Adam (3 page)

Adam flushed and answered in Spanish, “I'm well aware of her age, Maria. She doesn't need a chaperon around me.”

The Mexican woman arched a disbelieving brow. Again in Spanish she said, “You are a man, Señor Adam. And her eyes, they smile at you. It would be hard for any man to refuse such an invitation. No?”

“No!” Adam retorted. Then added in Spanish, “I mean, no I wouldn't take advantage of her. She has no idea what she's saying with her eyes.”

Maria's disbelieving brow arched higher. “If you say so, Señor Adam.”

Tate had been trying to follow the Spanish conversation, but the only words she recognized were “Maria,” “chaperon,” “Señor Adam” and “No.” The look on Maria's face made it clear she disapproved of the fact Tate would be living in the house alone with Adam. Well, she didn't need a
chaperon any more than she needed a keeper. She could take care of herself.

Fortunately, it wasn't necessary for her to interrupt the conversation. A knock at the kitchen door did it for her. The door opened before anyone could answer it, and a young cowhand stuck his head inside. He had brown eyes and auburn hair and a face so tanned it looked like rawhide.

“Adam? You're needed in the barn to take a look at that mare, Break of Day. She's having some trouble foaling.”

“Sure. I'll be there in a minute, Buck.”

Instead of leaving, the cowhand stood where he was, his eyes glued on the vision in a peasant blouse and skin-tight jeans standing in Adam's kitchen. He stepped inside the door, slipped his hat off his head, and said, “Name's Buck, ma'am.”

Tate smiled and held out her hand. “Tate Wh—atly.”

The cowboy shook her hand and then stood there foolishly grinning at her.

Adam groaned inwardly. This was a complication he should have foreseen, but hadn't. Tate was bound to charm every cowhand on the place. He quickly crossed past her and put a hand on Buck's shoulder to urge him out the door. “Let's go.”

“Can I come with you?” Tate asked.

Before Adam could say no, Buck spoke up.

“Why sure, ma'am,” the cowboy said. “Be glad to have you along.”

There wasn't much Adam could say except, “You can come. But stay out of the way.”

“What kind of trouble is the mare having?” Adam asked as they crossed the short distance to the barn, Tate following on their heels.

“She's down and her breathing's labored,” Buck said.

Tate saw as soon as they entered the stall that the mare was indeed in trouble. Her features were grim as she settled onto the straw beside the mare's head. “There now, pretty lady. I know it's hard. Just relax, you pretty lady, and everything will be all right.”

Adam and Buck exchanged a look of surprise and approval at the calm, matter-of-fact way Tate had insinuated herself with the mare. The mare lifted her head and whickered in response to the sound of Tate's voice. Then she lay back down and a long, low groan escaped her.

Tate held the mare's head while Adam examined her. “It's twins.”

“Why that's wonderful!” Tate exclaimed.

“One of them's turned wrong, blocking the birth canal.” In fact, there was one hoof from each of the twins showing.

“Surely your vet can deliver them!”

Adam's features were somber as he answered, “He's out of town at his daughter's wedding.” Adam couldn't imagine a way to save either foal, entangled as they were.

Tate's excitement vanished to be replaced with foreboding. She had encountered this problem once before, and the result had come close to being disastrous. Garth had managed to save the mare and both foals, but it had been a very near thing.

“I'll have to take one foal to save the other,” Adam said in a flat voice.

“You mean, destroy it?” Tate asked. She couldn't bring herself to say “dismember it” though that was what Adam was suggesting.

“There's nothing else I can do.” Adam turned to the cowboy and said, “Buck, see if you can find me some rope.”

Tate stroked the mare's neck, trying to keep the animal calm. She looked up and saw the dread in Adam's eyes. It was never easy to make such decisions, yet they were a constant part of ranch life.

She was hesitant to interfere, but there was the tiniest chance the second foal could be saved. “My brother Garth went through this not too long ago. He was able to save both foals by—”

Buck arrived and interrupted with, “Here's the rope, Adam. Do you need my help?”

“I'm not sure. I'd appreciate it if you'd stay.”

Buck propped a foot on the edge of the stall and leaned his arms across the top rail to watch as Adam knelt beside the mare and began to fashion a noose with the rope.

Adam paused and glanced over at Tate. She was gnawing on her lower lip again while she smoothed her hand over the mare's sleek neck.

Adam found himself saying, “If you know something that can be done to save both foals, I'm willing to give it a try.”

He watched Tate's whole face light up.

“Yes! Yes, I do.” She quickly explained how Garth had repositioned the foals.

“I'm not sure I—”

“You can do it!” Tate encouraged. “I know you can!”

Her glowing look made him think he might be able to move mountains. As for saving two spindly foals…It was at least worth a try.

A half hour later, sweat had made damp patches under the arms and down the back of Adam's chambray shirt. He had paused in what he was doing long enough to tie a navy blue bandanna around his forehead to keep the salty wetness out of
his eyes. He worked quietly, efficiently, aware of the life-and-death nature of his task.

Adam knew a moment of hope when he finished. But now that the foals had been rearranged, the mare seemed too exhausted to push. He looked across the mare to Tate, feeling his failure in every inch of his body. “I'm sorry.”

Tate didn't hear his apology. She took the mare's head onto her lap and began chanting and cooing to the exhausted animal—witchcraft for sure, Adam thought—until the mare amazingly, miraculously birthed the first of the foals.

Adam knew his grin had to be as silly as the one on Tate's face, but he didn't care. Buck took care of cleaning up the first foal while Tate continued her incantations until the mare had delivered the second. Buck again took over drying off the foal while Tate remained at the mare's head, and Adam made sure the afterbirths were taken care of.

When Adam was finished, he crossed to a sink at one end of the barn and scrubbed himself clean. He dried his hands with a towel before rolling his sleeves down from above the elbow to the middle of his forearms.

Adam watched in admiration as Tate coaxed the mare onto her feet and introduced her to her offspring. The mare took a tentative lick of one, and then the other. In a matter of minutes both foals were nudging under her belly to find mother's milk.

Tate's eyes met Adam's across the stall. He opened his arms and she walked right into them. Her arms circled his waist, and she held him tightly as she gave vent to the tears she hadn't shed during the awful ordeal.

“Everything's fine, sweetheart. Thanks to you, everything's
just fine,” Adam said, stroking her short, silky hair. “Don't cry, sweetheart. You did just fine.”

Adam wasn't sure how long they stood there. When he looked up to tell Buck he could go, he discovered the cowboy was already gone. Tate's sobs had subsided and he became aware for the first time of the lithe figure that was pressed so intimately against him.

Tate Whitelaw might be young, but she had the body of a woman. He could feel the soft roundness of her breasts against his chest, and her feminine hips were fitted tight against his masculinity. His growing masculinity.

He tried shifting himself away, but her nose buried itself more deeply at his shoulder and she snuggled closer.

“Tate.” He didn't recognize the voice as his own. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Tate.”

“Hmm?”

If she didn't recognize the potential danger of the situation was he honor bound to point it out to her? She felt so good in his arms!

Before he could stop himself, his hands had tangled in her hair. He tugged and her head fell back. Her eyes were limpid pools of gold and green. Her face was flushed from crying. She had been gnawing on that lip again and it was swollen. He could see it needed soothing.

He lowered his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth, letting his tongue ride the length of it, testing the fullness of it.

Tate moaned and he was lost.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her, seeking solace for a desolation of spirit he had never admitted even to
himself. Her whole body melted against him, and he was aware of an excruciatingly pleasurable heat in his groin where their bodies were fitted together. He spread his legs slightly and pulled her hard against him, then rubbed them together, creating a friction that turned molten coals to fire.

Tate was only aware of sensations. The softness of his lips. The slickness of his tongue. The heat and hardness of his body pressed tightly against hers. The surge of pleasure as his maleness sought out her femaleness. The urgency of his mouth as it found the smooth column of her neck and teased its way up to her ear, where his breath, hot and moist, made her shiver.

“Please, Adam,” she gasped. “Please, don't stop.”

Adam's head jerked up, and he stared at the woman in his arms. Good Lord in Heaven! What was he doing?

Adam had to reach behind him to free Tate's arms. He held her at arm's length, his hands gripping hers so tightly he saw her wince. He loosened his hold slightly, but didn't let go. If he did, he was liable to pull her back into his arms and finish what he had started.

Her eyes were lambent, her face rosy with the heat of passion. Her body was languid, boneless with desire, and it wouldn't take much to have her flat on her back beneath him.

Are you out of your mind? What's gotten into you? You're supposed to be protecting her from lechers, not seducing her yourself!

Tate could see Adam was distraught, but she hadn't the least notion why. “What's wrong?” she asked.

Her voice was still breathless and sounded sexy as hell! His body throbbed with need.

“I'll tell you what's wrong,
little girl!
” he retorted. “You may be hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July, but I'm not
interested in initiating any virgins! Do you hear me?
Flat not interested!
”

“Could have fooled me!” Tate shot back.

Adam realized he was still holding her hands—was in fact rubbing his thumbs along her palms—and dropped them like hot potatoes. “You stay away from me,
little girl
. You're here for one reason, and one reason only—keeping books. You got that?”

“I got it,
big boy!
”

Adam started to reach for her but caught himself. He stalked over and let himself out of the stall. A moment later he was gone from the barn.

Tate curled her arms protectively around herself. What had happened to change things so quickly? One minute Adam had been making sweet, sweet love to her. The next he had become a raving lunatic. Oh, how it had stung when he called her
little girl!
She might be small in stature, but she was all grown up in every way that mattered.

Except for being a virgin.

Tate had to admit she was a babe in the woods when it came to sexual experience. But she recognized that what had just happened between her and Adam was something special. He had wanted her as much as she had wanted him. She couldn't be mistaken about that. But their attraction had been more than sexual. It was as though when she walked into his arms she had found a missing part of herself. And though Adam might discount what had happened because she was so young, she wasn't going to let him get away with denying what had happened between them—to her or to himself.

She wasn't some
little girl
he could dismiss with a wave of his hand. Powerful forces were at work between them. Tate
had to find a way to make Adam see her as a woman worthy of his love. But how best to accomplish that goal?

Because the physical attraction between them was so powerful, Tate decided she would start with that. She would put temptation in Adam's path and just see what happened.

A
DAM WATCHED
T
ATE SMILING
up at the cowboys who surrounded her at the corral while she regaled them with another of her outrageous stories about life at Hawk's Way, as she had often done over the past three weeks. As usual, she was dressed in jeans, boots and a T-shirt with some equally outrageous slogan written on it.

Only this T-shirt had the neckline cut out so it slipped down to reveal one shoulder—and the obvious fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Anyone with eyes in his head could see she was naked under the T-shirt. The three cowboys were sure as hell looking. The wind was blowing and the cotton clung to her, outlining her generous breasts.

Adam told himself he wasn't going to make a fool out of himself by going over there and dragging her away from three sets of ogling male eyes. However, once his footsteps headed in that direction, he didn't seem to be able to stop them.

He arrived in time to hear her say, “My brothers taught me how to get even when some rabbit-shy horse bucks me off.”

“How's that, Tate?” one of the cowboys asked.

“Why, I just make that horse walk back to the barn all by himself!” Tate said with a grin.

The cowboys guffawed, and Tate joined in. Adam caught his lip curling with laughter and straightened it back out.

“Don't you have some work to do?” he demanded of the three cowboys.

“Sure, Boss.”

“Yeah, Boss.”

“Just leaving, Boss.”

They tipped their hats to Tate, but continued staring at her as they backed away.

Adam swore acidly, and they quickly turned tail and scattered in three different directions.

He directed a cool stare at Tate and said, “I thought I told you to stay away from my cowhands.”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘Finish your work before you go traipsing around the ranch,'” Tate replied in a drawl guaranteed to irritate her already irritated boss.

“Is your work done?”

“Had you been home for lunch, I'd have offered to show you the bookkeeping system I've set up. Everything's been logged in and all the current invoices have been paid. I have some suggestions for ways—”

He interrupted with, “What the hell are you doing out here half-dressed, carousing with the hired help?”

“
Carousing?
I was just
talking
to them!” Tate flashed back.

“I want you to leave those boys alone.”

“Boys? They looked like grown men to me. Certainly old enough to make up their minds whether or not they want to spend time with me.”

Adam grabbed the hat off his head and slapped it against his thigh. “Dammit, Tate. You're a babe in the woods! You're playing with fire, and you're going to get burned! You can't run around here half naked and not expect—”

“Half naked?”
she scoffed. “You've got to be kidding!”

“That T-shirt doesn't leave much to the imagination! I can see your nipples plain as day.”

Tate looked down and realized for the first time that twin peaks were clearly visible beneath the T-shirt. She decided to brazen it out. “So what if you can? I assume you're familiar with the female anatomy. Besides, you're not my father or my brother. You have absolutely no right to tell me what to wear!”

Since the erotic feelings Adam was experiencing at the moment weren't the least fatherly or brotherly, he didn't argue with her. However, he had appointed himself her guardian in their stead. As such, he felt it his duty to point out to her the dangers of such provocative attire.

He explained in a reasonable voice, “When a man sees a woman looking like that, he just naturally gets ideas.”

Tate looked sharply at Adam. “What kind of ideas?”

“The
wrong
kind,” Adam said emphatically.

Tate smiled impishly and batted her lashes at him. “I thought you were ‘flat not interested' in li'l ole me.”

“Cut it out, Tate.”

“Cut what out?”

“Stop batting those lashes at me, for one thing.”

Tate pouted her lips like a child whose candy had been taken away. “You mean it isn't working?”

It was working all right. Too damn well. She was just precocious enough to be charming. He was entranced despite his
wish not to be. He felt his body begin to harden as she slid her gaze from his eyes, to his mouth, to his chest, and straight on down his body to his crotch. Which was putting on a pretty damn good show for her.

“You're asking for it,” he said through clenched teeth.

She batted her eyelashes and said, “Am I going to get it?”

“That's it!”

The next thing Tate knew she had been hefted over Adam's shoulder like a sack of wheat, and he was striding toward the house.

“Let me down!” she cried. “Adam, this is uncomfortable.”

“Serves you right! You haven't been the least worried about my comfort for the past three weeks.”

“Where are you taking me? What are you planning to do with me?”

“Something I'm going to enjoy very much!”

Was Adam really going to make love to her? Would he be rough, or gentle? How was she supposed to act? Was there some sort of proper etiquette for the ravishing of virgins? Not that she had ever worried too much about what was proper. But she felt nervous, anxious about the encounter to come. Finally, Adam would have to acknowledge that greater forces were at work between them than either of them could—or should—resist.

The air inside the adobe house hit her like a cooling zephyr. The dimness left her blind for an instant. Just as she was regaining her sight, they emerged once more into sunlight and she was blinded again. Several more strides and she felt herself being lowered from Adam's shoulder.

Tate barely had time to register the fact that they were in the courtyard when Adam shifted her crosswise in his arms.
Grinning down into her face, he said “Maybe this will cool you off!” and unceremoniously dumped her into the pool of water that surrounded the fountain.

Tate came up spluttering. “Why you!” She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to clear the water from them.

“Why, Miss Tate, are you batting your eyelashes at me again? Guess I'll have to try another dunking.”

He took one step toward her, and Tate retreated to the other side of the fountain. “I'll get you for this, you rogue! You roué!”

Adam laughed. It had been so long since he had done so, that the sound brought Maria to the kitchen window to see what Señor Adam found so funny. She shook her head and clucked when she saw the new bookkeeper standing dripping in the fountain. She grabbed a bath towel from the stack of laundry she was folding on the kitchen table and hurried outside with it.

She handed it to Adam and said in Spanish, “This is no way to treat a young woman.”

Adam's eyes crinkled at the corners with laughter. “It is when she's bent on seducing an older man.”

Maria hissed in a breath and turned to eye the bedraggled creature in the pool. So that was the way the wind was blowing. Well, she was not one to stand in the way of any woman who could make Señor Adam laugh once more.

“Be sure you get the
señorita
dried off quickly. Otherwise she might catch a cold.”

Maria left Adam standing with the towel in his hand and a smug grin on his face.

Once the housekeeper was gone, Adam turned back to Tate. And quickly lost his smirk. Because if the T-shirt had been revealing before, it was perfectly indecent now. He could
easily see Tate's flesh through the soaked cotton. The cold water had caused her nipples to peak into tight buds.

His mouth felt dry. His voice was ragged as he said, “Here. Wrap yourself in this.”

Only he didn't extend the towel to her. He held it so she would have to step out of the pool and into his arms. When he encircled her with the terry cloth she shivered and snuggled closer.

“I'm freezing!” she said.

He, on the other hand, was burning up. How did she do it to him? This time, however, he had only himself to blame. He felt her cold nose burrow into his shoulder as his chin nuzzled her damp hair. The water had released the lilac scent of her shampoo. He took a deep breath and realized he didn't want to let her go.

Adam vigorously rubbed the towel up and down Tate's back, hoping to dispel the intimacy of the moment.

“Mmm. That feels good,” she murmured.

His body betrayed him again, responding with amazing rapidity to the throaty sound of her voice. He edged himself away from her, unwilling to admit his need to her. In fact, he felt the distinct necessity to deny it.

“I'm not going to make love to you, Tate.”

She froze in his arms. Her head lifted from his shoulder, and he found himself looking into eyes that warmed him like brandy.

“Why not, Adam? Is it because I'm not attractive to you?”

“Lord, no! Of course you're a beautiful woman, but—” Adam groaned as he realized what he had just admitted.

“I am?”

What had those brothers of hers been telling her
, Adam wondered,
to make her doubt herself like this?

“Is it because I don't dress like a lady?”

His only objection to the clothes she wore was his reaction to her in them. “Contrary to what you might have heard, clothes
don't
make the man—or the woman.”

“Then it must be the fact that I'm a virgin,” she said.

Adam felt himself flushing. “Tate, you just don't go around talking about things like that.”

“Not even with you?”

“
Especially
not with me!”

“Why not?”

They were back to that again. He turned her so he had an arm around her shoulder, and began ushering her across the courtyard to her bedroom. “I think it's time you got out of those wet clothes.”

Tate's impish smile reappeared. “Would you like to help me?”

“Not on your life!” He opened the sliding glass door and gave her a nudge inside. “I'll meet you in the office in fifteen minutes and you can show me whatever bookkeeping wonders you've accomplished today.” He turned and marched across the courtyard, fighting the urge to look back.

Once she was alone in her room, Tate let the towel drop. She stared at herself in the standing oval mirror in the corner and groaned. She looked like something the cat had dragged in! No wonder Adam hadn't been interested!

Tate sat down on a wooden chair to pull off her wet boots, then yanked her T-shirt off and struggled with the wet zipper of her jeans. She peeled her silk panties down and quickly began replacing her clothing with an identical wardrobe. All except the wet boots, for which she substituted a pair of beaded Indian moccasins Charlie One Horse had given her for Christmas.

While Tate dressed, she reviewed the events of the past three weeks since she had arrived at the Lazy S. Teasing Adam had begun as a way of making him admit the sexual attraction—and something more—that existed between them. But she had discovered that kidding some folks was like teasing a loaded polecat. The satisfaction was short-lived.

Tate hadn't been enjoying the game much these days, mainly because she had begun to suffer from the sexually charged situations as much as Adam. The problem was, on her side at least, her heart followed where her hormones led.

She would give anything if Adam was as interested in her as Buck seemed to be. The lean-hipped cowboy had been asking her every day for a week if she would go out with him on Saturday night. Well, maybe she should. Maybe if Adam saw that somebody else found her worth pursuing, he would get the same idea.

Tate had a cheerful smile on her face by the time she joined Adam in his office. He already had the computer on and was perusing the statistics she had input there.

“So what do you think?” she asked, perching herself on the arm of the large swivel chair in which he was sitting.

“It looks good.” Of course his office wasn't as neat as it had once been. There were half-filled coffee cups amidst the clutter on the desk, and a collection of magazines and a dirty T-shirt decorated the floor. A bridle and several other pieces of tack Tate was fixing were strewn around the room.

But he couldn't argue with what she had accomplished. Tate had set up a program to handle data on each head of stock, providing a record that would be invaluable in making buy
ing and selling decisions. “You didn't tell me you knew so much about computers.”

Tate grinned and said, “You didn't ask.” She leaned across him and began earnestly discussing other ideas she had regarding possible uses of the computer in his business.