Round-the-Clock Temptation (8 page)

“Don't do that,” he croaked, barely able to push the words out, to contain the desire building inside of him.

“Why? I know you want me to.” Her hands cupped his backside, and she arched against him. “I can feel how much.”

“I'll hurt you, Nita. Even if I don't want to.”

Her teeth scraped his earlobe and he fisted his hands to keep from caressing her. “Have I ever once given you the impression that I can't fend for myself?”

Why couldn't she listen? Why couldn't she see the mistake she was making? “Not from me you can't.”

“You're not nearly as tough as you think.”

She ran her tongue along the seam of his ear and it was more than he could take. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away.

“I don't know how else to say this to you, Nita. I'm
not
interested.”

For a second she looked stunned, then her eyes darkened with anger. “You wouldn't know what to do with a woman if she walked up and bit you.”

“When you see one, you let me know.”

Her jaw clenched tight and her eyes reduced to slits and he knew he'd hit a nerve. That was good, because when she was angry with him, she wasn't thinking of ways to seduce him. All those wicked ideas she seemed to have would only get her in trouble. It would get them
both
in trouble.

But she was so wrong. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with her.

She spun on her heel and headed for the door, but not before he saw something else in her eyes. He saw hurt. He'd wounded her pride, and he didn't figure that was an easy thing to do.

He felt like slime for it, because he'd made her believe that he didn't want her, that she wasn't beautiful and sexy and everything any man could ever hope to find in a woman. Himself included.

“Nita, wait.” She was all the way to the stable door before he caught up with her. He grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. She flung herself around, her eyes two purple balls of fire in the dim light.

“Get your hands off me.” She spit out a stream of curses even he'd never used then she shoved him. Hard. So hard he stumbled backward and almost landed on his rear end.

Blood pulsed through his veins and throbbed at his temple. She had no idea what she was doing, what he was capable of. “Don't do that again.”

“What's the matter?” she asked, taking a step toward him, her chin high. “You don't like being pushed around by a girl.”

“Stop it, Nita,” he warned through clenched teeth, but his threat only fueled her determination.

“What are you going to do about it?” She stepped up to him, planted her hands on his chest and shoved again, harder this time, and his blood pressure reached an all-new high. She could see how angry he was, but instead of being afraid, instead of looking wary, she looked even more excited, more determined.

“I'm warning you,” he said, “don't do that again.”

With her eyes locked on his, taunting him, she very deliberately planted her hands on his chest, ready to give him another good hard shove.

All the anger, all the frustration he'd trapped deep below the surface broke free in a red-hot gush. Before he could stop himself, he caught her wrists in his hands and backed her hard against the door, pinning her arms over her head. He wanted to hurt her, and he wanted scare her and he just plain wanted her, as he'd never wanted a woman before.

She gazed up at him through the pale light, but instead of looking frightened, instead of being angry with him, her lids were heavy with desire, her cheeks flushed.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he lowered his head and crushed his mouth to hers—a hard, punishing kiss—pressing her to the door with the weight of his body. Her mouth was hot and sweet and demanding, her body soft and needy.

He lost himself in the flavor of her mouth, the thrust
of her tongue against his own. His hands slipped from her wrists and found their way to the curve of her hips, down the swell of her backside, and Nita moaned into his mouth. Her arms wound around his neck and she hooked one leg over his hip, grinding her body against him.

That's when he started to melt, when the last of his control began to slip. He began to feel—as he'd never felt before. Arousal and lust and longing. It overwhelmed him.

And scared the hell out of him.

He pried her arms from around his neck and backed away, drawing a hand across his damp mouth, fighting to catch his breath. “Now you see what you've done?”

“You say that like it's a bad thing.” She looked like pure sex standing there, her chest heaving, her cheeks the same vivid red as the stripes on her shirt. It was almost more than he could take.

“I'm not doing this with you, Nita. No matter how much we both want it.”

She studied him for a long moment and something in her eyes told him she knew it was a lost cause.

“That's a fine attitude, now that you've gotten me all hot and bothered,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“I sincerely apologize.”

“No need to apologize.” She flattened a hand over her chest where her collar opened, then slipped it inside, caressing the top of her breast, her eyes pinned on his. “Guess I'll just have to go upstairs and take care of business myself.”

She gave her breast a squeeze and he nearly fell over. It would take the willpower of ten men not to pull her back into his arms, yet somehow he managed all by
himself. But she wasn't finished with him. As she opened the door to leave, she dealt the blow that nearly brought him to his knees.

“Later, when you're lying in bed and you hear me cry out from the next room, know that it's you I was thinking about.”

C
onnor sat in a leather arm chair in the cigar lounge of the Cattleman's Club, head resting on his fisted hand, struggling to stay awake. Figuring Nita would make good on her threat last night in the stable, Connor had slept sitting up on the bench in the foyer. Far enough away that he couldn't hear her
cry out,
as she'd put it, but where he could catch her if she tried to sneak down the stairs and give him the slip again—which she had, at 5:45 that morning. And though he'd slept in far worse conditions in the Rangers, sheer sexual frustration had kept him awake most of the night. That and his own self-doubt.

He couldn't stop thinking about what his brother had said, about what the right woman could do to a man, and how Connor needed to do something for himself. It was
true that, since he'd been away from the engineering firm, since he'd started working the farm with Nita, he'd lost that feeling of restlessness, the bone-deep frustration he always seemed to feel whenever he let himself take a step back and look good and hard at his life. That frustration had always been the catalyst, the trigger for the irrepressible rage.

Not that he hadn't felt frustration lately, but this was an entirely different variety. It was born from the need to keep Nita safe, from her constant refusal to listen to him. From the affection and attraction that he knew was wrong, and felt despite that.

Every so often he'd felt a flicker of something else, too. An emotion he hadn't experienced in so long he'd barely recognized it.

He'd felt content.

Not that he expected it to last. It never did.

Jake dropped into the chair next to his. “You look like hell.”

Connor shot him an annoyed look. “Thanks.”

“Being a newlywed, I have a valid reason for being up half the night. What's your excuse? Don't tell me you turned her down.”

The look went from annoyed to deadly.

Jake laughed. “I don't understand why you're fighting it. You two are meant for each other.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I know Nita and I know you. She needs someone who won't be threatened by her strength, someone who won't try to change her, and you need someone who can show you how to have fun. I would say that makes you a perfect match.”

If what his brother was saying made a weird sort of sense, Connor wrote it off as the direct result of sleep deprivation. He knew he was loopy when the next question popped from his mouth. “What did you mean about what finding the right woman can do to a man?”

“Something just…clicks. You start to look at things differently, to see yourself differently. Your priorities change.”

“But you must have dated a hundred different women. How did you know Chris was the one?”

“It was the freckles,” Jake said with that goofy grin of his. “I'm a sucker for that woman's freckles.”

“Freckles?”
Leave it to Jake to give him such a ridiculous answer.

“In time, you'll know exactly what I mean.” He slugged Connor in the arm, then got up to talk to Gavin, leaving Connor even more confused than he'd been before.

“Since we're all here we should get started,” Tom said. Connor looked to the doorway and saw that Mark, just back from his honeymoon, had arrived. “I talked to my uncle Lucas yesterday. It took some persuading, but I finally got him to admit what he'd planned to tell Will Windcroft.

“It seems that after his grandfather, Jonathan, was killed, and my uncle was going through his things, he noticed some odd notations in his personal bookkeeping and large payments Jonathan had been receiving from an unknown source.”

“What are we talking about?” Gavin asked. “Extortion?”

“Lucas said his grandfather was a greedy bastard and was definitely capable of blackmail.”

“So, if we find out who he was blackmailing, we'll most likely find his killer.”

“He also found letters to Jonathan. They were vague, but one mentioned a payment and a diary and how there could be trouble if the Windcrofts ever found out. Another talked of keeping the feud going.”

“Were the letters from someone in the Devlin family?” Logan wanted to know.

“I asked. Lucas said they weren't signed, and there was no return address on the envelopes, but he was under the impression they were from someone outside the family.”

Gavin sipped his drink. “Meaning someone outside the Devlin family could have a stake in the feud, and has a reason for keeping it going. Do we have any idea who that could be? Or where this diary is?”

“No,” Tom said. “But if we find it, I get the feeling we'll have all the answers we're looking for.”

“And Lucas never told any of this to Will?” Connor asked.

“Lucas wanted to come clean with Will, but when Will refused to talk to him he felt stung. I believe he honestly wants to bring an end to the feud.”

“I could talk to Will,” Connor offered.

Tom shook his head. “I think it would be better coming from me. From a Devlin. But before I do, I'd like to dig a bit more and see what I can find. Some undisputed proof would make convincing him a lot easier.”

Gavin stood and set down his glass. “While you're doing that, the rest of us will ask around about this diary and keep looking for the people causing the Windcrofts trouble. Have there been any more problems at the farm, Connor?”

“We found more holes yesterday morning. Nita has a man watching the property at night. I've instructed the hands to call me on my cell if they see anything suspicious. Until we know who we're dealing with, I don't want them trying to apprehend anyone.”

“Keep us posted on the situation and we'll keep digging.”

When the meeting was over Connor called Nita to let her know he was ready to be picked up. She informed him curtly that she and Jimmy were shopping for groceries and she would be there when she was good and ready. All the way into town she and Jimmy had chatted while she'd ignored Connor. He figured she was still ticked off that she hadn't been able to sneak away from him that morning. She also was growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that they had no housekeeper. Her father had shot down the two candidates they'd interviewed yesterday, saying they just weren't right, and no one else had answered the ad.

Nita seemed to be at the end of her rope.

It was the middle of a workday and the club was fairly quiet, so Connor decided he might as well get some shut-eye while he waited. He walked back to the cigar lounge and made himself comfortable in a soft leather chair in the corner. He'd trained himself to sleep lightly in the Rangers, so when he heard the door open, heard the muffled sound of footsteps coming in his direction, he was only half-asleep.

Nita kicked his boot. “Wake up.”

He opened his eyes.

She hovered over him, hands on her hips, Stetson pulled low over her eyes.

“How did you get in here?” he asked.

A wry smile curled her mouth. “The staff here learned the hard way not to mess with me. I think they hide when they see me comin'.”

“Can't say I blame them.”

Her grin widened. Apparently she wasn't angry with him any longer. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I'm ready.”

He pulled himself from the chair and followed her out to the truck. Jimmy was leaning against the passenger door waiting for them and the bed was filled with groceries and supplies.

“You tell him?” Jimmy asked.

Nita shot Connor a nervous look. “I told you, there's nothing to tell. It was an accident.”

No wonder she was being so nice. She was hiding something from him. He should have known. “What was an accident?”

Jimmy ignored Nita's warning look. “Me and Nita were on Main Street waiting to cross and a car came out of nowhere and nearly ran her down.”

Connor swore under his breath.

“I'm sure it was just an accident,” Nita said hastily. “No one would try to run someone down in the middle of a busy street on purpose.”

“If they were desperate to get rid of you they might,” Connor said. “What type of car was it?”

“It happened so fast I didn't get a good look,” Jimmy said. “I'm pretty sure it was a black BMW. Maybe dark blue. Not much help considering half of Royal drives those.”

“You didn't see the license place?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Happened too fast. By the time I heard Nita swear, and turned to see what had happened, the car was around the corner.”

Connor turned to Nita. “Exactly what happened?”

“The light changed, I started to cross, then this car came out of nowhere and shot through the light and turned right. I'm sure it was accidental and they just didn't see me there.”

“Could you see the driver?”

“Like Jimmy said, it happened so fast. And the windows were tinted.”

Connor didn't like the sound of this. He felt guilty for not being with her. He never should have taken his eyes off her. “Did anyone else see it? Did someone take down the license plate?”

“Why would they?” she snapped. “I told you it was an accident.”

No, he didn't think it was an accident at all. If this person was bold enough to try to run her down on a busy street corner, things were even worse than he'd thought.

 

Nita stuck her head out the bedroom door and peered down the hall. Connor's door was closed, meaning he'd gone to bed.

Too bad for him.

The grandfather clock in the office chimed twelve times as she tiptoed down the darkened hall toward the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky spot just above the top step. Since almost getting run over two days ago—which she was still convinced was an accident—Connor had been stuck to her like glue. She couldn't use the bathroom without him hovering outside the door. And
he must have made some sort of pact with the men, because whenever Connor wasn't around, Jimmy or one of the hands kept her in their sights. She realized, in retrospect, that by continually trying to give him the slip, she'd probably only made things worse for herself. But she was beginning to feel smothered, and all she really wanted was a few blissful minutes to herself. Even if that meant just sitting on the swing and looking at the stars, which is exactly what she planned to do tonight.

She didn't doubt someone was trying to scare them off the land, but besides the holes—which they now knew weren't dug with the intention of hurting anyone—nothing had been done to put her or the staff in danger. Even the letters had been vague. Just your basic
get off the land or else.
Whoever penned them never specified what the
or else
would be if the Windcrofts didn't comply. And here they were, still safe and sound on the land.

She crept across the wood floor to the front door and flipped the deadbolt, cringing as the click echoed through the foyer. She was reaching for the doorknob when a hand clamped down firmly over her shoulder. She let out a shriek of surprise and spun around, and was greeted by the deep baritone of Connor's laughter.

“Are you trying to scare me half to death?” she admonished.

Through the dark she could see he was grinning. “Just making sure you don't sneak away.”

“I wasn't sneaking,” she lied.

“Uh-huh. That would explain why you were tiptoeing down the stairs.” He took in her tennis shoes, flannel pants and University of Texas sweatshirt. “Let me guess, you were sleepwalking?”

“I couldn't sleep. I needed some fresh air to clear my head. I was going to sit on the swing.”

He pulled the door open and held it for her. “Let's go.”

“
Alone,
Connor. If I wanted company, I would have woken you.”

“You have two choices. We can sit out on the swing together, or go back to bed.”

“Can we go back to bed together?” she asked, for the mere pleasure of teasing him, because she already knew the answer was no. And of course there was always that million-to-one chance she would catch him in the right mood and he would throw her against the wall, as he'd done in the stable, and ravage her.

“In or out,” he said.

And apparently tonight wasn't going to be the night.

She sighed and said, “Since I'm up and dressed we might as well go out there.”

They walked onto the porch and he pulled the door closed behind them, then followed her down the steps and across the yard to the swing. The air carried a deep chill and dew soaked through the canvas of her shoes. The moon hung low in the sky casting a pale, eerie light across the land.

Nita plopped down in the middle of the swing seat, so that whichever side he chose, Connor would be right next to her. She thought he might complain, instead he sat beside her—so close that their thighs were touching—and draped his arm over the back of the swing behind her shoulders. He pushed off with his foot and they swayed gently back and forth.

“Out of curiosity, how did you know I was coming out here?” she asked.

He leaned his head back and gazed up at the sky. “I heard you moving around in your room. Then I followed you downstairs.”

And here she thought
she'd
been so quiet. “What did you do, levitate? I didn't even hear you.”

“Don't feel bad. It's what I was trained to do.”

“Did you have to kill people, too?”

Through the dark she could see him frown. “Sometimes.”

“Jake said you served in the Middle East.”

He nodded.

“Is that where you were shot?”

“Yep.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. “And you apparently don't like to talk about it.”

The frown deepened. “The things I saw there, you wouldn't want to know about. Things I wish even I could forget.”

He hadn't revealed much, but she felt closer to him somehow, as if he'd exposed a part of himself no one else had ever seen. A part of her wanted to jump off the swing and do a happy dance, while another part warned her to back off. She didn't want to care if he confided in her or not. She was getting too close.