She stopped across the room from him, leaned against the counter and tilted her head, looking far more confident than she really felt.
He rose, all six feet of him, and strode across the wooden floor, the heels of his boots stomping until he stopped mere inches from her, his nearness causing her to press her back against the tile edge to gain a smidge more room. Glaring at her, he shook his head.
"No. You're not getting another foreman. I'll do it until you decide to sell."
"I'm not going to sell!" Kalli almost screamed in frustration. Why wouldn't he listen to her? If he thought he could drive her away, he didn't know her very well.
Maybe her family should clue him in. They knew how stubborn and tenacious she could be. They had tried to talk her out of becoming a nurse, citing the physical strain and arguing that the emotional trauma would unravel her. But Kalli had become a nurse. And yes, it had been hard sometimes, but the rewards had been well worth it. As would the reward of making a go of her ranch.
"You're fired," she said. "Get out and don't come back."
He moved even closer, deliberately trying to intimidate her. She had to tilt her head back until her neck ached, the coolness of the tile like a band across her back. He was so tall, so strong and so damned male!
"I'm not leaving," he said, his voice low, threatening. He raised his hand.
"Don't touch me. If you think you can seduce me into agreeing to sell, you're crazy."
He reached out and clasped her waist, tossing her up on the edge of the counter. Pressing open her knees, he stepped between her legs, bunching up her skirt, his hands hard and hot on her waist, clamping her in place even as she wiggled to escape. Lowering his face until his nose almost touched hers, he spoke softly, almost menacingly.
"Let's get one thing straight here, sweetheart. I want you. I told you that before. But it doesn't have a thing in hell to do with getting your ranch. If I sleep with you from now to doomsday, I'll still want the ranch. If you never let me touch you again, I'll still want the ranch, and I'll get it."
"I don't want you to touch me." She had meant to sound assertive, strong. But her voice came out almost wistful.
"Liar. I can see the pulse point in your throat, your heart's racing, your breath catches. You want me as much as I want you."
"That’s mere reaction from fear," she said. Or excitement, or anticipation or fierce yearning. She could feel her- heart pounding, the blood roaring hot through her veins.
"Liar," he repeated softly. His gaze dropped to her mouth when she nervously licked her lips. He stared at the moisture for a long moment, then slowly pressed his lips against hers, capturing the wetness on his own. Slowly his tongue traced her lips, moistening them, rubbing along the seam. Not pressing forth, not trying for anything but a taste of her.
Kalli closed her eyes to better enjoy the sweet sensation. His breath fanned across her cheek. His tongue slowly, gently rubbed against her lips. She parted them slightly to allow him access to her mouth, but he held off. Shockingly aware of the intimacy of their position, she leaned into the embrace, her hands inching up his arms to encircle his neck and hold his head so he couldn't pull back.
At the feel of her capitulation, Trace's hands pulled her hard against him, until there was not an inch of space between their bodies. He could fed the heat of her inner core through the straining denim of his jeans. He could feel the rise and fall of her breasts as her breath brushed over his cheeks. Her pounding heart slammed against his chest as she pressed against him. She felt so damned good, so right.
Plunging his tongue into the warm welcome of her mouth, he tightened his grip even more, moving his arms around her, one hand cupping the firm globe of her bottom and hauling her even closer. The other trailed up until it captured the back of her head. Longing to delve his fingers into that dark glossy mane, he began to impatiently undo the elaborate braid that held it.
Warning bells clamored in her mind, but Kalli ignored them. Trace's taste beguiled, lured. Her tongue mated with his, danced with it in enchanting fascination. Every nerve aiding clamored for more. Pressing herself into his long body, honed hard as the granite of the distant mountains, stronger than the men she was used to and far more dangerous, she reveled in the sensations flooding her, sweeping through her like the hot prairie wind.
Danger. That was the allure. And the risk.
Trace wanted her. He wanted her ranch. When he got both, he'd move on. She'd be out on her ear, tossed aside, discarded. Danger. But it was the danger that bewitched, like a flame for a moth.
Blinking, she pulled away a little. Knowing in her mind she needed to stop, to put some distance between herself and this dangerous cowboy, her body was still reluctant to end the embrace. Even though she wrenched her mouth free, her fingers refused to relinquish their tantalizing foray into the thickness of his hair.
"Trace, stop, please," she whispered, breathing hard. Her breasts ached with desire for more of his touch. The liquid heat within her clamored for the quenching plunge that would first consume her, then release her. Her body wanted his as much as his desired hers. But it was a foolhardy, greedy craving that would only lead to desolation. She had to have more than mere sex.
"You want me, Kalli. I can feel it," he said against her mouth, moving to brush sweet kisses across her cheek, trail down her throat and lick the rapid pulse.
"Sex is not enough," she said regretfully, her fingers still entangled in his hair, her legs loosely looped around his hips. Slowly she pushed him away, tried to scoot back on the counter, aware of his hand on her hip like a brand, hot and possessive.
"What are you looking for, protestations of love?" He allowed her to move away and stood straight, his hands dropping to loosely rest on her spread thighs.
"You don't even like me." Gazing into his eyes was like looking into the midnight of a mountain mist, the gleaming polish of obsidian.
"What’s not to like? You’re one sexy lady. But you're going to be here for such a short time. Let's not waste it. You'll play at ranching until you get bored, or the first setback hits you. Then you'll be back to the bright city lights as fast as a plane can take you. I know your type."
"You don't know me. I'm not a type!"
"The hell you're not. I married a woman like you. I know exactly your type. Can't get enough of a romantic cowboy until the dirt and sweat and monotony of the life disgust and bore you. Then you'll take off to find something more exciting."
She stared at him. Rampant curiosity rose at the mention of his wife. Of the circumstances he'd described. Had she told him that when she left? Or was he just imagining things? Was he trying to rationalize her leaving? Or did he know for certain?
Kalli had a million questions. "She was a city girl?"
"From Denver. Hooked on rodeo cowboys. Life was just dandy as long as we followed the circuit, but too dull and boring when we came back to the ranch to settle down, try to make a go of things. Alyssa craved the excitement of the rodeo, and the cowboy of choice didn't matter much, as long as he was part of the action."
"Were you hurt when she left?" Kalli asked, stunned at the bitterness of his tone. Of course he'd been hurt. The woman he'd loved had left him.
"I had a year-old baby to take care of. I didn't have time to be hurt, only mad as hell." He leaned his hands against the edge of the counter, leaning over her as if to prevent her from ever moving. He no longer touched, yet Kalli felt every movement, every breath he took. The tension rose even higher.
"To love someone and then—"
"God, but you view the world from rose-colored glasses. There was no love between us. Alyssa was great in the sack. She got pregnant with Becky so I married her to give my kid a name. There was no love there. On either side. Grow up, Kalli, people mate for various reasons, and the romantic love you're talking about is only found in fairy tales."
"You're so cynical. Love is all around you. Don't you love Becky?"
"Of course, she's my daughter."
"W
ell, there's other love, too. And nothing is stronger than the love between a man and a woman. It can last beyond the grave. Just because you haven't experienced it doesn't mean it doesn't exist," she snapped. Where had all the anger come from? He'd been fair with her, telling her exactly what he wanted—her, the ranch. The anger couldn't be on his behalf, could it?
"And you have firsthand knowledge, I suppose." For a moment he held his breath. He didn't want to hear about her great love for some damn wonderful man she knew. He didn't want to hear about love at all. He only wanted to tumble her in bed. Feel her move beneath him, satisfy the growing need in him for her. Get her out of his system so he could get back to the important things in life, like buying the Triple T Ranch.
"That's none of your business," she said, pushing against his shoulder. She felt vulnerable and exposed. He still stood between her spread thighs, his hands moving to rest on her cotton skirt, her legs hot and tingling as he pinned her to the counter. She could feel the warmth from his body envelop hers, heat hers. And his raw masculinity was too distracting, too disturbing. Too enticing. If she planned to keep even a bit of her sanity, he had to leave. Now.
"Trace, move away."
"No." He lowered his head again, his lips toying with hers. God, he wanted this woman like he'd never wanted another.
"Trace, please." Her lips met his, responded. His mouth was firm, warm. Her tongue traced the shape of his lips, tasted him again and again. She kissed him even as she tried to clutch her sanity. Crazy beyond belief, she was burning up for more.
His hands moved beneath her top. He felt her jerk of surprise as he gently rubbed her soft, satiny skin. Slowly his hands pressed against her, his fingers and palm tingling with sensation. The softness of her skin was compelling. He never wanted to let go. Skimming across the ridges of her ribs, he moved to her breasts, feeling their slight weight, learning their shape. Feeling the thrust of her nipples against his palms, he sighed softly and kissed her again, open mouthed, hot. She was so feminine, so sweet. His blood heated to boiling. His desire strengthened until he could scarcely breathe.
"Dad?" Becky's voice called from outside.
Trace pulled back fast as lightening. His eyes flicked open and he stared into Kalli's dark gaze.
"Becky, I thought I told you to go see Josh," he called back, his glittering gaze never leaving Kalli's.
"He's watching some dumb TV show." Her voice drew steadily closer.
Trace brought his hands down from Kalli's breasts and lifted her from the counter. Running fingers through his hair, he leaned into the counter, gripping the tile edge with hard fingers, keeping his back to the door as his daughter entered the kitchen, the screen slamming behind her.
"And I didn't want to see it." Becky looked suspiciously at Kalli, and then at her father.
"Your hair is all messed up," she said, glaring at Kalli.
"It's hot in here and the braid was confining," Kalli snapped, trying to draw some semblance of order to her tangled hair. In the throes of passion with Trace she'd been scarcely aware of his loosening the braid and fisting his hand in her hair.
"Are we going home now?" Becky asked her dad.
"Yeah, in a minute." He gripped the counter hard, and willed the blatant evidence of his desire for Kalli to fade so he could face his impressionable twelve-year-old daughter. Why couldn't she have watched the blasted TV show with the men in the bunkhouse?
"Why are you standing there?" Becky asked.
Kalli glanced at Trace, instantly understanding.
"He's mad at me and probably holding onto the counter to keep from wrapping his hands around my neck," Kalli said easily, moving away from Trace, hoping to distract his daughter. "I have some cake I made for dessert. Would you like some before you go?"
"Why is he mad at you?" Becky asked, her suspicion growing as she looked back and forth.
"Because I won't sell him my ranch. It's chocolate cake."
"Yeah, I'd like some." Becky moved to the table.
"Is yeah a Wyoming way of saying yes, or just the way you and your father say it?" Kalli asked, desperate to keep some level of conversation going. She was so nervous around Trace and embarrassed at almost being caught by his daughter. She wished they'd both leave, but she'd see the evening through. Time enough to get herself under control when they left.
"I don't know," Becky asked as she took the offered plate. "Daddy says it all the time."
"Yeah, I know," Kalli teased, sitting down, glad of the chair. Her legs trembled. She could still feel the imprint of Trace's hands on her thighs, her hips, her head, her breasts. Heat suffused. It was all she could do to be polite.
"Do you want some cake, Trace?" Kalli asked politely.
"No." He turned and walked to the door, snatching up his hat. He paused and looked at Kalli, his eyes narrowed and intense.
"This isn't the end, Kalli. I'll get what I want."
As he left the kitchen, she shivered slightly. She knew he wasn't only talking about the ranch.
"When are you going back to Boston?" Becky asked as she finished the chocolate cake. Kalli poured her a glass of milk and the girl drank it, looking at Kalli with wise old eyes.
"I'm not."
"Dad says you are. We don't want you around here!"
"Why's that?" Kalli was a little surprised at the vehemence in Becky's tone. Why did the girl care one way or the other?
"He kissed you again, didn't he?" she asked. "Your mouth is all swollen and red."
Jealous? Kalli wondered, meeting the child's eyes. Becky was smart. And it sounded as if she didn’t want her father’s attention any where else but her. Kalli nodded. She wasn't about to volunteer anything, but she wouldn't lie to this child.
"My mother was very beautiful, did you know?" Becky asked, pushing away her plate, then moving her glass before her. She chanced a glance at Kalli to see how she reacted to the news.
"I'm sure she was. Your father doesn't strike me as the type to go for homely women," she said dryly.
"I've seen a picture of them together. Daddy keeps it in his room. She was tall and blond and beautiful."
"I'm not out to replace your mother," Kalli said gently. Disturbed by the picture Becky painted, she frowned. If Trace really didn't care for his ex-wife, why keep her picture in his room? Especially after all these years. She'd been gone over a decade. Alyssa. What a pretty name, obviously in keeping with the pretty woman. Kalli refused to name the emotion that surfaced.
"I'm probably going to be as tall as her," Becky said proudly, unwilling to let the topic drop. "I'm already as tall as you and I'm only twelve."
"Then you'll be lucky. The only thing I'd change about myself is my height. It's awful being so short sometimes," Kalli murmured.
"Thank you for dinner and the cake." Becky stood and started for the door. Pausing where her father had stood, she turned back. "And goodbye. I probably won't see you again."
"Goodbye, Becky. It was nice meeting you," Kalli said politely, wondering if she would see this child again. Not if she severed all relations with Trace. And she planned to do that the next time she saw him.
Which proved to be the very next morning at six o'clock when he banged on her bedroom door.
"Go away," Kalli called from beneath her pillow. She'd had a horrible night. Dream after dream had chased through her mind, waking her, making sleep virtually impossible. Every one of them concerned Trace. In some he chased her on a horse, six-guns drawn, running her out of the county. In others he kissed her, rubbing his work-rough hands over her hot body, watching her as she gave in to the urging he constantly whispered in her ear. Those had been the worst.
"Rise and shine, Boss Lady. You've got a ranch to run."
"Dammit." She got up and stormed to the door, flinging it wide. "Right you are, cowboy! This is my ranch and I'll run it and I'll start by beginning the day at a reasonable hour!"
He grinned at her. She looked good enough to eat, rosy from sleep, her dark eyes snapping and sparklin
g and her hair tousled every which way around her head. Glancing over her shoulders, he almost groaned when he saw the tumbled sheets on her bed, the impression of her head clearly visible on one of the pillows.
"A reasonable hour? Sweetheart, it's six."
"That’s right, and I like to see six o'clock in the morning from bed."
"Fine." He dropped his hat and reached out to scoop her up. In only two seconds he dumped her on her bed and followed her down, his hard chest pinning her to the mattress as his hands cupped her face, fingertips threading in her tangled hair. His mouth came down hard on hers.
Kalli was astonished. Then complacent, then hot and bothered and turned on and wanting more of this wild cowboy who wouldn't take no for an answer to anything. Her bare legs felt the roughness of his denims and the scrape of his boot. His belt buckle pressed into her soft skin. He was heavy and hard. But all conscious thought fled as his mouth made sweet love to hers. As he brought her to a state of awareness and desire beyond anything she'd felt before.
Instead of pushing him away, instead of becoming irate he'd thrust his way into her room, she ran her hands up his arms, across the broad shoulders, sculpting the shape of his muscles, squirming a bit beneath him to get more comfortable, reveling in the taste and scent of him.
She was as soft as down. As sweet as honeysuckle. He would devour her with his mouth if be could. She was so sweet, so hot and so compliant. Why the change? He expected fireworks from her, and he was getting them, but not the way he had expected.
His hand trailed down her throat, across her shoulder. Feeling the soft cotton of her T-shirt, for a moment he envied it. The shirt covered her torso completely, draped over every curve and mound and valley. Just as be wanted to drape himself over her. Learn every inch of her, cover every inch of her, taste every inch of her. His fingers traced down farther, feeling the soft swell of the side of her breast, flattened because of his weight.
Rolling over, he freed her. Freed her for his touch. His hand kneaded her softness through the cotton, wanting to feel that impudent nipple against his palm again, wanting to feel her bare skin against his.
Cowboy's Bride Page 6
