by Cait London
Here he was again, barging in on her privacy when she wasn’t prepared for that scent, her heart flip-flopping at the rugged look of him...for without his trappings of civilization, his suit and manners, and dressed in a cowboy’s working clothes, Nick was devastating. “Snit? You wouldn’t last five seconds. The big ones are easy to bring down...you start at the knees and—” And then she swung at him.
By the end of the week, June had arrived and Silver had not spoken to Nick. He had refused to obey Mamie’s orders and apologize for dumping Silver in the horse-watering trough. It was either that or tossing her on the bed where nothing would be secret between them.
Nick’s mandatory appearance before his employer and grandmother, Mamie, cost him a day, flying to Denver and back. Silver’s faked sneezes while she talked to Mamie had endangered “The Nose.” Mamie had raised the three Palladin brothers, and she’d demanded perfect gentlemanly behavior from all of them. The twist of his ear accompanied Mamie’s swift order—Nick was to treat The Nose as a lady, and to make up, he should give her a present. “Something romantic,” Mamie had suggested briskly. “You know what women like. You’ve had enough of them hounding you for years.”
“We’re not a couple,” he had returned, rubbing his ear and remembering Silver’s too-sweet smile when she had replaced the phone earlier, ending the call to his grandmother.
On his return to Amen Flats, Nick glanced at the horses, noted the peaceful grazing of the cattle herd in the pasture and knew that Silver had wrecked his comfortable, predictable existence. The woman riding Montoya as though her life depended on the race, bent low in the saddle, was pure trouble, and he didn’t want to admire how she handled the horse as though her Tallchief blood gave her that right. She rode the horse close to him, and Nick grabbed the reins. He couldn’t resist mocking her, her furious expression pinning him. “Hello, sweetheart.. I’m glad to see you, too.”
“I’m stuck with you. There are three of you Palladins. You look just alike, and I have to be stuck with the contrary rottweiler,” Silver stated in a disgusted tone. She swung down from the saddle, leaving him to take care of the Appaloosa gelding. The sweater tightened on her breasts as she placed her hands on her hips, sheathed in tight long jeans. “I am not a happy woman. I’ve asked the Tallchiefs to help me explore the countryside—to get a feel of the essence I want—and all I get is you. All very polite, of course. I don’t want you and you don’t want me, so let’s do this the easy way. Leave me alone. Stop tagging after me.”
“Lady, if I had a choice—”
“Good, we’re agreed. You don’t interfere with me, where I want to go, what I want to do. If you do, I can make life really rough for you.”
Nick forgot his own dark mood and enjoyed the fascinating, furious woman in front of him. “You’re good. Mamie bought your faked cold.”
“You have no idea how inventive I can be.” She breathed uneasily and smoothed Montoya’s mottled flank. “Leave me alone, Palladin, or I’ll take you out.”
He wanted to pick her up, fuse his mouth with her saucy one and kiss her breathless. He’d never played with a woman, taunting her, half afraid he would hurt her with his strength, but with Silver the urge to tease her was too strong. “I love it when you talk dirty.”
She stared blankly at him, then straightened immediately, in very proper, feminine, outrage. “I have never spoken dirty in my life.”
Nick released the grin inside him. “You know you want me.”
The blank look slid into fury, her fists shooting to her waist, her legs braced and eyes all slashing hot steel. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you, ace—-I’ll develop a sweet little love potion for you. You wear it, collect a woman who can keep you off my back, and we’ll both be happy.”
Nick tugged on the long braid flowing over her chest, fingering the silky tip. “Lady, you’re stuck with me. Whatever you’re up to, I’ll be right there.”
“Someone should have taught you trust, Nick.”
He let that remark slide—trust had been a scarce commodity in his life.
After cooling Montoya, Nick walked into his home, tossed his suitcase onto his favorite wood-and-cushion chair and went to deliver his required present.
Not that he enjoyed prowling through every quaint shop in Denver. Not that he’d ever spent time individualizing a gift for a woman. Not that the antique perfume bottle was romantic and perfect for a woman with iridescent silvery eyes and filled with secrets.
Nick glanced at the changes she’d made in his home, a row of ferns in the shadows, her antique perfume bottles and atomizers placed on a long shelf near the window, the glass sending a myriad of colors off into the shadows.
Nick frowned; he liked shadows. He liked his home uncluttered, just like his life.
The laundry room was a mess, his ironing board frothing with lacy underwear. He glanced at the low walnut coffee table at which he liked to work his puzzles. It was littered with herbs and florist boxes, and one glance at his antique maps, rolled and placed inside a small nail barrel, told him that she’d been prowling.
What was she hunting?
He found Silver, dressed in her lab coat in the new addition he’d had built for her, the view looking out across the meadows to the black waters of Tallchief Lake onto the jutting red cliffs and high meadows of Tallchief Mountain.
In contrast to her usual style, the laboratory was meticulously neat, filled with tubes and decanters and a sketching table near the window. The shelves were neatly lined with tight containers, each labeled in Silver’s block business print. At her desk, a small laptop computer was closed and silent.
Nick stopped at the door, studying the woman bent over her craft. She snuffed delicately at a beaker of dark liquid and brushed the fragrance upward to encircle her. Eyes closed, she turned slowly, as through trapping the fragrance inside her, dissecting it. She opened her eyes and found him.
They stared at each other, the sultry scents snaring him delicately. The impact stopped Nick’s heart. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her, simply hold her close and safe, protecting her from whatever drove her to ride Montoya like a demon.
“For you.” He tossed the small package to her and hooked his thumbs in his belt to keep from reaching for her to drag her lips to his.
Silver eyed him suspiciously and peeled away the plain brown paper, opening the box. She carefully eased away the tissue protecting the antique-cut glass perfume bottle and stopper.
Nick inhaled abruptly, realizing that he’d been holding his breath, waiting to see if she would take a gift from him.
Silver’s pale hair gleamed, the dark roots noticeable as she turned the cut-glass bottle carefully, holding it up to the light and tracing it with her fingertips.
“This is very old and very nice. Thank you.” The words, the tone, were proper and sincere, and just for a heartbeat, Nick glimpsed the intriguing feminine softness that ran inside Silver. Then she handed him a notebook and turned back to her work as if he didn’t exist
“These are good,” Nick stated after scanning her layouts for advertising labels, marketing techniques and the spin-off soaps, salts and bath powders for the Palladin line. He wanted to prowl through her life, find the missing part and what she was seeking—
“I know, I am good. Now get out of my lab.”
Nick settled back into the shadows of Maddy’s Hot Spot, Amen Flats’ local tavern. On a Saturday night and after a week of Silver, he felt bruised and abused. While the extended Tallchief family circled the dance floor to country music, Nick leaned his chair back against the wall and brooded about the woman inhabiting his life.
She ate when she wanted—mostly peanut butter and jelly sandwiches—passing through the kitchen with a distracted expression, jerking open the refrigerator door to scan the contents. He doubted that she knew if she had eaten, or when. While she dropped her clothing throughout the house, her laboratory was spotless and ordered. Twice, the sound of Silver sniffing over old mo
vies at midnight had cost Nick sleep. A woman working out frantically in a tiny, thin leotard, her body sweaty and taut as she concentrated, wasn’t exactly calming, especially the rhythmic lifting of her hips from the door. The sensual jolt had slammed into him, sucking his breath from a painfully hardened body.
Now, out on the Hot Spot’s dance floor, sheathed in a loose chambray shirt, knotted at the waist, and tight blue jeans, pale hair fanning out as she danced, Palladin’s “Nose” had gotten under his skin. Her written memo had reminded him that she required all windows to have a sheer or curtain covering. The lady did not like looking at her reflection; to his disgust, Nick enjoyed looking at her too much.
There were scents in his home, on his clothing, that no righteous man could ignore. He’d reached for the shampoo and found himself scrubbing a flowery scent into his hair. Montoya had tried to throw him; Rafe and Joel had smirked.
Finding a woman’s lacy panties in his laundry basket could slam Nick’s brain to a full stop. The silky tidbit had clung seductively to his freshly washed jeans and sent a flying punch into his lower belly.
Walking into the bathroom every morning was torture. The scents from her long, luxurious bath could drive a man over the edge. After taking his shower, he was certain that he wore her scent. For a confirmed bachelor, the mark of her possession was unsettling, as though she had claimed him and he was powerless. Nick didn’t appreciate his brothers sniffing him and grinning. Nostrils flaring, Montoya had backed away from Nick.
Silver had allowed him a small shaving mirror and had removed the rest expertly, as though she’d done it many times. Her reflection in a glass window could startle her, pale her cheeks as she rubbed her hands lightly over the glass surface, as though wanting to plunge into the reflection and grasp it.
The professional woman beneath the huge glasses and the lab coat was one person—absentminded, leaving half-eaten sandwiches behind her, clothing on the bathroom floor—the sight of her lacy bra flung on top of the shower stall had stopped him in his tracks. When engrossed in her formulas, moving in and out of the laboratory, she’d wear whatever was at hand, including his white dress shirt, which reached past her thighs. Her safaris into his laundry room often produced the stunning picture of Silver wearing his overlarge T-shirts and shorts. The novelty of having a desirable woman wear his clothing had definitely poleaxed him.
The woman on the dance floor, laughing as she danced with any available male, had a secret that caused her to cry at night and drove her ruthlessly. For tonight, she’d given herself to release, enjoying the Tallchief outing at the local bar.
While Silver enjoyed herself, dancing a two-step with Maddy, the beefy bartender, Nick considered the woman who had just moved into Rafe’s arms, laughing up at him. Rafe, a happily married man, shot a devilish grin at Nick, who scowled back.
“So how is it? Living with a woman after hoarding yourself for all these years? You’re definitely smelling...seductive.” Joel seated at the same table, flicked the price tag on a plastic rose, Maddy’s concession to decor in the noisy bar.
“The whole house smells like a woman,” Nick grumbled.
“Yeah. Life with a good smelling woman is hell all right. Especially one that looks like Silver. That cowboy dancing with her might like to take your place.” Joel stood up and wrapped his arms around his wife, who kissed him long and hungrily.
Nick found Silver in the shadows, pasted to a tall cowboy who was tasting her ear. His hand slid low on Silver’s lush behind, sheathed in jeans, and Nick tensed.
She was a desirable woman; he had no claim on her. Yet if that cowboy’s hand moved a fraction lower—
The cowboy grimaced painfully and jerked away from Silver, who smiled coolly.
Nick settled back in his chair, startled that his muscles had tensed, ready to leap to Silver’s defense. The lady could handle herself; she didn’t need Nick’s protection.
Nick settled back into the shadows, nursing his foamy draft brew. There wasn’t one reason she should appeal to him...one reason he should want to knock that cowboy into the street...one reason he wanted to lay her down and claim her for his own.
Silver laughed up at Joel, who had just enclosed her in his arms, his wife flinging off to dance with her brother, Duncan. Under the banoom light, Silver swirled out from under Joel’s arm, her hair fanning out pale and thick. Nick imagined her hair as black and glossy as a raven’s wing, an inheritance from her Sioux chieftain ancestor. None of the images matched. The woman was pure trouble, and he wasn’t getting involved
Five
Silver laughed up at Joel, her arms around him as they danced to the country and western music. “You and Rafe look exactly like Nick, except you two are lots sweeter,” she said. She didn’t care one bit that Miss Tight Jeans and Nursing Mother Breasts had laminated herself to Nick’s sizable, hard body. Silver had avoided coming close to him; she didn’t care one bit that every woman in the room was angling to get close to Nick.
She didn’t care that with other women, Nick Palladin was Mr. Charm and Seduction, his slow, easy smile causing them to melt and drool. If his devastating, slow, easy smile could be packaged, Palladin, Inc. wouldn’t need to produce a male fragrance line. Men could just splash themselves with Nick’s magnetic scent, and women would flock to them.
Mr. Charm sat in the shadows now, bracing his brew on his flat stomach and glowering at her. He disapproved of her, not that she was fond of him. “Your brother has primitive tendencies.”
“He has a few rough edges when he’s around you. We’ve been tamed,” Joel noted with a grin. “Nick still has to go through the process.”
Silver glanced at Nick, sitting in the shadows, his legs propped on another chair as he glowered at her. “Now that’s a thought. Why don’t you find him some nice little sweet girl and settle his playboy bottom down? Then we can all have some peace.”
“We’re saving him. He’s had women chasing him for years, and it’s only fair that he find one he can chase.”
“I’m not in the mood.” After a full week of Nick looming near her, she enjoyed the release at the local bar, complete with nude paintings disguised temporarily with sheets. The pungent scents of beer, pretzels and peanuts, and laughter were easy, unlike the persistent taut fear that she could fail, and she flung herself into them.
Through the crowded room, Silver caught glances of Nick—surging from his chair, moving toward her like a stalking hunter. Though shadows obscured his face, she recognized the swagger, the broad shoulders blocking out the dim light. For once, she didn’t have to pretend, to avoid mirrors, to try harder to be more...to push herself into exhaustion. Her body and senses lurched into alert, hungrily anticipating a raw, honest encounter with Nick.
Nick towered over her, his big hands reaching for her waist. His expression was grim, challenging and just what she wanted. She met his hard stare with her own and walked into the duel, senses quaking—She reached up with both arms to hold him, moving close to two-step with him—
She’d wanted to toss a flip challenge at him, but his arms enclosed her firmly, big hands flattening on her body, claiming her. He tugged her against him hard enough to push the air from her lungs—or was that the clamoring of her heart? She caught Nick’s scent before he bent to place his mouth exactly on hers, slanting and taking the kiss deeper before she could push him away.
He caught her close and hard, his chest tight against her breasts, his arms pushing cords and muscles at her, his hands open and claiming. He wasn’t leaving her, not when she had him in her grasp—Silver locked her arms around him and held on as the world spun around her....
He tasted of wild mountain storms, of devastating hunger, of souls flying through time, of a primitive beat that she had to catch. Silver dived deeper into his scents, wallowed in them, digging her fingers into his shoulders, sliding them through his hair. Thigh to thigh, stomach to stomach, heart to heart, nothing separated them but cloth. Here, now, everything was real... honest, his skin
rough against hers, tantalizing...
Silver had to have more, teaching to cradle Nick’s rugged face in her palms, keeping his lovely, tempting mouth close to hers, tracing the intriguing shape with her light kisses and waiting for his.
Tastes swirled around her, wonderful exciting tastes and scents and images of tenderness dappled with fire and strength.
She forgot everything but the delight, the tempting hunger of his mouth, lightly brushing hers, finding her ear, his uneven breath warm against her skin. She could float like this forever, moving gently, cradled by his body, secure, protected, wanted, needing—
In the midst of discovery, her professional mind clicked on for a millisecond and labeled Nick as an aphrodisiac, as sheer, undiluted pleasure; then she was spinning again, delighted by the power and the hunger of the man in her arms.
He shuddered, his skin warm against her palms, so roughly alive, textures dancing beneath her touch, waiting to be explored.
There was more, that soft melting that had come creeping upon her, winding magically inside her bones, creating a song that hummed in her veins.
There was no mistaking the hardened shape of his body, the way his open hand pressed into the shadows behind her, low and intimate, where no one could see and mock, binding her close to him.
Then, slowly, slowly, Nick eased from her, leaving her weak, his hands supporting her where before they had caressed. When she forced her lids to open, dazed by the emotions she bad never felt, never wanted to pursue, Nick’s jade gaze burned into her. “Stand and fight,” he murmured.
Silver shook her head, clearing it, her lips still tasting the heated pulse of his mouth. “What?”
“The Tallchiefs have a saying—‘Stand and fight.’ Are you up to it? With me? You like kissing me, lady, and we’ve got a real problem.”
Fury trembled, snapped, bit into her. Nick had taken his fill and stepped back from her, leaving her before she was finished dining upon him.
