Luke knew his reasoning was true as far as it went. But there was another truth, one that came a lot closer to home, a truth that lay beneath Luke's hair-trigger temper.
There are two men I call friends. She's the kid sister of one of those men.
Yeah. And she's going to break her heart on the other one if I don't stop it.
That's Ten's problem. And Cash's.
But it wasn't, and Luke knew it. He wanted Carla. He wanted to take the clothes from her body and look at her, touch her, taste her, sheathe himself in her until there was nothing but her passionate heat bathing him and ecstasy bursting through both of them. He wanted that until he woke up sweating, shaking, wild.
She is Cash's sister, for God's sake! Have you forgotten that?
No. That's why I waited until she turned twenty-one, old enough to do whatever she damn well pleases.
Silent questions, answers, questions, retorts, questions; and finally the question that had no answer but silence and rage.
Are you going to ask her to marry you?
It was an impossible situation. Luke had vowed long ago that he would never ask a woman to be his wife unless she were ranch-born and ranch-raised, able to accept the hard work and isolation that was a part and parcel of the Rocking M's rugged life.
But Luke had found no ranch girl who could reach down past his harsh exterior and touch his soul. He had found no ranch girl who could make his body leap into readiness with a look, a smile, the clean scent of her skin. That was what Carla did. She made the raw lighting of desire run like liquid fire in his veins.
Gradually Luke realized that Carla was watching him with shadowed, unhappy eyes; and Ten was watching everything with an infuriating smile on his handsome face.
"Counting to a hundred, boss man?" Ten asked in mock sympathy. "You know, you never did have the temper of a saint or a martyr, but lately you could have taught Satan himself a trick or two."
Ten's drawl was as mocking as his smile. Luke felt his hold on his temper slipping. The only thing that made him hang on to his self-control was the certainty that Ten wanted him to lose it.
"Keep pushing, Tennessee. You'll get there."
"I'll take that as a promise."
"Carla, why don't you go check on those kittens in the barn," Luke said, never looking away from Ten's calm, handsome face. "Make sure none of them get lost."
"The cookies will—"
"I'll take care of them," Luke interrupted, his voice soft. Too soft.
Carla looked from one man to the other with wide, worried eyes. She started to speak, only to have her mouth go dry when Luke looked at her. Without another word she turned away. The taut silence was broken by the light sound of Carla's retreating footsteps. The back screen door squeaked open and banged shut.
Luke waited for a long count of fifteen before he spoke.
"All right, Ten. Let's have it."
"You do know how to tempt a man," muttered Ten, watching Luke with narrow gray eyes.
"So do you. Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
Ten didn't bother to deny it. "Just thought I'd give you something as mean as yourself to take out your temper on."
"Meaning?"
"You've been riding Carla hard since she got here. No matter what she does, you tear a strip off her."
"Maybe. And maybe I think my cook has better things to do than chase my ramrod."
"Yeah, I kind of thought that might be the burr under your saddle." Ten's mocking smile faded.
"You don't have a kind word to say to Carla, yet when someone else does, you jump real salty. You never used to be a dog in the manger, but the way you're acting lately, a man might think if you can't have Carla you don't want anyone to have her."
"She's too young to talk about having."
"Bull, boss man. She's a woman all the way to the soles of her feet." Ten saw the shift in Luke's expression, the flash of hunger and anger. The ramrod nodded, satisfied with what he saw. "She's fully of age. If she wants a man, she's entitled."
"Leave her alone, Ten."
"Why? You've made it real clear you don't want her. Hell, it's not like she was a kid anymore. The men in Boulder aren't blind. By now, one of them has probably taught her why women are soft and men are hard."
"Drop it."
Ten sighed, lifted his hat and raked his fingers through his black hair. "You're being a damned fool," he said calmly. "The way I see it, Carla has loved you for years and you've pushed her away for years. Finally you made it stick. She went off to college and found men who didn't push her away. She grew up. Then she came back to see how you stacked up against her memories and her new experiences with men."
"Carla isn't the type to sleep around," Luke said tightly.
"Who said anything about sleeping around?" Ten retorted. "I was talking about a young girl who was sent out of here with her pride in shreds. Seems to me she could be forgiven for finding a nice boy or two who wanted to kiss all the wounds and make her feel like a woman instead of a 'schoolgirl.'"
Luke said not one word, but the thought of Carla being touched by another man shook him. The thought of her being taken by anyone sent a killing rage through Luke's veins. He had been so sure, so unspeakably certain, that she would never allow anyone to touch her but him.
Ten measured the barely contained rage in Luke's expression and shrugged. "Suit yourself, boss man. But you should know one thing. Carla told me she came here this summer to get over you. You keep riding roughshod over her feelings and she'll walk out of here at the end of the summer and never look back. Then where will you be? You may not be her first man, but so what? You're the one who was given first call and you turned her down flat. Your fault, not hers. You'll never find another woman with half what she has to offer and you know it."
There was a long, taut silence while Luke measured Ten with the cold yellow eyes of a cornered mountain lion.
"I wasn't cut out to live in a city," Luke said finally.
"Did she ask you to?"
"No, but sooner or later she would. The Rocking M is hell on women. I'd rather not marry at all than have a woman walk out on her kids and her husband, or hit the bottle or go crazy staying on the ranch and make everyone's life a living hell."
"Carla wouldn't—"
"Like flaming hell she wouldn't," Luke said savagely. "Do you think my mother or my aunts
wanted
to betray their children and husbands? Do you think my father or my uncles deliberately picked weak women to marry? Do you think I want to watch Carla get thin and sullen grieving for a way of life she can't have if she's my wife? Or maybe you think I should be like some college kid and just take what she's offering and not worry about marriage, is that it?"
Ten swore beneath his breath, the words all the more violent for the softness of his voice.
"Now you're beginning to understand," Luke said. "Stay away from her, Ten. This is the only warning you'll get."
"What if I'm thinking of marriage?"
Luke closed his eyes for an instant. When they opened there was no emotion showing; not anger, not fear, not desire, nothing but an icy emptiness.
"Are you thinking of marriage?" he asked softly.
"She's the kind of woman that makes a man think of hearth fires and long winter nights and babies teething on your knuckles," Ten said. Then he sighed, raked his fingers through his hair again and added, "But that's all it will ever be for this cowboy. Thinking. Dreaming. I'm piss-poor husband material and no one knows it better than I do." He jerked his hat into place and met Luke's eyes. "Ease off on the spurs, Luke. Carla has a real tender hide where you're concerned."
"And if I don't?" Luke asked, more curious than angry.
"I'll get to feeling protective and you'll jump salty one too many times and we'll have hell's own fight. Then you'll be short one ramrod and the ranch will be short one boss." Ten smiled wolfishly. "You're bigger than I am, but you'd start out fighting fair. I wouldn't. Be quite a brawl while it lasted."
Unwillingly Luke smiled in return, then laughed. After a moment his face settled into grim lines once more.
"Hell of a mess, isn't it?" Luke said quietly.
"It'll do," agreed Ten. "Why in God's name did you let Carla come to the ranch this summer if you knew it was going to drive you crazy?"
"I…" Luke closed his eyes and shook his head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. She didn't have a summer job. The Rocking M didn't have a cook. The men were going to rebel if they had to keep eating slop that hogs wouldn't touch. Carla is a fine cook. Some of the best meals I ever had were ones she fixed for Cash and me over in the old house." Luke rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. "Like I said. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Besides, I expected her to cry uncle by now."
"Carla?"
"It's been four weeks. She must be dying to see a movie or get her hair fixed or whatever it is that women do in town. I promised her before she ever came back here that all she had to do was say the word and the bet was off, no hard feelings and no regrets."
"You don't know her very well, do you?"
It was an observation, not a question, but Luke answered anyway.
"What do you mean?"
"Carla never backed up an inch for anyone, including that hardheaded brother of hers. She made a deal with you. She'll keep it or die trying." Realization hit Ten. "That's why you're riding her so hard – you think you can goad her into quitting."
Luke looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
"Not one chance in hell, buddy," Ten said succinctly. "Carla may be pretty to look at and have a smile as soft as a rose petal, but that's one determined girl. Think about that the next time you start in on her. You're beating a hog-tied pony. She can't escape."
Luke's breath came in harshly. He hadn't thought about Carla in that way, as a person of pride and determination. He had seen her either as a girl too young for him or as one more woman who would be ground up by the Rocking M's isolation and demands. His breath hissed out in an explosive curse.
Ten smiled sympathetically. "You've got your tail in a real tight crack. It's pretty hard on a man when he's damned if he does and damned if he doesn't."
"Do us both a favor, Ten," Luke said, giving the other man a hard look.
"Sure."
"Stop trying to run interference for Carla. Every time you start hovering over her like a mother hen, I get to thinking about how good stewed chicken would taste."
There was an instant's silence before Ten threw back his head and laughed. He was still laughing when Luke set out for the barn with angry, long-legged strides.
~7~
"Did you find that ghost stud yet?" Ten asked Luke.
The ramrod's voice had no inflection but his smoke-gray eyes were lit with a combination of sympathy and laughter. Ten knew that Luke had spent long hours out on the range in order to avoid being close to Carla, not to find the near-mythical black stallion that inhabited the narrow red canyons and rugged breaks of the extreme southeastern portion of the Rocking M.
"No, but I saw his tracks a time or two," Luke retorted, piling a huge helping of roast beef, browned potatoes and gravy on his plate.
He glanced up as Carla put a bowl of crisp, fresh green beans next to his plate. With difficulty he forced himself to watch his dinner instead of Carla. She was more beautiful to him each time he looked at her. The thought that he had driven her into the arms of some college boy had tormented Luke. His days had become longer and longer, but even half-dead from overwork, he had only to look at Carla to feel hot claws of desire sinking into him.
Finally Luke's thoughts had driven him to stay away from the ranch house entirely. He had spent five days roaming the Rocking M, sleeping out, waking with his whole body hot, clenched, burning with passion. During the day he had chased his thoughts as though they were cloud shadows flying over the face of the land.
At the end of five days, Luke still hadn't decided which was worse, the thought that Carla had had another man, or the realization that her virginity would no longer be a barrier holding them apart. They wanted each other. They were both of age. They could take each other, work the passion out of their systems, and then they could go on with life the only way that made any sense.
Separately.
She came here to cure herself of me. Why the hell hold back? Why not take what we both want so bad that we can't look at each other without shaking?
"Thanks," Luke said to Carla, his voice harsher than he had meant it to be.
Carla's smile was soft and hesitant, for Luke's expression was forbidding. He had been out on the range for the past five days; even before that he had been distant. Ever since he and Ten had argued almost four weeks ago. If they had argued. Ten had refused to talk about it. In any case, there certainly seemed to be no anger between the two men now.
For a few unguarded moments, Carla's luminous blue-green eyes watched Luke with transparent hunger, measuring the changes five days had made. His beard stubble had become a thick darkness from cheek to jaw, making his rare smiles flash by comparison. He looked tired, drawn, as though he had been sleeping as badly as she had.
Forcing herself not to linger at the table with Luke, Carla went back to the kitchen. She had already done the dinner dishes and was in the process of mixing up a quadruple batch of cookies. No matter how many cookies she made, they disappeared in a matter of hours. There were times when she thought the men were feeding them to the cows.
"Got any more of that coffee?" called Luke from the dining room.
"About a gallon. How's the gravy holding out?"
"You could bring a quart of that, too."
Carla smiled to herself as she filled another gravy boat, grabbed two hot pads and wrapped them around the thin wire handle of the coffeepot. When she got to the dining room, Ten was gone.
"Where's Ten?"