by Linda Wisdom
"I can't imagine that," Letitia commented, gathering up a pile of clothing and carrying it into her room. "Cooking is just adding things to a pan and making sure it doesn't bum, that's all. No big deal."
"I THOUGHT COOKING was just putting things in a pan and making sure it didn't bum." Letitia wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. She had no idea she left a streak of flour behind. "Why am I doing this?"
Myrna looked over Letitia's shoulder. "Before you can advance to cooking, you need to learn the basics."
"Knead is most definitely the word." She grimaced at the dough collecting under her nails. "Is there a particular reason why you chose today to bake bread? And why you bestowed this honor on me?"
She smiled benevolently. "It's nice to have help with this chore. It's time-consuming and besides, kneading bread dough is an art that should be learned early."
"I guess I'm more entertaining than the radio."
Letitia paused as Myrna sprinkled a bit more flour over the dough.
"Use a lighter touch," she advised, moving off. She glanced at the wall clock. "What about meals?"
"I always keep plenty of stews and casseroles in the freezer that just need heating for days like this," she explained, gesturing toward two large pots simmering on the stove. She proceeded to show Letitia how to divide the dough and shape it into loaves for baking. The moment the pans were placed in the oven, Letitia collapsed in a chair and drank a glass of water without pausing for a breath.
"I don't know how you do this day after day," she gasped, once she refilled her glass and sipped it more slowly.
"If I'm lucky, I only need to bake bread once a week." Myrna checked the pots and stirred the contents.
"Going to the store and buying it is much easier." "But not as enjoyable nor as cheap."
Letitia lifted her arms and rotated her shoulders. She winced as sore muscles made themselves known. "You're used to this, I'm not."
Myrna's chuckle had Letitia grimacing. "You wanted to learn how to cook. You have to start with the basics."
"Cook, yes. Build up my arm muscles, no." She crooked one arm behind her head and slipped the other one behind her back, using the lower hand to pull the upper one down in hopes of easing her tight muscles.
"I'll show you how to cut up vegetables for a salad next."
"This sounds more like servitude than a cooking class."
"You have to start out somewhere."
"I think I'd rather muck out stalls."
"Good, you can start tomorrow." Tyler walked into the kitchen.
"Oh joy, I am so fortunate." She tilted her head back so she could see him and stuck her tongue out.
"Be careful with that cute pink tongue, countess." His breath was warm in her ear as his fingers pressed into her shoulders. “Or I might decide to show you what constructive things you can do with it”
The kitchen was hot enough with the ovens blasting away, but Letitia swore the room temperature soared another fifty degrees after Tyler's provocative remark sent zingers straight through her nervous system.
"You appear to have your mind on only one thing," she said softly, resisting the urge to fan her overheated face.
"It might have something to do with the source."
Letitia felt his hands leave her shoulders and the heat of his body disappear from her back when Tyler moved off to say something to Myrna. His words to the cook were nothing more than white noise in her ears as she stared at his back. A back covered in blue chambray that had a large patch of sweat in the middle. A back that was almost as good as the front. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned his head and grinned. Then, as if divining her thoughts wasn't bad enough, he winked. It took a lot of effort on her part, but she made sure not to stick her tongue out again.
"Here, you can peel these." Myrna set vegetables on the counter by the sink.
Letitia flashed Tyler an audacious smile as she walked toward the sink with a hip-swinging walk she hoped raised his blood pressure good and high.
"Now what?" Myrna muttered as the telephone rang. She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the receiver.
"Betty, how are you? Yes, I have that recipe right here. No, you use two cups sugar, not one and a half." She carried the phone over to the shelves holding her cookbooks and plucked one down, rapidly thumbing through the pages.
Letitia looked over and made sure Myrna's back was turned before silently gaining Tyler's attention. He grinned and leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He cocked an eyebrow, sending her a silent dare.
Go ahead, countess, give it your best shot.
Letitia used the smile that once charmed Omar Sharif at a garden party. She half turned and picked up a carrot from the bunch lying on the counter, slowly running her fingers down the orange vegetable. Tyler straightened up, his hands hanging at his sides. She lazily ran her tongue over her upper lip then across her lower one. His hot gaze was instantly glued to her mouth. Half turning away, she ran warm water over the carrot, brushing the excess droplets off with her fingertips. Tyler's features tightened with reaction. He lifted the glass he'd filled with water to his mouth and slowly drank the liquid. He didn't take his eyes off her once.
Letitia turned off the water and while making sure Tyler's gaze was fastened on that hand, she stealthily picked up the vegetable peeler with the other. After ensuring he was focused on what she was doing, she dug the peeler deep into the tip of the carrot and sliced upward with the skillful precision of a surgeon.
Tyler immediately choked, spewing water everywhere.
"What happened with you?" Myrna had hung up the phone and turned when Tyler began choking.
"Nothing," he wheezed, blindly setting the glass on the counter. It was pure luck he accomplished it. "I guess it went down the wrong way."
"You have to be careful with things like that," Letitia pointed out with ultra-feminine innocence as she picked up another carrot. "You could seriously hurt yourself."
He stared at her as if wondering whether to kill her fast or draw the torture out. And she stared right back, sending the tension level skyrocketing.
"Tyler?" Letitia was the first one to break the charged silence.
He continued just looking at her.
She held up one hand holding the peeled carrot, although it looked like a shiny red apple to him. The apple of temptation. "Would you like a carrot?"
He didn't bother answering as he turned and walked out the door.
"Now, don't that beat all?" Myrna frowned at the foreman's retreating figure. "Wonder what got into him? And turning down a carrot. He used to eat them the way some eat potato chips. For a while, the men called him Bugs Bunny."
Letitia shrugged as she braced her hip against the counter edge. She bit into the carrot, trying to ignore the stampeding horses in her chest. "Beats me. Men can act so strange at times, can't they?"
Chapter Eight
"Gee, countess, I'm surprised you're not luxuriating in front of your new television set watching one of the many video tapes your brother sent you."
Letitia, who'd been sitting on the top step gazing up at the sky, looked over her shoulder to greet her visitor.
"What? And be cooped up inside on a night like this?" She held her arms out. "This is so much better than anything you can find on television. The sky is clear, the stars are bright, what more can a person ask for?" She patted the wood beside her. "Have a seat."
Tyler sat down, his hip comfortably nudging hers.
"You missed a good supper," Letitia said conversationally. "Or did you have a hot date?"
"No, just had a lot of things to do. I wasn't very hungry and the truck needed the spark plugs changed, so I figured it was a good time to work on it." He inspected his hands rather than look at her. She looked like a prairie angel in a ruffled chambray skirt and a white oft-the-shoulder lace top. Her hair was pulled back from her face with two combs holding the loose curls he itched to run his fingers through.
"Too bad you missed dinner. Myrna made a wonderful carrot salad." She slanted a sly glance in his direction.
He winced and shifted his weight on the boards. "I don't think so."
Letitia bit her lip to keep from bursting out laughing. She was enjoying the thought that she'd unnerved him.
"Do you get a lot of beautiful nights like this out here?" she murmured, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.
"Guess I never noticed," he admitted. "Though during the winter the snows are too high to worry about what the nights are. There's times we can't get too far, even on horseback, although for the cattle's sake, we have to do what we can. We usually bring them in closer to the ranch house then. We can get snowed in for weeks at a time." He shot her a sideways glance.
"That would be a good time to catch up on my reading," she said unperturbed. She wasn't going to allow him to bother her! "Still, you should appreciate what you have now." She drew in a lung-expanding breath of air. Tyler couldn't keep his eyes off her breasts that seemed to grow fuller with each breath she took. "It used to be I'd go outside at night and couldn't see the sky without streetlights obscuring the beauty or have the sound of cars drowning out the night sounds. This is so peaceful." Her voice was hushed. "No wonder people don't want to leave here. Here, you can feel life all around you without that frantic dash to get to the office on time or get to that client. City dwellers don't know what they're missing." She slanted him a look. A little voice inside prompted her to go further. "Especially the biggerthan-life men."
Tyler leaned across the post with one leg drawn up. "Bigger than life, huh?" The idea fascinated him. Just as she did. At the same time, he felt a sinking feeling. She truly was falling in love with the place.
She nodded. "As big as you can get. And don't let that inflate your ego too much or I'll just have to get out that pin and pop it," she teased. "We don't want everyone to think you cowboys think too much of yourselves, do we?"
He grinned. "Yeah and you would, wouldn't you?"
"But of course," she affected an accent she thought a countess would have. "Ve vill show the vorld vhat vonderful men the American vest has." She burst out giggling. "That's something I can't keep up for very long without laughing. I always feel as if I should be dressed in a forties-style dress and waiting for Humphrey Bogart to walk in and rescue me' from Claude Raines."
"For a woman who's lived most of her life in Europe, you're pretty well informed about old American movies."
"Cable television helped me catch up on a lot of what I missed," she explained. "I considered it a learning experience."
Tyler leaned forward. "What all did you learn?"
His husky voice caressed her nerve endings. "Oh, a lot of things," she drew each word out with deliberate coyness.
He leaned forward even more. He could feel her sweet breath on his face. "Such as?"
She tipped her head back. "Solutions to the mysteries of life," she whispered, even though there was no one within earshot. "The right way to do certain things. And keep certain people happy."
He kept his gaze on her mouth, fascinated by the way it moved with each word she uttered. He wanted to follow those movements with his own mouth. He wanted to reacquaint himself with her taste. "Would you share those mysteries with me?"
Letitia's lips curved. "What would you like to know?"
Her perfume wove seductive patterns around him as he touched his mouth to hers. "Whatever you care to tell me." His tongue stroked her lower lip.
Her tongue darted out to touch his. "Well, there was one thing that really drove me crazy," she murmured.
Tyler's hands circled her waist. He could feel the slip and slide of silk under her blouse. "Too bad I took down that porch swing last fall and didn't bother putting it back up," he muttered.
"Why?"
"Because then we could have been a hell of a lot more comfortable than sitting here in danger of falling down these steps," he groused, unable to stop himself from pulling her into his lap. Her full skirt fell over his legs in graceful folds. She looped her arms around his neck. "I thought you fixed that broken step."
"I did, but that doesn't mean something couldn't cause us to fall off."
"Such as?" She enjoyed studying his face in the darkness that blessedly hid them from an unwanted audience.
He wasn't about to wait much longer. Having Letitia in his arms was too much temptation. "Such as this." His mouth slanted firmly over hers with his tongue plunging inward. Letitia's soft moan was just the response he wanted. He tightened his hold on her and leaned back against the post.
"Letitia, you are something out of a dream," he breathed, burying his face against the soft curve of her throat. He nipped the tender skin.
"I thought you would say a nightmare."
"That too."
She combed her fingers through his hair. "You have such silky hair. Too bad you have to wear a hat. It's nice to run my fingers through it."
His shoulders shook with laughter. "Do me a favor and don't let that piece of information get out."
She pressed her hand against the V-shaped bare skin revealed by the open collar of his shirt. "Your skin is so warm," she whispered in wonderment.
"I'm better than an electric blanket in the winter." He nuzzled his way up to her ear. "Care to find out?"
"It's not winter."
"We can pretend."
As far as Letitia was concerned, the last thing she wanted to do was pretend. Not when she sat in the very masculine lap of the real thing and could feel his arousal. She closed her eyes, allowing the sensations Tyler caused to wash over her.
"I had no idea cowboys were so ... so ... " She couldn't find the words to describe what he was doing to her. She only knew she didn't want him to stop.
Tyler slipped one hand under her blouse and upward. He hissed a sharp curse when he discovered she wasn't wearing a bra, only a silk camisole. Her nipple hardened to a tiny nub under his touch. He rolled it gently between his fingertips.
"Tyler," She could only whisper his name. "You're not like anyone I've met before."
“Then we're even," she murmured, entranced with the way his hair flowed between her fingers.
"You're a very dangerous lady, countess." His voice had grown raw with need.
For once, she didn't mind the nickname. "Just shut up, cowboy, and kiss me."
That was one order Tyler didn't mind following. He covered her mouth with his, drawing her into a sensual vortex that swept away all rational thought. Her skin seemed to flow like liquid silk under his fingers as he pulled her blouse from her skirt.
"This is not a good place for this," he gasped, pulling away from her. "Anyone could walk up and we wouldn't hear them until it was too late."
She laughed softly. She rested her forehead against his. "We could explain we got bored talking about television."
"The last thing you'll ever be is boring," he rasped. She pressed a butterfly-light kiss against the corner of his eye. "So do you want me to tell you what I learned from American television?" she cooed as she continued her teasing kisses.
He grinned. He could understand this audacious Letitia the best. "Yeah."
Letitia ran the back of her fingers across his jawline and down his throat. She ran her tongue across her lips. "The most important thing I feel I learned was-" she breathed a kiss against his mouth" -who shot J.R."
Tyler's hands had tightened on her waist as she teased him with her whisper-soft kisses and wiggles that were more than enough to make him nuts. How she could take him to that brink of sensual electricity then throw him back to the bowels of sanity, he had no idea.
"You little witch," he murmured chuckling.
"No, that's my sister-in-law's job." Letitia pushed herself out of his lap and stood up. She held a hand out.
Tyler knew there was no way her slight weight could handle him, but he accepted her helping hand as he got to his feet. He immediately drew her back into his arms.
"You're a temptress, Letitia DeMarco," he told her, feeling the sparks of jealousy as -he wondered just how she used this part of her nature. "Is this how you enticed Giancarlo into signing the ranch over to you? By offering your sweet mouth and promising him even more? Or had you already given it to him and he happily signed it over?"
Letitia's eyes narrowed. "So you'd like to know how I talked Giancarlo into signing the ranch over." Her voice was pure silk.
He didn't notice the danger signals. Probably because he hated himself for even thinking such a thing, much less saying it out loud and for some crazy reason, unable to stop saying so. "Yes, I would."
She stepped back a pace. "It wasn't all that difficult. We conducted a very adult conversation after I pulled a .38 on him. I've always felt a man won't lie if a gun is aimed at him. He immediately saw the error of his ways. Since he couldn't return the money he stole from me, he signed the ranch over instead."
He uttered an incredulous laugh. "Because you pulled a gun on him?"
Her answering smile held no humor. "No, because he knew I'd shoot him."
"Shoot him?" He looked wary.
Letitia nodded. She stepped forward until her breasts brushed against his chest. "Yes, shoot him," she breathed the words. She idly fingered his belt buckle, tracing the engraved surface. She could feel Tyler take in a deep breath at her light touch. "I told Giancarlo that he should do the right thing or he would lose something he valued."
Tyler's eyes bulged. "You did?" he squeaked and coughed to clear his voice. He didn't dare move an inch. Letitia seemed to enjoy shocking him and to date, this was her best.
"I may not be fond of riding, but let me assure you I can shoot very well." She puckered up her lips in a kiss just before she turned to leave. "Good night, Tyler."
The 'front door closed behind her with a silent whoosh.
A burst of air exploded from Tyler's lungs as he collapsed against the porch post. "I knew that woman was lethal. I just knew it."
LETITIA HAD NO IDEA how she got back into the house and down the hall to her bedroom. She lay in bed finding it difficult to sleep. After undressing, she huddled under the covers with a book. In the end she tossed it aside because it couldn't hold her interest. Not when she was still remembering Tyler's kisses and reeling from the effect. She pushed a second pillow behind her back and stared up at the ceiling where moon shadows chased themselves across the surface.
