By the time he made it upstairs, the door to Carly’s room stood open. From the bathroom at the end of the hall, he heard the shower running.
Tyler checked on Amanda and found her sprawled across her bed sound asleep. He tugged the blanket from beneath one outflung leg and pulled it over her. With a brush of his finger across her silken cheek, he whispered, “This lady we found to help you, she’s really something, isn’t she? She’s helping you, but I think she’s driving me crazy. Sleep tight, sweetpea.”
He dropped a kiss on Amanda’s brow, then closed the door partway when he left. As he paused in the hall trying to decide what to do next, the bathroom door opened.
Carly froze in midstep, one hand on the doorknob, the other raised to fluff the back of her damp hair.
Chapter Eight
Tyler bit back an oath. Rather than angry, she looked star- tled. And so damned vulnerable. Her hair was damp, her face scrubbed clean. Her skin looked fresh and dewy and…delicious. Her mouth…oh, Lord, her mouth practi- cally begged for his.
Her blue terry-cloth robe ended several inches above her knees, leaving those long, long legs bare to his gaze.
He felt his mouth dry out. By the time his gaze reached her feet, her toes were curled under. He wanted to smile, but couldn’t.
He had no business getting near her when she looked like this. No business at all. Yet he couldn’t walk away.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
She looked down at herself, then up at him. “Now?”
No, he thought. Not now, not here. He’d never be able to keep his hands to himself. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee downstairs.”
She gave him a hesitant nod. “Let me get some clothes on.
Please, he thought fervently. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
When he turned and started down the stairs, his heart was racing. He was being ridiculous, he knew. It wasn’t as if she’d been naked, for crying out loud. He’d been around women wearing a lot less than that robe and hadn’t had this kind of trouble with his pulse, or his breathing.
But then, those women hadn’t been Carly.
Carly, who knew how to ease away his pain and give him something infinitely precious in return.
Carly, who he strongly suspected hadn’t had a stitch on beneath that robe. One simple tug on the tie at her waist…
Down, boy.
By the time she cautiously entered the kitchen five minutes later, Tyler felt he had his unruly emotions and his equally unruly body under control. That she had on jeans and a sweatshirt along with those fuzzy house shoes with teeth and eyes helped. Sort of. Except the jeans were so tight…
“What did you want to talk about, as if I couldn’t guess?”
Tyler cleared his throat and offered her a cup of coffee. “Let’s sit down.” He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and offered her a seat.
Still eyeing him warily, she sat.
He took the chair across from her. To stall for time, since he really had no idea what to say, he sipped his coffee. He’d thought to somehow calm her anger, but she didn’t seem angry any longer.
“What do you want?” she asked again.
He studied her shiny-clean face and gnawed on the inside of his jaw. “I guess I want to know why you were so mad earlier.”
She grimaced and shook her head. “I’m not sure. I think it just all sort of hit me, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. All of what hit you?”
This time she used the coffee to stall. Three sips before she finally set her cup down and looked at him. She held his gaze only a moment before looking back to study the steam rising from her cup. “I don’t know. Everything. You understood what I was up against in San Francisco. The minute you saw that tow truck, you knew I didn’t have any choice but to accept your offer. What you weren’t aware of was, it was even worse than that. I’d lost my job at the Burger Barrel the night before.”
Tyler winced. Damn, but her back had been against the wall. He hadn’t known she’d lost the burger job.
“First there was James, and the accusations at work. I really think that if Walter Blalock hadn’t been like a second father to me since I lost my real one, I’d probably be in jail right now.”
“You mean if he’d had any real evidence, which he didn’t,” Tyler told her.
Carly ignored his interruption. “Instead of filing charges, all he did was fire me. Then I couldn’t get another job, and when I finally did, I couldn’t keep it. I was desperate for money. And there you were, dangling a hundred thousand dollars in my face like the proverbial carrot. Even when I finally gave in and agreed to your job, I felt guilty about accepting that much money. But I convinced myself that anyone who had that much cash to burn obviously wouldn’t miss a measly hundred grand. Then you told me about hav- ing oil and gas wells, and that just reaffirmed my belief that you’d never miss the money.” She shook her head and took another sip of coffee.
“I assume you’re getting to the point, here.”
“I’m working up to it. I think,” she added with a wry smile. “Maybe if I hadn’t gone to church with you that Sunday, and if I hadn’t gone to the bank this week, I wouldn’t have thought much about what my pay was cost- ing you.”
“What do church and the bank have to do with any- thing?”
“Are you kidding? Didn’t you see the looks your friends and neighbors were giving me that Sunday? And your fam- ily, I might add. Then there were the whispers. Everyone acted like I was some kind of piranha, and I didn’t under- stand why. And the bank—my word. It was just like being back at Blalock’s, when everyone thought I’d stolen all that money.”
“Carly,” he said, totally bewildered. “What are you talking about? These, people are my friends. They wouldn’t—”
“Oh, yes, they would, and they did. They are. But to their credit, I think they’re just trying to look out for you. I assume they think like your father, that I’m just out to take you for a ride. Except for the ones who obviously think you’re paying me for something other than what you’re really paying me for.”
Tyler straightened in his chair. “I think…I hope you’re only imagining all this.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I am, but I doubt it. At any rate, it hurts, you know? And then I found the notebook and saw that you’ve been saving that money for years and years for things you want and need. I looked around at what I was doing to earn my pay, and it didn’t seem like much. All of a sudden the money, my paycheck, seemed more like char- ity than earned wages. I guess I just…lost my head.”
Tyler wrapped both hands around his coffee cup to keep from reaching for her. “And now that you’re not angry, how do you feel about the money?”
She shook her head. “I’m not at all comfortable with having people think you’re paying me to…to be here for you, rather than Amanda.”
“Assuming you’re right, and that’s what people really think—which I don’t believe for a minute—how is my not paying you going to make any difference, assuming anyone knows I’m not paying you? Won’t they feel like they were right all along? That you’re…how did you put it? Here for me, rather than Amanda? After all, you wouldn’t be re- ceiving a salary for keeping house or taking care of Amanda. You’d just be living here. With me.” The very thought sent a shaft of heat through his blood.
Something flickered across Carly’s eyes, but before he could decipher it, she blinked and lowered her gaze. A dry chuckle came from her throat. “I hadn’t looked at it that way.”
When she didn’t say anything else, Tyler asked, “Would you mind telling me exactly what happened at the bank?”
“Nothing, really. Just some disapproving looks and a snide comment or two.”
It was Tyler’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t get it.”
“I think,” she said slowly, “your friends are just looking out for your best interests. I’m an outsider, and this is a small town.”
“Why didn’t you stick your tongue ou
t at them?”
Carly blinked, then choked, then laughed outright. God, how could he make her laugh when what she wanted to do was cry?
His chair scraped across the floor and he came around the table to her side. “Come here,” he said softly.
Before she realized his intent, he pulled her into his arms. She stiffened. “What are you doing?”
“Relax. I’m holding you.” He wrapped both arms around her and pulled her flush against his chest.
Carly shivered at his heat, at how solid he felt. Lord help her, but she couldn’t pull away. “Tyler, we shouldn’t be doing this. We’re supposed to be friends.”
“Hush. We are friends. Friends can offer a little comfort to each other, can’t they? Like you did for me not too long ago?”
Carly swallowed. “Is that what you’re doing, offering me comfort?”
“Aren’t you comfortable?”
She heard the smile in his voice, but couldn’t answer him. Comfortable wasn’t how she felt. She felt hot and tingly and shaky. She felt…scared. She felt…wonderful.
Comfort wasn’t what she wanted, either. But when she asked herself what she did want, she was too afraid of the answer to even let the thought form.
“I know we’re friends. But every now and then,” Tyler said, raising her head with a finger beneath her chin, “I get the strongest urge to feel you against me. Sometimes, like right now, I just get tired of fighting it.”
The heat in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. She tried to pull away.
“No,” he whispered. His head lowered until his lips were only a breath away from hers. “Stay. Please.”
And then he kissed her. Softly, gently, with so much tenderness, her throat swelled. For a moment Carly thought about resisting. But only for a moment. Less than a fraction of a second.
She didn’t want to resist. She closed her eyes and let her arms slip around his waist, let his mouth take full advantage of hers. It was a mistake, but she didn’t care.
Tyler didn’t think it was a mistake at all. He thought kissing her was the most right thing in the world. When his blood heated and pressure built in his loins, he relished the feeling. He deepened the kiss, wanting more. More of Carly.
Yet even as she responded to his mounting hunger, he felt the difference between this kiss and the last one they shared. Then, she had offered. This time, he was taking. And she was holding part of herself back.
Reluctantly he eased his mouth from hers. He didn’t want to push her away or scare her off. Searching her face, he saw wariness and bewilderment in those big brown eyes.
She was going to say something. He could see her gath- ering her thoughts. Probably something like how they shouldn’t have kissed, shouldn’t do it again.
He didn’t want to hear the words. He came up with some of his own. “I’m sorry if people are making you feel un- easy about being here.”
He read the confusion in her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to resume their previous conversation.
Too bad. He wasn’t going to give her the chance to say anything just yet. “But Carly, you don’t have to take it. If I’d sensed anything at church that day, I would have told them all to take a flying leap. Just because I didn’t say it doesn’t mean you can’t”.
His distraction tactics worked. He could tell by the way she gnawed the inside of her jaw that she was once again centered on what he was saying.
“No one has the right to judge you.” he told her. “Not here, and not in San Francisco. Why do you let people hurt you?”
She didn’t answer, but then Tyler hadn’t expected her to. He suspected she didn’t realize what she was doing to herself, or why. To him, taking the undeserved criticism seemed a great deal like her inability—or refusal—to eat ice cream. Somewhere inside her, she thought she deserved to get sick if she ate it. And somewhere, buried just as deep, was the belief that she deserved to be hurt. By Mr. Junior Executive, by her best friend, by Tyler’s own friends and family.
And it was wrong, dammit.
But that was something she was going to have to figure out on her own. Maybe then, maybe when she learned to stand up for herself, she could look him in the eye and admit she wanted him.
Until then, he vowed to keep her close and win her trust, if he could. Because he knew he never wanted to have to stand back and watch her walk out of his life.
She squirmed in his arms. It was only then that he re- alized he’d tightened his hold until he was practically crushing her.
“Sorry.” He loosened his hold, and she slipped from his embrace, leaving him feeling empty and cold.
Carly took each stair faster than the one before, until by the time she reached the top she was running. She slipped into her room, quickly closed the door, then leaned back against it and listened to her heart pound in her ears.
She didn’t want to like the feel of his arms around her, the solid warmth of his chest against her breasts.
She didn’t want to like the feel of his lips against hers. And she didn’t want to shiver at just the memory of his taste.
He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean for her to read any- thing more into that kiss than what it had been—an offer of comfort and friendship. He’d even said so before he kissed her. And if he hadn’t, the way he resumed their previous conversation while her head and heart were still reeling would have removed any remaining doubt.
Yet heaven help her, she knew if he tried to kiss her again, she would let him.
Stay away from me, Tyler. Please, please stay away from me.
He didn’t stay away from her. The minute he walked into the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, she knew things were different between them. Back to the way they’d been before he agreed they should be just friends.
For one thing, every time she looked up, she found him watching her. Sometimes intently, sometimes with a smile. Sometimes he stared blatantly at her lips while running his tongue over his own. When he left with the others for the hay field, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Then she got Amanda up, fed her and started making lunch to carry out to the field. Where she would have to face Tyler again.
Did he know what it did to her to feel his arms around her, much less to taste his lips? Surely he must have noticed the way her heart had pounded against his chest. He couldn’t help but have heard her. ragged breathing.
The next time he touched her, she honestly didn’t know if she would be able to keep from…from what? Throwing herself at him?
Maybe. Yes, maybe. She wanted him to kiss her again, she admitted. She wanted to feel him, taste him. And she wanted more.
She wanted him to want her.
Lord, help me.
Tyler’s behavior at lunch was a continuation of what he’d dealt her that morning. This time, though, it was worse. She couldn’t flee to another room when his stares became too intent, and jumping up to retrieve something from the pickup soon became entirely too obvious.
So she sat on the scratchy old army blanket with Amanda and the men and prayed the clouds building in the west would hurry lunch along. Prayed it was only the scorching August heat rather than Tyler’s gaze that had sweat beading on her forehead.
Even the men raised an eyebrow or two at the attention Tyler paid her. Arthur, although he’d been nicer to her lately, got that disapproving, speculative look in his eyes again. Willis blushed, but then the boy blushed over just about anything.
Tom watched Tyler and her and laughed out loud. Smitty, bless him, concentrated on tapping tobacco from his pouch onto a cigarette paper and pretended not to notice what was going on.
Neal was the one who made her uneasy. His gaze turned calculating. His smile, more like a leer, sent a tingle of apprehension down her back.
“Come on.” Tyler tapped her thigh with the back of his hand. “Let’s get you loaded up so you can get back to the house. If we get back to work quick, and if those clouds don’t roll in and dump on us, we ought to have the last of the bales st
acked by this evening.”
“You sticking around this afternoon?” Arthur asked him.
“We’re too close to being finished. I don’t want to come back out here tomorrow. If I stay now, we might just get it done.”
“Good enough,” Arthur said.
Carly jumped to her feet, eager for an excuse to move from Tyler’s side. She hadn’t realized the haying process was drawing to a close. Lately it had seemed as if it would go on forever. But huge stacks of bales now marched across the fields, where before only waving grass had been.
All but the last two stacks, separated from each other by a half-mile stretch of stubbled field, were already fenced to keep out the moose, elk and deer that would soon come down from the mountains. Cattle and horses, too, had to be kept out. They would only be allowed what was given them, as the hay had to last all winter. In Wyoming, winter would be long.
Carly gathered the debris and empty food containers from lunch, and she and Amanda returned to the house. She heard the phone ringing before she had the door open.
“Bar B Ranch,” she said into the receiver.
There was a pause, then a man’s voice demanding, “Who is this?”
If there was one question a single woman living alone should never answer over the phone to a stranger, it was that one. Carly was single, and she normally lived alone, so her immediate silence was a reflex action. The question invariably came, she knew, from someone who’d dialed a wrong number and had been expecting a different voice. But since she’d answered the phone with the name of the ranch, the man should know already whether or not he had the right number. Her identity should have been irrelevant. His imperious tone didn’t do anything to endear him to her, either. With narrowed eyes, she answered his question with one of her own. “Who wants to know?”
“Are you that woman Tyler hired to take care of Amanda?”
The way he said that woman made her grit her teeth. “Like I said, who wants to know?”
“Howard Tomlinson.” He said it with great impatience, as though any dimwit should have known who he was. “Amanda’s grandfather.”
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