Sam shook his head, reached out and slid his arm around her shoulders. “No you don’t,” he admonished gently. “Your father had one hell of a reputation as a fighter. And you’re his daughter. I’d wager you get just as stiff-necked and proud as he was. You don’t let anyone help you.”
Kelly responded to his touch. It was all so crazy. Sam Tyler was a stranger. He had come over to drop off the report. Nothing more. But here she was, leaning against his warm strong body, weeping without restraint. She closed her eyes, needing the solace he provided. Her world had gone berserk and she was far too exhausted to try to halt the cataclysmic events tearing her life apart. Sam Tyler represented the only available source of stability at the moment.
“You’re right,” she returned, her voice nearly inaudible. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself as he continued to lightly massage her shoulders. “I am my father’s daughter.”
Sam managed a soft snort. “Proud, Irish and Texan. One hell of a belligerent combination,” he said without rancor. He gazed down at her with newfound tenderness. It would be easy to close the inches separating them and kiss her. He longed to feel the pliancy of her lips beneath his mouth…what the hell was he thinking about? Sam jerked his torrid thoughts up short.
“Just rest, honey,” he urged quietly. “I’ll sit here and hold you for as long as you need.” He watched as her drooping lids closed. Dark lashes swept across her translucent skin like auburn crescents. The rise and fall of her breasts against him lessened. As the minutes passed her breathing became shallow, indicating that she had fallen asleep. An odd smile curved Sam’s mouth. His day was certainly turning out to hold one surprise after another.
He hadn’t expected to find a woman in charge of Blanchard when he went charging in there with the blown section of pipe. He hadn’t expected to meet a woman who had beauty, intelligence and genuine compassion. Sam looked back down at her. Yes, that was what appealed to him the most about her: the fact that she really cared. Old man Blanchard had always wanted to satisfy his customers by providing a quality product. And his lovely, headstrong daughter was cast from the same mold. Sam found her appealing and couldn’t regret the explosive meeting that had brought them together.
He drew in a breath and his broad brow furrowed with worry. You’d better sleep, Kelly Blanchard, he thought to himself, because when you wake up, there will be more problems to deal with. His frown deepened. How could this tall, proud woman affect him so deeply? Was it her spitfire quality? Her courage? Grimacing, Sam knew he had no easy answer. All he was sure of was that when the situation calmed down, he wanted the opportunity to know her better.
There were a myriad of questions he wanted to ask. Did she have someone waiting for her back in Pittsburgh? More than likely. She was too damn pretty not to have a crowd of male admirers around her at all times. Children? If he recalled correctly, he remembered that Blanchard’s only daughter had gotten a divorce a year ago. And it had been a messy one according to the gossip around the oil and gas industry. In this industry, everyone knew everyone else’s business. Had her ex-husband been unable to deal with her? Sam’s blue eyes twinkled at that thought. Yes, she would be a handful for any man who was threatened by a competent, assertive young woman with brains and moxie to back her up.
He remained an hour before carefully extricating himself and gently depositing Kelly on the couch. He located an afghan and placed it over her. Dusk was settling over the city and if he didn’t leave now, he’d end up falling asleep with her cradled in the crook of his good arm. That wasn’t a bad thought. But he sensed she would feel embarrassed enough about her outburst of tears. Proud women cried in private. A lambent flame burned in his eyes as he reached down, allowing his fingers to trail through the thick tresses of her hair. He had been right: it was like silk. Reluctantly, he broke contact and left the report on the desk with several scribbled notes pointing out certain paragraphs of the text that needed her attention.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Kelly, we just can’t use Blanchard Pipe anymore.” Coots Matthews gave her a regretful look, casting an uneasy glance at his partner, Boots Hansen. “We’d like to, honey, but this is the third time in a month that pipe has failed. We can’t risk our men this way. Conditions at an oil or gas blowout are hazardous enough without our being unable to trust our water piping.” Coots shifted uncomfortably. “You understand?”
Kelly remained silent as she listened to their softly spoken apology. When she had groggily awakened around midnight the night before a flood of embarrassment had filled her. But after reading the report well into the early morning hours, she had more serious things to worry about than her behavior with Sam Tyler. She was convinced something was terribly wrong at Blanchard Pipe.
Her green eyes flashed with pent-up annoyance. “Boots, how long did you know my Dad?”
“A good twenty years,” he admitted.
Kelly swung her gaze to Coots. He was the taller and quieter of the famous firefighting duo. Today his face was even more serious than usual. “How about you, Coots?”
“I recollect it was going on twenty-five.”
She straightened up in the chair. They sat in the conference room at an oval mahogany table. She tapped her finger on the wood surface. “And never once in all those years did you see a Blanchard pipe blow?” Her voice was charged with emotion and conviction. She knew her father’s standards of excellence in a product. He believed in paying a good price for good quality material. “Well?” she demanded, her voice becoming husky.
Coots exchanged a mournful look with his partner. “No, honey, none of it ever failed us.”
Her nostrils flared and she threw back her shoulders. “Listen, I read that report. And there wasn’t enough evidence in it. I’m not willing to concede that it was completely our fault.” She looked each man in the eye. It was a risky play and her stomach was knotting in terror over their possible reactions.
Coots frowned, scratching his head. “Now wait a minute—”
Kelly was on her feet. “No, you wait. I want another chance from both of you. For my Dad, if nothing else. I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow three pipe failures to ruin his business and reputation!” Her voice became strained with unshed tears. “Dad never cheated anyone in his whole life! Don’t you see? He’d never cheat on specifications for metal on these pipes. I’ve got to know what went wrong. Something had to induce the metal failure.”
Boots and Coots exchanged glances. She unconsciously held her breath, watching their facial expressions. “Look,” she went on, heedless of what they might think, “I have a plan. On your next blowout call, take me along. Me and a Blanchard pipe. I’ll pay to bring other pipe along from another manufacturer of your choice just in case ours does fail. I want—no, need—to go out in the field with you guys and see why our pipe failed. At least let me do this before you decide.”
Boots puckered up his mouth and expelled a long breath of air. “I don’t have a problem with that, Kelly. But hell, we can get called anywhere in the world.”
“Besides that,” Coots rumbled in his baritone, “you know these fires may last up to six months before they’re put out.” He glanced up at her with his dark brown eyes. “You got that kind of time to spend out at a site, Kelly?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “For the sake of the men whose lives depend on Blanchard Pipe, I’ll make the time. I simply want to be on site for a couple of weeks to record temperature, barometric pressure and other variable factors that might have overstressed our product. I have to see it for myself.” In reality, Kelly knew that she could have sent someone else from the company, but it was her willingness to become personally involved that would convince Boots and Coots to give her pipe a second chance. “In the meantime, I’ve got our lab people and an independent metallurgical lab analyzing the pipe that failed. I’ll have the results in two weeks. If our design or R and B Steel did not comply with our specs, I’ll be the first to tell you.” Her green eyes dark
ened to a jade color. “We’ve never sold bad pipe to anyone in the world and I won’t start now.”
Coots raised his eyebrows, his long face clearly revealing his surprise. “We never did think your Dad cheated us, Kelly. Hell, we’ve done business with him for a long time. I’m just worried about our men getting injured again.”
“I know that,” she went on. “And Blanchard will pick up Slim and Sam’s medical expenses. It’s the least we can do. My company’s reputation is on the line. I can’t afford one more failure or twenty years of my Dad’s efforts will go down a dry hole.”
Boots allowed a partial grin. “You sure as hell are your father’s daughter.” He exchanged a glance with Coots. “Sam was say’n the same thing this morning. He felt we ought to give you another chance. He’s highly respected in our field. Sam’s speciality is fluid hydraulics and particularly water systems. So we kinda took his opinion on this problem with a great deal of seriousness.”
Kelly swallowed her surprise. “He did?”
“Sure did, honey,” Coots spoke up, getting quickly to his feet. He jammed the white baseball cap back on his head. “Okay it’s settled. You’ll go with us on the next call. We’ll need another load of pipe—”
“It’s on its way over here right now,” Kelly interrupted, smiling for the first time.
Coots grinned and gave her a wink. “Okay, Kelly Blanchard, we got a deal.” He thrust his hand across the table, gripping her hand.
Kelly nodded. “You bet you do. And believe me, neither of you will regret your decision.”
Boots’s smile widened. “Listen, I’m partial to redheaded Texas tornadoes. Like your father’s, your word’s good enough for us, Kelly.” He pointed his finger at her. “Have our secretary, Arlene, outfit you with our coveralls before you leave here today.”
Kelly’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“If you’re going out on a job with us, you’d better wear our uniform. Otherwise, the police or military are apt to haul you off the site. We’ll have Arlene make up a badge for you, too. In the meanwhile, pack one suitcase with bare essentials and be ready to move on a moment’s notice.”
Coots’s rolling laugh filled the room. “You know what he means by essentials, don’t you?”
“No. What?” Kelly asked dubiously. Both of these Texans were enjoying this far too much and it made her wary.
“Deodorant and toilet paper, honey. ’Cause most of the places we go are out in the middle of the boondocks.”
She burst into laughter. “Enough for six months, right?”
Coots continued to chuckle. “On second thought, maybe you’d better hire a camel caravan. I can just see it now: rollers for your hair, nail polish, perfume—”
Kelly stifled more laughter. “Okay, I get the point. I’ll come to the airport or wherever you want me to meet you with bells on.”
“By the way, Sam wanted a few minutes of your time when you were done with us,” Coots said, a know-it-all grin on his face.
She shouldn’t have blushed, but she did. Hastily picking up her papers and purse to quell her nervous reaction, Kelly answered in a casual voice, “Good. I wanted to thank him for dropping that report off to me last night.” Well, that wasn’t a total lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Regardless of the outcome of her meeting with Boots and Coots, she had wanted to personally thank Sam for being so supportive.
“He’s out in the warehouse with Colly, our mechanic,” Boots said, pointed toward the door that led outside.
Kelly nodded and set off down the carpeted hall. At the very end, between the richly furnished offices, was a floor to ceiling photograph of a huge oil well fire. Plumes of billowing red, yellow and orange flames were exploding skyward from the desert well. Above were frighteningly black clouds of smoke. She shuddered inwardly, remembering that it was Blanchard pipe that had failed under just such a circumstance and had left two men injured. Taking a deep breath, Kelly made a turn and walked out into the high humidity and Texas sunlight.
She had purposefully dressed in burgundy slacks and a simple, no-nonsense pink blouse with her hair drawn back into a chignon at the nape of her neck. She had found through hard experience that businessmen responded to her more as an equal if she wore pants rather than a dress. Kelly shook her head over the stupidity of it all. She had a brain in her head regardless of what she wore! Tendrils of hair curled softly about her face from the dampness in the air as she ducked into the coolness of the large, clean warehouse. Kelly halted, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sudden shade.
“Well, how did it go?” a male voice inquired from behind her.
Kelly gasped and turned on her heel. She met Sam Tyler’s interested gaze, her heart beginning to pound at his curious scrutiny.
“I…uh…God, you scared me! Do you always sneak up on people?” she demanded breathlessly, resting her slender fingers at the base of her throat.
His white coveralls were marked with dark smudges of grease. The same hands Kelly remembered as being gentle despite their size and strength were now smeared with machine oil. He was carrying a large coupling in his left hand; his right arm was still in the sling. Sam’s blue eyes twinkled as he held her startled gaze. “Sorry.” His smile became more devastating. “I try not to make a habit of scaring beautiful women.”
Kelly took a step back from him. The bright sun slanted off his broad shoulders, making Tyler seem even taller and more well muscled than she recalled. It was her imagination. She blinked, gathering her wits together. “Boots said you wanted to see me,” she explained abruptly, nervous beneath his blue eyes.
Sam moved next to her. “Follow me. We can talk as we walk. Colly will throw a wrench at me if I don’t get this coupling over to him.”
Kelly nodded and fell in step with him. She was grateful when he shortened his stride for her sake. Although she was long-legged, she was no match for Sam’s stride. “I wanted to come out and thank you,” she said in a rush of words. Why did he make her feel edgy? The coveralls he wore zipped up the front of his chest and she couldn’t help but stare at the mass of black hair visible above the zipper. He was excruciatingly masculine.
“I’d like to talk with you privately, if I could,” she said, glancing up at him.
“No problem.” He looked at his watch. “It’s noon. Why don’t I get cleaned up a little and I’ll take you over to Pondi’s, a great seafood restaurant not far from here.” He smiled. “Besides, you need some meat on your bones, Kelly Blanchard. You’re too damn skinny for a Texas woman.”
She thrilled inwardly to the way her name rolled off his tongue. Frowning and trying not to show that he was affecting her so deeply, she shrugged. “How would you know if I were skinny or not?” she challenged, on guard against the familiarity that just naturally seemed to exist between them.
“Remember, I was the guy that held you last night.” There was teasing in his tone. “And as I recall, I could feel every rib. Now, you willing to own up to being underweight and let me buy you lunch? Or are you going to fight me every inch of the way?”
An unwilling smile curved her lips. “Okay, Sam Tyler, I’ll take your browbeating this one time. I owe you, anyway.”
Three
After Kelly was introduced to Colly, a huge man who was much more heavily muscled than Sam, they departed. Kelly let Sam drive them in one of the many white Cadillacs that belonged to the company. The air conditioning was a lovely respite from the heat and Kelly relaxed in the comfort of the car as Sam drove.
“Does everyone at Boots and Coots own a Cadillac?” she asked drily.
“They’re our company cars.”
“Some company car,” she complimented, trying not to smile with him.
“You figure that our expenses run a minimum of several hundred thousand dollars a day for a team to go on a blowout. Most blowouts aren’t capped or killed right away. Boots went on one that took six months to extinguish. Add the money up on that.”
Kelly did some quick arithmetic. “N
o wonder all you guys go around driving Cadillacs and wearing eighteen-carat gold Rolex watches!”
“Money doesn’t buy everything.”
Kelly met his teasing blue gaze. “You’re right. Money never did buy my Dad or myself.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“Oh?”
He slowed the car down and pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. “I’d hate to be the man to make the mistake of trying to buy you,” he laughed. “You’d probably deck him.”
Kelly shot him a prim look. “I am a feminist, Mr. Tyler. But I don’t think it’s necessary to go around clubbing people to make myself understood.”
Sam enjoyed her quicksilver moodiness. One moment her green eyes sparkled with challenge; the next, with an angry golden flame of righteousness. “Okay,” he said, “I give up!” He got out and then leaned down. “I’ll be an MCP and open the car door for you.”
He was impossible! Kelly broke into laughter. “Okay, I give up too! Please, open the door for me. Despite this liberated day and age, I always have room for a gentleman in my life.”
His hand fitted perfectly in the small of her back as he guided her toward the restaurant. He stole a look down at her as he opened the door. She looked a hundred percent better than yesterday. “Tell me,” he murmured, “do you look great today because of a night’s sleep or me holding you?”
She shivered imperceptibly at the husky tone of his voice. Kelly had been unable to wipe Sam Tyler from her mind. And he knew she was attracted to him! Not wanting to give him an edge, she muttered, “I slept well, if you insist upon knowing.”
Sam guided her to a darkened booth. His clean white coveralls almost glowed in the dimly lit atmosphere of the restaurant. Shadows played across his face as he sat there watching her. He folded his large, callused hand around the glass of water the waitress set before him. Many small and some larger scars covered his fingers and the back of his hand. It was mute testimony to working around machinery and welding all of his adult life.
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