Texas Pride (3 page)

“Everything is going fine,” Jared replied. “And don't try and change the subject.”

“We'll talk about Jared's wedding later,” Jake said flatly, tipping back his hat. “Right now you've got some explaining to do.”

Jessica sighed and faced her oldest brother. It had always been a little easier to get around Jared than Jake. Since their father had died, Jake had taken his position as head of the family very seriously. A little too seriously at the moment, she thought with annoyance.

Time to change tactics, she decided.

“Jared, Jake—” she moved between her brothers and looked up at them “—you know I love you both, and I wouldn't do anything to upset you. Just meet Dylan, talk to him. I'm sure you'll feel the same way I do about him.”

Well, maybe not
quite
the same way, Jessica amended silently. Her body was still humming from that simple handshake yesterday. She'd tried to tell herself she'd just been so relieved to find a foreman after all those terrible interviews that she'd overreacted to his touch.

But if nothing else, she was honest. And the truth was she was attracted to the man. In a big way.

It doesn't matter.
She had no intention of encouraging any attention from Dylan Grant. She'd made the mistake once of getting involved with someone she'd worked with, and the results had been less than wonderful.

Besides, Dylan had made it clear he wanted work, nothing else.
Temporary
work. She had the feeling “temporary” was the man's middle name.

The ground started to shake and the air vibrate. Jake and Jared looked up sharply, their eyes narrowed as they turned in the direction of the sound. Hannibal's ears lifted.

“He rides a
motorcycle?
” Jared said.

“Similar to the one you used to ride six or seven years ago,” Jessica reminded Jared.

She held her breath as Dylan roared up, leaving a billowing trail of dust in his wake. He parked the bike in front of the saloon and stepped off, pulling the helmet from his head.

The three men faced each other like gunfighters from the Old West. All they needed, Jessica decided, were gun belts slung low on their hips and spurs on their boots.

This is ridiculous,
she thought, and turned toward Dylan with a smile, even though her insides were quaking. Hannibal barked and bounded over to Dylan with an enthusiastic wag of his tail.

Jessica threw her brothers an “I told you so” look. They frowned back.

Dylan knelt and greeted the dog, then straightened and moved toward Jessica. “Mornin'.” He nodded at the two other men.

“Dylan Grant, these are my brothers, Jake—” Dylan met and held Jake's dark gaze as they shook hands “—and Jared.”

Jared all but scowled at Dylan as he took his hand. Jessica could have sworn there was amusement in Dylan's eyes as the handshake progressed into a test of strength. She was ready to step between the two when Jared suddenly let go.

She realized she'd been holding her breath and slowly let it out.

That was when the barrage of questioning began. Jessica knew she couldn't stop it, so she simply stood back and waited. She already knew most of Dylan's background as far as construction went, but nothing of his personal life. When Jake moved into that territory, Jessica found herself listening closely.

“You have a wife or a family?” Jake asked.

Dylan's eyes narrowed. “Does it matter?”

“If something happens to you it will,” Jake said evenly. “We'll need to know who to notify.”

Jessica wanted to kick Jake. Although his question was certainly a logical one, there was an undertone of a threat in it, as well. And based on the dark expression on Dylan's face, he hadn't missed the warning.

“I'm not married,” Dylan said flatly. “Something happens to me—” he held Jake's steady gaze “—you'll have to deal with it.”

“Well, then,” Jake said with a nod, “I guess we'll just have to watch real close and make sure nothing happens to you.”

The “watch real close” part rankled Jessica, but at least the tension eased somewhat. Jessica's breathing had almost returned to normal by the time Jake shook Dylan's hand again.

“My wife, Savannah, is having a dinner party for Jared and his fiancée, Annie, tomorrow night at the ranch,” Jake said to Dylan. “Sort of a prewedding celebration. Why don't you come along with Jessica?”

Jessica had to close her mouth as she stared at Jake. She couldn't have heard what she'd thought she just heard.
Jake
inviting
Dylan
to dinner? Not possible. Even Jared seemed to accept the idea without complaint, though he still watched Dylan warily. No doubt they wanted to interrogate the man further.

“Much obliged.” Dylan nodded at Jake. “I'll be there.”

Jessica couldn't find her voice to utter a word when Jake and Jared kissed her goodbye. Their boots crunched on the gravel as they walked to Jake's pickup and got in. They drove off, leaving a cloud of dust billowing behind them.

She'd been surprised when they'd finally quit harassing her about moving out here, but this,
this,
was unbelievable. They'd not only invited Dylan for dinner, they were actually giving in and letting him stay in Makeshift. With her. Alone.

The realization suddenly made her palms sweat.

She turned to Dylan, equally amazed that he'd handled the cross-examination as well as he had, even when the questions had turned personal.

“I'm sorry about that,” she said.

“That they invited me for dinner?”

“No, of course not. About the grilling they just gave you.”

“They care about you, Jessica,” Dylan said quietly, squinting into the late-morning sun as he watched the pickup disappear. “That's nothing to be sorry about.”

There was something in Dylan's voice, a wistfulness or perhaps a regret, that brought an unexplained ache to Jessica's chest.

“I know what it's like to lose your parents,” she said softly. “I'm sorry.”

He looked at her with surprise. “Thank you, but my parents are alive and well somewhere in Europe right now, I imagine. Not together, of course,” he added. “Most likely with the current spouse or live-in friend.”

Confused, she stared at him. “But you said you had no family.”

“I said I had no wife. As far as my family goes, we rarely see each other. Like I told your brother, if there's a problem here, you'll have to handle it.”

Jessica had always been so close to her parents it was difficult to understand that kind of indifference. But Dylan's personal life was none of her business, she told herself, and from the curt tone of his voice, she knew he wasn't offering any more information.

Quiet seemed to surround them. The breeze picked up and gently swung the wooden sign over what used to be the doctor's office. The swinging doors of the saloon creaked. She suddenly had no idea what to do with her hands. She clasped them in front of her and turned awkwardly to Dylan. “So, uh, where do we start?”

Dylan stared at Jessica and tried not to notice how snug her jeans were or how the T-shirt she wore defined the roundness of her breasts. He could think of a few places he'd like to start with this woman, most of them involving a bed and fewer clothes. He sighed inwardly. That line of thinking was only going to lead to trouble, so he forced it from his mind.

“How about a tour?” he suggested. “I need to take a closer look at the insides of the buildings and see what kind of condition they're in. After I look at your blueprints, I can make a materials list.”

“Well,” she said tentatively, glancing quickly away, then back again, “there is a slight problem there.”

“A slight problem where?” he asked, though something told Dylan he wasn't going to like the answer.

“Well, I don't exactly have any blueprints.”

He was right. He didn't like the answer. “You didn't call in an architect on a project this size?”

“Oh, I called one, all right. I just couldn't afford him. All I have are a few preliminary sketches and permits for the work Jake and Jared did. I thought maybe I could just sort of figure it out as I went along.”

Dylan stared at Jessica in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You thought you could just figure out how to rebuild this entire town—without blueprints?”

“Actually,” Jessica said, her expression full of guilt, “I was hoping you...well, whoever I hired, I mean, might be able to handle it.”

He struggled not to raise his voice. “Me? On the salary you're paying me, I'm supposed to spend God knows how many hours drawing up plans, too?”

“I don't expect anything, Dylan,” she said, holding his gaze with her own. “If you don't want to do it, I'm sure I can manage to pull something together for you.”

“You don't
pull
together blueprints, Jessica,” he said sharply. “You
draw
them. Slowly and carefully.”

This job of his was getting increasingly more complicated by the moment, Dylan thought with annoyance. Hell, before long, this woman would probably have
him
paying
her
for the privilege of working here. If he had an ounce of sense or a lick of pride, he'd get back on his bike and keep riding.

But this job had nothing to do with sense or pride, he reminded himself. With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair and faced Jessica.

And the instant he looked at her, he knew he'd never ride on out. Her eyes, a soft deep blue, were wide as she stared back at him. A man could drown in those eyes. There was passion there. Determination. The combination of the two was deadly. He'd never met anyone like her before. Two days ago he'd have laughed at the idea that anyone like her even existed.

But here she was, standing in front of him, her chin tilted upward, her eyes bright. She was a dreamer. An idealist. She hadn't learned yet that people couldn't be trusted. That they were only out to get what they wanted for themselves.

She'd learn soon enough.

He stepped closer to her. “All right. I'll do it. But with all this extra work and no pay, I'm going to need a little incentive.” He lowered his voice as he searched her face. “Something to make it worth my while.”

Her body stiffened at his suggestive tone, and when her gaze locked with his, anger darkened her eyes. “And what exactly would you consider worth your while, Mr. Grant?”

He leaned closer still, bringing his face within inches of hers. “You have to cook for me.”

Dylan struggled not to laugh when Jessica's lips parted in surprise, and when he found himself staring at that enticing mouth longer than good sense dictated, he straightened and backed away.

“You want me to cook for you?”

He nodded. “You do know how to cook, don't you?”

“Of course I know how to cook.” She frowned. “But there's no usable kitchen in Makeshift. Unless I go to town or to one of my brothers' places, it's sandwiches and raw vegetables.”

“Sandwiches are fine for lunch, but I want a hot meal at night and a big breakfast every morning.” He took malicious delight in the gasp Jessica uttered. “And if I see so much as one raw vegetable, I'm out of here.”

She folded her arms and faced him. “And just how do you expect me to cook without a stove or oven?”

“Well—” Dylan scratched at his chin thoughtfully “—people ate hot food here before, didn't they?”

“Yes,” she answered carefully.

“So I guess if you were going to figure out how to rebuild this town without blueprints, you can figure out how to cook without electricity.”

Cook without electricity?
Jessica stared at him. She was still reeling from his first assault on her senses, when she'd thought he was about to proposition her. She'd been furious, of course, and ready to tell him where he could go. And yet, at the same time, she'd felt an excitement course through her. Then when he'd told her he wanted her to cook for him, he'd caught her completely off guard again. She'd always been so sure of herself. Of who she was and what she wanted. For the first time, she felt off-key and out of balance.

She didn't like it one bit.

This project, like the man standing in front of her, was getting more complicated by the minute. But what choice did she have? She had no idea where to begin, but as he'd said, she'd figure it out.

She sighed heavily and shook her head. “All right, Dylan. But let's hope it won't be your words you eat, instead of my food. Either one is going to be hard to chew.”

* * *

“He's staying, Lucas! He's staying!”

Lucas smiled as Meggie floated upward toward the saloon ceiling and spun. He'd never tire of watching her. One hundred and twenty years hadn't dimmed that pleasure.

“I will reserve my judgment on that just now,” Lucas said. “I most certainly didn't like his provocative manner of speaking to her.”

“Oh, yes, he is a rogue, isn't he?” She smiled brightly. “But I knew he was teasing her. And you did, too, or you would have stopped him.”

Lucas nodded. “I admit I admire his resourcefulness. But I'm not sure why Jessica would object to cooking for him.”

Meggie floated back down and faced Lucas. “I suppose you think a woman should be thrilled at the idea of slaving over a hot stove for a man all day?”

Lucas wrinkled his brow. “It's a woman's duty. Why should she object?”

Meggie put her hands on her hips and frowned. “You are an oaf, Lucas Kincaid. Things are not the same as they were for us. Men and women have both changed. Their thinking is quite different.”

He loved the way her nose wrinkled when she was irritated with him. “Perhaps what men do today might be different from our time, my dear, but what they are thinking is certainly not. And Mr. Grant's thoughts regarding Jessica are precisely the same thoughts I had when I first met you.”