Instead she folded her arms and stared out the window.
“If you were a Texan,” she said, each word bearing a coating of ice, “you’d know how ridiculous that question is. Barbecue, of course.”
Tyler grinned, took out his portable phone and punched a button. “Get out those ribs,” he said.
Then he stepped harder on the gas and the SUV flew into the night.
* * *
She was angry.
Tyler took his eyes off the road just long enough to take a fast look at Caitlin.
Angry didn’t do it. Angry was the understatement of the century. From the set of her jaw and the rigidity of her posture, he was pretty sure that “furious” was a much better bet.
And he couldn’t much blame her.
He’d come on to her with all the subtlety of an octopus, told her he wanted to take her to bed, and while she was still trying to come to terms with that, he’d picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of dirty linens and walked off with her.
He shifted in his seat.
Well, not exactly. He’d never describe Caitlin McCord as a sack of laundry, not with all those soft curves. She was all woman, every inch of her—and if he didn’t stop thinking that way and get his mind back on the winding, dark road, they were going to end up a statistic.
“—a date?”
He looked at Caitlin again. She was staring fixedly at the road ahead, her arms still folded across her chest and her chin up so high he wondered if she could see out the window.
Damn, she was beautiful.
“I asked you a question, Mr. Kincaid. Is this the way you normally get a date?”
She certainly had a point there. What in hell had gotten into him?
“And if it is, do you ever wonder why the woman in question is always busy when you ask her out again?”
Dammit, what had gotten into him? He’d asked her out the day he’d had his confrontation with Baron. No. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. He hadn’t “asked” her, he’d told her. What difference did it make? The bottom line was that he’d shown up tonight, knowing she’d never agree to spend the evening with him.
“Dragging a woman into your cave by her hair may go over well wherever it is you come from but somebody should have warned you that it’s frowned upon here.”
“Okay, you’ve made your point.” Tyler looked at her. “I don’t normally drag my women off by their hair.”
“I am not ‘your’ woman.”
“Not yet.”
Caitlin decided not to rise to the challenge, the same as she decided to ignore the little shiver of excitement his words sent zinging down her spine.
“Look, if I came on a little strong…”
“A little strong? You came on like a tank, Kincaid. And I don’t like it.”
“Really? You could have fooled me.” He looked at her again. Her face was difficult to read in the muted glow of the dashboard lights. Still, he thought he could see the rise of color in her cheeks.
“Ditch the sarcasm, Kincaid. It doesn’t work.”
“It wasn’t sarcasm, baby, it was the truth. You want me as much as I want you. And I’ve wanted you since the moment you damn near rode me down with your horse.”
She swallowed dryly, put her hands in her lap and folded them tightly together.
“Well, here’s another truth, Kincaid. You’re wasting your evening.”
Tyler gave a soft laugh. “Really.”
“I have no intention of—of sleeping with you.”
“I’m glad to hear it, because I have no intention of sleeping with you, either.” His voice roughened. “When I take you to bed, sleep will be the last thing either of us will do.”
“My God, you’re insufferable! You’re so damned sure of yourself!” He heard the angry hiss of her breath, then the rustle of her skirt as she sat up even straighter. “I hope you enjoy your evening, Mr. Kincaid, because I promise you, it will be the last one you spend in my company.”
Tyler smiled. “When you know me better, Ms. McCord, you’ll know that it’s always a mistake to offer me a challenge.”
“And when you know me better, you’ll know that wasn’t a challenge, it was a promise.”
“Call it whatever you like.” He glanced in his mirror, turned on a signal light, and swung onto a narrow, unlit road. “What I heard was a challenge.”
“This is a really stupid conversation,” Caitlin said coldly, though her thoughts were anything but cool. The road was endless, easily as long as the one leading to Espada. Tree branches whipped by overhead, blocking out the moon. Where was he taking her? She knew every inch of this country. There wasn’t a restaurant within miles.
All at once, lights studded the darkness ahead. She sat forward and focused on the dim outline of a building.
“Is this place new? I know just about every barbecue pit in Texas,” she said warily. “And I’ve never heard of one out here, in the middle of nowhere.”
She could see the building clearly now, in the glare of the headlights. It was long and low, and if it was a restaurant, it certainly wasn’t doing very much advertising. There was no sign out front, no parking lot…
No other cars.
Caitlin swung toward Tyler.
“Okay, that’s it.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Take me home.”
“Certainly.”
He pulled up before the building and shut off the engine. Night sounds crowded around them, the buzz of a billion insects, the keening yip of a coyote.
“Kincaid.” Stay calm, she told herself. Stay calm, sound as if you’re not afraid, and he’ll take you home. Tyler Kincaid might be an enigma, but he wasn’t a barbarian. “I want to go home.”
“You are home.” He stepped from the car, went around to her side and opened the door. “Well, to be specific, you’re at my home.”
She jerked away when he reached for her but he caught her hand and linked his fingers through hers.
“Cait,” he said softly, “I live here.”
Her gaze flew to his. “Here? But when I asked Jonas, he said—”
She clamped her lips together, but it was too late. The words were already out of her mouth, he’d heard them, and the look on his face told her what a mistake she’d made.
“You asked your stepfather about me?”
“No. Of course not. Well, yes. I mean, you and he obviously had a row, and then you left, and I—and I…” Dammit! The more she said, the worse it sounded. She took a deep breath and stepped from the car. “All right,” she said briskly. “I admit, I was curious.”
“Aren’t you curious now?” He jerked his chin toward the enormous house behind them. “I am, if you’re not. I saw this place for the first time this morning.”
“You what?”
“I asked the realtor to show me some ranch property. She took me to half a dozen places but when I saw this one, I knew it was right.” He grinned. “At least, I think it’s right. It comes furnished.”
“How nice for you,” she said lamely.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So—I put a deposit on it but I’d like an honest opinion before I sign the papers tomorrow.”
“An honest opinion.” Caitlin cleared her throat. “That’s why you brought me out here? To ask me what I think of this house before you buy it?”
“Sure. What do I know about Texas ranches? I’m just a Georgia country boy, myself.”
She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Tyler Kincaid was as much a country boy as she was the queen.
“Cait? Do me a favor. Take a look.”
He wasn’t a man who asked favors of anybody, either. There was something wrong with this entire setup…but damn, she was curious. And now that she’d taken a better look at the house, that curiosity was growing.
“Is this the Wilson place?”
Tyler nodded. “Do you know them?”
“No. Well, not exactly. I came here with Jonas once, when Charlie Wilson was raising money for
his Senate run.” She sighed, tugged her hand free of Tyler’s and stepped from the car. “I don’t know what I can possibly tell you that the realtor couldn’t.”
Tyler led the way to the front door. “Well,” he said, as he opened it and turned on the lights, “for starters, you can tell me if there’s some law that says those things have to hang at the windows.”
Caitlin stared at what looked like yards and yards of deep crimson, scalloped and fringed and festooned with heavy gold fringe.
A laugh bubbled up in her throat. She bit it back and took a quick look around her. Not just crimson drapes and gold trim, but cupids and shepherdesses and naked cherubs, too.
“I’d heard that Charlie’s second wife had the place redone,” she said, and then she couldn’t help it. She snorted, snorted again, and hooted with laughter. “Oh my gosh, it’s awful!”
Tyler breathed a sigh of relief. “You can’t imagine how relieved I am to hear you say that. The realtor—”
“Who is she?”
“Lady name of Pru Barnes. Do you know her?”
“Oh, yes. I certainly do. The woman acts as if she has a stick up…” Caitlin colored. “She’s stiff-necked. Folks lay bets on what will happen, the first time she smiles.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not gonna smile around me, I can tell you that.” He crossed the room and tugged at the drapes. “I told her the place looked like a world-class bordello. For a minute, I thought she was going to faint dead away.”
Caitlin threw back her head and laughed. “I love it! I just wish I’d been here to see…Kincaid? Kincaid, what are you…”
Tyler gave a last wrench and the drapes fell to the floor in an undulating sea of crimson.
“I asked for your opinion,” he said innocently, “and you gave it. Goodbye, drapes.”
Caitlin grinned and reached for a cherub. “Goodbye, cherub?” she asked, nodding toward the enormous fieldstone fireplace that ran half the length of one wall.
Tyler folded his arms. “By all means.”
He watched as her hand closed around the ugly little figure’s fat bottom. She turned toward the fireplace and looked at it. The tip of her tongue—such a pink, delicate tongue—stuck out between her teeth.
“Really?” she said, glancing at him again.
“Really.”
Caitlin drew back her arm and hurled the cupid onto the hearth.
“Wow,” she said, whirling toward him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright, and he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her so badly that he felt the ache right through his bones.
But he didn’t move, didn’t touch her. Instead he smiled and brought his hand to his forehead in a lazy salute.
“Nice throw.”
She smiled. “I was taught by the best.”
Tyler lifted an eyebrow. “Nolan Ryan?”
Her smiled broadened. “Gage Baron. My middle stepbrother. I was ten when I came to live on Espada, and the last thing Gage or Travis or Slade wanted was a girl underfoot.”
“But they got to know you, and to like you?”
“What they got was tired to death of seeing my face. I guess they decided the only way to handle me was to take me into Los Lobos.”
“Their baseball team?”
“Their gang. The Los Lobos pack. They made me a member after my mother took off for New York—” She broke off, looked at him and flushed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you the story of my life,” she said stiffly, “when what you asked for was my opinion of those drapes.”
“I’m glad you are,” he said softly. “I want to know more about you.”
And I want to know everything about you.
The words were so clear in her mind that for a second, she thought she’d spoken them aloud. But she hadn’t. Of course, she hadn’t. She’d never say anything so foolish to any man.
“And I,” she said, with a quick little smile, “want to know more about this house. Why did you decide to buy it?”
Tyler’s smile tilted. “Land is a good investment.”
“Ranching can be a lousy investment. You’re at the mercy of the weather, the market—”
“I can afford it.”
She liked the way he said it, with no false modesty and no arrogance. “I figured that. And that makes it all the harder to understand why you came to Espada the way you did.”
“I wanted to talk to your stepfather, and to check on some things.”
“Things you thought you’d learn more about if nobody knew you were rich?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Something like that.”
Caitlin nodded. “You play things close to the vest, Mr. Kincaid.”
“As do you, Ms. McCord.”
They smiled at each other, and then his smile slipped. “Caitlin…”
“Show me the rest of the house,” she said quickly, and before he could answer, she walked rapidly around the living room, pausing to shake her head over a china figure or to roll her eyes at a painting.
“The second Mrs. Wilson seems to have had a thing for, ah, for plump naked ladies and big horses.”
Tyler laughed. “I said something like that to Ms. Barnes.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
Caitlin grinned. “Better watch out, Kincaid. Pru will take her commission, then come after you and try and wash out your mouth with a bar of soap.” She moved on, her smile fading, and paused at a bronze sculpture of a man mounted on a horse. “Oh, this is beautiful,” she said softly.
Tyler watched her run her hand over the bronze. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I have the next piece in the series in my house in Atlanta.”
“A Remington?” Caitlin looked at him and smiled. “A real one, numbered and signed like this?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders, foolishly pleased she should recognize the piece that was, in fact, the pride and joy of his Georgia collection. “So, what do you think? Do you like the house?”
Caitlin laughed and whirled in a circle. The skirt of her yellow sundress flared around her knees. She was more beautiful than the bronze, Tyler thought, and felt his belly tighten.
“I love it! It’s a wonderful house, or it will be, after you get rid of all the froufrou. Can’t you see this place done in pale oak?” She swung toward him. “In soft southwestern col—”
“What’s the matter?”
Tyler was what was the matter. While she’d been talking, he’d slipped off his jacket and rolled back his cuffs. And oh, he was so beautiful. She’d never imagined using that word to describe a man, but what other word was there that would work? That strong-boned face. The thick, dark hair, and the little whorl of it visible in the hollow of his throat. Those powerful wrists and muscled forearms…
Yes, he was beautiful, far more beautiful than the Remington. And he wasn’t unyielding bronze, either. He was muscle and bone, warm skin and hot mouth…
“So,” she said brightly, as she turned her back to his suddenly knowing eyes, “you bought the Wilson place, Remington and all.”
“Yes.” His voice was low. The rough sound of it kicked her pulse into overdrive.
“Well.” She gave a tinkling laugh, the sound painfully artificial even to her own ears. “I guess this makes it definite. You’re not a drifter, are you, Mr. Kincaid?”
“Caitlin.”
She closed her eyes as he came up behind her. She could feel the heat of his body and when he put his hands on her shoulders and drew her back against him, she knew she couldn’t go on hiding behind bad jokes, or cold words, or an anger she no longer felt.
“Don’t,” she said, in a shaky whisper. “Please, don’t. I’m not—I’m not ready to deal with this, Tyler.”
His fingers pressed into her naked flesh as he turned her toward him. She looked into his eyes and it was like standing at the edge of a precipice, when logic assures you that you’re not going to fall but something dark and deep within urges you to jump.
He put his hand under her
chin and she lifted her head. Don’t, she thought, but her lips parted…
Tyler brushed his mouth gently over hers.
“I’ll go see to dinner,” he whispered.
“Dinner,” she said, with a quick smile. “Don’t tell me you hired a cook.”
“‘Billy’s Bar-B-Que Take-Out,’” he replied, smiling back at her. “‘You Call, We Haul.’”
She laughed, grateful for the reprieve…and caught her breath as Tyler pulled her into his arms and kissed her, not gently, not as if she were made of glass, but as if he were going to take her, right here, right now, and heaven help her, she wanted him to, wanted him to…
“Find us some wineglasses,” he said softly, as he put her from him. “And then why don’t you come and join me in the kitchen?”
“Sure,” she said brightly.
Just as soon as she was sure she could walk on legs that had the consistency of jelly.
They dined on the patio, at a candlelit table with the starry sky for a canopy.
They ate their barbecued beef on translucent china, buttered ears of corn with sterling silver butter knives, drank a soft, wonderful red wine from plastic glasses.
“Plastic glasses?” Tyler said, when Caitlin produced them, and she laughed and shrugged her shoulders.
“Maybe Mrs. Wilson thought they went with the cupids and the drapes.”
Plastic or no, the wine was wonderful. So was the barbecued beef.
“Wonderful,” Caitlin said, smiling at Tyler over the last of the wine.
He grinned. “I’ll be sure and tell Billy you said so.”
Caitlin touched her fingertip to a drop of barbecue sauce left in her plate, then licked it off. Tyler’s smile tilted as he followed the simple action.
“So, what do you do? In Atlanta, I mean.”
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “This and that.”
“Ever the mystery man, huh?”
“I’m no mystery man, Cait. You can look me up in Dun and Bradstreet anytime you like.”
“Will Dun and Bradstreet tell me why you sneaked onto Espada?”
The smile fell from his lips. “I thought we settled that. I told you, I wanted to talk to Jonas. And—”
“And check things out. Yes, so you said. That still doesn’t explain why you showed up on our land, looking like a drifter.”
The Taming of Tyler Kincaid Page 9
