Caitlin tossed the damp towel aside and ran her fingers through her hair.
But Jonas had been the real reason the week had been so awful. He’d been as snappish as a bear with a thorn in its paw ever since he’d had that meeting with Tyler Kincaid.
“Is something wrong?” Marta had asked him gently, just last night.
“Wrong?” he’d snarled. “Why do women plague a man with questions? Why should anything be wrong?”
And that, Caitlin thought as she opened her closet, that was a question in itself.
The things that had gone wrong this week were minor, when you came down to it. On a spread the size of this one, accidents were bound to happen. In fact, now that she reconsidered, it hadn’t been such a bad week at all, except for Jonas’s sour disposition.
Actually the week had been pretty good.
Tyler Kincaid was gone. Really gone. No last-minute attempts to confront Jonas again, or to see her. Well, why would he try to see her?
No reason. None at all. A good thing he hadn’t, because she’d have refused to see him. The nerve of the man, to have sneaked himself into a job at Espada, just so he could try to sell Jonas some snake-oil proposition.
“Man wanted me to buy into a deal so full of holes I just laughed in his face, when he told me about it,” was all Jonas would say, but it was enough.
Caitlin blew a curl off her forehead, pulled on a pale yellow sundress with skinny little straps and a full skirt. It was too hot to wear sweats, too hot to get her dander up, thinking about Kincaid and how he’d tried to make fools of her and her stepfather, too hot to do anything except go downstairs, pour herself a tall glass of iced tea, go out on the deck with the tea and her book and take it nice and easy for the rest of the evening.
She’d never have been able to do that if Kincaid was still here.
With him gone, she could sit outside without wondering if he was watching her. She could walk down to the stables without feeling the sudden rush of heat that meant his eyes were on her. She could forget about catching a glimpse of him gentling a horse, his voice as soft and husky as it had been when he was holding her, his hands as gentle…
“Oh, stop it,” Caitlin said in disgust.
What was this nonsense? She was a woman, not a child. And a woman didn’t fantasize over a man just because he’d kissed her, especially when the memory of that kiss sent a hot lick of embarrassment rolling through her blood.
Caitlin picked up her comb and yanked it, hard, through her hair, wincing as she drove the teeth through the still-damp tangles. Then she stared at herself in the mirror.
She wasn’t a pretty sight. No makeup. Hair that looked as if it had been arranged by Little Orphan Annie’s stylist. Well, so what? She didn’t have to worry about how she looked.
There was nobody here to see her. Nobody who mattered, now that Tyler Kincaid was—
Caitlin swore, tossed the comb aside, pulled her hair back low on her neck and secured it with a rubber band. Carmen would be wondering what was taking her so long. She’d asked her to fix her something to eat more than an hour ago.
“Enchiladas, maybe,” she’d said hopefully, and Carmen had said, sí, enchiladas it would be…
“But a young woman should not spend Saturday night by herself.”
It was an old speech, abbreviated over the years to that one pithy line. Caitlin’s response varied, depending on the circumstances. This time she’d fallen back on an old standard.
“Esme should hear you say that,” she’d said, and smiled teasingly.
Carmen had not smiled in return. “Just because my daughter is foolish enough to be a women’s lubber is no reason for you to be the same,” she’d grumbled, and Caitlin had laughed and hugged her.
“It’s women’s lib, not lub. And Esme isn’t one, she’s just smart enough to know a bright woman can be perfectly happy without a man to mess things up.”
“Exactly,” Caitlin said to her reflected image.
Then she opened the bedroom door and clattered down the stairs, to the kitchen.
The house was quiet.
Caitlin paused at the foot of the steps. Well, no. It wasn’t.
She could hear sounds. Voices, coming from the kitchen. The TV set? No. She recognized Carmen’s laugh, sliding over the deeper laughter of a man.
A man, huh?
Caitlin grinned, tucked her hands into her pockets and headed toward the back of the house.
Another peal of laughter rang out. “Oh, señor,” Carmen said. The words held a girlish lilt belying Carmen’s years.
Caitlin’s grin broadened. She’d stroll in, hang around just long enough to collect her supper and give Carmen’s suitor the once-over, and then she’d make a fast exit.
“You are too kind, señor,” Carmen said, just as Caitlin stepped into the room.
“Carmen,” she said gently, “I can see that you’re definitely not a women’s lub…” The teasing words died as the housekeeper swung toward her—the housekeeper, and Tyler Kincaid.
“Good evening, Ms. McCord.”
Answer him, Caitlin told herself. Say “good evening,” or “hello,” or, better still, say, “Mr. Kincaid, you just get your tail out of this house.” But she couldn’t seem to get herself together long enough to manage anything that might even approximate a logical sentence because the sight of him simply stole her breath away.
If he’d been gorgeous before, in faded jeans and a T-shirt, he was spectacular in light tan chinos, an open-necked white dress shirt and a tweed sports jacket. She’d thought of him a thousand times during the week—what was the harm in admitting it, so long as she admitted it only to herself? She’d even dreamed about him, dreams that she didn’t like to think about once daylight came. And yet, even in those dreams, she’d somehow managed to forget that Tyler wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous.
The line from a country and western ballad whispered in her ear. Tyler Kincaid was as easy on the eyes as he’d be hard on the heart…
“Cat got your tongue, Ms. McCord?”
He was laughing at her. She could see the little glints of amusement in his eyes. Even Carmen, the traitor, was smiling, as if Caitlin had stumbled on some wonderful prize hidden inside a piñata.
“Mr. Kincaid.” Caitlin drew herself up. “Mr. Kincaid, at the risk of sounding like a bad cliché, what are you doing here?”
“Why, Ms. McCord, I’m disappointed.” He regarded her steadily, his expression polite. “Have you forgotten our date?”
“Our…?” Caitlin put her hands on her hips. Really, the man was impossible. “We have no date.”
“Of course we do. Saturday night? Dinner?” He frowned, glanced at his watch, which was either the real thing or the best Rolex imitation she’d ever seen. “I have to admit, I couldn’t recall whether we’d agreed on a time but I figured, well, seven-thirty would be just about right.” He raised his eyes to hers. “You look beautiful.”
The compliment was the kind a man like him would toss out all the time, but it made her feel giddy. And that, in turn, made her angry.
“Do you really think you can—you can just march in here and get your own way?”
He grinned. “She’s not very hospitable,” he said to Carmen, “is she?”
“She is surprised, señor,” Carmen said politely, “that is all.”
It wasn’t all, not by a long shot. The housekeeper flashed Caitlin a look and reminded her, in a staccato burst of Spanish, that she had been raised to have better manners. Caitlin thought about pointing out that Tyler Kincaid, for all his good looks, didn’t seem to let a thing like good manners stop him from going after what he wanted, but the smile on his face told her he was enjoying the performance and she wasn’t about to prolong it for his benefit.
“I can see you’ve made a convert of Carmen, Mr. Kincaid, but that’s just because she doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
The housekeeper threw up her hands and stalked from the room. Caitlin headed in the opposite d
irection.
“I’ll see you out.”
She heard his footsteps as he fell in behind her. Was it really going to be this easy? she thought…and got her answer when she opened the front door and he reached out and shut it.
“Dammit,” she said, swinging toward him, “must I draw you a picture? My stepfather will have you drawn and quartered, if he finds you here.”
Tyler grinned. “Really.”
“Yes, really. Honestly, Kincaid—”
“Honestly, McCord, it’s getting late. Do you need a wrap? If you do, get it, please, and let’s go.”
“Do you have a hearing problem, Kincaid? We are not having dinner. Not together, anyway.”
“You disappoint me,” he said softly. “I didn’t think you were afraid to cross your stepfather.”
“Afraid? Me?” She snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You want to talk about being afraid of Jonas, mister, let’s talk about you.”
Tyler laughed. Well, why wouldn’t he? What a dumb thing to have said, she told herself furiously. He’d never be afraid of any man, or of anything.
“I guess you can hear my knees knocking, huh?”
“Go ahead, laugh. You won’t be laughing when I call down to the bunkhouse and have some of the men throw you out.”
“Don’t,” he said. He was still smiling, but his eyes had turned cool. “They’re a nice bunch of guys. I’d hate to have to hurt any of them.”
Caitlin opened her mouth, then shut it. She’d been on the verge of telling him how conceited that sounded, but he was probably right. No one would be able to stop him, if he set his mind to something.
“Look,” she said, “this is silly. You were told to pack your gear and go.”
“I left because there was no further reason for me to stay.”
Caitlin couldn’t hold back her surprise. “But Jonas said—”
“Whatever story he told you was a lie. I came to see him. Well, I saw him, and I left.” A smile angled across his mouth. “And now I’m back for our date.”
“We don’t have a date.”
“Of course we do. I asked you to have dinner with me tonight.”
“And I turned you down.”
“Are you afraid of me, McCord?”
Caitlin looked at Tyler. He was smiling again, but there was something in his eyes that made her heartbeat quicken. Yes, she thought, yes, I am afraid of you. Of what you made me feel, when you touched me. Of what I might feel again…
“Cait?”
No one ever called her that. The name sounded strange—but it sounded right, as if it were something special between them, a shining new link that bore his imprint.
Her heart stuttered again. Stop it, she told herself. Stop being such a fool.
“No,” she said coolly, “of course not.”
“Have dinner with me, then.”
“I already said I wouldn’t, Kincaid. What’s the sense of making this into some childish game, where you dare me, and I double-dare you…”
She fell silent as he closed the distance between them.
“Take the dare,” he said softly. He looked at her mouth, and she could feel her lips part as if he’d run his finger over them.
“Kincaid…”
“My name is Tyler.” He reached out, threaded his hand into her hair. The rubber band came loose and he pulled it free. Her hair felt just as he’d remembered, like fluid silk against his skin. “Say my name, Cait.”
“Tyler.” Her tongue felt thick. “Tyler, please. You have to leave.”
He clasped her face in his hand, bent his head and kissed her. His mouth was hot and hungry and she moaned softly before she twisted her face away.
“Caitlin.” He brought her face to his, tilted it so their eyes met. “I want you,” he said roughly. “In my arms. In my bed.”
“Don’t,” she said breathlessly. “Please. Don’t say things like that.”
“I thought of you all week, of how it would feel to taste your skin, to be inside you.”
His words were raw, and so were the images they conjured. She saw herself lying in his arms, saw him kneeling between her thighs, felt him touching her.
Caitlin began to tremble. Push him away, she told herself. Hit him. Kick him. Do all those clever things you were telling yourself you should have done when he kissed you that last time…
He kissed her. It was a kiss she knew a man might give a woman as she lay beneath him. He slipped his tongue between her lips, moved it against hers, drew her close so she could feel the heat and the hardness of his aroused flesh.
A moan broke from her throat. The room seemed to spin; they were at its center, caught in a whirling kaleidoscope of colors.
“Cait,” he whispered, and cupped her breast.
She felt her heart beating against his palm.
“Cait,” he said again, and this time she looked up into Tyler’s face. What she saw there was exciting. Incredibly exciting. His green eyes were so dark they were almost black, and filled with the promise of the pleasure he would bring her if she went to bed with him…
If she went to bed with him? With this stranger, who’d come onto Espada and into her life as if he were one of the conquistadors who’d invaded this land in centuries past, claiming both it and her for his own?
Caitlin wrenched free of Tyler’s embrace.
“I’m sure that macho performance holds appeal for some women, Kincaid.” Her blood was still pounding in her temples but her voice was icy. She lifted her chin and fixed him with the kind of look that would make even old Abel take notice. “But I am not ‘some women.’ I don’t like to be mauled, or told what to do, and if you came here tonight thinking I was going to fall at your feet in a swoon, you’re in for a disappointment.”
He looked back at her in silence, his expression unchanging except for a tiny muscle that knotted and unknotted in his cheek.
“Hell,” he said, with a little smile, “I think I’d have been more disappointed if you had.”
Was he giving up that easily? Not that she was sorry. Of course, she wasn’t sorry. Caitlin smiled politely and stepped back.
“In that case, Kincaid—”
“In that case, McCord,” he said, and before she could shriek or scream or even protest, he scooped her off the floor, tossed her over his shoulder and headed into the night.
CHAPTER SIX
CAITLIN got her voice back, but by then it was too late. Tyler had already carried her down the steps, to his car.
“Kincaid,” she shouted, “are you nuts?”
“Probably.”
He sounded amused, damn him. Amused, while she dangled over his shoulder, facedown, like a sack of laundry.
“Put me down,” she demanded, pounding her fists against his back. “Damn you, Kincaid, put—me—down!”
“Your wish is my command,” Tyler said, and dumped her into the leather seat of something big and expensive-looking. A Land Rover? A Navigator? As if it mattered, she thought, blowing the hair out of her eyes. As if it really, honestly, for-a-minute made a difference if you were kidnapped by a man who drove an ultrapricey Sports Utility Vehicle when he hadn’t even had wheels a few days ago.
She made a lunge for the door. Tyler, already behind the wheel, pulled her back and buckled her seat belt, dodging her flailing hands, then giving a nod of satisfaction when he had her trapped and trussed like a chicken ready for the roasting pan.
“Okay,” he said, and turned the key. The engine roared to life. He put it in gear, let out the clutch and the SUV sped down the gravel road that led away from the house.
“I am not a fan of macho behavior,” she said coldly.
“How about barbecue?” Tyler’s hands flexed on the wheel. “You a fan of that?”
Caitlin blinked and looked at him. “A fan of…?”
“Barbecue. Ribs so sweet, they melt in your mouth. Sweet potato pie. Pulled pork.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh of pleasure. “Fantastic. But if you’d rather have Pacific Rim—”
“Pacific…?”
“Rim. Hasn’t it reached Texas? It’s food with an Asian feel. Not Chinese, not Japanese—”
“I know what Pacific Rim cuisine is, Kincaid.” Maybe he really was nuts. Maybe it made sense to treat him with care.
“In that case, which do you prefer?”
He smiled politely, as if he hadn’t just kidnapped her from her own home, hadn’t just kissed her until she’d thought her bones would melt.
“You have to tell me, Cait. So I can phone ahead and make the arrangements.”
“The arrangements,” she repeated foolishly. Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe she was.
“Uh-huh. I didn’t know which you’d prefer, Barbecue or Pacific—”
“—Rim.”
“Right. So I have them both on standby.”
Caitlin imagined every barbecue joint in the state of Georgia, every restaurant on the Asian continent, waiting eagerly for Tyler’s phone call. She bit back a hysterical laugh.
“You’re wasting your time, Kincaid.”
“Caitlin,” he said, as if she were six instead of twenty-six, “let’s not make this into a full-blown war. I’m hungry. You must be, too. Carmen said you hadn’t eaten since noon.”
“Carmen,” she said icily, “talks too much.”
“Just pick one, okay? Pacific Rim, or—”
“I know how this works, Kincaid. You give me choices, narrow ones, but choices just the same. And I’m supposed to see that as an act of kindness, and that’s supposed to make me form an emotional bond to my captor.”
He laughed. Really laughed, and all at once the outrageous silliness of the whole thing hit her and she wanted to laugh, too.
The Taming of Tyler Kincaid Page 8
