Reckless Promise

by Jenny Andersen

  Poppy kept her gaze on the can. "That's your opinion. You've surely been nice to me. That makes it easy to be nice to you."

  She said it as though not very many people had been. He couldn't imagine anyone being not nice to Poppy...well, maybe Alice, if she didn't take her hostess duties so seriously. But Alice and Tom seemed to have solved their problem, whatever it had been.

  "A lotta people thought you were goin' to be a problem with Tom, but shoot, honey, I could tell you weren't really after him," Chickie said.

  "What? How?" Poppy sounded surprised.

  "I've watched a lotta man-hungry women here at the ranch. You made it look good, but there just wasn't any heat. I don't know what you were up to, but..."

  Mac shifted closer in the shadows. Well, he'd wondered about that a couple of times. So what had been going on?

  Chickie looked out across the crowd. "Alice sure has had a burr under her saddle the last few months. But she's lookin' happy enough now. I guess everything's okay."

  He certainly hoped so, too. Hearing that Alice had been unhappy had been bad. But what did he know about being married? His own not-nearly-short-enough venture into matrimony didn't make him a poster child for happy marriage.

  Poppy turned her head to follow Chickie's gaze.

  He lost himself for a moment, enjoying the elegant line of her neck, then realized she watched Alice. His sister drifted through the crowd, stopping for a few words with each guest, drawing them into little groups, making sure everyone got included. She stopped to talk to little Chrissie and her mother, and to admire the baby.

  "What in the world does she have to be unhappy about?" Poppy asked. "She's got everything a woman could want, I would think. She seems like a natural-born hostess. This is the perfect job for her."

  "Oh, sure. This is a dream come true for her and Tom. Mac, too. But it's a little bit like bein' married to a movie star. There's always women comin' on to your man in a place like this. Alice's been real short about it lately."

  He watched guilt chase embarrassment across Poppy's face.

  "Oh, dad-blast it!"

  Chickie's exclamation drew Mac's gaze. She glowered across the crowd at Moses. Correction. At Moses and a woman. Brandi had unfortunately not left the ranch. She had draped herself around as much of him as she could reach, and the look of panic on his face made Poppy giggle. Mac was tempted to sit back and enjoy the sight of the usually unflappable wrangler in such a fix. But duty called, and he'd better get over there and smooth things out before the darned woman started another scene. Another, worse, full-blown scene.

  "What does he think he's doin'?"

  "Calm down, Chickie" Poppy said. "He's not doing anything. She's the one—"

  "He's not stoppin' her." Chickie's face contorted with emotion.

  Jealousy, or sorrow, or rage? He couldn't tell. He'd bet on anger, given the cook's volatile nature.

  "This's just more than a body can stand." Chickie slammed down her drink and shot to her feet. "I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind." She grabbed Poppy's hand and towed her toward Moses.

  "Wait. Let go. Not me." Poppy tugged to get loose, but Chickie ignored her protests.

  Mac jumped to his feet and followed, wondering if the whole ranch had gone nuts. Well, the full moon might have something to do with it, but he'd never seen Chickie carry on like this. For all her yapping and sniping, she and Moses were as tight a corporation as Mac could imagine. He'd never heard a word of real dissension between them.

  "I got a few things to say to that big idiot," Chickie said, and pulled Poppy to a sudden stop behind a bush.

  Mac nearly ran over them in his hurry to not miss a word.

  "But I get all tongue-tied sometimes," Chickie went on. "I want you to stay right here and help me if I get stuck for words."

  Poppy looked dismayed. "But I don't know what you—"

  Chickie had gone.

  Mac stepped up beside Poppy and put an arm around her. "What's going on?"

  "I'm not sure. Chickie saw Moses with Brandi wound around him, and went postal."

  Mac watched Chickie snatch the brunette's hand off her husband's arm as if it were a snake. "She never gets upset."

  "Oh, yes, I can see that," Poppy said.

  "Don't be sarcastic. I think I'd better stop this. It has all the makings of a brawl, and this is supposed to be a family place. Come on."

  "Me? Leave me out of this," Poppy protested as he dragged her along.

  "...mine," Chickie said.

  Mac grinned at the embarrassed wrangler. "Having a little trouble, buddy?"

  Moses gave him a weak grin.

  Chickie glowered at the brunette.

  Mac needed to do something, and fast. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alice starting to drift toward them. And Tom. And the other guests were beginning to notice a scene in the making. "You calm Chickie down," he said to Poppy. Now, what the hell was this woman's name? It didn't matter. He put a hand on her arm. "Come on, honey. I'll bet you need a beer, and a pretty thing like you shouldn't have to drink alone."

  He led her away, toward the chuck wagon and handed the trouble maker over to the most wolfish of the men currently in residence. He'd feel guilty about that later, if necessary. And he'd alert Tom to keep an eye on them. Later. Right now, he needed to get back to Poppy.

  Chickie and Moses were faced off, right where he had left them, with Poppy as an uncomfortable looking referee. Tom had managed to divert the other guests. Alice hovered.

  "...probably after every woman on the place. I bet you even tried to make time with Poppy every time I turned my back, you big ape."

  "Hey," Poppy protested.

  "Sorry," Chickie said without removing her glare from her husband.

  Moses's expression went blank with horror. "I've never even looked at another woman," he told Chickie. "And I've never lied to you. We don't lie to each other, ever."

  Chickie rounded on Moses. "Well, you better learn to keep your hands off other women if you don't want to eat your own cooking, you big lummox. Pro—pro—" She turned to Poppy.

  "Promiscuity?" Poppy offered.

  "Promiscuity is out," Chickie picked up. "Out, if you ever want to see me and your son again."

  Moses scowled. "I don't have any ki—" He staggered as though Chickie had whopped him with a two by four. "Son?" he said in a thready voice.

  So Chickie was pregnant. "Well, that explains the fireworks," Mac said.

  Chickie rolled her eyes toward Poppy, obviously panicked that she had let the cat out of the bag.

  Poppy shrugged. "You're on your own with this one."

  Chickie turned back to Moses. "Son. Or daughter," she said, and squared off at him. Underneath the belligerence, Mac could see anxiety as she waited for her husband's reaction.

  He grabbed Moses's limp hand and shook it. "Congratulations. You can blame everything on hormones for the next few months. We'll leave you two alone now." Mac took a death grip on Poppy's arm and towed her away at top speed. The sound of Chickie bursting into tears added speed to his escape. A quick backward glance showed Moses putting his arms around her.

  He and Poppy got about thirty feet away from all the mush before they ran into Tom and Alice, who looked irritated and anxious, respectively. Damn. Too much emotional stuff going on this evening. He cast Tom a look that said 'get us out of here.' Tom made a helpless gesture.

  Poppy glanced back over her shoulder and smiled, a satisfied look of expectations fulfilled.

  Mac turned to see what had caused the smile and saw Moses and Chickie as a single shape against the firelight. The look on Moses's face, turned down to Chickie, held an expression of such heart-stopping tenderness that Mac felt like a voyeur.

  He glanced at Poppy and saw her swallow hard.

  "They're going to have a baby," she said, and her eyes went misty.

  "Hey, that's great," Tom said. "Just great. Too bad they're going to be first, but what the hell. We'll catch up. We better get busy, Ali
ce. And we better hire some extra help. Can't have Chickie overdoing now." He charged off to congratulate Moses.

  "Of course," Alice said to Tom's departing back, and her voice held a note of such despair that Mac stared at her. Her look of anguish seared him and he took a shocked step toward her.

  "Let's go see if Moses got the coffee started," Poppy said, leading Alice toward the barbeque pit. She jerked her head at Mac in a gesture that said very plainly, 'Get lost, this is woman stuff.' He fled to the nearest group of men, happy to obey.

  "It's not fair," he heard Alice say as he went, her voice bitter. "They've never even wanted a baby."

  Women. Thank goodness Poppy was here to handle this one. Mac thought he'd hit bottom when he'd been a nineteen-year-old man trying to explain tampons to his twelve-year-old sister. The memory of that day of infamy could still drive him to drink, and this might be worse.

  Poppy came back, carrying two cups of coffee. "I think the storm's over."

  "Except that Moses is probably going to be useless for the next whatever months."

  "Heaven help you all if they have a girl." She snickered. "I can just see him, leading around this tiny person all done up in pink ruffles. He'll be a pushover."

  "Speaking of pushover," Mac said, taking her hand. "Every time you're near—" Her pulse jumped under his thumb, and she looked up at him with parted lips . "—I'm a pushover."

  "Are you?" She sounded breathless.

  "Try me." He kissed her, intending only a light brushing of mouths, and felt her heart—or his—jerk into a trip-hammer rhythm. The soft lushness of her mouth seduced him. He couldn't imagine anything better than the pleasure of her mouth. When the chatter of the crowd began to fade from his consciousness, he reluctantly raised his head. "I guess this isn't the time or the place."

  Poppy took a great, gulping breath and looked around. A couple of kids giggled and crashed through the brush toward the fire. "I guess not."

  "You spilled your coffee."

  "So I did." She sounded annoyed.

  Mac grinned. "I'd hate to think I was the only one affected by that kiss."

  She grabbed her cup from the ground, marched back to the chuck wagon, and started to help a radiant Chickie dish up beans and potato salad. He watched every inch of her progress with appreciation.

  He got through dinner in a haze of anticipation. By the time the music started and he could pull her into his arms, every touch of her sent him nearer to flash point. While the guests bounced around the makeshift dance floor to classic country tunes, trading partners and mocking the more outrageous lyrics, he drifted in a sensual haze with Poppy.

  * * *

  When Tom shut off the music, Poppy reluctantly untangled herself from Mac. She wasn't ready to stop, especially to climb on a cranky, sleepy horse for the ride home.

  She eyed the happy group of guests lounging in the back of the hay wagon and scowled. Paired off. Two by happy two. ,Those people had ridden horses on the trip out, and were going back in romantic comfort with Moses driving the team of great black horses that were his pride and joy. She knew what that meant—Mac leading extra horses, and Poppy riding alone.

  It could have been a memorable trip, with a fat moon shedding silver magic across the sage, the soft jingle of harness musical in the stillness, and Mac beside her. He might even have pulled Poppy over onto his horse. Instead, she followed the wagon and listened to the intimate murmurs of the couples in front, and the subdued swearing of Mac and Tom, each leading three riderless horses, behind.

  This evening needed its romance quotient raised. At least Mac had looked as disappointed as she had felt when those couples had chosen to ride in the wagon. And the way he had kissed her less than an hour ago promised all the romance she could imagine. A little shiver ran up her arms. The horse's swinging walk lulled her with its rocking chair rhythm, and she let herself imagine what might happen.

  Time for her fling. Her very un-Poppy-like, very hot, very much overdue fling. All signs indicated that Mac agreed, but if she had to seduce him, she'd do it. Seven ways from Sunday, as Chickie said. So, tonight.

  She thought about the plan and assured herself it was a good one. Not, absolutely not, one of her hare-brained run-away-from-the-problem-because-she'd-been-hurt schemes—like not applying for a grant because her advisor insulted her, or like being the other woman because she'd been fired. Anyway, one little fling surely couldn't get her into trouble.

  She'd never actually tried to seduce anyone. She might feel just a little bit insecure, but she had candles and wine and a revealing negligee she'd never worn. Pretty cliché, but things became clichés because they worked.

  Back at the stable, Moses left with Chickie and without a second glance for the work. Remembering the look on his face when he'd realized he and Chickie were going to have a baby gave Poppy a funny warm glow somewhere in her middle.

  Hot desire swamped the glow when Trigger stopped at the hitching rack and she looked down into Mac's eyes. Everything she had been thinking probably was written on her face for him to read, and she felt herself flush.

  His mouth quirked up at one corner. "I've been thinking the same thing, honey," he said. "Oh, yeah."

  She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by what she saw there. He took the reins and tied the patiently waiting horse. "Let me help," he said, setting his hands on her waist. He lifted her and let her slide to the ground, a long, slow slide down his body that turned her brain hot and bubbly and her knees soft.

  "Why don't you come over for a glass of wine," she said, using her best, most seductive purr.

  "Soon as I help Tom with the horses."

  Her confidence soared at the flare of lust in his eyes. She strolled toward her cabin, putting a lot of swivel in her walk. Everything was sliding into place as though ordained by the stars.

  Once inside her cabin, she went into action, planning furiously to keep from having second thoughts. She set out candles and made an impromptu ice bucket to chill champagne. All the movies and books emphasized leisurely preparation for seduction, but she didn't have time to linger in a scented bubble bath. Instead, she whipped through the shower and raced to put on the one seductive garment she had with her, the one Jase must have shoved into her suitcase when her back had been turned.

  Finally she was living up—or down—to her reputation, and she loved it. She started a fire in the field-stone fireplace and touched cinnamon oil to all the spots she could imagine a man might kiss. She lit a dozen candles around the living room and opened the bottle of wine. She checked the bedroom for any stray naked men.

  Ten minutes later, she poured herself a glass of champagne and twirled it in her fingers. Nerves. She set the glass down, poked the fire, and turned on the radio to soft music. Country western, but that had worked just fine at the barbeque.

  What an idiot she had been, with all that dithering over should she or shouldn't she. Of course she should. And tonight...tonight she hadn't had too much wine, hadn't been in an accident, wasn't so sore she flinched every time he touched her. Maybe this time she'd get to live out her fantasies. It would be her reward for keeping her promise to Tom. And then she'd go back to her real world. She took a sip of wine to cover up her sudden lack of enthusiasm for the prospect.

  Peeking out the window would be too gauche for words. She wouldn't do it. She. Would. Not. After thirty interminable minutes, she pulled back the curtain and peered toward the stables. Dark and quiet. Her fingers curled into the edge of the curtain. No, he couldn't have...he wouldn't... She looked the other way and saw Mac and Tom striding together toward the lodge. A burst of laughter chimed through the stillness and she turned away from the window, feeling sick.

  He wasn't coming. He'd forgotten her invitation. Numbly she picked up the untouched glass of wine and took a mouthful. She crossed the room to sit on the couch, stare into the fire, and indulge in feeling unloved and sorry for herself. The story of her life. She'd spent years fighting off unwanted advances from men who only w
anted a quick romp, and now, when she finally decided to go for it, to get some hot sex because she just plain wanted it...here she was, stood up. And by some jerk pretend cowboy at that.

  A half dozen songs moaned from the radio, each one more lugubrious that the last, while she stared blankly at the flames. Footsteps on the porch pulled her out of her black thoughts and she scowled. So he'd finally decided to show up. Well, if he thought that she'd be waiting for him anytime he chose to give her his attention, that he could just stroll in any time of the night he wanted, well, he could just think again.

  She crossed the room and opened the door.

  Chapter 11

  Mac's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. His hands shook and he almost dropped the bottle of wine he carried.

  She wore something cut low at the neck, a gown that swirled around her ankles like flame-shot smoke, all the colors of fire. Her creamy shoulders rose from the swirl of scarlet and orange and gold like paradise glimpsed through the blazes of hell. She held a glass of wine, sipping from it and looking at him through lowered lashes. Mysterious. Witchy and knowledgeable. Tempting. Bare, elemental need shocked through him like a bolt of electricity.

  He wanted to grab her right there in the doorway. If he had his way, she'd be naked and under him before they even hit the floor.

  She stepped back and held the door for him. "I thought you weren't coming."

  "You have to be kidding. No way. I had to unsaddle the horses, and I went up to the house for a shower, some wine, and flowers." He held out the bunch of pansies he'd been hiding behind his back.

  Her mouth curved in delight. "Oh, lovely. You didn't have to do that. But I'm glad you did."

  "As long as you didn't give up on me."

  "I almost did."

  "That would have been bad." So bad he didn't even want to think about it.

  "Let me find something to put those in." She bent to rummage in the cabinet under the sink. "I'm sure I saw a vase under here the other day."

  He eyed her upturned rear, swathed in the floating, flame-colored panels of her outrageous robe thing. Just looking at her made his palms itch. He stepped closer and flattened his palms over the lush curves of her bottom. Pure pleasure poured through him like warm honey. For about half a second. She started at his touch, and he said, "Don't forget the—"