HOT-BLOODED HERO

by Donna Sterling

  Adrenaline pumped through Tess as it had the day a rowdy bunch of Westcott boys had surprised her in the woods. Kristen had been picking berries closer to the house. No one else had been home. Tess had been forced to put a BB through the biggest boy’s shoulder.

  She believed that had been Cole Westcott. Since the Westcotts and McCrarys never socialized in the same circles, attended the same schools or lived in close proximity, she hadn’t known him personally. And she hadn’t seen him after that day. But she had heard gossip about Cole, the heir to the largest of the Westcott fortunes. In fact, she’d heard something about him recently, she suddenly remembered. His father had died. Which meant Cole had come into full power.

  He’d now pose more of a danger than ever.

  She ran from the parking lot of the small complex, up a short flight of wooden stairs to her apartment. The first thing she saw when she pushed through the door was her pretty blond sister seated on the sofa, her blue eyes shimmering with tears, her lips trembling.

  Concern and anger roiled in Tess. “What’s going on here?” she demanded, her fists clenched at her sides, her body braced for confrontation.

  A man rose smoothly, courteously, from a corner armchair. His sheer size threw Tess somewhat off-balance. Disjointed impressions flitted through her mind. Tall. At least six-foot-three. Wide shoulders. Muscular forearms beneath rolled-up sleeves. A hint of dark hair near the opening of his gauzy white shirt. A strong, tanned throat. Clean-shaven jaw.

  Her mouth went dry.

  He’d been too good-looking for comfort when she’d been thirteen, but nothing had prepared her for this. Between his deeply bronzed tan and the golden lights in his thick brown hair, he seemed to glow with the sun’s own energy. A groove too long and masculine to be called a dimple ran along one side of his wide, firm mouth. But it was his eyes that held her entranced—a vivid sea-green, they were lit with keen intelligence, and focused intently on her.

  “Tess, this is Cole Westcott,” came her sister’s soft, disembodied voice from somewhere in the room. “Cole, my sister Tess.”

  Neither of them offered a handshake or murmured polite banalities.

  He raised a brow with mock wariness. “You’re not packing a BB gun, are you?”

  She supposed she should have expected it—the deep, gruff southern voice that could melt honeysuckle from a vine. The very sexiness of it irked her. “No, Mr. Westcott. Next time I feel the need to defend myself or my family against you, I’ll pack something much more potent than a BB gun.”

  A rueful sparkle lit his gaze. “Somehow I don’t doubt that.”

  “What did you do to make my sister cry?”

  “Oh, no, Tess,” protested Kristen, rising from the sofa, her face streaked with tears, but her eyes now dry, “he didn’t … I mean, it wasn’t…”

  “I asked her to marry me.”

  Tess stared at him, thunderstruck. “You what?”

  “It’s true,” Kristen said. “He asked me to marry him. Oh, are you okay, Tess? You look so pale. I know it’s a shock. You’d better come sit down.”

  Soft, insistent hands closed over her arms, but incredulity kept her standing. “You asked her to what?” she repeated more forcefully.

  “I think sitting down would be a damn good idea.” He eyed her with that wary look again.

  “I think you’d better start talking.”

  “Come on, Tess.” Kristen tugged her to the sofa and pulled her down beside her. “I’ll explain everything.”

  Dazed, as if she’d had a physical shock, Tess forced her gaze away from that Westcott man now seated in her armchair and turned questioning eyes to Kristen.

  “It’s for business purposes,” Kristen informed her. “A temporary marriage. Just a matter of paperwork, really. And he’s offering us money. A lot of money.” Leaning closer, she whispered as if it were a secret, “A million dollars!”

  Tess couldn’t have been more stunned. Or more suspicious.

  “Did you hear me, Tess? I said—”

  “Yes, yes, I heard you.” A million dollars. More than enough to solve their problems. She frowned at the man who watched them with cool, calculating green eyes. “Why are you doing this?” she demanded.

  Again, her sister answered for him. “Because of his father’s will. Before he died, Mr. Westcott came to regret the things he’d done to Grandpa and Daddy, and wanted to mend the rift. He tried to think of a way that would force the families to put aside their differences and unite in friendship.”

  “Unite in friendship!” Tess repeated, her incredulity bordering on scorn.

  A flicker of unease crossed Cole Westcott’s face.

  “So he put a stipulation in his will,” Kristen continued. “Cole has to marry a McCrary woman before six months have passed.”

  “He wanted you to marry a McCrary?” Tess asked Cole in stark disbelief.

  He cleared his throat and avoided Tess’s gaze.

  “Oh, yes, he wanted that very much,” Kristen assured Tess. “If Cole doesn’t marry a McCrary, he’ll lose Westcott Hall.”

  Tess gawked first at Kristen, then at Cole. “Is that true?”

  “Absolutely,” Cole confirmed.

  Tess thought about it briefly, then shook her head. She wasn’t buying the story. Cole Westcott definitely had some underhanded scheme in mind.

  The Westcotts always had underhanded schemes in mind. They’d engineered a hostile takeover of her father’s corporation, forced him out of the import-export business, financed a mud-slinging campaign when he ran for mayor, sabotaged his investments and bought up his assets as quickly as he lost them.

  The worst had been when the Westcotts acquired her father’s ancestral home in Beaufort—McCrary Place

  —with most of its original furnishings, for way below market value. She’d heard they hosted parties there just to flaunt the spoils.

  How her father hated them! Of course, he had inflicted some damage of his own. Her mother had been engaged to Cole’s father when Ian McCrary met her. Westcott had never forgiven him for stealing her away.

  And now Cole expected her to believe that his father had added a stipulation to his will to force his son into marriage with a McCrary? She didn’t believe it.

  “A million dollars, Tess,” emphasized Kristen. “That’s more than enough to pay off Daddy’s back taxes, the medical bills and the business loans. It’ll even give him money to retire.”

  She winced at her sister’s openness. Although Cole Westcott probably knew more about their financial state than Kristen did, Tess didn’t like discussing their personal business in front of him.

  “Mr. Westcott,” she said with cool formality, “before we waste more time, please understand that I intend to go to the courthouse and look at your father’s will. So if there’s anything you haven’t explained to Kristen regarding this offer, you’d better do so now.”

  A hint of amusement—and maybe respect—entered his gaze. “What? You don’t believe my father repented his dastardly deeds on his deathbed?”

  Tess managed to refrain from snorting. “Do you?”

  He laid a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt that you doubt me.”

  Tess twisted her mouth to hold back a laugh.

  “Don’t be hurt,” Kristen begged in her soft, kind voice. “Tess didn’t mean to doubt you or your father. She’s just surprised, that’s all.”

  A somewhat sheepish expression doused his amusement. “Thank you, ma’am.” He cleared his throat and glanced uneasily at Tess. “Maybe my father did have a little more motivation than simple regret when he added that stipulation to his will.”

  Tess raised her brow, waiting.

  “Shortly before he died, he found a curse in an old family bible.” He actually looked embarrassed. “The curse demands that the ‘Westcott of Westcott Hall’ marry the daughter of his McCrary neighbor. For some crazy reason…” he uttered a dry laugh “…my father believed it. He added the stipulation to his will in hopes of removing the cur
se from the family.”

  Tess stared at him, thoroughly surprised.

  “I’ll bet it’s the same curse we found,” Kristen theorized. “Remember, Tess? It said that the McCrarys and the Westcotts would find only loneliness and heartbreak unless a McCrary woman married a Westcott man.”

  A chill raced down Tess’s spine. Of course she remembered the curse. She’d tried very hard to forget it since the day she’d read it in her grandmother’s bible. But every time another tragedy struck, another heart broke, another bout of loneliness hit, she thought about the curse.

  She’d thought about it too often.

  “Why did your father believe it?” She hoped he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

  Cole shrugged. “Dementia, maybe?”

  She bit her lip. She supposed it was crazy to believe in a curse. Crazy and pointless. “Were there … tragedies in your family?”

  “Some.”

  “There’ve been quite a few in ours,” Kristen confided.

  An understatement. Every one of the McCrarys had suffered a deep, personal loss, including Kristen, their parents and Tess. Kristen’s high-school sweetheart had died in a car accident. Her parents had lost a child to illness. And Tess’s fiancé had never returned from an anthropological study overseas.

  Phillip. The old pain and anxiety swept through Tess. Had he fallen victim to the curse? Was he, even now, suffering somewhere because she, a cursed McCrary, loved him? Had he died because of it? But no, she couldn’t allow herself to believe the worst. Thirteen months had gone by without any word of his whereabouts or fate, but she refused to give up hope.

  “Regardless of why my father put the stipulation in his will,” Cole Westcott said, “I’ll have to satisfy it.” He no longer looked amused. “As I’ve told Kristen, I’ll draw up a contract for her to take to an attorney. My lawyer has advised that we remain married for five months. He also advises that we, uh, cohabit in my legal residence for that entire time.”

  “Cohabit?” Tess narrowed her eyes on him, her suspicions flaring. “You expect my sister to live with you for five months?”

  “In a purely platonic way, of course.” Though he’d said it in a business-like manner, Tess didn’t miss the wry curl of his mouth and the sardonic awareness in his gaze. He knew of the suspicions looming in her mind. Kristen was too beautiful a woman not to present a temptation to a man like Cole Westcott. “She’ll have her own private suite in Westcott Hall. I’ll even spring for a deadbolt if she feels … unsafe.”

  The wry note in that assurance caused Tess’s jaw to square off. “Be sure to write it in the contract.”

  A small sob turned both their gazes to Kristen, who’d pressed a hand to her mouth as her eyes filled again with a liquid sheen.

  “Oh, honey, don’t cry.” Tess slid an arm around her, and Kristen buried her face against her shoulder. Tess suddenly realized the reason for her sister’s misery. She should have figured it out much sooner, but she’d been too stunned by the proposal to think clearly. “You don’t have to do this, Kris. You know that, don’t you?”

  Cole frowned at Tess.

  Tess frowned right back at him.

  “But I do have to,” Kristen cried against her shoulder.

  “Let’s go to the bedroom and talk, okay?” As she helped Kristen up from the sofa, Tess said to Cole, “Excuse us, but I’d like to have a word with my sister.” He nodded, looking mildly annoyed, and Tess ushered Kristen to her bedroom.

  “Don’t you see?” Kristen whispered as Tess shut the bedroom door. “That million dollars is the answer to our prayers.”

  “But what about your wedding?” Tess said, broaching the topic that sat so heavily on her sister’s heart. “It’s all set for next month. You’ve already invited the guests. You’ve spent your savings on deposits for the hall, the cake, the caterer, the flowers. And Josh made non-refundable reservations for your honeymoon. You can’t marry Josh if you’re married to Cole Westcott.”

  “I know that,” Kristen wailed with a fresh welling of tears.

  “And how will Josh feel about your marrying another man? Living with another man? He’s being transferred to Seattle in July. He’ll have to leave without you.”

  “But what else can I do? Daddy and Mama need that money.”

  There was only one answer. Tess knew she should have suggested it the moment she’d realized her sister’s dilemma. Her hesitation shamed her. Swallowing her trepidation, she said, “Let me check into the situation a little more closely. If I feel that Cole Westcott’s offer is legitimate…” she paused, momentarily overcome by the daunting prospect “…I’ll marry him.”

  Kristen blinked in surprise. “You?”

  “Yeah, me.” Her insides churned at the very thought. “I’m a daughter of his McCrary neighbor, the same as you. That should satisfy the terms of the will. And we’ll still get the money for Mama and Daddy.”

  Hope shimmered through Kristen’s tears. “Do you think Cole Westcott will allow it? The switch, I mean.”

  “I don’t see why not.” An outright lie. Tess saw very clearly why he might not allow it. He’d made the offer to her beautiful younger sister. Perhaps he wouldn’t want his name linked to a plain-Jane type like Tess, no matter how temporary the arrangement. He did, after all, have a reputation as a first-class womanizer to uphold.

  And then there was the fact that she’d shot him. Living with a trigger-ready bride who harbored unresolved hostility issues against him might not be particularly appealing.

  Too bad. If he didn’t want to lose Westcott Hall, he’d have little choice. As far as she knew, the pickings were slim when it came to single female McCrary relatives. “Forget about Cole Westcott,” she told Kristen. “I’ll handle him.”

  “Are you sure? I hate to saddle you with another problem. Besides, you’re engaged, too. What if Phillip comes back?”

  Tess stared at her in dismay. Although her fiancé had been missing for over a year, she prayed every night that he’d return to her. What if he did return and found her married to Cole Westcott?

  She glanced down at her engagement ring, and doubt assailed her. Was she wrong to consider this deal with Westcott? No. There was too much to be gained by going through with it. “I’d simply explain the situation to Phillip, and he’d understand. It’s not like there will be anything personal between Westcott and me. And five months isn’t forever.”

  “Thank you so much, Sis.” Kristen fervently hugged Tess. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  As Kristen smiled gratefully at her, Tess was again struck by her beauty. In a cotton-candy-pink sweater and slim white slacks, her short blond hair glimmering around her heart-shaped face, she was the kind of woman any man would be proud to introduce as his wife—even a playboy tycoon like Cole Westcott.

  Tess, on the other hand, was the kind of woman he might not mind introducing as his sister-in-law. She wasn’t even too sure about that. She’d never been particularly pretty, and at the moment… She caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror and winced. She looked a wreck. She wore the baggy old jeans and roomy gray sweatshirt she’d worn last night while working on the books. Her hair streamed in untidy strands from her braid, and there were dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes from lack of sleep.

  She could just imagine what Cole Westcott thought of her.

  Not that she cared. She was very much in love with another man—a man who loved her for her mind and her convictions and the person she was. At least, he had loved her before he’d disappeared in some faraway land. Oh, Philip! I miss you.

  Gathering her composure with an effort, she encouraged Kristen to go wash her face and calm herself. Tess then removed her engagement ring from her finger and tucked it away in her dresser drawer. It seemed somehow inappropriate to wear Phillip’s ring while discussing marriage with another man.

  Anxiety bunched and knotted in her chest as she headed for the living room. She dreaded the prospect of approaching Cole and prop
osing that he marry her instead of Kristen. It’s a business deal, nothing more.

  She found him standing near the fireplace in the living room where photos lined the mantle. He was studying one of Kristen in her high-school cheerleading outfit.

  Tess cleared her throat nervously. He turned, and his gaze locked with hers. A disturbing warmth washed through her. He was just so big and solidly masculine and ruggedly attractive. Tess hadn’t had much experience with that sort of man. She felt unbearably awkward.

  She had to remind herself that Cole was, under all that virile splendor, only a Westcott. “I’m sorry, but my sister has decided to decline your offer.”

  He leaned against the mantle and hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans, letting his hands curl loosely on his thighs. Long, muscular thighs, from what she could make out through the tight denim. “May I ask why?”

  “She’s marrying someone else next month.”

  “Ah. So I’ve been thrown over for another man.” The dry humor in his naturally gruff voice should have set her at ease. It didn’t. “I must admit, I’m impressed. She’s willing to kiss that million dollars goodbye, and all for love.” He angled his head and regarded Tess with a slight frown. “She did understand it would be a marriage in name only?”

  “Of course. But the timing was bad. Next month … a big wedding … a honeymoon … a move to Seattle…” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Marrying you just didn’t fit on the agenda.”

  The groove beside his mouth deepened, and his green-eyed gaze played over her face. In a softer, gruffer voice that sent spirals of warmth curling through her, he asked, “Know where I might find a single McCrary woman in need of a million dollars?”

  “Well, I … I…” Oh, come on, Tess. Spit it out. He’s practically asking you, isn’t he? She bit her lip. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he sincerely wanted her to recommend another McCrary woman. “I might know of one.”

  “Might?”

  All her insecurities rose to her throat, preventing a single word from squeezing through. She wanted to slap herself. She couldn’t believe she was even considering letting a million dollars slip through her fingers to avoid a possible rejection. Since when had her ego become so delicate?