by Janet Dailey
Then he was inside, closing the door. Lara was left standing there, her mind still racing to find a suitable excuse to refuse. She stared at the door for a long second before deciding that she was foolish to prolong this meeting. It was best to get it over with.
Wings from a million butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach she walked to the kitchen. Her throat was dry and tight, with hardly enough moisture in her mouth to swallow. She poured the coffee into the thermos server and set it on the tray with the cups and saucers, adding a plate of Sara's tarts.
At the study door, Lara took a deep breath to steady her jumping nerves, balanced the tray on one hand and opened the door. As she walked in, her gaze was magnetically drawn to Rans, sliding away when he politely rose at her entrance.
"Here's your coffee and sweet, daddy." She walked to the second leather chair in front of the desk, setting the tray atop the cleared space on the desk. Her glance ricocheted off Rans's carved features. "Good evening, Mr. MacQuade."
"Mrs. Cochran." He acknowledged her greeting smoothly.
He continued to stand, setting off the butterflies again in her stomach with the way he towered muscularly beside her. "Please sit down," Lara insisted with a forced smile.
Another glance in his direction was caught by his brown eyes. He appeared aloof and remarkably indifferent to her, as if the incident in the stable had happened to two other people. Nothing in his ex pression revealed even a hint of taunting mockery.
A little sigh of relief quivered through her as she turned to her father. "Would you like me to pour?"
"Please." He looked up from the notes in his hand. "Do you take anything in your coffee, Rans? Sugar? Cream? Honey?"
"Nothing, thank you."
There was only a slight trembling of her hand as Lara poured the coffee into the three cups, adding honey to her father's and setting it to the right of him. The cup for Rans jiggled in its saucer when she picked it up to hand it to him.
His tanned fingers were reaching out for it, but his attention was diverted by her father bringing up some point about his book. Lara didn't hear it. She was too busy concentrating on maintaining her composure.
As his hand closed over the saucer, it accidentally, came in contact with Lara's. An electric current seemed to spring from his touch, jolting her so that she jerked her fingers back. Her action was not swift enough to elude the cup of coffee as it tipped, spilling its nearly boiling contents on the back of her hand.
The clatter of the cup in its china saucer and Lara's stifled cry of pain instantly had both men's attention. She was gripping her wrist, the fingers of her injured hand spread. Her skin was already turning a fiery red from the scalding liquid.
"What happened?" her father said dimly.
Rans was already on his feet, the emptied cup shoved on the desk. "She's burned her hand with the coffee?" An inner instinct had backed Lara away from him, but she was too numbed by the pain to increase the distance when Rans moved toward her. "We'd better get some cold water on it right away."
His hand was under her elbow, guiding her from the room, taking charge of the situation before Lara could protest. "It's n-not serious." Her teeth were slightly clenched from the pain. "I can take care of it myself. Really."
But he was already opening the door to the bathroom on the ground floor and escorting her inside. The cold-water faucet in the sink was turned on and her injured hand unceremoniously thrust into the water.
"Is there any salve around to put on it?" Rans inquired briskly.
He was standing so close beside her that Lara could feel the heat of his body. Disturbed by his nearness, she moved to the side of the sink, keeping her head down and her gaze on her hand beneath the running water.
"There should be some in the medicine cabinet behind the sink mirror. On the second shelf, I think." She swallowed, her heart beating like a thousand snare drums. She tried once more to reject his aid. "There's, no need for you to stay. I can take care of it."
Her statement was ignored as he opened the mirrored door above the sink. He found the tube of salve immediately, removing it from the shelf and closing the door. Lara could feel his gaze studying her and hoped her profile didn't reveal the tension that strained her poise.
"Does it feel better?" he asked after another minute had passed with cooling water running over her hand.
"Yes, it…it doesn't burn anymore." The brief shake of her head was designed to flip the hair away from her face, a self-conscious movement since her red gold hair was securely pinned in an impeccable coil.
Rans turned off the faucet and reached for the towel hanging in the ringed rack. He ignored her outstretched hand to take it from him and gently wrapped the soft towel around her other hand. Carefully he pressed the towel against injured skin to absorb the moisture.
With his attention diverted to her hand, Lara allowed herself to glance at his face. The strong lines were so aggressively masculine, sun browned and rugged. Thick and spiky lashes, not femininely long and curling like Trevor's, veiled the brown of his piercing eyes, a velvet shade to conceal the steel of his gaze. There was a hardness, to his mouth, faintly cynical and faintly ruthless. She remembered its mastery when it had taken intimate possession of hers.
The memory stirred the physical longings within her, and Lara hastily glanced away from his mouth. Instead she concentrated on the drying motion of his hands. They were large and powerful like their owner, yet capable of gentleness as well as bruising force. Her breasts tingled with the memory of the erotic caress of those hands. Lara breathed in sharply at how vividly she recalled the sensation.
Instantly his gaze narrowed on her face. "Does it still bother you?"
For a startled second, she thought he had read her mind, blushing self-consciously when she realized he was referring to the burn on her hand.
"No, it hardly hurts at all." Which was not exactly true since her hand was still uncomfortably tender. "I was thinking about something else."
His mouth quirked with amusement as Rans darted her a glittering look. "Something else that makes you gasp with pain?" he mocked, unwrapping the towel from her hand.
Lara hesitated, unwilling to answer what amounted to a leading question. "I didn't gasp." She reached for the tube of salve. "I'll put it on."
"I'll do it. It'll be faster," Rans rejected her offer, then resumed the former subject. "If it wasn't a gasp, what was it?"
His fingers began to rub the cream onto the faint pink area of her hand, his gentle touch nearly as soothing as the burn ointment. Her throat ached and Lara couldn't answer his question. The rhythmic massage of his fingers was making her weak. Finally she knew her poise would splinter if she had to endure it any longer, so she yanked her hand away.
"That's good enough. It's much better now, thank you," she said stiffly. Her eyes bounced away from the quizzical arch of his brow.
"You look a little pale. Are you sure you're all right?" he questioned.
Lara wavered. The close quarters of the bathroom would not let her get to the door without brushing past him. At this moment she needed to avoid any contact. As much as she claimed to despise him because of his cynical mockery, she was disturbingly attracted to him physically.
Rans misunderstood the reason for her silence. When her lashes fluttered in silent frustration, he reached out to steady her. Flinching from his hand, Lara took a step backward.
"Leave me alone, please." It was a breathless order.
Their eyes locked. A hard, knowing light slowly glittered in his gaze. A cold smile cruelly curved his mouth as he looked deeply into her eyes, reading the fear that she tried to conceal.
"I assure you, Mrs. Cochran, I had no intention of doing otherwise." Rans jeered cynically.
His words chilled her. Lara tried to tell herself she was glad that she didn't interest him in a physical way. That it was what she wanted to hear. She didn't want him to touch her again or hold her in his arms. She wanted to forget the incident had ever happened.
/> "Good," she said shortly. "I'm glad."
"Not that I didn't enjoy our little romp in the hay the other night." His husky voice laughed at the prim tilt of her chin.
"I don't wish to discuss that offensive incident." Lara broke away from his mocking gaze.
"Has your husband discovered the breach in your marble facade?" His gaze roamed over her with suggestive laziness.
"My private life is none of your business!" she retorted sharply.
Rans chuckled. "Maybe I should give him a few lessons on how to make you purr instead of spit."
"You are despicable and disgusting! If you were a gentleman, you would have the good manners not to bring up the subject!" Her eyes flashed with green sparks. "I loathe the sight of you!"
"I'm not a gentleman. And you are not a lady—" his gaze flicked down to her hands "—or your fingers wouldn't be curling, with the urge to claw my eyes out like a common alleycat. Believe me," Rans continued with a harsh grin, "the dislike is mutual. I don't think much of a woman who uses sex as weapon to bring her husband to heel. Especially when she becomes cold and bitter because the attempt backfired in her face."
Instinctively her hand swung in an arc, the palm stinging against his cheek. With his reflexes, he could have eluded her hand, but he hadn't blinked an eye. Lara faced him, trembling with the rage of her temper from his erroneous insult.
"Do you feel better?" Rans taunted softly.
"Yes!" Lara hissed.
"Then shall we call it even?"
She was wary. "Why?"
"You live here and I work here. That makes it inevitable that we'll run into each other again. I can learn to tolerate you if we don't keep crossing swords every time we meet," he concluded.
"Tolerate me?" Lara gasped. He was the one who had come and disrupted everything. She hadn't been happy exactly, but she hadn't been discontented with her life, either. Now she wasn't certain that the same thing would hold true. "You are insufferably arrogant."
"And you are an insensitive bitch." Dimples were carved in his lean cheeks. "Are we going to continue to trade insults or shall we make a pact of peaceful coexistence?"
Fuming inwardly, she held her silence for several seconds before she grudgingly agreed. "A pact."
There was a mockingly arrogant inclination of his head, "Good. Shall we return to the study before your father decides that you seriously burned your hand?"
"You go ahead," Lara refused tightly. "Make my excuses. I'm sure you can come up with something that's convincing."
After letting Rans have a head start, Lara hurried up the stairs to her room. The pact would never work. Whenever Rans MacQuade was around, her reaction to him was inevitably warlike…or loverlike, a small voice added.
Chapter Seven
THE LEATHER REINS were looped around her wrist as Lara walked between the row of trees. The branches arched above her head, covered with new leaves of a bright spring green. The bay hunter blew softly against her shoulder. Lara paused to stroke its velvet nose.
A tear slid down her cheek, tickling the corner of her mouth. Impatiently she brushed it away, wondering where it had come from. It was spring. The pecan trees were bursting with life. She should feel happy, instead of trapped in this melancholy mood.
Not even Angie's letter in the morning mail had cheered her up as it usually did. Instead her friendly prattle about her husband, Bob, and the redecoration of their house had struck a sad chord. Angie's letter had been no different from others Lara had received from her, but Lara was different.
Once she had found contentment in the emptiness of her marriage. She had honestly believed her life to he fulfilling. She had even boasted to Angie that it was everything she wanted. Now she wondered.
A pickup track drove past the orchard, stirring up dust. Lara recognized it as the one Rans always drove before she heard the brakes being applied. Quickly she scrubbed her cheeks, to be certain there was no trace of tears.
A slam of the truck door confirmed that he had stopped. Within seconds Lara saw him vaulting the white fence and walking toward her. Surprisingly, their tentative pact had worked thus far. It had only been tested in meetings that had included her father.
She couldn't begin to guess why he was stopping to see her now. He was definitely not someone she wanted to see at this particular moment when her spirits were so downcast.
"Hello!" he called. "Problems?"
Lara shook her head. "No." Her hand continued to stroke the blazed face of the bay, avoiding the directness of Rans's gaze when he reached them.
"I thought your horse might have gone lame again. That's why I stopped," Rans explained.
"He's fine. Fully recovered," she assured him. "I was just cooling him off before we got back to the stable," she could feel the piercing examination of his eyes and wished the pact was not in force. She didn't feel like being polite to him. "I'm sorry you were delayed without cause."
"You've been crying. Is something wrong?" he observed quietly.
"You're mistaken." A hand moved defensively to her face.
"Your mascara is smudged."
Lara ran a quick finger beneath the lower lash of each eye, a telltale dark brown staining her finger. "Perspiration," she lied. "We galloped nearly all the way here."
"Really?" Rans mocked her excuse. "That's also why your eyes are red and swollen, too, I suppose."
"I'm tired and in no mood to match words with you." Irritation flashed through her at his damnable perception. She gathered up the horse's reins and looped them over its head. "It's time I was getting back to the house."
"The No Trespassing message came through loud and clear," he replied dryly, stepping to the horse's head and taking hold of the bridle.
"Good."
Her coordination was jerky as Lara gripped the reins along the hunter's neck and held the stirrup to mount. When she started to swing into the saddle her boot slipped off the metal stirrup, sending her down. She stumbled and would have fallen to the ground if Rans's long length hadn't been there to check her fall.
Her flesh melted at the searing contact with his masculine form. The bay's hindquarters swung away from the pair while Rans's grip immediately tightened around her waist. He was so strong and she was so weak. Lara wanted to lean against him and absorb some of his strength.
For a few seconds she allowed herself to do that. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the rapid and strong beat of his heart, and feeling the warmth of his breath near her skin. The brushing touch of his mouth against her hair triggered an awareness of what she was doing. Her defenses had crumbled to the point where she was inviting his caress.
Her hands stiffened against the rippling muscles in his arms as Lara pushed herself from the disturbing warmth of his body. She stared at a button on his shirt. His grip loosened, making no attempt to check her withdrawal.
"I'm sorry." Lara wasn't certain why she was apologizing to him. Maybe the words were really spoken for herself. "I was more tired than I realized."
"Let me give you a leg up." His voice was tautly controlled.
"Thank you," she murmured, feeling choked by a sudden surge of emotion.
The bay was swung back into position. His large hand was offered palm upward for her boot. Effortlessly Lara was boosted into the saddle. She had lacked the courage to look at Rans until she was safely removed from his nearness.
The enigmatic light in his brown eyes held her captive, her heartbeat skipping erratically all over the place. His left hand held the reins while his right rested on her knee. An empty ache started devouring her insides.
"I have to go," Lara murmured desperately, as if he was asking her to stay.
"Tell your father I'll stop by with the quarterly reports tonight." Rans stepped away. He seemed suddenly very aloof and indifferent.
"Yes. Yes, I will," she answered tightly, reining the horse away from him as scalding tears welled in her green eyes.
Lara barely remembered any of the ride to the house. Sh
e simply gave the bay hunter his lead and let him take her back. Trevor was on his way out when she rounded the corner of the house.
He paused to wait for her. "I'm glad I saw you before I left," he said. "I left a note in the kitchen to let Sara know I wouldn't be here for dinner this evening. Knowing her, she is liable to throw it away thinking it's a scrap of wastepaper so would you pass the message on to her to be safe?"
"Yes," she agreed automatically. "Where will you be?"
A raven brow lifted with cynical dryness. "Do you care?" Trevor jeered.
Lara sighed and ran a weary hand over her forehead. "No." she started to walk past him to the front door, but he caught her arm.
"You seem different," he frowned curiously. "I can't put my finger on why."
His touch made her skin crawl. "You are mistaken, Trevor," she said with freezing scorn.
"Am I?" His dark head tipped to the side in considering thoughtfulness. "I'm not sure."
"Don't you have some place you have to be?" Lara snapped, not wanting to be subjected to his probing for fear of what he might discover … or what she might discover about herself.
His dark eyes flicked impatiently to his watch.
"Yes, I'm late now. We'll talk another time, Lara."
Not if she could help it, she thought as he released her arm and walked swiftly to his car parked in the driveway. Lara didn't wait to see him leave, but hurried into the house, rubbing her arm where he had touched her.
The courtyard was darkened by evening shadows. Lara turned away from the glass-paned door, twirling the liquor in her glass and listening to the clink of ice against the sides. She ran a nervous hand along the waistband of her long skirt, a vivid floral pattern against a background of black.
After the quiet meal shared with her father, Lara had not wanted her own company. To be alone meant to think. That was one thing she didn't want to do. So she had accompanied her father to his study, sharing an after-dinner drink with him, breaking her usual custom of abstinence.
But his company hadn't proved to be the distraction she had hoped. Soon after they had entered the study, Martin Alexander had become immersed in the notes she had typed for him to day, leaving Lara to restlessly wander about the room.
