The Texan's Diamond Bride (7 page)

Warmth slowly seeped into her cold body—life, heat finally.

She let her head fall back against the tub, her whole body immersed in blessed warmth.

He was right. This was a fabulous tub, about two feet deep and more than long enough for her to stretch out in. She let the tub fill almost to the brim, then cut off the water, rolled up a towel and put it over the rim to cushion her neck. She leaned back in absolute bliss and decided this was the best bath she’d ever had in her life.

She could have thoroughly enjoyed it if she had been able to think of anything but him. How kind he was mostly, how tenderly and gently he’d taken care of her, like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.

Which she wasn’t. She knew it.

So that kindness, the tenderness, the care…That was just…Who he was? A part of him?

Travis Foley?

No one would ever believe her if she tried to tell anyone that. At least, no one she knew.

Yet she couldn’t imagine anyone taking better care of her.

Paige let her eyes drift closed as her muscles went
slack and soft from the heat. The bathroom smelled faintly of him, a hint of spices and some indefinable thing she’d smelled when she had had her face pressed against his skin.

It was blissfully warm, the first time she’d truly been warm in days.

Her body was slowly coming back to life, her mind was filled with lazy, sensual thoughts of him. Him somewhere in this house, stripping off his wet clothes. He’d be impatient, methodical, almost mechanical, and she thought under the circumstances he’d opt for a quick, hot shower.

She groaned, imagining what he’d look like stepping into a shower, the sight of the water running down his sun-browned skin, all those lovely muscles and that dark hair on his head and his chest.

She could see his hands, lathered with soap, running impatiently up and down his body, and then see him stepping out of the shower, unselfconsciously, gloriously naked.

She wished she could be there to dry him off, taking her time, being as careful with him as he’d been with her and then pressing her body to his.

He’d kiss her hungrily, as he had that night on the ground near the mine with the storm raging, and there wouldn’t be any reason to hold back.

They were safe and warm in his house, behind a locked door, and they could shut out the world if they wanted to.

She groaned, her body remembering everything.

How was she going to forget?

Travis was just outside the door, having taken a quick shower, dressed and come back with some clothes Marta had found that might fit Paige.

He’d been getting ready to knock when he heard a soft, sexy groan from inside that stopped him cold.

“Ah, God,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against the closed door, thinking he could happily beat his head against the wall right now to stop thinking the things he was thinking, wanting the things he wanted.

All that subtle sexual tension of the ride here, carrying her inside, undressing without trying to do anything but simply undress her and get her into that tub so she could warm up. Honestly, he’d tried so hard to do nothing but that, to not make her feel uncomfortable in any way. And the whole time, he’d kept fighting the feeling that she was every bit as aware of him as he was of her. He’d thought that, but he hadn’t done anything about it.

And now, this one, small, sexy sound from her, and he knew he was right. She felt just the same.

It had been sweet torture, having her in his arms today, having her here in his house now, in his room, in his bathtub.

He’d never be able to use the room again without thinking of her there.

“I brought you some clothes,” he said. “I’ll leave them in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

Then he made himself go on. “There’s still a lot of work to be done around the ranch, to make sure the cattle are safe. I’m going out with some of the ranch hands. I’ll probably be gone all day.”

Yes, he’d just run away.

It had to be better than being here with her.

“All right,” she said, like she didn’t want him to leave her.

Damn.

“Just make yourself at home. There’s a library off the den, all kinds of books, a spare computer that Marta uses sometimes hooked up to the Internet by satellite, if it’s working right now. There’s music, a TV, movies…. Whatever you want. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You’re going to trust me, here in your house? After you caught me trespassing on your property?” she asked.

“I don’t see that I have a choice. It’s not like I can call the sheriff to come get you. He couldn’t get here anyway, and I’m sure he has more important problems to deal with right now.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And I’m more worried about the cattle and the ranch than anything you might find in this house. There really isn’t anything to find that I think would help your family against mine. Much as you like to think the entire Foley clan is out to get you and your family, always hatching some new plot against you, we’re not always doing that. I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to. I work a cattle ranch, Red. So I’ll see you tonight.”

And then he had to think of a way to get rid of her somehow.

He had to get her back to her vehicle and get her off this ranch, before he did something he couldn’t take back, something they’d both regret in time.

P
aige stayed in that tub for a long time, letting the heat settle into her from the outside in and studying the room, all cream-colored and dark gleaming wood. Plain, masculine, yet rich and elegant.

She got out and dried herself off with a giant, fluffy towel and dried her hair as best she could considering there didn’t seem to be a blow-dryer anywhere. So she put her hair in a loose braid and went out into the bedroom.

His
bedroom.

Again, she found that same color scheme, cream and dark wood, a big comfy leather chair in the corner, that same clean, masculine decor.

She’d planned on trying to simply ignore the bed, not really wanting to know what it looked like, so she couldn’t
picture him in it. But it was on the bed that she found the clothes.

Very expensive-looking suitcases, open on the bed, all full of women’s clothes.

That was interesting.

What kind of man had a house stocked with suitcases of women’s clothes?

She looked over the selection in the first big suitcase.

A young woman’s clothes. Young and shapely, she decided from the style and size of the clothing.

He didn’t have a sister. She knew that much about the family. And none of his brothers were married. Three rich bachelors from an old Texas family did not go unnoticed. She’d have heard if one of them was off the market, although now that she thought about it, hadn’t one of them been married briefly? Was it Travis? Was there some brief marriage in his past?

Paige looked through more of the clothes, many of them obviously new, still boasting their price tags. Cowgirl chic? Or someone’s idea of cowgirl chic? She finally found a fairly ordinary pair of jeans she thought would fit and a white blouse, a bit frilly with its expansive, ruffled boatneck, but it would do, she decided.

She found a light pink bra she thought would fit and then wondered, if she asked, if she could have more boxers for underwear. She really didn’t want to wear another woman’s underwear.

But then there it was, a whole overnight case full of undies, including panties of all sorts of bright colors and varying amounts of…material. Okay, not what she
would have chosen for herself, but at least they still had the tags on them, too.

She picked a pair in lavender and told herself to be grateful she wouldn’t have to run around his house without panties.

There was even a makeup case.

This woman even left her makeup behind?

Paige opened it and there, indeed, was a plethora of cosmetics, scented soaps, lotions….

Had someone left in a hurry? And not bothered to come back for her things?

Paige decided to be grateful for simple things, like a good lotion to put on her face, a bit of gloss for her dry lips and—yes!—a blow-dryer. She could have dry hair.

Dressing quickly, she dried her hair and, bracing herself, opened his bedroom door and went exploring.

His was the only bedroom in this wing of the house, but there was a locked door—probably his office, she guessed—and the library with the spare computer he’d mentioned. She’d be back there as soon as she found something to eat.

The living room was huge, a massive stone fireplace dominating the space, the furniture again oversize, all buttery-soft leather and polished wood. A glance outside the big windows lining the back of the room told her it was still miserable outside.

In the kitchen, she found a pot of soup simmering, smelling wonderful, and a note. The housekeeper, Marta, said she’d left the soup for Paige and Mr. Travis. It could simmer all day and would be fine. That Paige should feel free to help herself to anything else she
wanted from the kitchen and to make herself at home in the house. There was a number to call if she needed anything from Marta, who lived in a cottage near the main house, although phone service had been spotty since the storm hit.

Paige happily ate a bowl of soup, along with some homemade bread she found and a glass of orange juice, then decided she really couldn’t wait any longer to call her brother, who was likely half out of his mind worrying about her. She only hoped he hadn’t done anything foolish, like send someone after her, or decided to come himself.

She eyed the phone in the kitchen, but then thought if she actually got through to Blake, he’d have a million questions, and she really didn’t have any answers for him and really didn’t want him to know she was sitting in Travis Foley’s ranch house, having gotten caught in the mine by Travis.

So she chickened out and sent him a very brief text message from her satellite phone instead.

Safe. Dry. Waiting out storm. Satellite service iffy. Phone battery low. Will call when I can. Paige.

There. She hit the send button and the message seemed to go through.

Her phone rang not five seconds later.

Blake.

Paige felt bad, but she just couldn’t do it yet, couldn’t tell him she’d gotten caught and that she had no idea if she could salvage anything of their plans to find the Santa Magdalena Diamond, and there was no way she wanted to tell him anything about Travis Foley.

“Sorry,” she whispered, and shut off her phone. He’d
obviously gotten her message. He knew she was safe. That would have to be enough for now.

She went into the library to the spare computer, happy to find that the Internet connection, while slow and going in and out with the storm, worked well enough that with some patience she could at least see a few things.

The online weather forecast was grim. The remnants of the hurricane, now mostly just a huge blob of rain, was sitting right on top of them, stalled by a weather system moving in from the west. Massive flooding was possible. No one seemed to be sure when the two big weather fronts would end their standoff over the Texas Hill Country and the rain would move on.

Paige tried not to think about being stuck here for days.

She clicked over to the news. Her cousin Gabby’s marriage to her bodyguard was still making the rounds on the gossip sites. The global market for jewelry was still down, gold prices sky high, diamonds and other gems, too. Nothing new there.

Signing into her e-mail account from online, she found multiple messages from Gabby, which she skimmed quickly.

In love. In love. Life is wonderful. In love. Where are you?

Okay, Gabby was fine, just as Paige had left her.

And then a message Paige read word for word: Where did Penny disappear to? I’m telling you, Paige, something is going on with her, and it just doesn’t feel right. I think she may have finally gotten serious about a man, if you can believe that, and…well, she’s just so darned naive. I’d hate to see her get hurt.

Paige would, too. And she knew her sister was very inexperienced when it came to men. Paige was the adventurous one and by most people’s standards, she wasn’t very experienced herself. But Penny…she was downright innocent.

Paige shook her head. She typed in a quick message to Gabby, promising to try to find out what she could, then sent one to Penny, as well.

There was a short e-mail from her mother, which Paige dreaded opening but did, just to skim.

Hope you’re OK. That work is going well. Miss you. Love you. Please let me try to explain. Mom.

Okay.

More of the same from her mother, trying to explain her affair with Rex Foley.

Paige really wasn’t up to that today.

She had her own Foley man to contend with.

Travis didn’t think he’d ever spent a colder, wetter, more miserable day on the ranch, and mostly because he couldn’t stand the idea of being in his own warm, dry house with a woman. Because he didn’t trust himself there alone with her all day.

The ranch hands could have handled things easily. He knew that. They knew that. And they all knew he’d found a woman out in the storm, been stuck with her for an indeterminate amount of time and was, at first, in no hurry to be rescued. And that now she was back at the ranch and he was out here riding around in the cold and the wet with them.

They knew she was young, gorgeous and had fiery
red hair, and anything beyond that was pure speculation. But they were all speculating like mad and having a good old time of it. That he was either an idiot or that he and the woman had already had a spectacular falling-out. One or the other.

“We gonna stay out here all day or find enough sense to come in out of the rain, Boss?” Cal finally asked shortly before dark.

“Just want to make sure everything is okay,” he said.

“Everything is just fine. It was fine hours ago.”

Travis didn’t bother challenging that notion. Just said, “I don’t recall asking you to stay out here with me, old man.”

“Nope, you didn’t. Just hate to lose you again. I promised your grandfather I’d take care of you, and I thought I was doing a fine job keeping that promise. But if you don’t even have enough sense to come in out of the rain anymore—”

“Shut up, Cal,” he said.

But he turned his horse in the direction of home, and Cal followed him, not saying another word.

By the time they reached the barn and dealt with the horses, Travis was bone tired. Maybe that would be enough.

He walked into the house through the mudroom, stripped out of all of his wet clothes except his jeans, worked a towel through his wet hair as he walked in barefoot through the kitchen, as he usually did when he came in wet or muddy or both.

He nearly made it to his bedroom before he found
her,
curled up in a chair in the library in front of a
roaring fire, reading a book, an image that was like a kick in the gut, it looked so…inviting.

Coming in from a long, hard day at the ranch and finding her there waiting for him. All clean and fresh and so pretty, so sexy.

She put the book down and stood up, wearing a pair of jeans and one of his ex-wife’s blouses, something he actually found pretty. A creamy white against her flawless, pale skin and all that fiery hair, hanging long and loose around her shoulders. The blouse had big buttons up the front and then stopped in a scooped-out neckline that draped lovingly across the hint of curves at the top of her breasts. Her cheeks glowed from the heat of the fire and her eyes sparkled as she looked up at him like a woman who was glad to see him.

“You must be half-frozen,” she said. “I can’t believe you went back out into the storm today.”

“Ranch work doesn’t stop for anything. I have a million dollars worth of livestock out in that storm. I can’t ignore that. Not for anything.”

Just like he couldn’t let himself ignore who she was.

“I know. I just meant…I’m glad you’re back and safe.”

He nodded. “I’m going to take a hot shower and get dressed.”

“Marta left soup on the stove. It’s delicious. And some bread I could warm up,” she offered.

“Sounds good,” he said, then got the hell out of that room.

Yes, she was incredibly pretty and sexy.

A day’s hard ride in a cold driving rain and a tiredness that bordered on exhaustion couldn’t change that, he’d found.

What was he going to do now?

She warmed up the bread and dished out the soup to him, though he told her he could manage easily himself.

“I haven’t done anything all day except read and send a few e-mails, while you were out working,” she said. It only seemed fair that she help out a little bit. “You don’t have a live-in housekeeper?”

“I don’t need a live-in housekeeper. The house isn’t that big, and it’s just me. It doesn’t get that messy or dirty,” he said, as he poured himself a big glass of orange juice and sat down in the eat-in kitchen. “Why? You don’t think a man is capable of surviving without live-in help?”

“I’m just surprised. That’s all,” she said, sitting down at the table with him. “You seem quite self-sufficient.”

“I’m a rancher—”

“A working rancher. Not some pampered pretend cowboy who lives in a mansion and oversees his property and his livestock from afar.”

He frowned. “What the hell kind of rancher is that?”

She laughed. “The kind I thought you would be.”

“Okay, first, that is not a rancher. That’s a rich wannabe rancher. Real men despise those silly, pampered wannabes.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

“Just like we don’t have much use for spoiled, pampered heiresses—”

“Which I am not!” she insisted.

“No, it doesn’t seem like you are.”

“So, neither one of us is what the other expected,” she said.

“No, we’re not,” he agreed, not looking too happy about it.

He finished his soup, then stood up and took his empty bowl to the sink to rinse it and put it in the dishwasher, then opened up the refrigerator and said, “Now, let’s see what we have for dinner.”

“Dinner? You just ate.”

“That was a snack to us working men, Red.”

Marta had left him a big, thick steak soaking in some kind of marinade, which he grilled himself on the stove in no time, along with a big potato he put in the microwave. When everything was done, he dug into the meal.

She stayed with him, not eating, but enjoying the company, thinking it could get lonely in a place like this, wondering about the woman who’d left all the clothes behind, if it was the isolation of the ranch that had gotten to her.

“So…the clothes? There’s practically a whole wardrobe there, a lot of it things that were never even worn,” she began, wondering what she could get out of him about this subject. “You just keep things around? In case women this size show up, half-drowned and with no clothes of their own?”

“Ex-wife,” he told her. “When she decided she was ready to go, she went.”

“Without even taking her clothes?” Paige wasn’t a
clotheshorse by any means, but she couldn’t imagine just walking out on a whole wardrobe, either.

“She had plenty of clothes. The woman thought shopping was a vocation.”

“So, the relationship didn’t end well?” she tried.

He laughed, not all that happily. “No, it did not end well.”

“And you don’t talk about it?” She was altogether curious about the kind of woman he’d marry and the kind who’d walk away from him.

“It wasn’t a particularly enjoyable experience,” he said. “What do you want to know? I met her. She was young, pretty, flirty and dressed to show off all her curves. Maybe I was blinded a bit by that. We got together fast, way too fast. Let’s just say I thought she was something she was not.”