“My virginity,” she muttered with sarcasm. “Don’t let that go to your head. Love had nothing to do with that. I’m thirty years old. I just decided it was time to see what all the fuss was about.”
She’d not only disgusted him, she failed to convince him. “You’re a hell of a bad liar, Laurel. Don’t even try.”
Bending her head, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay, so I’m lying. But I meant what I said about the rest. If you don’t want to have an affair with me, then you might as well forget it!”
“I’m not going to forget anything. And I’m not going to let you forget anything, either!”
She opened her mouth to counter his heated promise, but he didn’t give her the chance to speak. Instead, he jerked her forward and into his arms.
“Russ—”
“You’ve already said too much. Way too much.”
The hoarsely whispered words fanned her cheeks just before his lips settled hotly over hers.
All of her plans to be a strong woman dissolved as his kiss began to melt her like a patch of snow beneath a scorching-hot sun. It was scandalous the way his body affected hers, the way it swept her mind of everything but him. Before she could think or stop herself, her arms circled around his neck, her lips opened beneath his.
The wind was cold against her face and, off to their right, she could hear cows milling around the creep feed. Birds twittered around them and the breeze whispered a song in the nearby pines. The sound and scents swirled around her, mixing with the euphoria his lips were creating.
Laurel was so lost she didn’t catch the far-off sound of an approaching vehicle until it was almost upon them. And even then she didn’t want to acknowledge the interruption. Thankfully, Russ had enough willpower to lift his head and promptly set her away from him.
“The men are coming,” he said gruffly. “We’ll finish this later—tonight.”
“Yes, we’ll definitely finish this,” she muttered, then before he could see the sting of moisture in her eyes, she whirled her back to him and fought to compose herself.
Finish. How ironic that Russ had been the one to throw that word at her, she thought sickly. Because she was the one who would have to finish everything between them and put an end to his crazy notion about marriage. Most of all, she was going to have to go against everything her heart was telling her and convince him, once and for all, that she didn’t love him.
Chapter Nine
That night Russ was in the kitchen, seasoning steaks to put on the grill when Quint called with questions regarding the sick cattle. As usual the ranch owner was easy to talk to, even when he was concerned about something. That was one of the things that Russ liked best about Quint. The man had money to burn, he didn’t need to work to provide his family with a lavish lifestyle. But he wasn’t about either of those things. He was a regular Joe whose life was dedicated to his family’s ranches and the people he loved.
“Right now Laurel and I are treating their symptoms,” he told Quint. “That’s really all I can do until I determine exactly what’s wrong. The preliminary blood tests I ran today were inconclusive. I’ve sent more samples to NMU in Las Cruces. They tell me it might take two weeks before they get the results.”
“Damn, every cow on the place could be dead by then,” Quint muttered.
“Sometimes these things take a while,” Russ explained. “Especially if cultures have to be grown.”
“Yeah, I understand. It’s just so frustrating. And I’m concerned this stuff might sweep through the rest of that particular herd. Or even jump to the other herds on the ranch. Is that possible? It seems odd that only eight of them showed signs of being sick.”
“I wish I could give you guarantees that it won’t spread, Quint. But I can’t without knowing what I’m dealing with. I’m sure Laramie has already told you he’s instructed the men to keep a daily watch on the affected herd. As it stands, I’ve checked with all the area vets—they’re not seeing this problem. At least, not yet. So it seems isolated to the Chaparral. Right now it’s wait and see.”
Quint cursed under his breath. “Well, that’s just the way the cards are dealt sometimes. What about these eight? Do you think you can save them?”
“Two of them are in bad condition. We’ll have to see how they fare in the next twenty-four hours. The rest of them are already showing signs of improvement, so that’s encouraging. As for the calves they’re carrying, I can’t give you a prognosis yet.”
After blowing out a long breath, Quint said, “Well, there’s no need for me to ask—I already know you’ll do your best with the situation. It’s definitely not a problem I’d wish on the Chaparral or any other ranch. But I’m damned glad you’re there to handle this.”
Quint’s vote of confidence made Russ feel a tad better, but on the other hand it put an even greater burden on his shoulders. If he didn’t deal with this problem quickly and efficiently, he was going to appear worthless to the ranch.
“I won’t stop until the problem is fixed,” he assured the other man.
Their conversation moved on to more general issues of the Chaparral’s livestock before Quint finally announced that he needed to end the call. With the phone connection ended, Russ tossed his cell onto the end of the cabinet and went back to preparing the remainder of the meal.
As he tossed the steaks on the indoor grill, he glanced at his watch. Laurel was usually prompt, so he had ten minutes to finish cooking everything before she arrived.
This afternoon, when the two of them had finally gotten caught up with treating the cattle and quarantining them away from the other animals at the ranch yard, Russ had taken Laurel aside and invited her to have supper with him.
After the mess he’d made of things this morning, he’d wanted to take Laurel to town for dinner tonight to a special place where he’d hoped to make her feel pampered and appreciated. But she’d nixed that idea before he could hardly get the suggestion out of his mouth. She didn’t want him making a big deal over anything, she informed him. All she wanted this evening was a simple snack and a few minutes of talk.
Well, she was going to get more than she’d asked for, he thought.
* * *
At the same time, a short distance down the mountain, in her own house, Laurel stood in front of the dresser mirror and wondered what in heck she thought she was doing. This evening with Russ was only going to be a simple snack followed with a talk. That was all she’d agreed to! So what had she been thinking when she’d pulled on a long, gray woolen skirt and a black, form-fitting top?
Because for once in her life, she wanted to look like a woman, feel like a woman. Even if she had to end things with the man, she didn’t want to do it looking as if she’d just walked out of a muddy cow lot.
Trying not to let herself dwell on the word end, she brushed through her long hair and pinned the top half up and back from her face with a rhinestone clasp. After dabbing perfume on her pulse points, she pulled on a long coat and, checking to make sure the cats had plenty of food and fresh water, she hurried out the door.
The night was cold, even for February in southern New Mexico, but thankfully the climb up the mountain to Russ’s house was so short she didn’t have time to shiver.
Since they’d moved to the Chaparral, she’d not visited his home. For the past three days, she’d certainly considered the idea several times. But after the night they’d spent in her bed, she’d figured if she showed up on his doorstep, he’d only think she was asking for another round of lovemaking.
So isn’t he going to think that tonight, Laurel? You’re dressed like a woman and smell like a woman. And your heart is certainly beating like that of a woman who wants her man. Do you honestly think the guy is going to believe you’re there to end things?
Shaking away the doubtful voice in her head, she braked her truck to a stop a few feet from where Russ’s truck was parked beneath a canopy connected to the side of the house. It didn’t have to be the end, she told herself. Not completely.
If she could make him see that a casual affair was all the two of them needed to be happy.
* * *
Russ was putting the final touches to the dining table, when he heard Laurel’s knock on the front door and went to answer it.
“Come in, Laurel,” he invited as he pushed the door wide. “Everything is ready.”
She stepped into the house, suspiciously sniffing the air as she went. “I smell something cooking. You promised we’d have sandwiches, Russ.”
Resting a hand against her back, he ushered her down a short entryway and then into a spacious living room with a dark maroon couch and two large stuffed armchairs done in navy blue. A rock fireplace, much larger than the one in her house, stretched across the far southern wall. A fire hissed and crackled, filling the space with welcome warmth.
“I decided I didn’t want sandwiches tonight. But be warned, my cooking can’t be compared to Reena’s.”
“You shouldn’t have cooked at all,” she said. “I told you not to.”
“I don’t always do what you tell me to do,” he challenged.
“You never do what I tell you to do,” she pointed out.
He moved his hands to her shoulders and she stopped in her tracks, tensed and poised as though she might need to run at any given moment. Her guarded behavior didn’t surprise Russ. Ever since he’d blurted out that he wanted to marry her, she’d taken a sudden and drastic turn away from him. All through the day, she’d gone out of her way to keep a safe distance between them, and now he could feel the awkward barrier she was still trying to hold between them.
“Let me hang your coat here in the closet,” he said quietly. “Are you warm enough? I turned up the heat after I got home this evening, but the weather is beginning to get nasty out there.”
As the coat slid off her shoulders, he caught the soft scent of roses and the smell drew him back to the night he’d taken her to bed. Her skin had felt as smooth as flower petals beneath his lips and had tasted even sweeter.
“It feels nice in here, thank you.”
After dealing with her coat, he turned back to her and was very nearly blown away at the sight. Without the coat, he could see she’d dressed in a long woolen skirt that gently draped her curves. A black ribbed top was tucked into the waist and belted with a soft black ribbon. With her hair pulled back, it made her cheekbones stand out and her luminous gray eyes more prominent. He’d never seen her looking so lovely or more womanly, and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her into his arms right then and there.
But he’d already tried that tactic this morning and in the end it hadn’t worked, he reminded himself. Tonight he couldn’t let the desire that was slowly simmering in his loins take complete control. Not until he’d persuaded her to marry him.
At the moment, her attention had strayed from him and over to the living room. As she regarded her surroundings with interest, it dawned on Russ that she’d not yet seen his house.
“I’ll show you around the place after we eat,” he promised. “Right now the food is ready and I don’t want it to get cold.”
“Fine. I am hungry,” she agreed. “And whatever you’ve made smells good.”
With his hand on her upper arm, he guided her toward the dining room. “You’re about to find out if it tastes good.”
* * *
Being alone with Russ, under any circumstances, was a risky venture. This morning had certainly proved that, Laurel thought grimly. Now, as he led her into a cozy dining room situated just off the kitchen, she realized she’d made a giant mistake in agreeing to come here tonight. For some reason, the simple snack he’d promised had turned into a candlelight dinner for two.
“Russ—what is this?” she asked, staring skeptically at the table. “And where did you get those flowers?”
“Don’t worry about where I got the flowers. I have my sources,” he told her smugly. “So just enjoy them.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll go fetch the rest of our meal.”
Once he’d seated her in the chair and left the room, Laurel stared around in stunned fascination at a bottle of wine and an accompanying pair of long-stemmed glasses, along with a huge bouquet of cut white daisies, pink mums and purple hyacinth. There were matching place mats and napkins, heavy silverware elaborately carved with decoration and china edged with a pattern of delicate roses. He’d clearly pulled out the special stuff tonight. And why? For her?
This morning he’d said that he loved her. Laurel had tossed his words around in her head all day and she was no closer to believing them now than she had been this morning. True, he’d taken her to bed, but that fact hardly spelled love. Now he’d cooked dinner for her. A seduction tactic, no doubt, she thought dismally. Even so, no man had ever gone to this much trouble to garner her attention, and that in itself softened her heart.
“I hope you like steak and potatoes, because that’s what we’re having.”
She looked up to see him carrying two platters to the table. Mouthwatering smells emanated from both dishes. “I think by now you know that I’m not a picky eater. It will be good, I’m sure.”
He opened the wine bottle and after pouring their glasses half-full, took a seat kitty-corner to her right elbow. As they filled their plates with Caesar salad, he told her about Quint’s call and the concerns the ranch owner had about the sick cattle.
This afternoon as the two of them had treated the animals, Laurel had sensed an urgency in Russ that she’d never seen in him before. She wasn’t sure if it was the uncertainty of the illness or the fact that this change in jobs was requiring him to prove his qualities as a vet all over again. Either way, she hated to think of this strong man losing his confidence.
“You’ll get it figured out, Russ. And when we left the barn this evening, the cattle appeared to be improving. So as far as treatments go, you’re on the right track.”
“Let’s hope so,” he replied.
Tonight he was wearing a dark green button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back against his forearms. The color gave his tanned complexion a rich, golden hue and made his brown eyes even browner. Just looking at him very nearly took her breath.
If he decided to touch her, kiss her as he had this morning, she didn’t know where she’d find the strength to resist. But she had to resist, she told herself. At least, until she made her feelings about their relationship clear to him.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said after she’d eaten a few bites of salad. “Did your ex-wife teach you?”
He barked out a dry laugh. “Brooke cook? She wasn’t home long enough to boil water, much less make a meal. Actually, I’m not sure if she could cook. We usually ate takeout. Or something from a can or box. She was always busy at the investment firm where she worked, and I was usually at the clinic. Most of our meals were eaten on the fly.”
“Oh. You make it sound like you and she were rarely ever together. How did you stay married for as long as you did?”
“Maybe that’s why we did make it for as long as we did. We weren’t in each other’s faces.”
“Like us, you mean?”
He looked at her, and her heart jumped at the suggestive glint she saw in his eyes.
“Yeah. Like us,” he replied, then reached for his wineglass and took a long sip.
Laurel tried not to notice how the candlelight turned his skin to bronze and etched seductive shadows across his masculine features. She wasn’t here to be seduced—she was here to state her case, she tried to remind herself.
“When I first started work at the clinic, I remember thinking you couldn’t have much time to spend with your wife. Some nights we didn’t leave there until ten or later.”
With his attention on his plate, he said, “She didn’t mind. I was making money and a name for myself. She had great aspirations for me in that way. Besides, she had other things to occupy her time. Like a coworker,” he added caustically.
His statement took Laurel
by complete surprise. With her fork paused in midair, she stared at him. “You mean another man?”
The corners of his mouth turned downward. “I figured you already knew about Brooke’s straying affections. Maccoy did.”
“Maccoy doesn’t gossip. And neither do I.”
“No. That’s one thing I can say about you, Laurel. You’ve never pried into my personal life or anyone else’s that I can see. I used to think you were indifferent—that you didn’t care about people, because you never talked about them or asked questions. Later on, I decided you weren’t indifferent—you were just a private person and wanted to be considerate of everyone else’s privacy.”
“I’m glad you figured that out. Because I do care about people. But sometimes—well, sometimes it hurts to have someone pry into things you don’t want to talk about.”
“That’s true. But sometimes it helps.” Seeing she was nearly finished with her salad, he pushed the meat and scalloped potatoes toward her. “As for me being able to cook, I learned how to get around in the kitchen a long time ago, when I was just a boy.”
She smiled at him. “I can’t imagine you being ‘just a boy.’”
His lips took on a wry twist. “Guess you’ve always pictured me big and bossy.”
“In a way.” She placed a tiny bite of steak in her mouth. Once she’d chewed and swallowed, she looked at him in surprise. “This is delicious, Russ. Really.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you like it. My culinary skills are a little rusty. I mostly eat something frozen or out of a can.”
She sliced off another bite of the rare meat. “You say your learned how to cook when you were a boy. Who taught you? Your mother or dad?”
He ladled meat and potatoes onto his plate. “Curt Hollister and my mother divorced when I was about five years old. I’ve only see him once or twice since then. Not long after they split, he showed up to collect all his personal belongs. The second time was at my mom’s funeral. So to answer your question—my dad didn’t teach me anything. Except what not to be.”
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