Cowboy's Bride (3 page)

"Why don't you eat with them?" She knew she
sounded ungracious, but six in the morning wasn't the best time for
her.
She had never liked early mornings.

"Thought you'd want to discuss some things
privately." He shrugged.
"If not, we can mosey over there and join
them."

She shook her head and gave up.
She headed to
the refrigerator, then withdrew the eggs and bacon she'd purchased
in Jackson yesterday.
This one time, she'd cook.

Contrary to what Trace had said, he didn't
discuss the ranch over breakfast.
He questioned her about Boston
instead.

"Why do you want to know so much about me?"
she asked fretfully after telling him about her family and her
brothers, wishing he'd volunteer something about himself.
She
wanted to know more about him.
About the ranch, she meant.

"Figure if I can understand what experience
you've had, I'll know better how to teach you about running a
ranch.
What did you do before you inherited this place?"

"I was a nurse."

He was surprised.
"A nurse?"

She nodded, then grinned.
"Does that surprise
you?
I've been an emergency room nurse for almost eight years."

He stared at her.
She was delicate, dainty,
pretty.
And she was used to the gruesome experiences in a big city
emergency room.
He shook his head.
Philip had mentioned her from
time to time.
Even saying that he'd left her the ranch, but was
sure she'd sell it to Trace.

Only she'd refused his first offer and shown
up yesterday, ready to stay.
Hell, he'd worked the ranch for years,
helped Philip out time after time, ramrodded the entire operation
since last Christmas, and it all went to some petite nurse from
Boston who probably didn't know a steer from a bull from a
heifer.

"Can you ride?"

Kalli smiled happily and nodded.
"Yes.
I told
you, I spent summers here when I was a girl."

“
From the looks of you,
that was some time ago." He didn't know why he wanted to get a rise
out of her, but he did.

She carefully placed her fork on her plate
lest she be tempted to fling it at this arrogant cowboy.
"Actually,
I've been riding again in Boston since I learned I was coming out
here.
I can ride just fine, Mr.
Longford."

"We'll see, won't we.
And the name's Trace.
Just Trace." He finished his coffee and pushed back his chair.
He
carried his dishes to the sink, then ran water over than and turned
to meet her surprised eyes.

"Ready, Miss Bonotelli?"

"The name's Kalli, just Kalli," she sassed
back.

She caught up her hat and was right behind
him when he left the house.
She fumed at the way he got under her
skin.
His long legs ate up the distance to the barn, and she almost
had to run to keep up with him.
He was doing it deliberately, she
was sure.

"Are we in a hurry?" she asked
breathlessly.

He stopped and looked at her, not tilting his
head, his black eyes narrowed as he took in her situation.

"How tall are you?" he asked.

"Just over five feet two," she replied, using
the moment to catch up and take a deep breath.
"Not six feet like
you.
My stride is shorter."

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, turning to walk
slowly toward the barn.

"And you don't need to patronize me, cowboy,"
she muttered beneath her breath.
But she appreciated the slower
pace.

She couldn't manage the saddle.
It was too
heavy and the horse too high for her to get it on.
Trace watched
her struggle with it for a long moment.
When she glared at him, he
stepped forward and took it from her, effortlessly settling it on
the horse's back.
He cinched him up, checked the stirrups and
tinned to her.
"Normally everyone saddles his or her own mount.
But
since you're the boss lady, I'll do it for you.
Need a hand
up?"

She hated his patronizing air.
Dammit, she
couldn't help her size.
She hadn’t had to saddle her own horse at
the riding academy.
Glaring at him, she hesitated.
She didn't want
him touching her.
She was afraid of what her reaction would be.
The
feelings he stirred in her were unlike any she'd experienced
before.
Yet she knew she couldn't get in that saddle without some
help.
The horse was enormous, and the stirrup was almost at
shoulder level.
She glanced around for something to step on, a
mounting block, a stepladder.
Uncle Philip had had a platform for
her to use.
It was long gone.
There was nothing else.
What choice
did she have?

"Very well, thank you." She'd keep it formal.
Polite.
Not let him suspect for an instant that touching him would
have any effect on her at all.

Trace cupped his hands together and leaned
over her.
Kalli gave him her foot and reached for the saddle horn
with one hand.
She steadied her other hand against his shoulder,
feeling the steely strength of his muscles, the heat from his skin
scorching her hand.
She lost her concentration when her gaze met
his as he slowly straightened and lifted her effortlessly from the
barn floor.
His dark eyes held hers.
The sensations swimming around
them, between them, threatened to swamp her.
She was lost and had
the strongest urge to lean forward the few inches that separated
them and lightly touch his lips with hers.
Would his mouth be hot
and hard against hers, or would he temper his male strength to coax
a feminine response?

"Kalli, get in the saddle." His voice was
almost hoarse as he held her with his hands beneath her boot, his
eyes impaling hers.
If she didn't stop looking at him like that
he'd kiss her so hard her head would spin.
Like his was.
As far as
he was concerned, the sooner she was gone, the better.
He didn't
need any sexual overtones in dealing with the lady.
He wanted her
gone, it was as simple as that.

She scrambled onto the horse, settled in the
saddle.
The stirrups dangled too long for her short legs.
Dammit.

"I'll adjust them." He wouldn't think of her
jean-clad thigh so close he could lean his cheek against it,
wouldn't think about her womanly hips at eye level, or the sweet
scent of flowers and strawberries that seemed to emanate from her
body.
He yanked on the strap, settled the buckle and straightened
the leather.
Taking her ankle in his hand, he threaded her foot
into the stirrup.
Running his hand lightly up her leg, he tested
her seat.

His hand burned as he felt the taut muscles
of her thigh, imagined it wrapped around him in the heat of
lovemaking.
Felt the soft curve of her hips as he judged her seat
in the saddle.
Wished he could feel them beneath him, his hands
clasping her.

He heard Kalli draw in a breath, but dared
not look at her.
As if nothing was wrong, he crossed beneath the
horse's head and adjusted the right stirrup, his hand lingering on
her thigh, her hip.
The painful constriction in his jeans made him
pause a moment longer than he wanted.
Hell, he had to get away from
her before he made a damn fool of himself and couldn't walk.

Her hand brushed against his, trying to
dislodge his hold, but her fingers got tangled up with his, and
Trace raised his gaze to hers, surprised to note a slight flush
across her cheeks, the sparkle in her dark eyes.
Her lips parted as
she panted slightly in the still morning air.

"I could have done that myself," she snapped,
embarrassed at the reaction her body betrayed her with.

Slowly he pulled his fingers from hers,
reached out and handed her the reins.
He spun on his heel and
headed for his own mount.

"Part of the job, ma'am." Dammit, he was
playing with fire tangling with this lady.
He'd learned his lesson
a long time ago.
And learned it well.
He wouldn't let long-dormant
sexual awareness blind him to all good sense.
This woman was
nothing but a problem.
Someone to get rid of as soon as he could.
He wanted her land.
Nothing else.

Maybe a couple of nights in her bed.

The insidious thought came uninvited,
unexpected.
His entire body tightened in anticipation at the
thought.
Clenching his teeth hard, he stepped up into his saddle
and settled in.
Reseating his hat, he nodded for her to start.

Kalli turned her horse and rode quietly from
the barn, pausing in the yard, waiting for Trace to join her.
When
he pulled up beside her, she studied him uncertainly, trying to put
the incident behind her.
He appeared to have seen nothing
unexceptionable in her behavior.
And she wanted to keep it that
way.

"Which way do we go?
I want to see it
all!"

He nodded toward the right and they started
off.

"I almost didn't come here, you know," she
said as her gaze darted avidly in all directions.
She turned from
time to time to look behind her, wanting to see everything.

"How's that?"

"I had an offer for the place, from a
neighbor, the Flying Cloud Ranch.
My parents pressured me to
accept.
It's been ten years or so since I've been here.
But I
remembered how much I loved it.
I always wanted to live here with
Uncle Philip, but then I got caught up in nursing and just never
found time to come back.
I've read every western that's ever been
written, from Zane Grey to Louis L'Amour to Larry McMurtry.
And I
have over seventy tapes of western movies, from Shane to Silverado
to Lonesome Dove.
God, after inheriting this I just couldn't stay
in Boston."

It was even worse than Trace thought.
She was
some starry-eyed romantic who thought ranching was like a
storybook.
"It's not like you see in the movies," he warned.
"You'd
do better to accept my offer, stay a while, then return to
Boston."

She was silent for a moment.
Had she heard
him correctly?

"Your offer?
You own Flying Cloud Ranch?
You're the one who wants to buy me out?" she asked in
disbelief.

He nodded.

"You have a hell of a nerve coming here and
pretending to help me out when all along you're trying to get my
property!"

"You asked me to stay," he reminded her.

"No wonder you told me I don't belong
here—"

"You don't belong here," he interrupted.
"You're some starry-eyed romantic city girl who thinks the wild
West is alive and waiting to fulfill your fantasies.
As soon as the
novelty wears off, you'll leave so fast it’ll make your head spin.
I'll try to keep you from running the place into the ground before
you leave."

He knew he'd have his hands full convincing
her to give up the place.
She looked like a kid in a candy store,
excited, happy, fascinated.
It would be up to him to show her how
hard life on a ranch really was, to convince her to sell.
To
him.

For a long moment he didn't like the idea.
She was so happy, he felt almost mean planning to drive her away.
Yet he had to convince her to leave.
Give it up, sell and return to
Boston.
He wanted the land, needed this ranch to expand his
holdings.
He didn't have time for some city woman who fantasized
about ranch life.

"You won't stay," he said, knowing he'd make
sure, no matter how much her body called to his.
When it came time
for him to marry again, it would be to one of his own kind, a
Wyoming woman born and bred, with a similar heritage, similar
outlook and joint future.

God, be wasn't thinking of marrying again!
He'd already tried that once, with disastrous results.
He'd been
without sex for too long if just being around this woman kindled
thoughts like that.

"I will stay, Trace Longford.
I've wanted
this all my life.
This ranch was given to me as a gift, and I will
treasure it.
I don't want your help.
I'll find another foreman.
But
nothing's going to drive me away." With that, Kalli settled her hat
firmly and kicked her horse, taking off across her ranch.