Texas Wildcat (6 page)

Sam sat carefully in the delicate-looking piece of furniture. He gave her a quick smile. “I haven’t heard from you lately.”

“I’ve been up to my neck with my father’s business.”

He gave a casual nod of his head. “Your father was known to be a workaholic. Are you turning into one also?” he probed.

Hattie brought the coffee and gave Sam a warm smile. “Here you go, Mr. Tyler.”

Sam took the fragile china cup in his large, callused hands. “Thank you.” He waited until the housekeeper had left. “You planning on working today?”

Kelly nodded, gesturing toward the pile of documents spread in front of her on the small table. “Unfortunately, yes.” She tilted her head. An inexplicable happiness was bubbling up within her. She could lose herself in the blueness of his eyes, in that crooked teasing smile on his sensual mouth and in the balm of his husky voice. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I kind of had other plans for you today,” he hedged, watching her carefully.

“You did?”

Sam enjoyed the sparkle that appeared in her jade eyes. She still looked pale and drawn. But that did not mar her attractiveness in the least. The impulse to simply reach over and run his fingers through her silken hair was almost a tangible urge. He forced himself back to his purpose for coming. “We figured since you’ll be coming with us on a call, someone had better acquaint you with the equipment plus other odds and ends.”

“That someone being you?”

“Any objections?”

Kelly forced a cool smile. He had given her a confident grin. One that said: of course you won’t have any objections. “Are you always so sure of yourself?”

Sam tried to look contrite. “Caught again. What do you have against a man who is sure of himself, Kelly Blanchard?”

It was her turn to quell a burgeoning grin. “Nothing…everything.”

Sam toyed with the cup of coffee between his hands. “Care to tell me more about it over lunch?”

“Is that an invitation or an order?”

“Where you’re concerned, an invitation.” His blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “You don’t give orders to redheads and live to tell about it. Strictly an invitation.”

Kelly rose, her laughter ringing down the hall. My God, how long had it been since she had laughed so freely? The thought made her suddenly sober. Embarrassed that Sam had caught her in a quixotic mood, she swept past him. “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes,” she promised.

Actually, it took twenty-five. But Sam would understand. She deliberated over what to wear—something she hadn’t done in a long time. Todd hadn’t cared what she wore as long as it wasn’t jeans or pants. But she had been raised in them. Today she fingered a pair of well-worn designer jeans. To hell with it, she decided, jeans it would be! It would be hot and muggy out in the Texas sunlight so she chose a cool apple green tanktop. Throwing her hair up in a delightful spill of curls high on her head, she knew she would be as cool as it was possible to be. The morning had suddenly brightened for Kelly. She tried not to look at the reason for her new joy. Right now there was no room in her life for another man. Todd had taught her too well….

Four

“B
oots thought it might be helpful to give you a quick lesson in the type of equipment we use at a blowout,” Sam explained, guiding her out the back door of the main office. He was having a devil of a time keeping his voice even, his eyes where they were supposed to be and his hands at his sides. Kelly was a woman in every sense of the word. He liked her easy fluid walk, the intelligent spark in her eyes and that steel-trap mind she possessed. Did she know how unique she was? He compressed his lips, wanting to convey many of his impressions about her. It might give her spirit a lift. Even with a light application of makeup she still appeared pale. His mind drifted back. His own father had died unexpectedly of a heart attack out on a drilling rig and he felt once again the pain he was sure Kelly was experiencing. Placing a hand beneath her elbow, he guided her toward the first row of spotless white equipment.

“Over here is our basic tool at a blowout. This is called an Athey wagon.” He halted near it. “Basically, it’s a sixty-foot boom and hook assembled on a set of bulldozer type tracks.”

Kelly looked up at a long arm with a huge hook at the end of it. She was wildly aware of Sam’s nearness. It was simultaneously heady, frightening and exciting. Trying to appear nonchalant, she gave a brief nod of her head. “What do you do with this ungainly looking thing?”

Sam grinned. “We use a bulldozer with galvanized sheets protecting the operator to push the Athey wagon into the fire. Once there, the hook is lowered and then we begin to pull the mangled steel debris off the platform.”

Kelly looked up at him. In the strong Texas sun, he looked incredibly masculine—a cowboy torn from a bygone era, the 1800s, and placed in this day and age. All he needed was a cowboy hat. Instead, he wore the perennial Boots and Coots white baseball cap. It was placed at a rakish angle on his dark hair, the bill protecting his narrowed eyes from the sunlight. “Is it necessary to get rid of all the rigging before you go in to put out the fire?” she wanted to know.

“Can’t start until we do. That’s why the Athey wagon is a must. After clearing away the debris from the platform and surrounding area, we use the wagon to place the explosive charges into the flame.”

Kelly shuddered. “It sounds dangerous.”

Sam smiled patiently. “Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Blowouts of any kind—with or without fire—were killers. Unconsciously, she rubbed her arms in silent disagreement. “I know you fly all over the world to put out fires. How does all this equipment get over to say, Saudi Arabia or to South America?”

“By plane,” Sam explained, leading her over to a specially built truck. “We use these trucks to load our wagons, the pumps and piperacks into the plane.”

“Do you have a plane?”

“No, the oil or gas company that calls us usually provides one. It might be privately owned or a commercial jet. Just depends upon the circumstances.”

“And inside North America?”

“We usually truck the equipment in, if possible.”

Sam took her inside the huge twelve-thousand-foot warehouse. “In here we keep our piperack skids.” He stopped at the first immaculately painted piperack. “And naturally, as you can see, Blanchard Pipe is on it.”

Kelly nodded, noting that the white twenty-foot-long pieces of pipe were neatly stacked on the outside of the unit. She was amazed at the economy and utilization of space. The inside of the until was a storehouse for large tools and parts. She poked her head inside one, finding an array of adapters, spanner wrenches, nozzles and various other tools she couldn’t identify. Sam patiently explained everything to her in layperson’s language.

Afterward, she stood at the mouth of the warehouse, her gaze traveling over the foam units, the pumps and piperacks. “It’s impressive,” she stated quietly.

Sam nodded, hands resting on his hips. “More impressive because everything you see here was designed and built by our own men at Boots and Coots.” Her eyes widened at his remark and he felt as though he might fall into their warm, inviting depths. “Remember, every man here at Boots and Coots is a specialist, Kelly. We have some who are designers, others who are ace welders, mud specialists, foam specialists. The list goes on but I don’t want to bore you with how good we are.”

Kelly grinned. “No humble pie here at Boots and Coots, is there?”

“Not a crumb. When you’re good, you’re damn good.”

“And you’re the best.”

Sam gave a satisfied nod of his head and led her back toward the air-conditioned coolness of the main office. “We get an average of sixty calls a year from around the world, so we can’t be too bad at what we do.”

“Sixty?” she murmured. Walking back into the office, Kelly took a deep breath. With the Texas humidity of the Gulf Coast region, air conditioning was always a welcome blessing. She glanced up as Sam led her out toward the front desk. “That keeps you pretty busy, doesn’t it?”

“A little,” he admitted.

She frowned. Would she like her husband to be gone that much of the time each year? Kelly caught herself. What in the world was she thinking about! Upbraiding herself, she shoved the ridiculous thought out of her head. She became aware of Sam’s hand on her arm. It provoked a pleasant tingling sensation in her arm.

“How about lunch? I’m starved.”

Kelly hesitated. She enjoyed Sam’s company. He was good for her bruised, battered spirit. Yet…

“Tell you what,” Sam added, “you haven’t been back in Texas long. How about if I take you to a good down-home place where they make some of the best ribs you’ve ever eaten? You can’t tell me you aren’t starved for some good Texas grub.”

She opened her mouth and then closed it. “Has anyone ever told you that you could sell an igloo to an Eskimo, Mr. Tyler?” she asked.

Sam gave her an irresistible look. “Just my charming personality, Ms. Blanchard.”

Kelly had to stifle a smile as she settled back in the luxury of the white Cadillac. Today she felt like a child but dare she show it? “Are you always so affable?” she demanded.

Sam gazed at her momentarily. “Usually. Why?” And then a twinkle came to his azure eyes. He leaned back and placed his right arm behind her shoulders—not touching her, but very close. He saw her eyes widen. In a deliberate motion, he briefly touched her cheek. Her skin was warm and pliant beneath his fingers. “There, does that confirm your suspicions that I’m out to get you?”

Kelly swallowed hard, alarmed at the wonderful sensation created by his fingers negligently stroking her flesh. She turned so her back was against the door and she was as far away from him as she could get within the confines of the car. “What are you talking about?” she demanded. Her voice sounded ridiculously wispy. How could his touch evoke such a physical reaction from her? Kelly felt her hands growing damp and quickly put them in her lap.

Sam withdrew his arm and studied her from beneath his thick, dark lashes. “Let’s level with one another, Kelly,” he began, his voice soft, cajoling. “I find you attractive, intelligent and damned exciting. You’re like no other woman I’ve ever met.”

Fear surged through her. “I’m not up to playing whatever games you’ve got in mind, Sam.”

“Why do you think I’m playing a game?” he asked quietly.

Kelly struggled with a number of different retorts. “You wouldn’t understand!”

“Try me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a man. And men don’t understand!”

Sam was aware of the intense emotion behind her blurted words. At that second, she looked so damned vulnerable and yet she was defiant too. Ever since he’d met her, he had searched his memory for scraps of information on her ex-husband, Todd Chandler. Todd had been an unwitting pawn of Gage Wallace’s. Chandler was known within the industry as a weakling. He was also known as a manipulator, although he lacked the finesse of a man like Wallace. As he studied Kelly, Sam wondered how Chandler had manipulated her feelings and emotions to make her distrustful of every man who might want to know her on a more personal level.

“You don’t think a man can be honest, Kelly?” he prodded gently.

She gave a stubborn shake of her head.

“Because of your ex-husband?”

Bitterness tinged her voice. “Yes.”

“Any other man cause you to see all the rest of us in such a unfavorable light?”

Her anger slowly abated. Kelly slumped back against the seat, eyes cast downward. “I owe you an apology,” she admitted quietly. And then she raised her chin and her flawless eyes met his azure gaze. “I’m jumpy, Sam. Todd wasn’t to be trusted—with anything. He took advantage of every opportunity to put me down.”

“He wanted to mold you to fit his image of the perfect wife?”

“Yes. That way, I guess I was less threatening to him.” Tears suddenly filled her eyes and she opened her hands in a silent plea. “Tell me, Sam, what is wrong with a woman trying to become her whole self? Why should I have to be a puppet or a reflection of some man’s ideals? Why can’t I be myself?”

He reached out, gently running his fingers along her shoulder in a soothing motion. “Maybe I can put it into better perspective for you, Kelly.”

She dashed the tears from her eyes. “I wish somebody would.”

He gave her a tender look. “There are two types of males in the world, honey. One type are boys who grew into adult bodies but never left their immaturity, their brittle egos or childish games behind them. They’re the type of men who see women like yourself as a decided threat.” He caressed the nape of her neck, watching her visibly relax beneath his ministrations. “They might call you a tomboy, a feminist or macho. And by doing it, they’re showing their own stunted growth.”

“But we women pay for their immaturity!”

“Yes, but you’re going to have to persevere, Kelly. What choice do you have? If you want to explore your full potential, you have to doggedly bow your head and keep going. You can’t go back to what Todd tried to mold you into. You can’t stand still. I think you’re too excited by life to stand idly by.” His heart melted as her emerald eyes shone with the light of new discovery. It thrilled him to simply sit and exchange ideas and philosophies with her. She was a woman who was passionately emotional and yet intelligent too. “Anyway,” he went on in his Texas drawl, “the second type of male is a true adult. He is a person who is comfortable with himself, Kelly. He sees the world in subtler shades of gray than the boys. That type of man enjoys a woman who is getting in touch with herself. A mature man doesn’t find a woman such as yourself a threat.” He allowed a smile to tug at his mouth. “We see life as an adventure. One that we’d like to share with such a woman….”

Kelly stared at Sam. She had the distinct feeling he was talking directly to her about how he felt. Texas men were notorious for their chauvinism. But Sam was a breed apart. “I think you’re as different and unique as I am.”

Sam smiled and brushed the back of his hand across her cheek. “We have the time to find out, don’t we?”