Only Hers (6 page)

Matt leaned down until their noses were an inch apart. Shannon quelled the impulse to lean away. “You didn’t seem to have any difficulty liking me last night in the kitchen.”

Face flushed, Shannon stumbled backward. Her canvas shoes caught in the underbrush. With a startled cry, she felt herself falling. Matt’s hand shot out and pulled her upright against his hard chest, his other hand tunneling through her heavy mass of hair, his fingers warm and unsettling against her scalp. Her heart pounding, she stared up into glittering black eyes.

“Did you?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper of veiled hunger.

No words came. She was too busy feeling the muscular body pressed against hers. Sensations swept through her. Her mind shut down except for the narrow perimeter of the sensual outline of Matt’s lips.

Would his lips be as abrasive as his taunt or as gentle as his hands holding her? Would they take or give? Would his mustache be soft or prickly? Unconsciously digging her toes into the grass, she lifted herself upward toward temptation and the answer to her question. Her eyelids drifted shut.

Trembling lips barely touched something warm and soft and tantalizing before she was snatched away. Her eyes opened. Matt glared down at her.

Comprehension of what she had done hit her like a fist. Heat flooded her face. She had acted on impulse, a sexual one at that. If she could bottle the meadow, she could make a lot of people happy. Apparently Matt, who was holding her at arm’s length, would not be one of them.

“I’m all right. You can let me go,” she offered, pleased that her voice didn’t sound as shaky as her legs felt.

He continued to stare down at her, his stillness as unnerving as his tight face, the strange light glittering in his dark eyes. He seemed to be wrestling with his own emotions. She couldn’t blame him. He probably wasn’t sure
what she was all right from, nearly falling or throwing herself at him. Slowly, he unclamped his hands from her upper arms and bent over.

Her face heated again as he picked up her fishing pole and canvas bag, then started toward the house. She hadn’t even realized she had dropped them. Trying to ignore her trembling legs, Shannon fell into step behind him.

None of her mother’s etiquette lessons had covered the proper method for recovering graciously from throwing yourself at a man who obviously didn’t want you. From the peculiar way Matt acted afterward, he had only intended to annoy her.

Instead of being adept enough to read him correctly or strong enough to resist him, she had acted like a love-starved bimbo. If he hadn’t pushed her away . . . She bit her lower lip and refused to let her mind go any further. One thing was certain, initiating the kiss had only given more credence to Matt’s mistaken belief about her. There was only one way to let him know he was wrong.

“You can have it back as soon as I’m finished,” she offered.

Stopping abruptly, Matt swung around. “What did you say?”

Shannon pulled up short to keep from walking into him. “I—I never planned on keeping the land your uncle left me. I decided when Mr. Ferguson first told me about the meadow that it wouldn’t be right for me to accept. Nothing has changed my mind. I only plan on being here three weeks.”

His dark brow furrowed. “If that’s so, why haven’t you mentioned it before now?”

“Because you aren’t the nicest person to get along with.”

Unlike the last time she had given a similar assessment of his character, Matt appeared undisturbed. “What do you plan to do in that time?”

“Live on the land.”

“So you’re telling me you just want to live in a run-down cabin for three weeks and then you’ll sign over the place to me?”

“Yes.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. Once you get the land, there’ll be nothing I can do to stop you from selling or leasing the property.”

“You have my word.”

“Your word, huh? What if I promised you that if you renounce your claim to the meadow in writing, I’ll let you stay for as long as you want.”

She answered immediately. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

Matt nodded as if that was the answer he expected. “Neither one of us trusts the other, so it looks like we’re at an impasse.” He grasped her by the elbow and headed for the house at a faster pace. “Come on, Ferguson is waiting to see us.”

She practically ran to keep up with his long-legged stride. “Us? When did he call?”

“About twenty minutes ago.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “But how did he know I was here?”

“I told him,” Matt said.

She glanced up at the hard line of Matt’s jaw. Something wasn’t right. “Exactly when did you tell him?”

“Yesterday” came the flat reply.

She mentally called herself a naive fool for thinking for one second the stern-faced man dragging her back along a narrow path was kind. Arrogant, yes. Devious, positively. But kind, never.

“So that’s the real reason you didn’t want Octavia to disturb me. You weren’t as concerned with my rest as my not seeing Arthur Ferguson and signing the final papers before you saw him. For a little while this afternoon I thought I might have misjudged you.”

Apparently unconcerned by her opinion of him, he kept walking until he reached the side of the house where the fishing poles were kept. Without a glance in her direction,
he replaced the gear, then dropped the canvas bag on the back porch steps.

Incensed at being ignored and duped, she put her hands on her hips and stepped in front of him. “It appears I was wrong.”

“I never implied any different,” he finally replied. Walking around her, he went to the front of the house where a dusty black truck was parked and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Shannon folded her arms across her chest. “I prefer to drive my own car.”

The door slammed shut. “Suit yourself, but you better be in Ferguson’s office in thirty minutes.”

Outraged, she snatched her arms to her sides. “I can’t possibly get cleaned up and drive to town in that short a time.”

“Look, la—
Miss.
I have a ranch to run in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t have time to sleep half the day and fish the other half.” Brushing by her, Matt went around the end of the truck and got in.

She was right on his heels. “Sometimes I can’t believe Wade was related to you.”

“Sometimes neither could he.” He started the motor and drove off leaving her staring after him.

“Where is she?” Matt tossed over his shoulder as his booted foot struck the hardwood floor of Arthur Ferguson’s office. “I know she’s anxious to stake her claim.”

Watching Matt over tented fingers pressed against his beaklike nose, Ferguson continued to rock back and forth in his chair behind his desk. “You said she had to get dressed.”

From beneath thick black lashes Matt shot Arthur a quelling glance. “Might have known you’d make excuses for her.”

The lawyer’s pensive expression never altered. “I’m merely making an observation. Like most women she probably just wants to make a favorable impression.”

“She’d look good in a feed sack and she knows it,” Matt blurted in rising irritation. “She just wants to annoy me.”

Ferguson stopped in midrock backward and sat up straighter in his chair. His vague gaze of a moment ago was replaced by one of keen speculation. “Ms. Johnson sounds more interesting by the moment.”

“Why?”

“In the years that I’ve known you since you came to live with Wade, I’ve never heard you compliment a woman or known you to let one take more than a fleeting thought in your mind. This one has done both.”

“This one is trying to steal my heritage,” Matt told him.

“I wouldn’t jump to such a conclusion until you have all the facts, Matt,” Ferguson said, and went back to rocking, all the time watching Matt as if seeking the answer to some difficult puzzle. “This is not her fault.”

“Whose is it then? I need every cent to keep the ranch running until the beef can be sold in two months. I’m not paying off some little gold digger. The only thing I don’t understand is why my uncle didn’t want the bequest known to me until she and I were together.”

“I’m sure he had good reasons.”

Matt snatched aside the gauzy curtain on the office window and looked outside. “Yeah, I’ll bet. I don’t like the idea of meeting his lady friend this way.”

A frown wrinkled Ferguson’s deep-brown forehead. “There’s no reason for that kind of talk. Wade Taggart was an honorable man.”

“He was a man,” Matt said flatly, remembering his own body’s reaction to Shannon. Explosive.

When he’d baited her near the stock tank he had expected her to go prim and proper and indignant on him. Instead, she had looked at his mouth with a curious longing in her bottomless brown eyes. He felt himself falling in their glittering depth with nothing to grasp except her. A mistake. Her smooth, satiny skin was even more of a lure. Desire coiled through him as he watched
her lips soften, part. Watched her long lashes flicker, then close.

He could have stopped what happened next, but he found himself as curious about her taste as she apparently was about his. It was a mistake. She tasted like his dream. A dream he was unaware of until Shannon’s lips had touched his and made him want like nothing he had ever experienced. But life had taught him wanting wasn’t enough and dreams had a way of turning into a living nightmare.

It had taken considerable willpower to push her away. Seeing the unbanked passion in her face, he had been tempted to damn the consequences and kiss her as her mouth and body begged to be kissed. Deep and hungry and forever. Instead, he had walked away because one kiss would never be enough with Shannon.

But the familiar heat in his loins didn’t go away. Taking a deep breath, he continued to stare out the window. If he had to fight his own hunger, how could he have expected Wade to have resisted a woman whose sensuality was as much a part of her as her pretense of innocence and kindness?

His gullible uncle hadn’t stood a chance against a grasping, seductive woman like Shannon Johnson. But this time she wasn’t up against a man who would gladly give his last cent to any woman in need.

During the time his uncle was in the hospital, Shannon must have discovered Wade’s weakness for helping women and used it to her advantage. The only thing Matt couldn’t figure out was why she had taken so long to try to collect.

Scanning the two-lane street for her car, he finally spotted her convertible. The dark-blue Allante pulled into the space across the street from the law office. He glanced at his watch. 4:10 P.M. Fifteen minutes late.

The car door swung open. A pair of long, shapely traffic-stopping legs swung into view. Three-inch pale-yellow heels met the street seconds before Shannon stood and turned to face him.

Air hissed through Matt’s clenched teeth. Involuntarily his hand fisted in the curtain. He damned Shannon Johnson as his body absorbed the full impact of her beauty.

Dressed to the hilt in a designer, figure-flattering pale-yellow suit, she looked elegant and beautiful and sexy. Barely four inches of material separated the hem of her skirt from the hem of the midthigh sculpted jacket. Without a woman’s usual self-conscious swipe at her hair or her clothes, she headed for the street crossing.

Head high, she didn’t appear to notice the people around her slowing down for a good second look. The women might be scoping out the clothes or the hairstyle, but Matt knew very well why the men were practically drooling. The same reason he was having trouble taking his eyes off her. She was a walking fantasy.

Releasing the curtain, he turned away. “Maybe I should be thankful Wade only gave her the meadow,” he muttered.

“What was that?” Ferguson inquired.

“Shannon Johnson just arrived.”

A knock sounded on the door, then a middle-aged woman entered. “Ms. Johnson is here.”

“Show her in, Helen,” the lawyer told his secretary and stood, straightening the slightly wrinkled gray suit jacket.

Shannon entered the office with a smile on her face and a subtle scent of an exotic floral perfume. Diamonds winked in her ears. Matt watched Ferguson’s lower jaw become unhinged and knew Shannon had just scored points.

“Ms. Johnson, I’m glad you finally decided to come,” Ferguson said.

“Thank you, Mr. Ferguson. I just wish it didn’t have to be under these circumstances,” she said softly.

Matt snorted. Her gaze sought him out. If he didn’t know better he would have thought the sadness in her eyes was genuine.

The lawyer cleared his throat in the ensuing silence. “I believe you two are already acquainted.”

“Yes, we are.” Shannon gave her attention back to the lawyer. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not at all.” Ferguson patted the soft hand in his he had yet to relinquish. “Please sit down. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“No, thank you.” Taking the indicated chair in front of the antique wooden desk, she folded her hands over her small handbag. “I’d like to get this over as soon as possible.”

“I told you she was anxious, Arthur.” Matt strode across the small office and placed both hands on the arms of her seat. “What’s the matter? Your last man woke up and now you need help in keeping yourself in the style you’re accustomed to? On your salary you couldn’t afford those clothes, the diamonds, and certainly not the Cadillac.”

Her harsh intake of breath cut through the air.

“Matt, Ms. Johnson has been through enough in the past months without your adding to it,” Arthur defended.

Straightening, Matt swung to the lawyer. “How would you know what she’s been through?”

“I—”

“We’re here to hear what Wade wanted, nothing more,” Shannon interrupted, cutting off Ferguson.

The lawyer looked for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but at the almost imperceptible shake of Shannon’s head, he clamped his lips shut. Going behind his desk, he took a seat, opened his desk drawer, then took out a heavy brown folder.

Their silent communication only gave more credence to Matt’s belief that Shannon used her beauty and her aura of sadness to make fools of men. He wasn’t going to be one of them.

“You’re something else,” he said, his eyes hard. “I bet your family is real proud of the way you turned out.”