Tyler slipped from the examining table. The room spun a little; he shut his eyes, waited a couple of seconds, then opened them again.
It was over. His search for his identity, his quest for his roots—it was over, over and done with, and he wished to God he’d never embarked on it in the first place.
What had he learned, that could possibly make his life better? That his mother hadn’t abandoned him? Well, yeah, that was good to know—but was it really better to know he’d been abandoned, instead, by his father? That his mother had died, knowing her baby was going to be given away?
She’d died thirty-five years ago. A lifetime ago, and nothing he could do now, nothing he’d intended to do now, could change that.
Tyler walked down the silent hospital corridor.
He’d come to Texas determined to find answers, and he’d found them…but he’d found something else, too, something he’d never even known he was looking for.
And he’d lost it.
His footsteps slowed. They were still in the waiting room, the Barons and Caitlin. He paused just outside the doors. He could see them, all of them. The perfect family. Marta was seated on the couch again, smiling up at Travis and Gage and Slade. Caitlin was sitting beside her but suddenly she looked up and saw him…
Looked at him as if he were a stranger, then turned away.
Tyler began walking. His steps quickened, his shoulders straightened. What in hell was the matter with him? He hadn’t lost anything. He hadn’t found anything, either, except an old man who didn’t want him any more today than he had thirty-five years ago. As for love…Love? He laughed as he stepped out into the heat of the afternoon. What was love, anyway? A man saw a woman he wanted, he played the game, said the right things, hung around and, eventually, he took her to bed. That was exactly what he’d done with Caitlin.
If it weren’t for the stress of the last couple of weeks, he’d never have deluded himself into thinking he felt anything more than desire for her. If he ever loved a woman, it would be someone like Adrianna. Someone sophisticated. Urbane. Someone who knew the real Tyler Kincaid, the man in the Armani suits, not the guy in jeans and T-shirts and boots.
Not the guy who’d once sat watching the sun rise over the gentle Texas hills, while he held a soft, sweet woman in his arms.
Tyler cursed, climbed into his truck, threw it into gear and shot away.
* * *
His home in Atlanta was just as he’d left it. The marble foyer gleamed; the chandelier glittered. There was a stack of mail on the hall table and he sorted through it but none of it seemed important, and after a couple of minutes, he tossed it aside.
There were only a few messages on his answering machine. He’d checked it while he was away so he didn’t expect much that was urgent to be on it now. He was right. There wasn’t. The only message he listened to, in its entirety, was from Adrianna.
“Darling,” she said in her soft, upper-class drawl, “I called your office and your secretary told me you were away. Now I understand why you haven’t phoned. You must be terribly busy, but do get in touch, when you have a minute. You missed the Forsythe’s party but there’s one coming up at the Hutchinsons’ that sounds like fun.”
Tyler went into his kitchen, took a bottle of ale from the refrigerator, opened it and went back into his study. He hit the replay button and listened to Adrianna’s message again while he tilted the bottle to his lips.
She wasn’t just beautiful and bright, she was clever. She knew how to handle a man. He hadn’t called her in almost three weeks but you’d never know it. She’d managed to make it sound as if there were a perfectly reasonable explanation for his silence.
Caitlin would probably have marched up to his door and demanded to know if he was deliberately trying to avoid her. Caitlin would…
Tyler frowned.
What did it matter what Caitlin would do? She wasn’t in his life anymore. She’d never been in his life, not in the life that mattered. Even trying to imagine her here, in this house, in his circle of friends, was laughable.
He was Tyler Kincaid. He didn’t belong on a Texas ranch, with manure on his boots and dust on his jeans. He belonged here, in a world he knew. A world he’d created, with his own two hands. And Adrianna fit into that world, perfectly.
Tyler picked up the telephone. Adrianna was right for him. Or someone like Adrianna. A woman he could think about when he was with her, not think about when he wasn’t. One who’d never intrude, get into his head when he didn’t want her there. One who wouldn’t expect him to carry her, naked, into the dawn of a new day; who wouldn’t look at him with her heart and her soul visible in her eyes…
“Dammit,” he said, and slammed down the phone.
He was tired. Of course he was tired. He’d driven from Texas to Atlanta, done it damned near straight through with only a couple of bathroom breaks and endless cups of strong, black coffee.
Tomorrow, he thought as he went up the stairs, tomorrow, he’d phone Adrianna. He’d phone his vice president and his secretary, tell them he was back and that things were returning to normal. Better than normal. That deal in Stockholm was probably still on the table. He’d tell his people to set up a meeting, fly to Sweden, make an offer.
Maybe he’d take Adrianna with him. Maybe not. Tyler smiled as he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. Scandinavian women were spectacularly beautiful. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Just what he needed, just the thing to stop him wondering, as he had from the start, if Caitlin’s eyes were gold or brown or green, and how her hair could look like autumn and feel like silk as it drifted over his naked skin…
His mouth thinned.
“Stop it,” he said sharply.
He finished showering, fell into bed…and dreamed of sunrises and soft sighs when he finally managed to fall asleep. He awoke before dawn and worked out in his private gym until his mind felt clear. Then he showered, phoned his office—and Adrianna.
By five o’clock, he’d held three meetings, spoken with Stockholm, lunched with his broker and talked with his travel agent about spending a few days in Sweden. By six, he’d showered and shaved in his private bathroom, changed into a tux and climbed into his Porsche for the trip to Adrianna’s apartment.
“Tyler, darling,” she said when she opened the door, and she went into his arms. He knew, as he held her, that she didn’t really want to go to the Hutchinsons’ party, that what she wanted was for him to strip her out of her black silk gown and out of the black lace garter belt and bra she was probably wearing underneath. His hands went to the zipper at the back of the gown, and all at once he thought of sundresses the colors of flowers, of scraps of white lace, and his hands stilled.
“We don’t want to be late,” he said lightly.
By seven, he was drinking vintage champagne from Baccarat flutes and wondering how red wine in plastic glasses could have tasted better.
By eight, he was eating beef Wellington and wishing it were barbecue.
By nine, he knew it wasn’t working.
His body was in Atlanta but his heart and soul were in Texas. And, dammit, if Caitlin McCord was too stubborn, too pigheaded, too just plain impossible to admit that she loved him the way he loved her because, by God, he did love her, he always would, and he was tired of pretending he didn’t. If she wouldn’t admit it, well, it was up to him to make her acknowledge the truth.
Some women could be wooed with candlelight and flowers. Some could be persuaded with soft lights and softer music, but he knew damned well none of that would work with Caitlin. A man had to take a tougher stand with a woman like her. He had to show her who was in charge…
Show her that she held his heart in her hands, that he couldn’t live without her any more than she could live without him, and if he had to toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to do it, by God, he would.
He drew Adrianna into a quiet corner of the Hutchinsons’ house and took both her hands in his.
“Adrianna,” he said so
ftly, “Adrianna, I’m sorry. You’re a wonderful woman. A beautiful woman—”
“But you’ve found someone else.”
“Yes,” he said, because she deserved honesty. “I have. Believe me, Adrianna, I didn’t intend for this to happen.”
Adrianna smiled, cupped his face with her hands, rose on her toes and kissed his mouth gently.
“You’re a fine man, Tyler Kincaid,” she said softly. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
“Am I?” he said, in surprise.
Tears glittered in her eyes. “You are. And I’m sure the lucky woman you’ve fallen in love with knows it, too.”
Tyler smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and kissed her mouth, as gently as she’d kissed his.
He moved quickly after that, as if every second were urgent. He drove home, put on his jeans and his T-shirt and his boots, drove to the airport and chartered a plane. The pilot raised his eyebrows when Tyler said he had to be in Texas before sunrise, but he said it was no problem.
They touched down on the Baron airfield at some hellish hour of the early morning. Tyler half expected Abel or one of the men to come stumbling out of the bunkhouse as he made his way toward the main house but nobody did.
He smiled grimly.
Maybe the Baron cowpokes were accustomed to people flying in at all hours but he was pretty sure they weren’t accustomed to what came next.
He rang the doorbell, rang it again, then pounded on the door with his fist. Lights blazed on inside but Carmen got to the door first.
“Señor Kincaid?” She blinked blearily at him. “What is the matter, señor?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” Tyler said, and moved past her, into the foyer. “I’ve come for Caitlin McCord.”
Marta came down the stairs, clutching a blue robe to her throat. “Mr. Kincaid?”
“Yes,” Tyler said. “I’m sorry to barge in on you this way, Mrs. Baron.” His voice softened. “I called the hospital. They told me Jonas—they said your husband will be fine.”
“Thanks to you,” Marta said, and smiled. “I’m so glad you came back, Tyler. May I call you Tyler?”
“Yes. Of course. But—”
“Come in, please. Carmen? Make us some breakfast, will you? And tell my stepsons and my stepdaughter that we have a guest.”
“No need to bother,” a raspy male voice said.
Tyler looked further up the staircase. Gage, Travis and Slade stood one behind the other on the steps. They all looked sleep-tousled, cold-eyed and eminently likable, and Tyler sighed and wished to hell he could at least get to know them before he took them on.
“No need to bother, is right,” an angry female voice said, and his heart turned over.
“Hello, Cait,” he said softly, as the woman he loved came striding down the stairs toward him.
She was wearing a long white nightgown sprigged with tiny blue flowers. Her feet were bare and peeped out from under the hem, and her hair spilled over her shoulders in a wild, glorious tangle.
“You turn around and get your tail out of here, Tyler Kincaid!”
Tyler smiled, leaned back against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest.
“Get yourself dressed, McCord,” he said calmly.
“You’re a crazy man, Kincaid. Do you hear me? A crazy man, if you think I’m going to take orders from you.”
Tyler lifted his hand, looked at his watch. “I’ll give you three minutes.”
“You’ll give me three minutes?” Caitlin tossed her head and laughed. “Funny as well as crazy, Kincaid.” She stopped laughing, folded her arms in an unconscious imitation of him, and fixed him with an angry glare. “How about giving me one good reason why you think you can walk in here and order me around?”
“Well,” he said lazily, as he stepped away from the door and started toward the stairs, “well, McCord, actually, I could give you several, starting with the fact that it’s almost dawn and I want us to get to my ranch in time to see the sun come up the way we did last time, both of us on my patio, naked as the day we were born.”
He saw a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye, saw an arm shoot out in restraint and heard one of the brothers—one of his brothers, say, very softly, “Let’s just wait a minute.”
Caitlin’s cheeks turned pink. “What a horrible man you are!”
“I could also tell you that if you don’t get dressed and come with me willingly, I’m just going to have to toss you over my shoulder and carry you away.”
“Kidnap me, you mean,” Caitlin said furiously. “Did I tell you that, Gage? Travis? Slade? Did I tell you this man kidnapped me from this very house?”
Tyler mounted the steps slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I could give you all those reasons, McCord, but I won’t.” He stopped on the step below hers, so they were eye to eye, and he smiled. “I won’t, because the only reason worth anything, the only one worth you hearing, is the simplest one of all.” He reached out, clasped her face in his hands. She tried to jerk back but he could see the glitter of tears in her eyes, see something more that gave him hope. “I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you from the minute you tried to run me down with that horse.”
“I did not try to run you down,” Caitlin said. Her voice shook. Tears leaked from her eyes and, dammit, she just knew that her nose was going to start leaking, too, any second. “And you don’t love me. You seduced me because you hated Jonas, and—”
Tyler kissed her. She told herself not to react, not to close her eyes or to let her mouth part to his, but the sweetness of his lips, the feel of his hands in her hair…
“I seduced you because I knew I couldn’t live without making you mine,” he whispered. “And I don’t hate the old man. I thought I did but life is too short for hating.” His eyes went to her mouth. “Hell, sweetheart, it’s hardly long enough for loving. For the kind of loving I want us to share for the next hundred years, anyway.”
Marta cleared her throat. “Well,” she said briskly, “I think I’ll, uh, I’ll go get dressed. Carmen? Make breakfast, would you please? And boys…” She looked up the stairs, at her stepsons, and sighed. It was simple to see they weren’t going anywhere. She sighed again as she made her way past them.
“You don’t love me,” Caitlin said. “You’re only saying it because—because—”
Tyler arched a brow. “Because?”
“Because you want to hurt Jonas.”
“Jonas hasn’t got a damned thing to do with you and me, Cait. He never did.”
“Well, then, you’re saying it because you want Espada.”
“Uh-huh.” Tyler grinned. “So, let’s see. I’m going to marry you so I can wait for you to inherit Espada—”
“Marry me?” Caitlin said. “Marry me? Never!”
“Marry you,” Tyler said agreeably, “in, what? A week? A month?” He glanced up the stairs at Slade, Travis and Gage. “How long does it take to plan a wedding, anyway?”
“Five minutes,” Travis said, “if you don’t let the women take it out of your hands.”
The brothers laughed, and Caitlin’s face went from pink to purple.
“What is the matter with you three?” she hissed. “Get down here, pronto. Drag this man outside. Beat him up. Put him on the back of a horse and send him packing.”
Tyler chuckled and kissed her again. He felt a tremor go through her, and his heart soared. But he wasn’t about to let her know that, not yet. His Cait could be a tricky filly to handle.
“The days when the sheriff put a guy on the back of his horse and told him to get out of town before nightfall are gone, sweetheart. The time when a man controlled his wife’s property is history, too.” He slid his hands into her hair, tilted her face, her beautiful face, to his. “This is morning, Cait, the start of a new day. The start of our life, together. Espada will always belong to you. The Lazy S will belong to the both of us.”
“The Lazy S?”
“Uh-huh.” He kissed her again, taking long
er this time, drinking in the sigh that trembled on her lips. “I’m naming the ranch I bought for the sunrise. Our sunrise. Is that okay with you?”
Caitlin swallowed hard. “Kincaid…”
“McCord.”
“Kincaid, did you really think you could just—just show up here and—and sweet-talk your way back into my life?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “I did. I love you, Cait. And you love me. And we’re going to get married and have a houseful of kids, and every last one of them is gonna call Jonas Baron ‘Grandpa.’”
Travis, Gage and Slade sent up a cheer. Tyler flashed them a grin and before she could move, scooped Caitlin off her feet and into his arms. She shrieked and looked at her stepbrothers.
“Are you just going to stand there and let him do this?” she said, trying to sound indignant and succeeding only in sounding breathless.
“I don’t know,” Gage said. He grinned as he watched her wrap her arms around Tyler’s neck. “Are we, guys?”
“No way,” Travis said solemnly. “For instance, I’m gonna go open the door for our new brother. Seems like a man with an armful of woman can’t be expected to do that for himself.”
“Good idea,” Slade said, and dug in the pockets of his half-zipped jeans. “Tyler? You need wheels, bro?”
Tyler smiled. “Come to think of it, I guess I do.”
“The blue pickup,” Slade said, and tossed his keys.
“You’re all impossible,” Caitlin sputtered as Tyler carried her out the door and down the steps. “I swear, I’ll get you for this. Slade? Gage? Travis? You hear me?”
“Yeah,” Gage said gently. “We hear you, Catie. Loud and clear.”
She did her best to glower over Tyler’s shoulder because it was the right thing, but all she could manage was a smile filled with happiness.
“You put me down,” she said, as he walked toward the blue pickup truck because that was the right thing, too, even though it was the last thing she wanted.
Tyler kissed her. “I will,” he said, “just as soon as we get to that patio.”
He put her in the passenger seat of the truck, buckled her in and got behind the wheel. She folded her arms, looked straight ahead and refused to say a word until they reached the house he’d bought in the hills.
The Taming of Tyler Kincaid Page 18
