Ultimate Texas Bachelor (9 page)

He took his socks and underwear into the bathroom and plunked them down on the nicely organized black ceramic
tiled counter. “Then just talk to him about bulls and heifers,” he said.

Lainey paced back and forth, her slides echoing against the wooden floor. “That might lead to other questions,” she said.

He looked down at the hot pink polish she had put on her toenails the evening before. “Yes, it certainly might,” he drawled.

She struggled not to react to the way his glance was slowly moving up her bare legs. “You're not being at all helpful!” she scolded.

For lack of a better place to sit, Brad went back to lounging on his bed, legs spread, arms resting on the mattress on either side of him. He looked at her and slowly shook his head. “You're not being at all realistic if you think a kid can be around animals and not eventually get some idea of how Mother Nature works.”

Lainey didn't know whether to slug him or kiss him. Truth was, she wanted to do both. “So you won't help me out with this?” she asked, piqued.

Brad rubbed the underside of his jaw, testing the just-shaved smoothness of his skin. “I'll talk to Petey, and explain to him what's going on and why, if you want,” he offered, all cocky male.

“That wasn't what I meant!” Lainey threw up her hands in exasperation and stomped closer.

He offered an engaging half grin. “I know what you meant.”

Lainey moved even closer. “You can be very aggravating,” she told him, even as she was aware a chance like this might not ever come again.

“So I've been told,” he admitted rakishly.

“Is that why you broke up with Yvonne Rathbone the way you did, just to be aggravating?” Lainey asked.

 

T
HE QUESTION CAME
out of nowhere, and spoiled the playful mood that had sprung up between them. “Why do you care?”
Brad asked her, aware she was one of the most natural beauties he had ever seen in his life. Everything about her was extraordinarily fine. From the top of her honey-blond hair to the tips of her toes, she was one memorable woman. Which of course made her unprecedented nosy question all the harder to take.

Lainey shrugged. A self-conscious flush darkened her cheeks but she didn't back down. “I'm curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

She kept her eyes on his. “I'm no feline.”

Brad sighed, not about to argue that point. “You're all woman, all right.” Palpable tension arose between them as Lainey edged closer.

“So what happened?” Lainey pushed him deliberately. “Did the two of you sleep together? Did Yvonne disappoint you in bed? Is that what happened to make you walk away?”

Brad's gut told him two things. One, Lainey didn't look as if she wanted him to have that kind of past with Yvonne. Two, he had the feeling Lainey had said that just to get a reaction. He and his brothers used to do that to each other, when they were growing up, whenever they wanted to dig out the truth. They'd say something so outrageous that the target of the innuendo would have to say something to defend himself. Before they knew it, the real story was out there.

But the two of them weren't kids.

They were adults. Who were ready to cross a boundary from which Brad sensed there would be no turning back.

“You're aware you're really out of line, here,” he informed her.

Lainey tilted her head. “At least I'm not afraid.”

She headed for the door. Brad was on his feet before she could take two steps. He clamped a hand on her shoulder and swung her around to face him. “What does that mean?”

Her slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I just don't under
stand why you refuse to talk about what happened with Yvonne.”

Back to that again. “Maybe I like my privacy.”

“And maybe you're embarrassed.”

“What do I have to be embarrassed about?” he demanded gruffly. Aware her skin was heating where his fingers rested, he dropped his hand.

“Your behavior?” she countered sweetly. “I mean, it's not every day that a guy dumps a perfectly nice woman without provocation on national TV.”

Anger roiled inside him once again. “My actions weren't without provocation,” he defended himself hotly.

Her teeth worried the softness of her lower lip. She searched his face and asked the question Brad had already heard a thousand times, from family and friends. “What did Yvonne do that was so bad?”

He hadn't answered anyone else. Maybe it was time that changed. He knew if he didn't tell someone at least part of what happened soon, he was going to explode. “Yvonne led me to believe some things that were not true. And then she made damn sure I'd find out what kind of person she really was fifteen minutes before the taping of the final ceremony was to start.”

Brad had hoped Lainey would leave it at that. Of course, she didn't.

“I don't understand,” she said slowly. “Why would Yvonne do something like that when you were about to propose to her and she was in love with you, and you both could have walked away with lucrative endorsement contracts if only you had stayed together?”

He sighed. “Yvonne wasn't in love with me.”

Lainey lifted her brows. “She sure looked like she was on TV.”

“Well, she wasn't,” he said harshly.

“That still doesn't answer the question as to why she
would do something guaranteed to make you break up with her, at the very time she was set to win everything,” Lainey persisted.

“Maybe,” Brad said harshly, “because Yvonne got a lot more attention playing the victim after she was dumped than she would have had if she rode off into the sunset to live happily ever after with me.”

Well, that much was true, Lainey had to admit. The story of Brad and Yvonne's live on-air breakup had captivated the media for weeks. Still, the smitten way Yvonne had looked at Brad as “their love” unfolded had certainly seemed genuine enough. Which meant Lainey had to ask the hard questions, even if Brad didn't want to hear them. Shifting into full reporter mode, she continued her probing. “So you're saying what—that Yvonne was just pretending all along?”

“Who knows.” He shrugged.

Once again, Lainey had the sensation he was withholding tons more than he was telling.

“All I can tell you is that she sure had me fooled.”

Not to mention the rest of the country, Lainey thought. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I guess that explains why you acted so cold and hostile and uncaring toward Yvonne during the last show.” If Brad had felt personally betrayed—duped—by Yvonne, his actions made sense.

He exhaled. “It was all I could do to get through that Heart Ceremony.”

“Then why did you?” Why stride in there, hell for leather, and treat someone badly on camera when you knew millions of viewers were watching? she wondered.

He shoved his hands through his hair. “I went because I'd signed a contract. And the show's producers told me they'd sue me for five million in damages if I walked. So I met my obligation.”

Now that was a scoop. “The producers must have been unhappy.”

“Are you kidding? That was exactly what they wanted. Ratings had been going down on all the
Bachelor Bliss
shows. The novelty of TV romance was wearing pretty thin. The show's creator, Gil Hewitt, knew the only way to keep the show on the air was to create some real-life drama.”

“But you weren't in on the game,” Lainey said carefully.

“I wouldn't have cooperated had I known what kind of behind-the-scenes minidrama Gil Hewitt had planned.”

A drama Brad still hadn't fully explained—and he didn't look likely to, either. “Were
all
the women in on this?” Lainey treaded carefully, wary of scaring him off with questions that were too pointed and probing.

“I don't know for sure, but I don't think anyone witnessed what happened except me, Yvonne, and the person on the show who made darn sure the grand finale all happened according to plan.”

And that was the way Brad obviously wanted it to stay, Lainey realized in mounting frustration. “So the big reveal wasn't on camera?” she guessed, wondering why the
Bachelor Bliss
producers had stopped short of showing that, too. Unless doing so would have tipped the hand as to what would happen next.

“No. Thank God. Although—” Brad stopped, shook his head and didn't go on.

Frustrated but not defeated, Lainey persevered. “And you never suspected…during the show's filming…that anything was amiss?”

He shrugged and took on a brooding expression. “Looking back, I see the way the show's staff kept pushing me toward Yvonne as a mate,” he allowed finally.

“And you were okay with that.” Lainey knew it had sure looked that way on the TV screen.

“It sounds crazy now, knowing what I do about the conniving…sneak, but at the time, I thought Yvonne might very
well be the perfect woman for me. She appeared to be everything I had ever wanted.”

Lainey pushed aside a flare of jealousy. With effort, she stayed professional and zeroed in on his suspicions. “You don't think that happened by chance, do you?”

Brad shook his head. “No. I think someone gave Yvonne advance access to the questionnaires that we filled out when we were accepted as contestants. There were pages and pages of them, plus interviews with psychologists to make sure we were emotionally fit to be in this type of program.”

“And Yvonne used the information she gleaned to—?”

“Simultaneously undercut other contestants and make herself into a persona that fulfilled my every fantasy.”

For reasons Lainey preferred not to examine too closely, she didn't ask what precise “fantasies” were fulfilled. “That's a pretty hefty accusation,” she stated calmly, wishing she weren't thinking about taking Brad in her arms again and claiming him as hers and hers alone.

“But true, nonetheless.”

They sat there in silence. “Now do you see why I want nothing to do with the show or anyone on it ever again?” Brad said finally, meeting her eyes.

Lainey nodded sympathetically, understanding that he had been humiliated and betrayed, and was—as most men would be—still very reluctant to talk about an incident that had so damaged his pride. But he needed to talk about it, and get it all out, as much as she needed for him to do so.

Unfortunately for her, Brad hadn't yet divulged the details that if disclosed would make Lainey's story a sensation. Which meant she had to try harder to help him, and herself, and her friend, Sybil. Most of all, she wanted to set the record straight. Get the truth out there once and for all. End the innuendo, the lies, and most of all, the damage to Brad's reputation.

“The thing is, Brad,” she said, looking deep into his eyes, “ignoring what happened is not going to make it all go away.”

Brad knew he shouldn't have started down this road. He wasn't even sure why he had. Except, there was something about Lainey, the way she asked questions, the way she wanted to understand everything about him, that held him spellbound. She fascinated him in a way no other woman had.

“You should tell your side of the story, and I mean every bit of it, Brad, and clear your name,” Lainey said.

So everyone said.
Trying not to notice how pretty she looked in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows, Brad turned his gaze away from her and removed his boots. “I'm tired of explaining myself,” he stated gruffly.

“Then let someone else do it for you,” Lainey persisted. “Someone you trust.”

Annoyed, Brad leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “And who would that be?” he demanded, giving her an arch look.

For a second, Lainey looked as if she had a very specific idea who that might be but was afraid to suggest it. The moment passed, and she shrugged. “There are a lot of different venues,” she said carefully, coming closer, so they might continue talking in the low intimate tones that fit the situation. “Magazines, TV shows, even newspapers. But the avenue that would benefit you most financially would be a book deal.”

“A book,” Brad repeated.

“Yes. A tell-all.” Lainey remained directly in front of him, her body braced in challenge. Knowing she wasn't going to back down kicked his heartbeat up another notch.

“Forget it.” He stood, restless as ever. Then made the mistake of looking at her again. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why she persisted in dressing so nicely for such rigorous work. Most people wore old clothes—shorts and T-shirts—when they unpacked moving boxes. Lainey was clad in a sunny yellow cotton skirt and matching white-and-yellow diagonal-striped top. Her legs, arms and shoulders were bare, the exposed skin soft and silky looking. Facts that only added to her appeal. And his bad judgment for noticing. Hadn't he determined after the
Bachelor Bliss
debacle that he wasn't going to get involved with a woman again for a good long while? And a woman like Lainey would, by definition, require emotional involvement.

“You're such a hot commodity right now that with the proper agent you could probably get a deal well into the six figures. Now, that may not be what you would have earned doing commercials after the show, but it's still a lot of money, and it would go a long way toward helping you buy into this ranch as a full partner the way you had planned.”

That did sound good. Baring—no,
selling
—his soul did not. Deliberately, he kept his eyes on her face. “For starters, I can't write.”

She offered a tantalizing half smile. “I'm sure the publisher could pair you with an excellent ghostwriter.”

The thought of furthering his public pillorying was unacceptable. “No. My private life remains private.” He started toward the bathroom.

Lainey followed, looking just as determined as he felt. She leaned a slender shoulder against the door frame as he bent to splash cold water on his face. “You're fooling yourself if you think what happened will remain secret forever.
Someone is going to find out about it, and then they'll benefit, and you won't. Again!”

She was calling him a chump. And maybe he
was
one for letting the conversation go on this long. Brad dropped the towel onto the sink. “You want me to benefit from all this?” he said, his mood shifting as he moved toward her.

Pique flashed in her eyes. “That's what I've been saying, isn't it?”

“Then how about you help me out?” Brad retorted as he stopped in front of her.

Giving her no chance to respond, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He heard her soft gasp of surprise as his head dropped, and then his lips were on hers, their mouths fusing as one, their bodies pressing close together. Heat flooded through him. Lower still, blood pooled into an insistent ache.

Brad hadn't meant to do anything but shut Lainey up in the most shocking way possible. He hadn't expected her to melt against him, or to open her mouth to the plundering pressure of his, or to kiss him back. He'd figured he deserved a slap across the face. Not this sweet, gentle, loving invitation to dally.

Lainey knew it was a mistake pushing Brad, just as it was a mistake to allow him to take her in his arms. She should be fighting for what she wanted here, instead of devoting herself to helping him. But she couldn't help it. Something about his stubborn male pride, the hidden vulnerability in his heart, combined to draw her like a moth to the flame.

And full of fire, he was.

She'd never been kissed like this. With such fierce possessiveness and total mastery. Nor had she ever allowed herself to melt into anyone so completely. Always before, there had been that careful wall of restraint. The veneer of cool sophistication she had worked so hard to achieve.

There was nothing reserved about the way he was danc
ing her backward toward the bedroom wall. Nothing subtle about the way he held her there, arms flattened on either side of her head, body pressed warmly against hers. Brad was kissing her as if she were already his woman, and damn if she didn't feel like that just might be the case.

But deep down she knew that if she allowed him to make love with her, then and there, it would mean no turning back. Brad McCabe would have not just her body, but her heart. That truth brought Lainey crashing down to earth. Realizing she had no other choice, she removed her arms from about his neck, tore her mouth from his and pushed him away with all her strength.

 

B
RAD WATCHED HER MOVE
a short distance away. Sauntering closer, he girded his thighs and crossed his arms as if for battle. “What? No slap?”

“Not that you don't deserve it.” Feeling heat in her cheeks, Lainey spoke as if underlining every word.

“But?”

Not about to let him get the better of her, now or at any other time, Lainey held her ground, despite the fact they were now uncomfortably close. Close enough to start kissing again. Close enough for her to inhale the musky scent of man and sweat clinging to his skin. Close enough to see the speculation gleaming in his brown eyes. “If I'm going over to Annie and Travis's for dinner with Petey, I need to get cleaned up.”

A devilish smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I like you the way you are,” Brad said. Bracing his legs a little farther apart, he skimmed her provocatively with his gaze. “All mussed up.”

When he looked at her like that, Lainey felt sexy and powerful, in a very decadent and satisfying way. Unwilling to consider what it would be like if someone as used to having his own way as Brad McCabe became part of her life, Lainey drew an unsteady breath. “I'm not one of your women,” she
said. Although, she noted in dismay, she had been acting as if she were—advising Brad to seek a book contract instead of an exclusive interview with her.

Times like this she had to wonder if she possessed the necessary single-mindedness required for her profession. An ace reporter destined for fame and fortune would have been focused on the story they were trying to research, not looking out for the best interests of others to her own detriment.

“Women?” he repeated with a look of utter male supremacy, drawing her back to their conversation.

Finding his low, seductive voice a little bit too disarming, Lainey turned away. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you think you mean.” Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her back into his arms. “And just so you know—” he leaned forward and whispered in her ear “—I never thought you were one of my women.”

Heart pounding, she studied him. He wasn't hitting on her, wasn't attempting to kiss her again. He was just playing mind games with her. Giving her reason to stay away from him and not bring up the subject of his experience on
Bachelor Bliss
again.

Still, the embrace, and her reaction to it, stayed with her all through dinner at the neighboring Rocking Diamond Ranch. She was still distracted by the searing memories as she, Annie and the other adults—Lewis, Travis and Brad—took their coffee out onto the wraparound porch. The three boys were out in the side yard, playing fetch with Duke, the family's big black Lab.

“So, how's Tabasco Red doing? Has he settled in okay?” Travis asked Brad.

Brad nodded. “So far, he's doing fine.”

“I've got a heifer in the barn you might want to take a look at,” Travis said. “A little on the scrawny side,” he continued as the three men set their coffee cups aside and ambled down the porch, “but good bloodlines and I'd be willing to let her go cheap, if you're interested….”

As soon as the men were out of earshot, Annie kicked back in her rocking chair. “So, how is the organizing going?”

Relieved to think about something other than the man who had her totally fascinated…and confused, Lainey smiled. “I've got the kitchen and two offices downstairs done. Today, I've been working on the bedrooms.”

“Lewis said you've been amazing.”

She flashed Annie a look of gratitude. “Thanks to your help getting the furniture in the right place, and some of the extraneous junk cleared out, I got off to a mighty fast start.” Almost too fast, as she was going to be finished in no time. And once she was, she would have no more excuse to stay on. She didn't want to think about how depressing that was. She was enjoying being back in Laramie, living on a ranch for the first time in her life. Petey liked it, too. “Besides, all I really had to do was unpack boxes and put things away. It hasn't been all that hard.”

Annie poured more coffee, then set the carafe back on the white wicker table between them. “You wouldn't know it to hear Lewis talk. He thinks you're a miracle worker. And speaking of men in need of miracles…” Her smile widened. “My nephew—Lewis and Brad's brother, Riley—is moving back to Laramie in August. He just finished his residency and has taken a position at Laramie Community Hospital. Anyway, he's going to need some similar work, and he'd like to hire you to help him get organized, if possible.”

“No problem.” Lainey planned to take on as much work as she could handle.

“You ought to start your own business as a professional organizer,” Annie continued.

Was that what she wanted? Or did she want to continue to pursue her long-held dream of being a journalist? All Lainey knew for sure was that she had some serious choices ahead of her. Like how far she was willing to go to uncover Brad McCabe's secret.

Annie studied Lainey. “Is that frown related to our discussion—or to the man who has you tied in knots?”

Lainey wasn't used to talking about her personal life, but heaven knows she needed to confide in someone. “It's that obvious?” she asked wearily.

“Let's just say I recognize the particular type of tension flowing between you and Brad because it used to flow like the Rio Grande between Travis and me before we hooked up.”

Lainey recalled Annie and Travis had enjoyed the kind of high-profile romance that'd had the whole community buzzing, yet they had come out of it with a relationship that only seemed to get stronger and more loving every year. Lainey gazed at the rosebushes Annie had planted next to the porch.

“Is Brad the kind of womanizer everyone says he is?”

“There's no shortage of women pursuing him. He's so handsome and charming. I just don't think he's allowed himself to get caught very often, if at all.”

“A good-time guy,” Lainey paraphrased, her mood as careful and wary as it should have been earlier.

Annie sighed, worry coming into her pretty eyes. “Let's just say, before Brad did
Bachelor Bliss
, he never minded entering a party with a pretty woman on his arm. Now, he's lucky if he gives any female the time of day.”

That was certainly how Brad had behaved when Lainey had first showed up at the Lazy M to talk to Lewis. But lately, Brad had been giving her a lot more than the time of day. But then, she had kind of gotten in his face, in her efforts to get the real story out of him. If Lainey were half the reporter Sybil seemed to think she was, she would have told Brad right away who she was working for and pressed a lot harder to get him to 'fess up. Instead, she was letting Brad's comfort level—instead of her own pressing timetable—dictate her reporting. She was easing off on the scoop of the summer, wishing instead that she could spend more time with Brad, just for the sake of their getting to know each other. How crazy was that?

Annie shook her head at Lainey. “He's really gotten to you, hasn't he?”

Whoo, boy, had he. Lainey had never been this distracted—and fascinated—by a man before. She pushed out of her rocking chair, and moved to the edge of the porch. Abruptly, she realized the ranch had gotten awfully quiet. Never a good sign where kids were concerned. She peered around to the side yard. No boys. No dog. Uh-oh. “Do you know where the kids went?” she asked.

Annie's brow furrowed. “They're supposed to be right there.”

Worry slid to panic. “They're not.”

Annie leaped out of her chair. She was halfway down the front porch, with Lainey right after her. At the same time, Travis, Brad and Lewis emerged from the barn closest to the ranch house. Annie cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled at Travis, “Are the boys with you?”

Travis shook his head.

In the distance, there was a bark.

Then another.

And another.

They all turned in the direction of the sound.

In the distance, Duke could be seen leaping and bounding through a pasture of four-foot-high grass, bordering a thicket of cedar trees and juniper bushes.

“Oh, no!” Annie said, frowning.

Travis frowned, too. “I'll get 'em,” he said.

 

“Y
OU BOYS KNOW BETTER
than to go out there in shorts and tennis shoes,” Annie scolded, as the boys and their dog returned to the yard where they were supposed to be hanging out.