She fluffed her hair and ran her hands down her body, arching her back and thrusting out her breasts. Fiery awareness followed the trail of her fingers. If she reacted like this to her own touch, just imagine what would happen if she were naked and the hands touching her were big and hard and demanding and male.
Her nipples peaked under the spandex.
She'd do it. She'd get sunburned in places that had never seen the sun, and she'd have a fling with a real cowboy. Why not? All those years of hard work and stubborn celibacy had left her frustrated, yelled at, and fired. Time for a walk on the wild side.
She practiced an undulating, I'm-available saunter on her way into the bedroom to unpack and take a shower.
First she had to make Alice jealous.
* * *
"A dumb suggestion." Mac MacLean shifted his gaze from the display of championship rodeo buckles that graced the shelf beside his desk to the man squirming in the visitor's chair. At moments like this he really hated being a CEO. Fighting for eight seconds of glory on a bucking horse was a lot more fun, but the company was his baby. His baby, his problem.
He leaned forward and glared at the company comptroller. "We will not eliminate security guard escort for late-shift workers. Think about it, Fred. Middle of the night. Deserted parking lot. Defenseless women. Do I have to spell it out?"
When Fred didn't speak, Mac leaned farther across the desk and narrowed his eyes. "Well?"
Fred jumped as if the word had been a cattle prod. "I—I—I—but, Mr. MacLean, we could save—"
"I said think, Fred." Mac made an effort to lower his voice. "This is a city. There are bad people out there. Bad men who are bigger and stronger and meaner than women." He paused. Maybe this wasn't the best approach. He'd seen Fred's wife at the last company picnic. Well, too late now. He plowed on. "We can't have any woman working at MacLean's Baby Foods face unnecessary danger because we want to save money."
Fred nodded once. Couldn't seem to stop. His head bobbed up and down like a broken toy.
Mac's head throbbed with frustrated temper—and guilt. He had to stop before he scared the man to death, but everyone in the company from Fred on down had to understand that some things just weren't going to happen while Mac was in charge. "Is that clear?" he finished, making his tone convey that it damn well better be.
"Y-yes, sir." When Mac nodded dismissal, Fred nearly ran from the office.
The door didn't quite close behind him, and Fred's low-voiced question to Mac's secretary, Henderson, was clear. "Is he always this overprotective?"
Whatever Henderson replied was lost in Mac's growl. He wasn't overprotective. A man had a duty to take care of those who were smaller and weaker. And that meant women. Even Fred's wife.
Half an hour later, Henderson buzzed him. "Mrs. Bailey on line one, sir."
Mac put down the report he'd been red-penciling without really seeing the words and unclenched his jaw, happy at the distraction. "Alice," he said with real pleasure, and then held the phone away from his ear. Shouting women had never been his thing, but this was his sister, so hanging up wasn't an option.
"You have to come home," Alice said.
Oh, Lord, not one of his mares or foals. The vein in his temple pounded again.
"Not the horses." Alice knew him well. "It's—it's—just come home, will you please?"
First Fred and now this. He focused on the painting of the ranch on the wall facing his desk. Mountains. Sky. Peace. "Now, Alice—"
"I can't deal with—"
He tried again when she paused for breath. "Now, Alice—"
"Mac, if you 'now, Alice' me once more, I will come to Denver and strangle you with the phone cord."
He swallowed a smile before she could hear it in his voice. The eight hundred miles separating them provided some measure of safety. On the other hand... He tried again. "Calm down and tell me what's wrong."
"There isn't anything to be calm about. It's all these single women—" She broke off with a sob.
An unpleasant premonition riffled the hair at his nape. Alice never acted like this. "There are always single women at the ranch. They've never bothered you before."
She barged on as though he hadn't spoken. "The one Tom brought back from the airport has 'other woman' stamped all over her. She's a gorgeous redhead and—"
"Gorgeous redhead sounds good. Want me to help?" The words popped out before Mac could stop them.
"Yes!"
"I'd love to come home but I don't have time. Tom's got it down to a science. They flirt with him, he's polite, they go home, no problem. Why can't he do it?"
"Oh, he's polite, all right," she said and he could almost hear her teeth grind.
Mac's chest went tight. He'd introduced them and welcomed Tom into the family. Trusted the man with his sister. "Are you trying to tell me Tom is hitting on a guest?"
"N-No." She didn't sound sure enough to suit him. Something wasn't right. He used the calm voice that usually worked with upset employees. "What aren't you telling me?"
After a long pause, Alice said, "I'm afraid..." She faltered and fell silent.
"Why?"
"We—we haven't—been getting along too well lately," she said in a small voice.
Strange. Tom and Alice got along like two peas in a pod. Never fought. Almost never fought. And Alice had never turned to Mac on the rare occasions they did. Tom would never mess with another woman, he'd take a bet on that.
"Sounds like you really do want me to come home," he said reluctantly. His calendar was full. Overfull.
"Yes."
He pulled the phone away from his ear at her shout. "Honey. Don't yell."
"Why not? Don't you think I have something to yell about? I've had it with single women on vacation. Every one of the lonely little darlings thinks Tom is part of the package."
"But Tom knows that's not true. I can't believe he'd—" The choked noise on the other end of the line stopped him dead. "Alice?" he said cautiously.
A sob shivered down the line.
"All right." He could finish the deal to sell the damn company over the phone. "I'm coming. Don't do anything—" He broke off, unsure what instruction he could give her that had half a chance in Hades of being obeyed. 'Don't do anything stupid'? Right. A jealous, hysterical woman would listen to that one. "Don't do anything irrevocable. I'll catch a plane this afternoon and be there for dinner."
* * *
In spite of her brave plans, Poppy spent the rest of the afternoon, spinelessly pretending jet lag and gathering up courage. Alice put a stop to that by banging on the door. The chill of her brusque "I came to see if you'd like to join us for happy hour," didn't promise a fun evening.
"Of course." About as much as she wanted to take the MBTA home from her lab. Alone. At one in the morning.
She trudged behind her reluctant hostess up the path to the main ranch house, trying to ignore the pine-scented air and faraway sounds of children's laughter and water tumbling over rocks. The view of horses and split-rail fences and rustic wooden buildings didn't look as alien as it had a few hours ago.
But there was still Alice, and Poppy really didn't want to do this. "It'll be easy," Tom had assured her. "If you make her jealous, she'll stop with her nice-one-minute-deep-freeze-the-next routine." And when Poppy had demurred, Tom had grabbed her arm and begged. "I've tried everything. Candy. Flowers. I gave her the deep freeze back and flirted with guests. She knew right away that was a fake, because I'd never...but you could make her believe it. I even tried taking her away for the weekend to talk about our relationship."
Poppy had almost smiled at the undertones of horror in his voice.
"But all she did was cry. Please, Poppy. You're my last chance."
She couldn't have turned him down after that impassioned plea.
This Alice radiated a displeasure that almost eclipsed her professional hostess charm. And Tom hadn't mentioned the misery in her eyes, a deep unhappiness that made Poppy want to offer tea and a sh
oulder to cry on instead of adding another problem.
Poppy's guilt couldn't have been more real if she'd been planning to seduce Alice's husband in fact instead of appearance.
Well, the sooner she started, the sooner she'd be done. She smiled innocently and looked toward the barn, her gaze lingering a careful moment too long on a wrangler leading a couple of horses into the corral. A cowboy. A real cowboy. She made a soft sound in her throat that wasn't entirely for Alice's benefit.
When Alice looked at her, she ran the tip of her tongue across her lips and let an anticipatory smile curve her mouth. "It must be an overwhelming job to run this place," she said, pitching her voice a little lower, a little throatier than normal. "Surely you don't do it all by yourself?"
Alice's expression chilled a few additional degrees. "No," she said. "My husband and I run the ranch. He's the one who drove you in from the airport."
"Oh, yes. Tom," Poppy cooed, amazing herself. She'd never cooed before in her life.
"He's taken some guests on an overnight camping trip. They'll be back tomorrow." 'And keep your hands off' sounded as clearly as if she'd said the words.
That had been almost too easy. She'd convinced Alice she was an empty-headed twit on the make without any trouble. Maybe Tom was right—this would all be over soon.
On the other hand, maybe she'd only make things worse.
The purr of an expensive engine caught her attention. A sleek black Mercedes bumped across the cattle guard and pulled up at the main house. Poppy couldn't see Alice's expression, but the stiff shoulders relaxed and her hands lifted, reaching for the man who climbed out of the driver's seat. She ran toward him. "Mac!" Her glad cry floated through the clear air. "Mac, you came."
At this distance, all Poppy could see was big. Tall. Broad shouldered and lean-hipped. Dark as sin. If she believed in Jase's theories about auras, this one would be colored dangerous. If this man stayed, poor Tom might have a bigger problem than he realized. She'd have to charm him away from Alice while she was at it.
The stranger radiated power. If he owned the place he couldn't appear more in control.
His charcoal suit whispered 'money.' Glossy black cowboy boots and an outsized silver belt buckle added 'western money.'
Poppy's skin prickled, and her heart began a slow, thudding beat. He looked—familiar. This was the Prince Charming, the rogue, the hero who had seduced her in a thousand exotic, erotic dreams.
What nonsense. As if she could tell anything about him from this distance.
Alice hurled herself into his arms. He gathered her close, his dark head bent to her. Poppy stopped, breath wedged in her chest, and watched. As if she were the one melting against him, the heat of his embrace surrounded her. The strength of his arms held her safe—
She sent a last, sour glare at the entwined silhouette and stamped up the path, heading around the lodge toward the pool for a few minutes to herself before happy hour. She didn't do tall, dark, and deceitful. This was Home on the Range, not Some Enchanted Evening, no matter what her traitor body said.
Chapter 2
Mac carried his beer into the Great Room that stretched across the back of the lodge, thankful to be out of the tin can plane, out of the city, and back in jeans. Damned good to be home, with his family, where he belonged.
His gaze wandered around the room, idly cataloguing the guests. At least a dozen couples lounged in the chairs and sofas in front of the crackling fire. Just about full capacity for the ranch. Kids played ping pong, watched TV, and chased each other across a floor big enough for square dances.
He smiled at the sight of the littlest one, tagging after a posse of bigger boys, waving a toy pistol almost as big as he was. Mac wasn't about to get on the marriage-go-round again, but a family needed kids. Alice and Tom ought to get busy.
His gaze sharpened on two women sipping wine at a table in the corner. Alice had followed him to his room and bent his ear about all the single women in residence while he unpacked. These two looked like nice, ordinary ladies having a nice, ordinary, G-rated vacation. Had Alice exaggerated? Or even lied? No. Alice didn't lie. He looked around for other singles, skipping over two men who might or might not be a couple.
Ah. This might be Alice's problem. He watched a brunette barracuda drape herself over the counter that doubled as a bar in the evening, checking out all the men. A single woman on the prowl, for sure, but no temptation for Tom there, or for him either.
He turned, and saw a redhead. This must be the woman who had Alice in such a tizzy. Alice had fussed, whined, and complained, finally shouting through the bathroom door over the noise of his quick shower until he'd promised to keep the woman away from Tom.
Alice hadn't lied.
Temptation, in spades.
The woman Daddy would have warned him about, if Daddy had ever bothered.
The woman Mac had waited for.
She stood in the doorway doing nothing more than looking around the room, but she might as well have been a Molotov cocktail for the way she blew away his relaxed musings. He lifted the bottle, urgently needing liquid in a mouth that had gone drier than Death Valley in high summer.
Thank heavens for his lifetime habit of protecting his little sister. What if he hadn't come home when she had called?
From the torch of tousled red curls to the fringe on her scarlet moccasins, this woman was fire waiting to take a man to hell in a glorious blaze. What felt like every drop of blood he owned left his brain to pool lower. A tingle started in his fingertips. He thought— She took a deep breath and he was beyond thought in a single heartbeat as the tingle zinged through his gut, leaving him as aroused as he'd ever been in his life. He needed to walk across the room and talk to her, but he wasn't sure he could walk, and he certainly wasn't in any shape to move out of his shadowed corner.
As soon as he regained some control, he'd be there beside her, ready to do his duty for his sister. Wasn't family loyalty a virtue? This time virtue would definitely be its own reward. He leaned against the wall and surveyed her, from the thousand-shades-of-red hair down over curves that made his fingers itch, past the mile of leg that a man would die to feel wrapped around him. Rescuing his sister had never been this good before.
He started edging around the room, but before he reached her, those two single men, the ones who had paid no attention to the women at the table or the predatory brunette, had swept her off to play ping pong. He got another beer and drifted toward that end of the room.
Alice met him halfway. "I see you've noticed her. Poppy."
"Yeah. Who could miss her?" Poppy. The name fit. Bright. Beautiful. Probably addictive.
"If you could stop drooling on your boots for a minute and listen to me..." Alice's hand tightened on his arm in an unmistakable I-mean-business way.
The glitter of tears in her eyes short-circuited his impatience. "Alice. Honey." He led her to one of the benches that ringed the room and pulled her down beside him. "Don't you think you're overreacting? I'll grant you she's gorgeous." What an understatement. Repressing the urge to sneak another look, he swallowed against the dryness in his mouth and went on. "But she hasn't done anything except play ping pong. Hardly the behavior of an evil temptress."
"She'll be here for two whole weeks," Alice wailed.
Alice didn't act like this. Not strong, I-can-do-it Alice. "There won't be any problem with the redhead." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Trust me. She won't have time to bother Tom. I'll take care of her."
Alice relaxed against him. Strange that she was so worried about Tom and other women all of a sudden. An uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach diluted his satisfaction at fixing her problem. The promise he'd just made might be walking off a cliff. He sneaked a glance across the room at Poppy again. He'd take the fall a happy man.
But he could flirt with guests without getting too close or involving any messy emotions, he reminded himself. After one more long look at her luscious promise, he revised that. Not this time. He didn't
know a thing about her except the way she looked, but his attentions weren't going to be pretense. This time, he wasn't sure he could stay detached.
He didn't care.
* * *
Poppy missed the last serve and set her paddle on the corner of the table. "You win." She let her new buddies drag her to the bar in one corner of the room where she perched on a stool and accepted a soda.
"Wouldn't you like something a little more...adult?" The voice coming from close behind her held a leering, suggestive note that raised her hackles and defenses. She hadn't seen any unattached men in the room except for the two she was with, and from the way they looked at each other, she'd guess they weren't exactly unattached. The voice must belong to Alice's unfortunately gorgeous boy toy, Mac.
Charming him away from Alice lost its appeal fast, no matter how much he looked like her fantasies. Even if the picture of him with his arms full of Alice hadn't turned her off, that lame pick-up line would do it. But if she had to lure him, she'd better be nice. Swallowing her distaste, she turned to him with the best smile she could manage.
The smile faded when she got a good look at him. This wasn't the man Alice had flung herself at. This man, all sandy hair, drug store cowboy clothes, and wedding ring glinting in the light, had been sitting on a sofa with his arm around a pretty blonde when Poppy had come in. Now he leaned back against the bar, shiny new boots crossed, the whole posture designed to showcase his package. His bedroom-eyed gaze locked somewhere south of her chin.
She wanted to smack him, for thinking she'd be dumb enough to bite on a tired line like that, for pushing in when she was trying talk with two perfectly nice, perfectly gay—and after sharing an apartment with Jase, she could tell every time—men, and for behaving as though this were a meat market. "I'm sure your wife would love to have a drink," she said, and turned her back on him.
It wasn't until dinner time that she saw The Other Man. He'd been sitting back in a dark corner. With Alice, of course. They came out into the light, and he took a step away from her.
Reckless Promise Page 2
