredibly warm and tender his big, rough hands had felt gently caressing her breasts. Against her will, a vision of his sleek,
brown, muscular body arose in her mind’s eye. The memory of the sexual gleam in his eyes as he’d stared back at her taunted her, too.

She sighed, despising herself. First Bryce, and now Cole Knight—again. She didn’t know which was worse.

Swallowing, she tightened her own seat belt and stared straight ahead. If he could ignore her, she could try to do the same.

John took off without incident. For the next few hours the two men continued to concentrate solely on flying the airplane. Fortunately cars and apparently planes put Vanilla to sleep, so the baby didn’t distract her.

Determined to ignore Cole, Lizzy looked out her window at the blue sky and puffy clouds and the rumpled green earth beneath them, as if she found the view fascinating.

Despite the vastness beneath her and the sunny skies, she felt trapped inside the small cabin and too dependent on Cole. She remembered that night almost a year ago when her daddy had called and Cole’s plane was lost over the gulf. Cole had been on his way to Mexico to check on a herd of prize-winning cattle owned by a friend down there. Caesar had told her he should have been on the plane, not Mia, who’d just had a baby the month before. He’d even hinted at murder and sabotage.

Then Cole had been found by shrimpers. There had been an investigation. Cole had been exonerated, and gradually the talk had died down. But his memory of the event—or any leading up to it—had never returned.

Cole flew the entire trip to Texas without speaking to her again. Thus, it was a surprise when they landed in Houston, and he pointed grimly at a crowd swarming in front of their private hangar. Sy’rai and Kinky Hernandez, the ranch cook and foreman, were surrounded by the milling throng.

“Who are they?” she asked.

“The press.” His low tone was flat. “They smell blood. Yours. Your father’s. Maybe mine, too.”

She inhaled a shaky breath.

“Stay put. John and I will unload the luggage and the baby and then come back for you.”

They got their bags and carried Vanilla off the plane. Lizzy pressed her hands to the glass as she watched them stride through the crowd and hand the baby to Sy’rai, who hugged Vanilla close. To Lizzy’s profound relief Cole soon returned for her.

As he guided her from the plane and toward the reporters, she realized how much she needed him to lean on. If her father didn’t get well fast, and she ended up working on the ranch for weeks or maybe months, she, Cole and his daughter would share the same house. She’d have to see him constantly.

Last night wouldn’t be over for weeks, maybe months.

She’d barely cleared the plane when Texas newspaper, magazine and television reporters stampeded toward her. Microphones were pressed to her lips. Cameras snapped. Flashes exploded in her face.

“Are you home for good, Miss Kemble?”

“Who will take over? Another more experienced member of the family? You? Oran outsider?” They stared at Cole, too.

“Miss Kemble, do you know anything about Cherry Lane’s disappearance?”

“Cherry?” Lizzy shuddered. “Excuse me?”

“Miss Lane didn’t show up to dance at work last night,” one of the reporters supplied. “Her apartment was unlocked, and her bed stripped. Her Toyota is still in the carport. But she’s gone. Nobody’s seen or heard from her.”

Cole interrupted them. “Miss Kemble is tired and worried about her father.”

“Is it true the board asked your father to give up Cherry or resign?”

Lizzy felt Cole’s big hand tighten on her arm as he propelled her toward Sy’rai and Kinky and Vanilla, who were waiting for her inside the ranch’s big black SUV.

“Miss Kemble—”

Somehow Cole got her inside the big vehicle. Kinky started the engine and rolled up the tinted windows. Soon the SUV glided forward, leaving the chaos behind them.

There were more reporters outside the hospital, who repeated the same question:
Where was Cherry Lane?

Cole led Lizzy past them to the ICU waiting room, which was filled with family members.

Everybody was there except for the two people she most wanted—her brothers, Hawk and Walker. She doubted they’d even heard about Daddy’s condition. Her mother looked tired and wan in jeans and a checkered shirt.

They embraced stiffly and Lizzy felt fresh guilt. And all the time, she felt everybody watching them, watching
her
.

Uncle B.B., Aunt Nanette and her sons, Sam and Bobby Joe, were in the hospital waiting area. Dear, sweet reliable Sam smiled politely enough. Sam’s shy younger brother, Bobby Joe, even attempted a smile, too. Still, Lizzy felt walls and new tensions. In contrast to her own mother, Aunt Nanette—who had dyed her hair auburn—was dressed flamboyantly in a flame-colored silk Western shirt, leather pants, boots and half a million dollars’ worth of diamonds. A younger cowboy, who was tall and dark, stood behind her, saying nothing. Aunt Nanette’s new lover?

“It’s such a shock,” Aunt Nanette said, twirling one of her diamond rings on her finger. “Caesar’s not himself. But you’ll see soon enough, dear. A lot of times I thought my brother was meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes, but I wouldn’t ever have wished this on him.”

A false note in Aunt Nanette’s tone filled Lizzy with dread.

Sam came up and hugged her while Bobby Joe stood back and merely watched. “How are you doing, Lizzy girl?”

“I’m a little tired.” She clung to Sam’s wiry, solid frame. He wasn’t as tall as Cole, but he was just as strongly built. Next she greeted Uncle B.B. and his wife, Aunt Mona.

“Nothing is the same,” Uncle B.B. said sadly. Like her mother, he wore jeans, boots and his regular white work shirt.

Aunt Mona looked exactly as one expected ranch royalty to look. She was tall, slim and stunning in black jeans and custom-made boots. As always, her gold jewelry was done in a Western motif. Today, golden horses dangled from her ears, and a miniature gold horse was pinned to her collar.

“If we pull together, we’ll be okay,” Uncle B.B. said.

Lizzy stepped back, not quite trusting her uncle for some reason. Uncle B.B. and Aunt Mona had always resented Caesar’s control. They’d constantly sent Lizzy’s parents and the board a barrage of registered letters filled with their demands, letters that couldn’t be read without an attorney to interpret them.

Lizzy felt all mixed up. Being with them and not with her father only made Lizzy miss her father all the more. Desperation began to build inside her until Lizzy wanted nothing except to see him. Wringing her hands, she looked toward the door.

“What’s this about Caesar wanting you to run things?” Uncle B.B. demanded while Aunt Mona frowned.

Bobby Joe moved closer so he could hear every word.

“You’ve been gone for years,” Uncle B.B. said. “Who’s he to say who should run things anyway after the stunts he’s pulled lately? Hell, because of him the Kemble name is a joke.”

“It will be rough going for you, Lizzy,” Sam said with genuine concern. “You haven’t lived here for a while. The
Golden Spurs is in the process of creating a whole new identity for itself. Our operation is more about money than cattle or hunting.”

“That’s not what Daddy said the last time we spoke.”

“A long time ago the family made a vow to keep the ranch together,” Joanne said softly.

“Why do I have the feeling the ranch is breaking up then?” Lizzy murmured as she looked at each one of them.

“Because we’re experiencing some growing pains,” Sam said calmly. “These are new times. Your father wants to stick to tradition while some of the rest of us feel it’s time for a new vision.”

“To hell with Caesar!” Uncle B.B. thundered. “If he hadn’t had a stroke he would have married that stripper. He’s done more to bring the ranch down than anybody else.”

Joanne moaned.

Bobby Joe stormed out.

“When can I see him?” Suddenly Lizzy was worried about her father, only her father. She’d always felt overshadowed by all these larger-than-life characters. She couldn’t deal with them—not now.

Cole, who was standing apart from them, strode toward her. When he took her hand, Lizzy, ridiculously glad he was there, squeezed his fingers.

How could the only thing that felt right in her life be the presence of the one man who couldn’t belong in it? But right now he made her feel cared for and safe.

“She’ll feel better when she sees Caesar for herself,” Cole said gently to the others. “The unknown is scarier than the reality.”

When the others nodded, Cole took her hand and led her out of the waiting room, across the hall and through the double doors that opened into ICU. Since Cole knew the way, all Lizzy had to do was follow him.

When they reached a green curtain, a young nurse in pink scrubs and running shoes with a long black braid hanging down her back looked up from a clipboard. “You family?” she barked.

“His daughter,” Cole said.

The nurse nodded brusquely. “I haven’t seen
her
here before.”

The woman’s pointed stare struck Lizzy like a blow. Daughterly guilt consumed her. She swallowed. “I live in New York.”

The young nurse’s pen was tucked over one ear. She looked so efficient. When she set her clipboard down and swept aside the green curtains that concealed Caesar’s hospital bed from the rest of the unit, Lizzy felt awkward and utterly useless.

“Normally visiting hours are eight, twelve, four and…”

Lizzy was aware only of the prone figure on the bed. His eyes were wide, and he glared fixedly up at the ceiling tiles. She couldn’t believe this rigid lump of flesh covered up with tubes and surrounded by gurgling machines was her once proud and powerful father. If ever a man looked like he’d fallen face down in a sticker patch and been stomped to death by rampaging bulls, her daddy looked that way.

“Daddy?”

His grim expression contorted.