The Cowboy's Surrender (2 page)

Turning the truck toward town, Dallas kept his eyes on the road. He'd get the tire fixed, send the little lady on her way, and hope to God four months would pass quickly and Copper River wouldn't strike oil. Then all his problems would disappear.

****

Gillian grasped the strap on the truck door and held on for dear life. The man who had offered to help her was driving like a maniac. Why on earth had she agreed to come with him? She didn't know who he was. He could be a serial killer, or worse. He looked mean enough. He had the build of a football player. Six foot something, broad shoulders, thick muscular neck. His thighs bulged beneath the worn denim of his jeans. The rugged face was carved in a frown. He was insufferably rude and looked at her like she was some sort of insect.

Just because he was rude didn't mean she had to be. "I didn't catch your name," she said, trying to still the trembling in her voice, more frightened and upset than she cared to admit.

"Didn't tell you." He kept his eyes on the road.

Anger quickly replaced fear. "Look Cowboy, are you always this rude? Or is it just something about me? You didn't have to stop and help, although I do appreciate it."

The man slowly turned his head, meeting her gaze. "No, I didn't have to stop and help."

Gillian flushed as he stared at her. She felt naked and exposed at the thoroughly masculine appraisal. A carnal light flickered in his deep blue eyes.

An answering tremor of desire shocked Gillian down to her toes. She swallowed hard. Twisting the gold wedding band on her left finger, she reminded herself what had happened the last time she'd felt a similar tremor.

The movement of her hands seemed to catch the man's attention, and he stared at her ring. When he looked at her again, the hardness in his eyes hit her with brutal force. He deliberately returned his gaze to the road. "The name's McCade. Dallas McCade." His rough voice grated the nerve endings along her spine.

Gillian blinked. "You own the Diamondback Ranch?"

He nodded, his black Stetson dipping with the movement.

She let out a huge sigh of relief. He wasn't a serial killer, after all. He was just the rudest, most obnoxious man she'd ever met. "Well, Mr. McCade. I would say it's been a pleasure to meet you, but--"

Dallas threw her a scathing glance. "Definitely
not
a pleasure, if you ask me."

Gillian recoiled from the resentment in his voice. The man didn't like her and was making no bones about it.

They had warned her about Dallas McCade when she was offered Raymond's job at the drilling site on the Diamondback Ranch. Something about him not owning the drilling rights and not wanting Copper River Oil on his land. She hadn't thought much about it when she'd accepted the assignment. She was used to dealing with tough, rowdy men. She didn't like it much, but it was something she had to put up with if she wanted to do her job.

Lifting her chin, Gillian looked straight ahead. "You obviously know who I am and why I'm here. I'm sorry if you don't like it. I understand that you don't want us drilling on your land, but--"

Dallas slammed on the brakes, and the tires screeched on the pavement as the truck lurched to a sudden stop. Gillian surged forward. She tried to catch herself as the seat belt gave way. A large hand clasped her shoulder, pushing her back against the seat.

Dallas leaned toward her, keeping his hand on her shoulder. "Look, lady. Saying that I don't
like
Copper River drilling on my land doesn't come anywhere close to describing how I feel about it."

"Remove your hand," Gillian said in a whisper.

"What?" Dallas stared at his hand for a moment, then jerked it away and retreated to his side of the cab.

Gillian swallowed hard again. She refused to give way to the suffocating feelings threatening her composure. She reminded herself that all men were not like her dead husband. Dallas had grasped and held her in a protective gesture, and when he realized he still held her, he had quickly released her, the same way he would drop a hot coal.

She didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed. And for some reason, she wasn't afraid of him. Just very aware.

Clearing her throat, she cast a sideways glance at the big man. He wasn't looking at her, but stared straight ahead. He was a million miles away, lost in thought. Gillian was pretty sure she didn't want to know his thoughts.

"Is this a habit of yours, Cowboy?" she asked. "Sitting in parked trucks? Staring at nothing?" Why in the world had she said
that
? He was mad enough. She certainly didn't need to egg him on.

Once again, Dallas turned that crystalline gaze upon her. The left side of his sculpted mouth tugged upward. "You are one feisty female, aren't you?" He started the engine and pulled the pickup onto the pavement.

"It comes in handy on the job." Gillian tore her eyes away from his fascinating mouth. The smile transformed his face. Seductively handsome features replaced the angry, frowning mask.

With her heart racing a mile a minute, Gillian struggled to deal with the alarming way her body was reacting to the cowboy.
Jiminy Christmas, she'd just met the man. There should be no reaction.

Striving to control her wayward hormones, Gillian studied the passing scenery. The land was rough and wild, broken up by acres and acres of cultivated farmland. Long rows of cotton stretched for miles, the red dirt dividing the thin green columns.

Gillian didn't believe in instant sexual attraction; or, she hadn't believed in it up until a moment ago. Most of the romance novels she read were based on it, but somehow she'd never thought it could really happen. At least, not to her. Until now.

"About your job--" Dallas began, then hesitated.

"My job?" She didn't look at him, didn't want to look at him.

"Do you think Copper River will strike oil?"

Gillian turned her head slightly until the cowboy was in her peripheral vision. He had almost choked on those last two words. He must be really upset.

"I'm not sure how far along they are. There have been quite a few setbacks on this particular project."

"Not near enough, if you ask me," grumbled Dallas under his breath.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. Forget it," he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. "How much longer do you think it will take?"

"To strike oil?" Gillian glanced at him. He actually cringed at her words.

"Yes, damn it. How much longer?"

He threw her such a look of loathing, Gillian scooted closer toward the door. The look wasn't directed at her personally, she reminded herself. He was angry about the drilling on his land. "I won't know for certain until I make my inspections. Even then, I won't know for sure. I'll keep you informed. I promise."

She thought the muscled shoulders relaxed a bit, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The breath caught half way down to her lungs. The loathing she'd seen in the blue eyes intensified as the rancher turned to stare at her.

"Don't bother keeping me informed," he said. "You keep your pretty little ass on the drilling site. I don't want to see you on any other part of my land. You got that straight, lady?"

Gillian exhaled the rest of the forgotten breath. She felt her cheeks grow red. No one had ever spoken to her in that tone of voice before. Not the roughnecks on the drilling sites. Not even her dead husband.

"Stop the truck."

"What?"

"I don't have to put up with your rudeness." She gathered her purse and held it against her chest. "I said to stop the truck."

"Damn it all to hell. Look, lady. It's six more miles to town. You planning to walk the rest of the way? And what about the tire? Gonna carry it? It's hot as hell out there."

"I'd rather die of heat stroke, than stay in here with you another minute," she said. "Now stop the truck!"

"No."

"Mr. McCade," Gillian said, trying for patience. Her temper was threatening her self-control. "I don't know why you decided to help me out. I thought you did it out of the kindness of your heart. But I was mistaken; you have no heart. You are a--"

"Bastard?" Dallas supplied helpfully.

Something glittered in those blue eyes again causing Gillian's fingers to curl around the leather strap of her purse.

"I wasn't going to say that."

Dallas shook his head in disbelief. "Sure you weren't, lady. Look, I may be a bas--" He faltered at Gillian's glare and began again. "I would be the biggest kind of scoundrel if I left you out in this heat, trying to change that tire. My mother taught me better."

"You actually
have
a mother?" Gillian bit her lip and looked away. What in the world was wrong with her? The man's fuse was short as it was. He didn't need her goading him. He had made it perfectly clear he didn't like her. And she certainly didn't like
him
.

Dallas whistled slowly, a soft low trill beneath his breath. She thought he might be trying to control his own temper. "I wasn't hatched under a rock, you know."

"Could have fooled me," Gillian said in a stage whisper. There, she'd done it again. Her mouth didn't usually go a mile a minute like this. The man certainly brought out the worst in her.

A full-throated chuckle reverberated through the cab of the truck. "You give as good as you get, don't you, Mrs. Bankston?"

"Just get me to town, Cowboy, so I can have the tire repaired." Gillian crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to acknowledge the quivery feeling his laughter evoked.

"Yes'm." He touched his hat and gave her that almost-smile again.

Gillian swallowed a sigh. Thank God, she wouldn't have much contact with Dallas McCade after this. He was the most exasperating man she'd ever had the misfortune to meet. His temper turned hot and cold in the space of seconds. He turned
her
hot and cold just as quickly.

She had only been in his company for ten minutes and she felt confused and rattled.
And more alive than she'd felt in years.
All her senses were on the alert. Too alert, for her peace of mind. The sooner they got to town, the sooner they could part ways, and the sooner she could put him from her mind for good.

****

Dallas slowed the truck as they passed the city limits sign of Salt Fork. For the past few minutes Gillian hadn't spoken a word. He ruthlessly denied that he missed her sass. He had no use for impudent women. For that matter, he had no use for women in general. Except in bed.

The quick tug in his groin almost made him groan aloud. Clutching the steering wheel tighter, Dallas shot a look at the woman sitting across from him. Her face was partially averted, but the smoothness of her cheek tempted his touch, the silkiness of her dark hair begged to be stroked.

"Damn it," he said as he pulled into Kincaid's Garage.

Gillian turned, her liquid brown eyes questioning his sudden outburst. "What's wrong?"

Dallas cut the motor. "Nothing," he said, gritting his teeth. He fought for control of his body. It was a close call, but he finally managed it. "Sam will be happy to fix your tire. I'll go find him." He climbed out of the truck and headed for the office beside the garage. He heard Gillian scrambling to catch up with him.

"Look, Cowboy," she said breathlessly, as she reached his side. "You've done enough. I can take it from here."

She hurried ahead and pushed open the glass door. Dallas followed closely behind. A small bell danced with the motion of the door, causing the man at the file cabinet to look up from his work.

"Good morning," Gillian said, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. "I'm Gillian Bankston and I have a tire that needs repair."

Sam Garza pushed the file drawer closed before walking over to shake her hand. His dark eyes held an appreciative look as he smiled at her greeting. "Well, Gillian Bankston, you've certainly come to the right place. Sam Garza at your service."

"Thank you. I know it will be a pleasure doing business with you." Gillian shot Dallas a haughty look over her shoulder.

"What can I do for you, Dallas?" Sam asked. "Are you with this charming lady?"

Dallas cursed womankind and their slippery conniving ways. It hadn't taken Gillian three seconds before she had Garza eating out of her hand. No way was
he
going to fall under her spell.

"I brought her, if that's what you mean. The tire's in the back of the truck. How long will it take to fix it?"

"Not long," Sam said. "Lucky for you, it's a slow day." He winked at Gillian, then stepped around the desk and out the door toward the truck.

Dallas glared at the woman. "I guess you'll want me to wait around and take you back to your car?"

"I wouldn't dream of putting you to any more trouble. You've done so much for me already, Cowboy." She smiled at him and raised her chin.