ANOTHER SUNNY DAY (6 page)

"Okay, but only if you agree to bring yourself back a plate, too, and eat here with me." She surprised herself with the suggestion but was glad she had because suddenly the idea of eating by herself in a strange
trailer made her feel lonely.

Tyler seemed even more shocked at the suggestion and was momentarily speechless. He wasn't sure he could make it through a meal with her dressed like that and retain his professionalism. His mind searched for an acceptable excuse for refusing, but he came up with nothing. "I guess that would be all right. I'll be back in a minute,
" he finally managed to reply.

After he left, Sarah tried to decide whether or not she should change her clothes and fix her hair. She didn't want to draw attention to herself by appearing to dress up for him, but she didn't want him to get the wrong impression about her either. Her clothing was a little suggestive, but it wasn't transparent, and it covered her from neck to foot. And he had already seen her like this, so it would look obvious if she changed her clothes or rearranged her hair. What difference would it make?
she chided herself. He had certainly never shown any personal interest in her, and even if he did, there was nothing she could do about it. So, instead of redressing, she returned to the kitchen and began setting the table.

He reappeared carrying a tray loaded with enough food for a family of four and a pitcher of iced tea. Sarah closed the door behind him.
then followed him to the table.

"There are some good plates in the cabinet," he commented when he saw the paper pl
ates she had found.

"These are fine with me. I'm not overly fond of washing dishes, but if you would prefe
r the others . . ." She began.

"I eat on paper plates all the
time," he admitted. "But you—"

"Oh, darn," she said with a grin. "The Obamas gave me a place setting of their White House china that I use for everyday me
als, but I forgot to pack it."

"I can't figure you out,"
he said honestly. "You're so—"

"Hungry." she supplied. "Quit ta
lking, and let's eat, cowboy."

That crooked grin she was becoming
so familiar with spread across his face as he sat down. Without further delay they attacked the food, savoring each tender bite of T-bone steak and stuffed baked potato. There was a crisp green salad and hot yeast rolls, dripping with butter, with fresh peach cobbler for dessert.

"How can he cook that well on an open fire?" she asked as s
he pushed back from the table.

"Years of practice." He glanced at his watch. "It's getting pretty late. You wanted to get to bed early tonight, didn't y
ou?"

She stood up and started clearing the table. "I'll just wash these glasses and silverware. Thanks for bringing the meal. I don't believe I could have thrown togethe
r anything even half as good."

"You cook too?" he asked.

"Don't sound so shocked. I don't get much practice, but my mother must be one of the best cooks in Kentucky, and I picked up a few things from her."

That's good to know in c
ase Jed gets sick," he teased.

"In that case, let's hope for his continued good health. . . and ours," she answered as she squirted dishwashing detergent into the water. Pushing the lacy sleeves up past her elbows, she plunged her hands into the soapy water, then looked up in surprise as
Tyler joined her at the sink.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he unbuttoned
his cuffs and rolled them up.

"I guess if Sunny Day, superstar and singing sensation can wash
dishes, I can too," he joked.

"There's not that many."

"Then we'll finish twice as fast," he reasoned.

But his nearness caused her fingers to tremble so badly, she wasn't sure it was wise for her to be handling the sharp steak knives. As she dropped the forks into the rinse water on his side of the sink and he reached, for them, their hands met. For just an instant Tyler and Sarah froze, the current passing back and forth between them. She raised her eyes to his and was startled by the smoldering passion that momentarily darkened them to a stormy gray. Nervously the pink tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, but when she noticed his eyes following its movement, she clamped her mo
uth shut and dropped her gaze.

Almost reluctantly he pulled his hand away and reached for the forks. Showing his discomfort, he cleared his throat before stating in a husky voice, "It's really a shame that we can't spend
more time here in San Felipe."

"Why?" she asked, wanting him to say because he wan
ted to be here alone with her.

"Because no one should ever pass through this town witho
ut seeing some of the sights."

"Oh, really?" She tried
to hide her disappointment.

This place is one of the oldest and most historical spots in all of Texas," he rattled on to fill the heavy silence. "San Felipe's population today is probably less than five hundred, but before Texas won its battle for independence from Mexico in 1836, this lit
tle town was the place to be."

Under different circumstances Sarah would have found this information very interesting, but right now she was hearing more than she really wanted to know about this place. Why couldn't Tyler shut up and kiss her? Her whole body throbbed with that thought as she reacted to the proximity of his imposing masculinity. Never had the trailer seemed
so small as it did when his broad shoulders filled the room. She loved the faint lingering scent of his spicy after-shave mixed with the pleasing odor of horses and his own personal smell. The combination was like an aphrodisiac that left her feeling slightly dizzy and longing for something her common sense told her she could never have.

"San Felipe has the distinction of having had the first post office, the first English School, and the first official Sunday school in Texas. The whole town was burned to the ground by Texans who didn't want to leave anything behind for Santa Anna's troops but many of the buildings were rebuilt and are still in use today," he finished onc
e again in control of himself.

He had come close before, much too close for his own peace of mind, to making a complete fool of himself. This woman had powers he was totally unprepared to resist. He had never expected this aura of innocence, vulnerability, and total femininity that surrounded her. It taunted him, firing his passion to a fever pitch that was increasingly difficult to deny. With her beauty, her talent, and her surprisingly unassuming charm, he was sure she had more
offers than she could handle.

Tyler had not wanted to be responsible for this prima donna but as he was chairman of the Trail Ride Committee, the duty had fallen naturally to him and he had vowed he would make the best of the situation. But never had he guessed his detachment would prove t
o be so difficult to maintain.

"How did you know
?" she asked conversationally.

"Know what?" His mind searched frantically, but he was having difficulty forming co
herent thoughts.

"How did you know all of that
about San Felipe?"

"Oh, that." He sighed, relieved that she hadn't been able to read his disturbing thoughts. "I was a history buff in school. When I first started on this trail ride and found out it roughly followed the Texas Independence Trail, I did a little research o
n the places we pass through."

"I never was that good at history. Maybe you could point some of these places out for me as we go along," she suggested, hopeful that this new duty would keep him closer to her side—
although that could prove to be a mixed blessing if she couldn't smother these wild desires she was experiencing.

"If you're sure you wouldn't be bored, I'd be glad to." He was pleased by her interest and the prospect o
f spending more time with her.

She had never felt less bored in her life. "Maybe you can succee
d where Mr. Armstrong failed."

"Mr. Armstrong?"

"My high school history teacher. He gave up on me somewhere between the Spanish-American War and the Civil War."

"The Civil War came first," he said,
correcting her automatically.

"See? He was right." She smiled, daring another
glance at his attractive face.

The sparkle in her eyes and her endearing smile proved too much for him, and he decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat before it became impossible
for him to leave her tonight.

"
Reveille
will come awful early tomorrow morning, and even though you don't need any more beauty sleep, I do," he said quickly, and left before she even realized his intention.

It was with a mixture of regret and relief that she locked the door behind him. Sunny would never know the sacrifice this masquerade was costing Sarah. She had probably met the one perfect man that had been allotted to her during her lifetime and he didn't know her as herself but as her sister. How had things gotten so complicated and out of control in such a short time? With a heartfelt sigh Sarah let exhaustion overtake her as she crawled into the roomy queen-size bed and slept.

CHAPTER FIVE

She thought he had been joking, but sure enough just after dawn the next day, a recorded version of
Reveille
blared over a loudspeaker, effectively rousing the sleeping trail riders. Groans and good-natured grumblings were heard as a slightly subdued group made their individual preparations for the new day.

Sarah stifled a yawn as she left the trailer and headed toward the tantalizing breakfast smells of brewing coffee and fresh biscuits that wafted to her in the still morning air. She thrust her hands deep into the narrow pockets of her tight jeans, hunching her shoulders to ward off the slight chill. It was another beautiful day,
Although there was a little nip in the air, Sarah knew that once the sun rose higher in the sky, the temperature would be in the high sixties, so she didn't bother with a jacket.

Tyler separated from the crowd and strode toward her, carrying two steaming mugs of hot coffee. Thanking him, she took one, cupping her hands around its warmth while taking s
mall eye-opening sips.

"I hope you like it strong. I don't think Jed knows how to make it any other way," Tyler commented, his gray eyes taking in every detail of her trim form, dressed today in a bright lemon-yellow silk blouse, decorated with a white fringe and tiny white seed pearls. Her, wig was properly in place and the makeup dramatically applied, but he no longer saw those artificial adornments because he had gotten an all too brief glimpse of t
he natural woman beneath them.

"I can drink anyone's coffee. Over the years I've developed a cast-iron stomach." She smiled at him through the rising steam. "It's other parts of my body t
hat I'm more concerned about."

"So we're a little
sore today, are we?" he asked.

"I don't know about you, but I couldn't get my knees to touch, each other this morning. I'll bet I'm two inches shorter than I was yesterday because my legs simply refuse to straighten. I had to lie on the bed to get my jeans on," she added. "But, then, if she had bought them one size larger, I mi
ght be able to bend normally."

"She who?"

"My . . . uh, sister," Sarah stammered "She bought all of these clothes for me to take on this trip."

"Just think of all the little silkworms and oysters that worked overtime for that one blouse," he quipped as he reached out and flicked the frin
ge that dangled from her cuff.

"Yes, we do our best to keep the sequin and rhinestone factories in business." She tore her gaze away from his rugged face and stared in
to the dark liquid in her mug.

"What can I get you for breakfast? Jed's got biscuits, bacon, sausage, an
d scrambled eggs," he offered.

I'll just have a biscuit and a sausage, please. I'm still full from last night's meal," she answered. Her unconsciously wistful blue gaze followed his tall, lithe body as he returned to the fire. She had never really appreciated the triangular symmetry of the male form before, but, then, none of the male forms she had seen could even begin to compare with Tyler's. There was just something about this man that charged all five of her senses with the unbridled intensity of an
electrical storm. Even her skin seemed to tingle when he was near. She should have the good sense to be frightened of these curiously pleasant sensations, but instead she longed to venture deeper into the tempest and experience its full promise. Sunny would—without hesitation. But she was't Sunny.

"Miss Day"—a young man holding a clipboard walked up to her and held out his hand—I'm Bob Thompson, the program director for Good Morning Houston, and we have our camera crew here today and were hoping that you would c
onsent to doing an interview."