Always a McBride (9 page)

“They were great people,” he told Taylor in his gravelly voice. “Isabel—that was Gus's grandmother—was the prettiest girl in the whole county…and a damn good shot. According to my grandmother, every man in the county was half in love with her, including my grandfather. But she never had eyes for anyone but old Ben McBride. He and Isabel built the homestead themselves, then filled it with sons. Granny said they were quite a pair, especially at country dances.”

“I can remember my grandfather talking about those dances,” Joe added with a grin. “They must have been something else. Half the county would come, everyone would bring enough food for their own family, and the dance would last for three days.”

Leonard's faded green eyes twinkled with memories behind the lenses of his bifocals. “Travelling wasn't as easy back then as it is now. So when people took the trouble to get together, they didn't want it to end. All that changed, of course, with the Model T—they still had country dances, but they didn't last three days any more.”

“I'll bet you and Dad went to a few of those dances, didn't you?” Joe said with a grin. “I heard you were as wild as a march hare.”

Grinning, Leonard Cooper didn't deny it. “Your dad did his share of sowing some wild oats. But then he met your mother, and he settled right down. A good
woman will do that to a man. I wasn't so lucky. It took me another five years before I found my Betsy.”

Taylor stiffened at his words, anger flashing in his eyes before he quickly controlled it. His mother had been a good woman, too. Gus could have been happy with her,
should
have been happy with her. Timing, he thought grimly. Happiness was all about timing. Sara met his father first, and she must have made a hell of an impression. In spite of the fact that Gus had turned to his mother on a wild weekend in Wyoming, she'd never really stood a chance. Because of Sara.

Bitterly, Taylor decided he'd heard enough. He thanked Leonard for all the information he had given him, and soon after that, he and Joe headed back to Liberty Hill with the bull Joe had bought in the stock trailer hooked to the back of his truck.

They'd talked easily on the way to Cooper's ranch, but Taylor had little to say now. Not surprisingly, Joe noticed. “You're awfully quiet. What'd you think of Leonard?”

“He's a tough old coot,” Taylor retorted. “I liked him.”

“When Dad died, he got a bunch of the neighbors together to help us with the spring roundup that year. I don't know what we would have done without him.”

“You were still grieving.”

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Joe nodded. “He was a good father. We lost him too soon.”

Too soon?
he echoed silently, scowling. Joe had had his father for eighteen years. And because of that, he, Taylor, had had nothing. His father had never seen him, had never even known he existed. And nothing was ever going to change that.

His stomach knotted with resentment, Taylor wanted to hate Joe for that, for all the Christmases and birthdays and just ordinary days on the ranch he and the rest of the legitimate McBride children had had with
his
father. But he couldn't. Joe was his brother, whether he knew it or not, and a good man. He liked him, dammit! He liked them all, and that was something he hadn't planned on. Now what was he supposed to do?

Long after Joe dropped him at the library, where he'd left his car, Taylor was still asking himself that same question. He didn't mind admitting that he was a damn good lawyer, and when it came to the law, he always played to win. He could be cutthroat when he had to be, and he didn't apologize for that. That was his job. His clients paid him a hell of a lot of money to go after the opposition and win a satisfactory judgment for them, and that's what he did.

When his mother had died and he'd discovered who his father was, his plan had been simple enough. Find Gus McBride and make him pay for being the deadbeat father that he was. In San Diego, Taylor had been confident he could do that with one hand tied behind his back. And he wouldn't feel an ounce of remorse, he'd assured himself.

But that was before he'd known Gus was dead. Damn the man for once again managing to escape accountability. How was he supposed to make a dead man pay for what he'd done? His brothers and sisters were good people who hadn't asked for a father who betrayed them or a half brother they still didn't know existed. When they found out the truth, they were going to be hurt, and like most people, they'd no doubt look for someone to blame. It didn't take an Einstein to figure out who
that would be. They'd loved Gus and would find a way to excuse his behavior. Taylor knew they wouldn't do the same for him.

And neither would Phoebe.

She slipped into his thoughts uninvited, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. After Joe left him at the library, he spent what was left of the afternoon finding what he could about the McBrides in local history books and avoiding going back to Myrtle's. For a while, he managed not to think about how good Phoebe felt in his arms, but the memory had been right there on the edge of his consciousness all day, waiting for a chance to dominate his thoughts.

What the hell was he going to do about her? When she found out who he was and his real reason for being in Liberty Hill, she was going to feel that he'd used her to get to the McBrides. She'd hate him for that, and he couldn't say he blamed her. He had.

He tried to justify his actions—he was only doing what he had to, what was right—but the guilt tightening like a fist in his gut told him there was nothing right about what he was doing. If he intended to go through with his revenge on the McBrides, he had no right to involve her in that. He didn't need her anymore to gain access to the family or the ranch. Joe was right—bed and breakfasts weren't his speed. He needed to get a room at the Best Western in Colorado Springs.

But when he left the library and headed back to Myrtle's, he knew he wasn't going anywhere. Not yet. Right or wrong, he'd come too far to change his plans now. He regretted that he'd had to use Phoebe, but at the time, he'd had no other choice. Moving to Colorado Springs wouldn't change that at this late date. As for
that kiss they'd shared, it wouldn't happen again. It couldn't, he warned himself grimly. He couldn't let the lady get to him any more than she already had.

Determined to keep his distance, he intended to go upstairs the minute he stepped through Myrtle's front door, but Phoebe was in the front parlor and there was no avoiding her. She looked up, his eyes met hers, and an emotion he couldn't put a name to tugged at him, stopping him in his tracks. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he'd kissed her. Suddenly, it only seemed like seconds.

“If you haven't had supper, there's a meatloaf and scalloped potatoes on the stove,” she said quietly. “Feel free to help yourself.”

Why did he suddenly feel as if he owed her an explanation of where he'd been all day? He hardly knew the woman. He'd kissed her one time, for heaven's sake! They weren't involved or anything. It just a kiss. One kiss. One unforgettable kiss.

Swearing silently, he growled, “Thanks, but I'm not hungry.” He should have gone upstairs to his room then—it would have been the smart thing to do—but his feet refused to budge. Instead, he lingered, his gaze falling to the material bunched in her lap. Only just then noticing the needle and thread in her hand, he frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I'm just patching this old quilt,” she replied, spreading out the quilt slightly so he could see its old-fashioned design. From across the room, a blind man couldn't have missed the tears in it. “My grandmother bought it at an auction and was going to make it into pillows for the bridal suite, but I think I can repair it. It's a wedding-ring quilt,” she added.

He didn't have to know much about quilt patterns to know that at one time, brides-to-be made wedding-ring quilts to take with them into their marriages. While he could appreciate the handwork that must have gone into making one, it wasn't something he normally would have given more than a second glance. But when Phoebe held it with gentle hands, smoothing it over her lap as if she herself had made it, he couldn't look away. With no trouble whatsoever, he could see the two of them making love under that same quilt.

Like any man, he had his share of sexual fantasies, but not like this. The image was so real, he could almost feel her, taste her, as surely as if she were in his arms. He tried to push the sensual image from his mind, but he was fighting a losing battle. Suddenly hot, aching for her, all he wanted to do was reach for her.

“Taylor? Are you all right?”

Caught up in the fantasy, it was a long moment before he heard her. When he finally realized that he must be staring at her like a starving man who'd suddenly laid eyes on a hot meal for the first time in a month, he felt like a complete idiot. “I'm fine,” he growled. “I just remembered a phone call I have to make. Excuse me.”

He strode up the stairs before she could do anything but blink in surprise, leaving Phoebe staring after him with a pounding heart. For a moment, she'd thought she'd seen something in his eyes…something that made her heart skip and her knees go weak…something that reminded her of yesterday and the kiss they'd shared. Had he felt it, too? That need that wouldn't go away? Is that why he'd rushed upstairs like the devil himself was after him? Or was her imagination running away with her?

Confused, she was tempted to go knock on his bedroom door and demand some answers. But did she really want to know if he was as attracted to her as she was to him? After all, most of the time, she didn't even know if she liked him or not!

Disturbed, she decided this wasn't the time to pursue the subject. It had been a long day, she was tired, and she'd been thinking about him for hours, wondering where he was, if he was as shaken as she was by a kiss she couldn't forget. He obviously didn't want to talk, and that might be for the best. The last time she'd felt this way, she'd ignored her common sense and rushed headlong into a relationship with a man who'd only wanted to use her. She wasn't doing that again. Taylor didn't seem the type of man to use a woman, but then again, she hadn't thought Marshall was, either. When it came to men, she always followed her heart, and invariably, she ended up getting hurt. Not this time. This time, she was going to use her head. And her head was telling her to step back and remember what she did know about Taylor. He was an angry, class-A personality from San Diego who was only staying at Myrtle's because there wasn't another motel for miles. When he finished his research and returned to California, he wasn't taking her heart with him.

Satisfied that she finally had her head on straight, she put away her sewing, made sure the house was locked up tight for the night, and went upstairs to bed. Falling asleep should have been easy. In order to get Taylor out of her head, she'd spent the day cleaning the house, and she was exhausted. She took a hot bath, slipped into her favorite nightgown, and crawled into bed.

Later, she couldn't have said how long she lay there,
staring at the dark ceiling over her head—it seemed like forever. And when she finally did fall asleep, Taylor was there in her dreams, waiting for her. He smiled in greeting, held out his hand to her, and just that easily, she stepped into his arms.

When her alarm went off the next morning, she remembered little of the details of her dreams…except that she kept reaching for Taylor. Shaken by a need that she wanted no part of but that refused to be ignored, she felt panic rising in her and could do nothing to stop it. Later in the day, she and Taylor were going to be riding up into the high country of the McBride ranch with Zeke and Elizabeth. They'd be together all weekend, riding together, possibly sharing a tent….

Images teased her, hot, intimate, sensuous. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she stiffened. No! She couldn't do it. Not when she'd dreamed of him all night. Not when all she wanted was for him to kiss her again. He'd take one look at her, her face would give her away, and she'd die of mortification. If he ever guessed, she'd want to kill herself.

She'd just make her apologies and he would go without her, she decided as she hurriedly dressed in jeans and a simple white cotton blouse, then went downstairs to start breakfast. The McBrides would understand—after all, the only reason they'd probably included her in the invitation to begin with was because she was Myrtle's granddaughter and Taylor was staying at Myrtle's. They hadn't wanted to exclude her since she obviously heard them invite Taylor along on the trip, and she appreciated that. She really did want to see the wolves she'd heard so much about, but she still couldn't go. Not with Taylor.

The decision made, she knew she was doing the right thing. Still, she couldn't stop her heart from skipping a beat when she heard his steps on the stairs. Her hands suddenly not quite steady, she quickly pulled fresh cinnamon rolls from the oven.

“Good morning,” she told Taylor as he stepped into the dining room just as she set the rolls on the sideboard. “The coffee's hot, there's homemade jam and fresh fruit on the table, and I was just about to cook some eggs. How would you like yours? Poached? Fried? Scrambled? Or I could make you an omelette—”

“The cinnamon rolls are enough,” he replied. “What time are we supposed to be at the McBrides?”

Put on the spot, she hesitated, then finally said, “Ten-thirty, but I'm not going to be able to go, after all. I don't know what I was thinking of when I told Zeke I could go. I've got two couples coming in next weekend, and I've got a lot of work to do before they get here. I've got grocery shopping to do, not to mention two bedrooms to clean, sheets to wash. I'd love to see the wolves, but even if I could find a way to go, you don't need me to tag along. You have work to do, and I don't want to get in the way of that.”