The Tycoon and the Texan (13 page)

“Nothing is that important.” He nibbled the words against her neck.

“There might be something wrong. It could be your”—she slipped from his grip—“Mother, so answer the phone. Besides, your five o'clock shadow is nearing ten hours old, and I need to do something.” She offered him a small, shy smile. “You know, a girlie thing.”

“I'll get rid of whoever it is pretty damn quick, so don't be long.” He winked and tossed her the robe.

“You can count on that, Slugger.”

For what seemed like a hour, but in reality was probably five minutes, McCall brushed her hair to a shimmer, applied lip gloss, and eyed the hotel robe and house slippers. She remembered she had no seductive lingerie.

Drawing on the robe, she took a long look in the mirror. A pathetic housewife, running late for work.

A towel? Something a man would do.

Nude? Perfect.

She lowered the towel and through awakened eyes studied her body, something she had never done. McCall had nothing to be ashamed of and complimented herself with a hug before rushing across the living area toward Nick's bedroom, butt-naked except for a sheepish grin and goose bumps.

Easing up to the opened door, she saw him sitting at the desk with his back to her still engaged in the telephone conversation.

Relishing his reaction to her nakedness, she waited, hoping the call wouldn't be much longer. Of course, she could go on in and hasten the call along. She knew exactly which of his buttons to push to make sure of it.

She stopped dead still, hobbled by the words resonating through the air.

“That filly is as pretty as a bed of morning glories and just about as hard to tame, but I have no choice. She's been teased and I think she's ready, but the last thing I want is to wear out a perfectly good stud trying to mount her.” Nick dropped ice into a glass. “It's a waste of money, not to mention energy. I've got a lot invested in her already.”

He stopped and listened to the person on the other end of the line before continuing. “True. She is ripe for the picking, so maybe a feed sack over her head will make it easier.” His full-bodied laugh sliced the air. “You know how it is the first time.” Nick let out a chuckle and said, “Yelp, courtship. Lots of it, and only a week just isn't enough time for some fillies.”

Stopping to listen, Nick took a sip of water, then said, “It isn't anybody's fault. Some just take longer than others.”

Stunned and sickened by his words, McCall swallowed the sob that rose in her throat. A sensation of intense disappointment and desolation swept over her. He'd been stringing her along. And she had done something she'd never allowed herself to do, trust a man. Letting her defenses down and caring, even falling in love. She had made an utter fool of herself, all because she listened to her heart instead of her brain.

Nick had turned out to be the uncaring, self-centered jerk she once thought he was. What an actor! He had even fooled her. But to refer to her like she was a standing mare was the most humiliating part of how she felt.

Cowboy up, girl! Pity is for the faint of heart. Pull that shield back around you and let the fury out. Don't wallow around like some schoolgirl finding out her first love isn't for real. Granny hadn't raised a weak-kneed schoolgirl. She was tough, and she'd show Mr. Studly just how tough she could be.

She went back to her room where she could allow her fury to be fueled by the thought of being deceived. “Ripe for the picking.” She threw on the bathrobe and stalked around the bedroom, slamming drawers, while she tossed her belongings on the bed.

“Teased! That's what he was doing?” She punched her fist into the stack of clothes. “Wear out a perfectly good . . . that's crude, but exactly what I'd expect from the jack ninny.”

She halted. Biting the inside of her cheek, she focused on the rather unorthodox solution that had begun to formulate in her mind. “I'll teach that yellow-belly-son-of-slime.” She ripped a pillowcase from the bed.

McCall composed herself and draped the case over her arm. Walking lightly through the sitting area, she slipped into his bedroom.

Their eyes met.

“I've been waiting on you.” He shot her a seductive smile.

“I'm sure you have.” She strolled to the bar, picked up the champagne bucket, and placed it along with the folded pillowcase on the bedside table. She removed the bottle, slowly twisting it between her palms.

“Want me to open that?” His eyes shone bright, eager in the faint light coming from the lamp on the desk.

“No.” She set the bottle aside. “I want you.”

Her bathrobe dropped to the floor, drawing a manly groan from deep within Nick.

Pinning him to the bed, she lowered her determined body over his and imprisoned him in a web of yielding flesh. “Now, Nick. Right now.”

His hands explored her back, waist, and hips.

Although she tried not to respond to his touch, heat rippled beneath her skin and coursed down her entire length as the protective shell she had so carefully rebuilt began to unravel.

Touch by touch.

Kiss by kiss.

“I'll take it slow and will be gentle,” he promised, sealed in a slow, drugging kiss. “If I go too fast, let me know.”

“I want it fast.”

Their lips met with a savage intensity.

McCall pulled away. “Fast and unpredictable. Surprise me, Slugger. I like surprises, don't you?”

Succumbing to his forceful domination of kisses, she felt for the pillowcase and lifted her head, allowing a bemused smile to escape.

“Big surprises,” she repeated with staid calmness, while she jerked the pillowslip over his head and pulled it securely around his neck. In one fluid motion, she leaned back, picked up the ice bucket, and watched him struggle to get free.

“Now, Studly, who has a feed sack over his head?”

“Damn it, McCall” he boomed. “This is kinky, and doesn't feel much like fun.”

“It's to help you.”

“Help me?” He slowed his floundering for a few seconds.

“Yes. To see how it feels to have to wear a sack over your head to have sex.”

As quick as lightning, she turned the ice bucket over, allowing the freezing contents to flood his middle, extinguishing any possibilities of lovemaking for a long time.

Hips bucked out of the unexpected ice storm.

“You spitfire.” Nick fought for his freedom like a tomcat clawing its way out of a gunnysack. “I don't know what in the hell got into you, but do you know what I should do to you?”

“Charge me a stud fee?”

“Damn it to hell, McCall, I'm getting tired of your games.” Nick slammed his hand against her bedroom door. “Open it or I'll damn well bust it down!” Again, he rammed a fist into the wood and shook his hand profusely to ward off the excruciating pain racing up his arm. “I mean it—now!”

Nick couldn't recall the last time he was as angry with anyone as he was with McCall at the moment. He wanted answers and one way or another, he'd get them.

The lock clicked.

Nick took a deep breath to control his anger, opened the door, and stalked in.

McCall stood in front of the window overlooking Nob Hill. “I'm taking the Amtrak back to Los Angeles.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

“What was that all about?” Nick shook his leg, and a chunk of ice hit the floor. “You sure as hell know how to take the starch out of a guy's drawers in a hurry.” He picked up the ice cube and slung it into the fireplace. On impact, it sizzled, much like Nick. “McCall, all I've done is try to make you happy, but about the time I think I'm making progress, something bites me in the ass and it's usually coming from that shell you always pull back into.”

He briefly considered grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around to make her face him. An odd primitive warning flashed through his brain as he remembered her comment back on the island about being manhandled in her younger days. He resisted. That was the last thing she needed, but he still wanted answers.

When McCall didn't respond to his question, he struggled briefly with the uncertainty her actions had aroused. He knew what his knee-jerk reaction generally would be, but with McCall, all he could say was, “You're beautiful, intelligent, and over the last few days, I've seen a confident Texan I can't keep my hands off of.”

“Nick, I wanted this to work, but we're going nowhere. We are just too different.” Her voice wavered. “I thought you wanted to make love to me, and then . . .”

“I did. I do.” He stepped up behind her.

She whirled. A deep frown etched her normally flawless face. “Sure you did!” She lifted her chin and defiantly locked onto his gaze. “I overheard you talking about me on the telephone like I'm some kind of . . . of . . . some desperate . . . uh . . . hell . . . like a mare in season. No thanks. You're just a . . . a—”

“ ‘Heartless, nasty cad' were the words you used back in LA. If you truly trusted me you would have come in and not eavesdropped—”

“I wasn't eavesdropping. The door was wide open and you invited me to your room. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. You led me on just like you did on the island, and baby, your game has worn a bit tiresome. You never intended to let me into your bed—”

“It was
your
bed, and I certainly did—”

“You did not.”

“Did, too,” She spouted.

Nick called a halt to their bushwhacked exchange. “I'm through with ‘I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours.' All you wanted was to get a rise out of me—”

“And, I did it quite well.” She shifted her eyes below his belt. “Yeah, cowpoke, I believe I did a really good job.”

“And you didn't enjoy it a bit?”

“Not in the least. Remember it was a
game
?”

“Hell, there is no way to reason with you. If you really want to return to LA, I'll drive you back. But, you are
not
getting on a train with a bunch of strangers.” He clenched his jaw. This argument was stupid, not to mention unnecessary. “I never gave any thought to the fact that you could misconstrue what Jock and I were talking about and think we were discussing you.”

Suddenly Nick felt like a fool, much like he'd just stepped out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon and been hit over the head with a mallet.

Accentuating her annoyance, she whirled toward the window, revealing a slender leg and hip. Folding her arms across her chest, unyielding, she said, “If you weren't talking about me, then explain yourself.”

He watched her reflection in the windowpane as she stared into the dusky evening. Her lips quivered.

Taking his chances on getting frostbitten, he pulled up behind her, slid his hands down her arms, and clasped her body firmly against his chest. “McCall, you need to trust me,” he whispered into her ear. “You don't have to take everything I say or do as an attempt to emotionally undermine you.” Slowly, his arms wrapped around her midriff. “Jock called to discuss an uncooperative filly that is standing. That means—”

“I know what it means,” she said softly, probably feeling as foolish as he did. “My grandfather was a rodeo stock contractor.”

“You never told me that. Mac, I'm dead serious about not wanting you to go back to LA. Please stay.” Beneath his hands, he felt her erratic breathing settle. “Let's sit down on your couch and talk.”

He led her to the loveseat, never letting go of her hand. “I'm so sorry, McCall. I knew you were raised with horses and when I saw your reflection in the picture over the desk—”

“You knew I was there?” Surprise with a tad of shyness laced through her words. “You knew I didn't have any clothes on?”

“Of course. I'm not blind.” He tried to soften his presentation. “I thought I'd finish my conversation with Jock, so I could give you my full attention.”

“Oh . . .” A minute laugh came from McCall. “I thought when you said seven days, and your bid at the auction was for seven days, that you meant—”

“I know exactly what you thought because a mare only has a good three to eight days to conceive out of their whole cycle. I just thought you'd know that we were talking about a young filly being mated for the first time.”

They looked up and their gazes locked. At first, their mutual laughter was low and mellow, but suddenly it turned into a full belly laugh from each of them. Merriment of mutual understanding.

“And you
will not
tell anybody about this, especially Maddi and Josie. Do you understand?” McCall said through a wide spread smile that turned to a chuckle. “I'd be so humiliated. Even more than I am now.”

“Hey, remember . . . no secrets between us. Same thing goes with secrets only the two of us can enjoy.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

“How about calling and making another dinner reservation?” McCall asked.

“How about calling for room service? I want to get an early start in the morning.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to go back and make sure that sorry excuse for a policeman did his job.” Nick tucked her deep into his side and figured her temperature had warmed twenty degrees.

“Then you did take me seriously about the lady roaming the mountain?”

“Let's just say I'm taking you seriously. Very seriously.” His lips seared a path down her neck, her shoulders, sending deep throbs in the pit of his stomach. “Mucho serious.”

“I'm truly sorry that we argued, but Nick, please don't feel you have to hide stuff from me.” She shifted her weight and looked squarely into his eyes. “I'm not good at handling that. Daddy left Mother and me in a terrible financial mess because he kept secrets.”

“What kind?” He draped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her to his side.

“That's what I've wanted to tell you.” Her body quivered. “Dad put all of their savings into some type of business venture, but kept it from Mother. She figured he'd lost it at the racetrack. But after her death, I found some documents that make me believe he may have made a legitimate investment. I think that's the real reason we moved to California, not because of their health.”

“You don't have any idea what kind of an undertaking it was or who it was with?”

“No. I ended up having to probate both of their wills, since Mother never did. I suspect she was scared what she'd find. Or not find.” McCall shifted uneasily. A melancholy frown flitted across her face. “My lawyer has placed a creditor's notice in a dozen newspapers, hoping that someone will see it and contact him. It's just an outside chance we'll hear from anybody, but one I have to take.”

“And nobody has come forth?”

“No. But as my lawyer told me, there's little chance, after all of this time, that anybody will. It's in all the major newspapers in Texas, a couple in Oklahoma, and several in California. Not to mention New Mexico. Just about anyplace I could think of where my dad could have invested. It could be anywhere, but Mother felt strongly that it was at the racetrack and he didn't want her to know. I think if it wasn't the racetrack, then it was the oil and gas industry because of the work he did in Texas.”

“Did you look for a safety deposit box or post office box key?”

McCall nodded her head. “No luck. Nothing. No paperwork.”

“I'm sorry, Mac. I didn't know, but Mother and I have a team of lawyers on retainer. Really good ones, too.”

“Thanks, but it's something I've got to do for myself. That's the only way I'll be able to lay to rest my parents' memories. I won't be happy until I do right by them.”

“I understand. I'm having my own problems with lawyers.” He stopped. Now wasn't the time to discuss the horse ranch purchase when disappointment clouded McCall's mood.

“I know. Josie told me you were buying some land, and it wasn't going the way you had hoped. I guess since I've known you, you've always had a dozen deals going at one time.”

“That's part of my business, but I don't want to talk about it right now. You're my priority.”

In comparison to McCall's problems, weighted down by her father's obvious inability to handle business matters, Nick's situation was inconsequential. She'd think him a bigger cad if he were to bring up his troubles when they were just barely able to discuss the ones between them, especially since their problems had one thing in common. Missing investors.

“I don't mind listening to your business problems. After all, you've listened to me about mine. I honestly don't mind,” McCall said. “Maybe I can help, unless it's something you'd prefer to keep close to your vest.” She smiled up at him. “So, I won't jinx it.”

“Angel Eyes, I promise I have no intention of keeping anything from you that will affect our personal relationship. Besides, we've got a lot of miles to cover. I believe you promised to take me to a Texas drive-in.”

 

McCall stared out the window, watching the pavement lap up the miles as they ventured south toward the tiny village near the foot of Harris Grade, the town she hoped held answers about the mysterious woman living on the mountain.

She studied Nick's profile. He stared ahead as though counting the delineator markings in the center of the road.

Chewing on her lower lip, she stole a second look.

No doubt Nick had been patient with her, more than she deserved. Almost like he understood that her need to be stubborn and down right testy at times was a survival skill to shield herself from her own feelings. To keep him at arm's length, so he wouldn't see into her soul. A fear of getting hurt.

So what possessed her to blurt out a crazy thing like “I love you”?

And the almost insulting part? He acted like he hadn't heard her.

As though selecting his words carefully, Nick said. “It's not too far now. I'm about ready for some lunch. Hungry?”

“Famished.” Even the one word hung in her throat. She was afraid to say more. Afraid she might tear up. If only he had cussed her out instead of being so patient and understanding.

Although they shared the humor in what she'd overheard and she'd apologized profusely for ruining their evening, her insecurities hovered overhead. She was ashamed of her absurd behavior. Now how could she redeem herself without patronizing the overly confident hunk of testosterone soaked flesh?

Nick's voice broke into her musing. “You haven't had much opportunity for a social life since you came to Los Angeles, have you?”

“Not really. Shortly after we moved to LA, my folks' health turned bad. Caring for them left me with little time for myself, much less a social life.” Her words hung heavy as she thought back to the lonely hours spent tending her parents. Of their missing her graduation from high school, then later when she had to decline dinner invitations until one day the invitations stopped coming. “Other than foundation functions, I've been pretty much a social misfit. An evening reading a good novel and drinking a glass of iced tea is a social event to me.”

Nick stared ahead making no comment.

“After Daddy died, I was Mother's primary caretaker until she got bad enough for a nurse. After she passed away, I stayed too wrapped up, clinging to her memory, for any fun.”

“What got you through the hard times?” he asked in a tender voice.

A knot lodged in her throat, trapping her tears. She dug in the shadows of her heart for the answer. One she wasn't sure she was ready to share. “My personal knight in shining armor.”

She felt silly saying the words out loud and quickly changed the subject. “There's the Tadpole Cafe.”

“Looks like our best choice. At least three other people think so.” Nick nodded toward the quaint diner's near-empty parking lot.

After the only waitress in sight gave them a brusque greeting, she waved them toward a clean table by the window.

Digging under her blouse and adjusting her bra strap, the burly woman sauntered in their direction and slapped down fish-shaped menus. “Today's specials are on the board. Don't suggest the meatloaf, but the tuna salad's okay. Cookie fixed it day before yesterday, so it's still fresh. I'll be back for drinks in a jiff.” She strolled away touching her tongue to her pencil tip before jotting on a pad.