Whirlwind

by Jennifer Mikels

  "While Mrs. Minter was at the ranch where were you?"

  "I figured that question was next," he said with a hint of a smile, though he rubbed a hand across his brow. "Try and remain calm," he ordered softly. "I was in Texas with W.R., buying some cattle."

  He looked at her expectantly, knowing her sharp mind would fill in what he wasn't saying. "And you met my father?" Dayna asked.

  "Yes," he answered softly.

  A flicker of surprise touched his eyes as Dayna asked calmly, "Would you like to explain?"

  "Explain what?"

  Dayna shook her head in impatience. "You've been playing another little game with me. My father, too, it seems."

  "Wait a minute. I don't know what your father has been saying. I'm sure he knew I wasn't the foreman Alexandria Minter was talking about. Apparently he was concerned and thought we didn't know about Cutler's actions. We didn't realize Mrs. Minter was that upset or that she'd complain to your father about Cutler. It was only after you told me you were going to visit the ranch that I got the idea that might be the reason."

  "Yes, but when I suggested that Dad call W.R. he refused, saying he didn't want to offend his friend… Don't you understand? He knew the foreman wasn't some long-employed, trusted friend and yet he led me to believe otherwise and insisted on sending me here to investigate."

  Brand's eyes brightened with humor as he laughed heartily.

  "What is so funny?"

  "Looks to me like he was doing a little matchmaking."

  "I agree," Dayna said, her voice lacking amusement. "But I don't think it's so funny. You knew who I was, you knew why I was coming here, and along with my father you've been having a great deal of fun at my expense, haven't you?"

  "Hold it," he replied quickly, his smile slipping away as he raised a restraining hand. "I was being honest with you. Don't include me in that matchmaking scheme. I knew who you were because your father showed W.R. a picture of you. You looked familiar to me. I suppose that's why I first stared at you at the hotel and that's why I saw the exchange of money. I did misinterpret what I saw. After you put me in my place, I went down to the lobby and asked the name of the woman in room 101."

  "Why didn't you tell me that you knew who I was, that you knew my father?"

  "Do you think you could smile just a little?" One fair brow arched with resignation as Dayna refused to respond to his request. "Throughout dinner one evening in Dallas, your father spoke proudly about how competent and intelligent his daughter was. I guess after listening to him I knew as much about you as most men would after a couple of dates. I also knew that any man he liked, you obstinately shunned."

  "I'm not incapable of finding my own male friends."

  "I gather he thinks you should get married and is giving you a little push."

  "You're not making points," Dayna said sarcastically.

  "I know, but I'm being honest. He also told us how personable you were. I knew you'd be polite if you knew he and I had met. I didn't want that. I wanted to know those smiles were for me, not for some acquaintance of your father's. All I wanted was to be sure I'd have a fair chance."

  Dayna restrained a smile, but his words touched her as she began to understand. "You almost didn't."

  Brand smiled. "I know that it nearly backfired. I would have done better if I had told you I was in Dallas with your father and W.R. At least then you wouldn't have thought I was some lecher preying on rich married women." He smiled in self-derision. "When we began to suspect you might be here to find out what happened during Alexandria Minter's stay, I didn't understand why you didn't ask me right off about it." He laughed lightly. "Now I know why. All along you thought I was the one. Mrs. Minter didn't mention the foreman's name?"

  "I really don't know. She may have. All my father said was that the foreman had made improper advances. What can I say?" she asked softly. "I really did have terrible thoughts about you. Would an apology… ?"

  He leaned toward her, his hand cupping the side of her face. "A kiss would carry a lot more weight than words."

  "It would?"

  "Definitely," Brand assured softly.

  He reached out his other hand, entwining his fingers in the mass of coppery tresses and drawing her closer while he pressed her down on the ground. Although he held his weight from her and his lips lightly, teasingly brushed over hers, the warmth of his body penetrated the paper-thin protection of their shirts. She touched his jaw with her fingertips while his lips played at the corners of hers as if to torment her for denying she ever wanted his kiss. She felt his impatience in the tense muscles of his shoulders as she slid her hands slowly around his back. She tightened her embrace, forcing him to offer the full pressure of his mouth. The kiss deepened, his lips twisting, becoming more possessive, his tongue probing and sliding over her teeth, tasting the sweet warmth of her mouth with a persuasiveness that took her breath away.

  She was swept up by the heat of his body, and by the fire that had been kindling within her since their first kiss. She blazed with longing. But she knew it couldn't be because of love. Love didn't come that quickly. She couldn't yield and let desire rule her common sense. Though trembling with the passion he had aroused, she managed to break free.

  Muttering, Brand sat up beside her. Dayna laid a trembling hand on her mouth and tried to breathe calmly. She glanced at him. The tight grimness of his lips declared the impatience that threatened to erupt. He drew a deep breath, his eyes resting on the front of her blouse. Instinctively, Dayna drew back when he reached out. When it became apparent he was only going to fasten a button she had missed, she sat quietly while he deftly manipulated the button with one hand. "You can't keep denying with words that you want me when your body and mouth just beg me to make love to you. Just be honest with yourself, Dayna."

  Dayna waited for him to say something when they reached the stables, but he remained silent as he took both horses inside the barn. They were at the door of the lodge when he finally touched her arm in an affectionate, possessive gesture, something he had often done when they were walking. When they reached the stairway inside the lodge, Dayna nervously glanced toward the reception desk as the phone rang. She wasn't really sure Brand's anger and impatience had waned, and she faced him with some hesitation.

  "Sweet witch," he growled in a low voice, conveying his exasperation by the use of her nickname. Then, the expression in his blue eyes softened and Dayna smiled in response. Desperately she wanted to trust him. "I don't…"

  Her explanation was interrupted by the girl behind the lobby desk. With the phone tucked near her ear, she questioned, "Miss Palmer?"

  Dayna nodded quickly and, as the girl extended the receiver toward her, Brand released her arm. "A long-distance call from Chicago," the woman said in explanation.

  "Your father?" Brand asked.

  Dayna responded teasingly, "My lover."

  She moved toward the lobby desk and accepted the receiver from the desk clerk, glancing in Brand's direction as she did so. He stood at the end of the long registration desk, waiting and watching her, and she realized her lighthearted response may have been taken more seriously than she had intended.

  Though a disturbed frown settled on her face she answered the phone with a breezy "Hello."

  "Hello yourself," was her father's indulgent reply. "You'd think you were on the other side of the earth for all the communication we've had. Two letters, no phone calls. I thought maybe you ran off with some cowboy," he said, laughing at his own joke.

  She could feel Brand's penetrating stare. It was ironic how close to the truth her father's words were.

  "I'll be home in a few days," she said appeasingly to her father. "You know how it is when you're on vacation. The hardest thing to do is to write postcards. If you remember," she chided, "I didn't even get one from you when you took off with Melissa for Palm Springs." Not wanting him to belabor the subject, she asked, "How have you been? Is Melissa still on the scene?"

  "I'm fine," Edward answered with
a laugh. "And I think you may be going to a wedding soon."

  "Oh, Dad, that's wonderful," she said, genuinely happy for him.

  "I knew you'd be pleased," he said. "By the way, I assumed everything was all right there and you were taking a much-needed vacation."

  Her father's next words were lost as Dayna's attention shifted to Brand. Without knocking on the door, he'd entered W.R.'s office. His back was to her, but even as her father talked, her mind could see only the outline of his features.

  "… know which flight you'll be taking and I'll pick up the three of you."

  "Well, we haven't made arrangements yet."

  "Honey? You sound preoccupied. Did I call at a bad time? Is there a problem at the ranch that would affect us?"

  She heaved a sigh. There was definitely a problem at the ranch affecting her. Her anxiousness touched Edward. Since she became an adult, Dayna had proved to be strong willed, independent, and self-sufficient. Hearing an unaccustomed note of indecision in her voice, Edward Palmer couldn't disguise his concern. "Dayna, is something wrong?"

  Was something wrong? Everything is wrong! Your daughter has allowed her heart and womanly instincts to get in the way of good common sense. "Nothing is wrong," she answered softly. "Dad, we were worrying needlessly. The man involved with Mrs. Minter was filling in for Brand…" She paused and then reprimanded him lightly. "… which I now understand you already know."

  "I knew it wasn't him," Edward quickly explained. "My concern was they weren't aware of what happened."

  "They were," Dayna assured him. "W.R. has called Mrs. Minter and apologized for what happened."

  "Good," he said with relief.

  Sure that if they talked too long, he might hear something in her voice that would lead to some embarrassing questions, she decided to cut the conversation short. "I have to go now. I'll call and let you know which flight we'll be on Sunday."

  As Dayna handed the receiver back to the woman behind the desk, she tried to come to terms with her feelings. She moved on slow, unsteady legs to one of the sofas in the lobby and sat down. Except for Brand's brief moment of curiosity about her conversation, he was showing no concern or interest in what she did. He never pretended to be interested in anything about her but her body, she admitted honestly to herself. And in a way that was what was causing all her problems now. She, too, had felt the almost compelling attraction to him immediately. Call it what it is, she mentally berated herself—lust. But she felt a deeper emotion now, and it seemed self-destructive. What else could you call it when a woman began to have deep feelings for a man she'd known less than two weeks, a man who made it quite clear that his intentions had nothing to do with love?

  Preoccupied with her thoughts, she was startled when Brand's voice whispered behind her, "Jealousy is a very dangerous emotion to stir up, Dayna."

  "What makes you think it wasn't a lover?"

  A mocking smile curled Brand's lips and he bent closer, his lips tenderly caressing the side of her neck. "Because," he said softly so no one else would hear, "I've held you in my arms and kissed you. There's no lover at home. But there will be one for you soon."

  "Destined to happen?"

  His eyes glinted with amusement, indicating that he had deliberately made the remark to arouse her. "I'll see you tonight. Meet you here." It wasn't a question. His voice carried the strong, assured quality of a man completely confident that he would get what he wanted.

  Returning to her room, Dayna pondered whether she really wanted to resist the inevitable. Her thoughts betrayed her as she relived the feel of his muscular body, the pleasant, musky odor of his manliness, the warm, stirring, moist touch of his lips. Although she was so easily aroused by him, she didn't want to take part in a casual affair.

  By dinnertime, she hadn't reached a decision, but she wanted to see Brand desperately, determined to be as candid with him as he had been with her. His absence at the meal worried her. Leaving the dining room, she decided to find him.

  Luck was with her. As she stepped onto the porch, she saw Brand near the corral. He was leaning against a fence and holding his palm open with a morsel of food as a reward for the white stallion.

  Dayna watched for a minute and then, ignoring the fact that her flimsy sandals were so ill-suited for the rough path to the corral, she hurried toward him. A hot evening breeze fluttered the soft material of her blue print cotton dress, but it couldn't cool her skin. The air was still hot and humid, and she felt it, clammy and warm, on the back of her neck and her bare shoulders.

  As she approached Brand, the horse was first to react, lifting his head for a moment before turning his attention back to Brand's palm.

  Leaning sideways next to him against the fence, she offered no greeting. Her smile said much more. "You weren't at dinner."

  "I got busy," he answered, reaching into his shirt pocket and placing another treat in his palm in response to the nuzzling of the horse.

  "I missed you," Dayna murmured. The words just slipped out.

  "You did?" he asked with a frown. "That's nice to hear. You know there's only one cure for it, Dayna," he added, in a strangely emotionless voice.

  She didn't answer. How could she deny what her body so obviously was shouting for?

  "I told you we were on an inevitable course."

  "I don't really believe that," she answered.

  "You said you missed me. Didn't you mean it? Are you playing games, Dayna?"

  "Aren't you?" she asked tightly. "You're the one who's looking for a brief affair, for casual intimacy."

  An unexpected smile sent a rush of excitement through her as he said softly, "If we were really intimate the last thing we'd be is casual with each other. But you keep thinking that. I have to wonder if you've been fair with me. I could sit back quietly and never say anything, but," he said with soft irritation, "I'm not the kind of man who willingly allows himself to be led along." His eyes searched her face. "Why is it almost yes with you but always no? Have you been treating me to some form of teasing trickery?"

  "No!" she answered.

  "Then what is it?"

  "Are you trying to intimidate me?" Dayna asked. "If you are, it isn't working."

  "No, I'm not," Brand came back quickly, shaking his head. Even though his gaze held none of the tenderness and smiling warmth she had previously seen, his touch was as gentle as ever as his hand cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. "What is it that's holding you back?"

  "Mature sensibility."

  She could see the question form on his lips, but it was never spoken. Their eyes locked. "Then show me some. Be mature and show me some feeling." Dayna looked away in confusion. It wasn't stubbornness holding her back. Such an acknowledgment was a huge step, and she wasn't sure she could handle it emotionally. Loving a person seemed important. But how could she ignore the physical desire urging her to say yes?

  Brand sighed heavily at her silence. "Okay, no more pressure—right now. But," he said with a husky laugh as he bent his head, "no more talk either."

  His lips parted hers with an intimate kiss. It invaded not just her mouth but her soul with the depth of desire it summoned. It demanded a response—it insisted she yield to the emotions aching for release in both of them. She was breathless when the pressure from his mouth ceased. Quickly he released her, leaving her with nothing but an aching desire for more, and her lips throbbed from the brand of his kiss.

  The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in the smile of a man who was aware from experience of his own persuasive power. Dayna tried to veil the excitement he'd aroused, but she realized she wasn't the only one to feel it—he was as breathless as she was. He was also more capable of hiding emotion. His voice was steady. "When you're through playing games, let me know."

  "I've never played games."

  "Yes, you have," Brand answered. "With yourself."

  He turned away and began the long climb up the hill toward the big farmhouse. Absently Dayna stroked the stallion's nose. She wasn't pl
aying games with herself. She knew exactly what she was doing. She had been protecting herself from making a mistake. But Brand's kiss was a powerful force. It was meant to make her feel she was being a fool for denying him. Deep down, she didn't want to stop him anymore. If she walked into the relationship with her eyes wide open, then she couldn't be made the fool, could she?

  Impulse set her in motion after him. She would not have caught up with him, his long strides easily outpacing her attempt at running in her dress and flimsy sandals, but some inner sense made him stop in midstride and turn around.

  As she reached him, slightly winded and suddenly dismayed about what to say, he flashed a smile, but questions mingled with the look of surprise in his eyes. "You flatter me. That's the first time I've ever literally had a woman chase after me."

  Dayna couldn't respond to his jest. She looked at the patch of curly-haired chest that was revealed by the open collar of his shirt. He had stirred a deep longing inside her that logic could not make disappear.

  She looked up, and his smile faded as his deep blue eyes, their gaze suddenly serious, called her to him. "Have we reached a time of truth?"

  Womanly passions were roused inside her—she wanted to know him completely. Even though he might not feel the same sense of commitment as she did, she ached to be as one with him at least once.

  His fingers caressed the curve of her neck with a soothing, circular motion, his voice suddenly husky with emotion. "Come home with me."

  The touch of his hand stirred a pleasant kind of torment. The touch of his fingers moving slowly over her flesh and his passionate, hypnotic gaze conveyed the ecstasy she would know, the heights of passion to which they would soar.

  A simple nod of her head, and Dayna knew there was no turning back. His arm curved around her waist as they walked down the hill toward his private room, which was attached to the bunk-house.

  Without hesitation, Dayna entered the room he called home, feeling closer to him just by being there. The knotty pine interior was totally masculine and much more pleasant than Dayna had expected. A large picture window looked out toward what was now just a dark outline of the mountains, but Dayna imagined that during the day it afforded a beautiful panoramic view of the terrain he loved. The bear rug on the floor and the elk's head over the mantle were obviously the trophies of a skilled hunter, an observation borne out by the bow and arrow standing propped up in one corner of the rustic room.