Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance) (13 page)

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Authors: Pamela BAUER

BOOK: Mail Order Cowboy (Harlequin American Romance)
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Before Hannah could argue the point, Gabby gushed, “Why, how very sweet of you to worry about our reputations, Wood.”
“I wouldn’t want to make you the subjects of any gossip,” he said nobly.
“I hadn’t thought about that, had you, Hannah?” Gabby asked.
“You ought to know by now, Gabby, that I really don’t care what anyone says about me,” Hannah answered, her eyes meeting Wood’s in a challenge.
“But I do care,” Wood insisted. “I’ll not be the reason for your reputation being sullied.”
It had been a long time since any man had worried about her reputation. Hannah should have pointed out to him that the women’s movement was supposed to have freed women from the need for such a defense. To her surprise, however, she found his chivalrous attitude endearing, not irritating.
Once again he found a way to touch her emotionally, and she didn’t like it one bit. She shrugged, trying to sound indifferent as she said, “Very well. Stay in the bunkhouse.”
Wood could see that she was annoyed with his response to her invitation. When she left without him, slamming the screen door as she departed, he decided not to go after her, but to stay behind and talk with Gabby.
“I believe I’ve annoyed her,” he remarked when they were alone.
Gabby grinned. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
Puzzled, Wood asked, “You think it’s great that she was annoyed?”
“Well, sure! It means she cares what you do, and that’s a good sign, don’t you think?” There was a sparkle of satisfaction in her eyes.
“Gabby, are you deliberately talking in riddles?”
She came over and stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders in a reassuring gesture. “You don’t know Hannah the way I do. Our plan is working. She likes you, Wood.”
“She doesn’t behave as if she does.”
“That’s because she doesn’t want you to know that she’s attracted to you.”
“You think she fancies me?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one else is looking. Take my word for it, Wood. Hannah’s crazy for you,” she whispered close to his ear, then she gave him a couple of affectionate pats and retrieved the coffeepot.
Wood thought there was only one woman crazy in the Davis household and that was Gabby. What made her think she could get a man-hater like Hannah to agree to marry any man?
When she would have refilled his cup with coffee, he stopped her. “No, I’ve had plenty.”
“Okay.” She returned to her place at the table, looking as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “By the way, Vivian called from the library and said the books you wanted are in. I vouched for you so you could get the books.” She took a sip of coffee, then said, “You should have told me you were interested in local history, I’d have shown you those diaries that Jeremy’s looking at for his project.”
Wood hadn’t wanted to involve Gabby in his search for the past, not when there was the risk that he would come across information that would incriminate him in the murders of George and Mary Nelson.
“I appreciate the offer, Gabby, but you’ve already been so kind I can’t ask for such a favor.”
“Of course you can. Another place you can look is the historical society over in Creston. I could drive you there.”
Wood knew that Hannah didn’t want Gabby driving anywhere.
“And speaking of driving, has Hannah mentioned giving you lessons?” she inquired.
He shook his head. “I don’t believe she has the time.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can teach you. There’s really not much to it.”
Having ridden with Hannah in the pickup, Wood knew Gabby understated the difficulty.
“First you need to pass a written test. We can probably pick up a driver’s manual at the courthouse on our way to the historical society. And you’ll need identification.”
“What kind?”
“I imagine a birth certificate.”
Wood wondered if public records dated back to 1852, the year he was born. “I’m afraid I lost that a long time ago.”
“I’m sure there’s a way to get a copy of it. Nowadays everything’s done by computer. One phone call and—” she snapped her fingers “—it’s here. Do you know the name of the hospital where you were born?”
“I was born at home,” Wood told the truth.
“Oh! That could be a problem. I’ll call Clara over at the courthouse and find out what you need to do.” She scooted over to the telephone and was about to call when Wood stopped her.
“Gabby, I don’t want to trouble you over this.”
“It’s no trouble, Wood.” Again there was that innocence in her face.
“Learning how to drive isn’t why I’m here.”
“I know that, but you might as well do it. If you’re anxious over taking a test, don’t worry about it. Half the kids in the county drive without a license. The trick is not to get caught.” She winked at him. “I’ll take you out on the back roads and let you practice.”
“All right. You can give me a few lessons, but no license. Not yet.” Once he knew how to drive the car, he could go to the historical society on his own. He needed answers and he needed them soon. Life with the Davis women was getting much too complicated.
 
“WHEN YOU’VE FINISHED with that, I’d like you to sweep out the grain bins. The corn should be ready for harvest next week.”
Wood turned at the sound of Hannah’s voice and saw her approaching, her skintight trousers having their usual effect on him. If he wasn’t already in a sweat, he would be soon. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact that one look at her could make his blood pump as if he were running uphill.
“Just show me what needs to be done,” he called out, keeping his eyes on the pitchfork as he continued to sling hay over the fence.
“Did you feed Wilbur?”
He glanced across the corral and saw the pig was slowly ambling toward him. “I’ll get it as soon as I’m done here,” he answered, pausing to lean on the handle of the pitchfork. He couldn’t resist staring at the picture she made with her tight trousers and her bosom-hugging shirt. If he didn’t keep his mind focused on what needed to be done, he could easily be distracted by her beauty.
“Fine. Come over to the equipment shed when you’re finished.” Her voice was cool, making him think that Gabby had to be wrong. Hannah was not thinking of him as anything but a hired hand. “By the way, I turned on the fence so be careful,” she added, then started toward the machinery shed.
Turned on the fence?
He was about to ask her what she meant when Wilbur snorted. Wood stuck the pitchfork in the bale of hay, then stepped closer to the wire fence.
“Come here, boy,” he called out to the pig. He slipped a hand through the wire and the next thing he knew he was flat on his back on the ground. Hannah’s face was over his, filled with anxiety as she cradled his prone figure in her arms.
“Wood! Talk to me! Are you all right?” she called out frantically.
“What happened?”
“You touched the electric fence. Didn’t you hear me say I had turned it on?”
He grimaced. “You’ve got electricity running through that thing?”
“Fifteen hundred volts.”
“Is that a lot?”
“Enough to give a person a good jolt, but I’ve never seen it throw anyone off his feet.”
Still stunned, he asked, “I’m not dead, am I?”
“No, you’re going to be okay. It’s just that your body’s had a shock, that’s all,” she answered sympathetically.
Wood’s body tingled, reminding him of how he had felt when he awoke after the time travel. “What year is it?”
“1998.”
He sighed. He hadn’t gone back in time. But he hurt. All over. “Are you sure I’m not dead?” he said on a moan.
She pinched his cheek. “Can you feel that?”
“Feel what?” he pretended not to notice her touch.
A moment of panic flashed in her eyes until she realized he was fooling her. “Don’t scare me like that.”
He liked the look of tenderness on her face and he especially liked being in her arms. “It hurt like hell.”
“I know. I’ve done it myself, although I still don’t understand why it knocked you to the ground. I wonder if I should have someone come check it. Maybe there’s more current going through it than there should be.”
“There’s obviously too much for a man.” He grimaced as he tried to move.
“You are okay, aren’t you?”
He was tempted to say no, for he enjoyed seeing the tender, caring side of Hannah Davis. “I’m okay,” he told her, carefully sitting forward.
“You make a good nurse. You have a gentle touch.”
She released him abruptly, as if suddenly embarrassed that she had been holding him, shoving her hands into her pockets.
He held his hands out, palm upward. “Don’t put your hands away. Put them here, on mine.”
When she hesitated, he said, “Go ahead. I want to show you something.”
She placed her hands directly over his, leaving about an inch between their palms.
“Go on. Set them on mine,” he urged.
She did as he instructed, then met his eyes. “They’re tingling.”
“As are other parts of my body.” It was true. Wood felt as if every part of him tingled and not from the electricity that had coursed through his body. There was no longer any point in pretending. He wanted Hannah.
“Touch me here.” He brought one of her hands to his chest and placed it against the pocket of his chambray shirt. “Can you feel it?”
“Your heartbeat is racing.” She held his gaze. “It must be from the electrical shock.”
He knew if he were wise, he’d agree. But he wasn’t wise. He was entertaining foolish notions. “You’re the reason it’s thumping as if it wants to punch a hole in my chest. It was doing that before I ever grabbed the fence. All it took was for you to walk toward me in those trousers.”
She sat back on her heels. “That is not the proper way to talk to your boss, Wood.”
It was a weak-hearted protest. He knew it and she knew it.
“There are times when a gentleman must not worry about propriety,” he murmured.
“And this is one of those times?”
“I do believe it is.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re a lady in distress.”
She chuckled. “You’re the one who’s in distress, and I’m not a lady. I’m your boss. Remember?”
“All I see is a lady. A beautiful lady.” Before she could utter another word, he had pulled her to him, his mouth urgently seeking hers in a hungry kiss that told her in no uncertain terms did he care that she was his boss. Nor did it matter that she hated men or that she was a woman from another century. All he could think about was the desire stirring in his loins.
Wood savored the taste of her, his tongue searching the interior of her mouth as she opened her lips, inviting an intimacy he hadn’t expected. Although she felt tiny and fragile in his arms, there was nothing delicate about the way she made him feel. Or the way her hands drifted across his shoulders to his chest, toying with the buttons on his shirt until they worked their way inside to his warm flesh.
When he pushed her back against the ground, her voice was husky as she said, “This could be dangerous. Now I’m tingling, too.”
He could see by the gleam in her eyes that she was teasing him, and he liked it. Gone was the tough, independent female boss. In her place was a sexy, self-confident temptress.
Once more he covered her mouth with his, amazed by the intensity of feelings she aroused in him. As the kiss lengthened, she pressed closer to him, her body soft and warm next to his. Wood loved the way she felt in his arms. She filled his senses, intoxicating him until all he could think about was touching her in every soft, sweet place he could find.
Whimpers of pleasure emerged from her throat as his hands molded her to him, sliding over her hips in a tantalizing exploration that had her arching toward him. With a boldness that came as no surprise to Wood, Hannah began her own intimate exploration. Fingers that had traced circles on his chest now made a descent down his abdomen. When they slipped inside the waist of his jeans, he could feel his self-control slipping away.
The jolt from the fence seemed like nothing compared to the current of desire that arced through him as she teased and tempted him. Wood couldn’t get enough of her, the taste of those sweet lips, the smell of her orange scented hair mixed with the fresh aroma of hay.
She didn’t stop him when his hand moved between them to her breast. Through the knit fabric of her shirt he could feel the nipple press against his palm. With each stroke, she purred in delight, pressing herself unashamedly against his throbbing hardness.
He lost all sense of time and place. All that mattered was the woman in his arms. When her hands moved inside his jeans, he didn’t know how he would bear the excruciating pleasure.

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