Joshua and the Cowgirl (4 page)

“Don’t start with me, Mrs. Mac.”

Mrs. McDonald looked as innocent as it was possible for an eighty-two-year-old maverick to look. “It was just an observation, my dear. There’s no need to get huffy. Besides, it just proves my point,” she said complacently.

“I am not getting huffy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Garrett scrambled to get into her coat. Half dragging Casey, she was almost at the door when Joshua reappeared.

“Leaving without me?” he inquired lightly.

Garrett sighed. “Of course not.”

He beamed and an unwelcome shiver of anticipation zipped through her. When his hand settled in the middle of her back, it took everything in her to keep from jerking away. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affected her in any way. Nor would she create another scene in front of her highly impressionable daughter. As it was, Casey would be asking far too many discerning questions the instant they were alone.

Outside, with the crunch of snow under their feet, she took some satisfaction in the thought that the walk was ruining those expensive shoes of his. By the time they’d reached the door of the cozy house she and Casey shared, she had almost relaxed, lulled by the clear, starry beauty of the night and by Joshua’s undemanding silence.

“Thank you,” she said grudgingly.

His eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Casey’s mouth opened and slammed shut at a quick prod from Garrett’s elbow. “Some other time,” Garrett said.

Casey, who apparently had a greater sense of discretion than Garrett had ever had any reason to believe, slipped inside, leaving the two of them alone on the stoop.

Before she realized his intention, Joshua’s hand was snug against her neck and his lips were against hers. The feather-light caress was undemanding and as potent as wine. Garrett’s senses reeled, even as her anger rose. She opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought of his arrogant presumption, but he cleverly silenced her with yet another persuasive touch of his lips.

This time, lost to the hunger of the kiss, there was no denying the warmth that spread through her, the undeniable invitation in the way her body swayed toward his. For one tiny, fleeting moment she allowed herself the pure, feminine enjoyment of that greedy, demanding, thoroughly masculine possession.

Then she slugged him.

Chapter Three

J
oshua had never been more startled in his life. His jaw stung from the impact of Garrett’s well-aimed blow. Watching as acute embarrassment edged out fury in her eyes, he began to chuckle. It had been years since anyone had caught him off guard like that. He gave her an admiring glance.

“Nice shot,” he observed, rubbing his still-smarting flesh.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, poking her hands into her pockets and staring at the ground.

“Are you really?”

At his doubtful tone, her chin rose a defiant notch and her eyes clashed with his. “No,” she admitted. “You deserved it.”

“For kissing you?” he wondered. “Or because I made you want me?”

He was certain that not all of the sudden color in her cheeks could be attributed to the night air. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped, but her heart obviously wasn’t in it. They both knew she had wanted that kiss just as much as he had, and had probably been wondering about it every bit as long as he had.

He reached over and gently tapped her nose. “Remember the story of Pinnochio—terrible things happen to people who fib, especially when they lie to themselves.”

Before she could respond, he turned and left. “Pleasant dreams,” he called over his shoulder. He was all the way back at the main house before he heard the emphatic slam of her front door. He was laughing as he went inside.

By morning, he regretted being quite so cavalier. Nor was he quite as sure who’d had the last laugh. Overnight he had found himself giving the intriguing Traci Maureen Garrett considerable thought.

At midnight, he’d advised himself to cut his losses and ignore her.

At 1:00 a.m., he’d acknowledged that was impossible. He told himself she was like a burr that clung and irritated, then admitted she was more like pure temptation. The sweet hunger she’d tried so hard to hide was enough to lure a man to hell and hold him there.

By 3:00 a.m., he’d decided to take the first flight back to Florida, only to decide an hour later that he would not take the coward’s way out. He’d left once before, when he should have stayed.

At five, he’d decided to spend the next few weeks pursuing her with every bit of all-out fervor at his command. The wickedly devilish scheme, admittedly, was dangerous. It was also the only plan likely to get her out of his system once and for all. Garrett was, no doubt, not the sort of woman who would wear well. He’d tire of her feisty, independent streak in no time. It never occurred to him to wonder what would happen if he didn’t.

The decision rationally considered and made, he fell asleep at six, only to have her pester him relentlessly in his dreams. If her seductive behavior in that lone hour of sleep was any indication, he was about to embark on a suicide mission. Even so, he set out to find her first thing in the morning.

Seated in the parlor with Mrs. Mac, Garrett’s cheeks were still pink from the wind and cold. Strands of golden hair had been tugged free from her braid to curl rebelliously about her face. She looked softer and more accessible than he’d ever seen her. Then she caught sight of him and that icy disdain that she used to distance herself wiped the smile from her lips.

“Good morning,” Joshua said cheerfully, pointedly choosing the place next to her on the old love seat. Crowded beside her, he saw to it that their thighs brushed. Garrett’s whole body stiffened, but she managed to resist her apparent desire to move away from his deliberate provocation.

Mrs. McDonald observed the subtle byplay closely, then beamed at him. “Good morning, young man. If you’ve decided to stay with us, you really must get warmer clothes. That shirt might do very nicely for an office in Florida, but out here you’ll have pneumonia by the end of a week.” She turned to Garrett. “Dear?”

Garrett blinked, as if her attention had been very far away—or perhaps mere inches, if she dared to be truthful. “Ma’am?” she said vaguely.

“I’d like you to go into Cheyenne with Joshua today. Show him where to get appropriate clothing. Put it on my account.” She grinned at him. “I can charge that off as a business expense, can’t I?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Then consider them an early Christmas gift.”

“Really, it’s not necessary.”

“It is,” she insisted, seemingly oblivious to the sudden strain in his voice. “Otherwise, you’ll end up in the hospital and I’ll have to come visit. This cold air is terrible for my old bones. You wouldn’t want to put an old woman through all that pain, would you?”

“I suppose not,” he said, unable to hold off the rush of familiar resentment at her kindly fussing. The reaction was all out of proportion to the gesture, but it was as ingrained as the multiplication tables. Echoes of his mother’s voice resounded in his head. He started to protest, then saw the expectant gleam in Garrett’s eyes and decided to remain silent. It was cold. The clothes he’d brought were inappropriate. Did it really matter who pointed it out or who paid for a couple of flannel shirts?

“Thank you,” he said finally.

As if in some way she’d understood his internal struggle, Mrs. Mac didn’t gloat. She merely nodded. “Good. Then that’s settled.”

“Not quite,” Garrett said, obviously scrambling for an excuse now that he’d failed to provide her with a more convenient out. “I can’t possibly drive into Cheyenne today. I have work to do.”

Mrs. Mac waved aside the objection. “You have a dozen men out there who can do the work. I pay you to give them orders, which I’m sure you did at the crack of dawn as usual.”

“You also pay me to see that they’re carried out. What if there’s a crisis?”

“There were crises on this ranch long before you arrived, my dear. I handled them. I suppose I can manage to rally for a few more.”

Garrett immediately looked guilty. “I didn’t mean…”

Mrs. Mac smiled. “I know you didn’t, dear. We’ll call Red in before you leave and you can give him any last-minute instructions.” She waited for Garrett’s reluctant nod, then moved briskly ahead. “Now that we’re all agreed, why don’t we have one last cup of coffee before you leave and I’ll explain what else has to be done in Cheyenne. You might as well take care of a little business for me.”

“Yes, why don’t we do that?” Garrett said, her expression grim but resigned. She kept her gaze studiously fixed on her boss, ignoring Joshua. It was probably just as well, he thought. If she’d seen the blatant look of anticipation in his eyes, she probably would have slugged him again.

To stave off another blow, Joshua kept his own attention on Mrs. Mac’s list of errands. Though he wouldn’t have put it past her to contrive them, he had to admit they all sounded legitimate. She promised to write out careful, detailed instructions, along with appropriate notes for her banker and her attorney, guaranteeing that Joshua would get all the cooperation he needed to fully investigate the state of her business holdings.

“As long as you’re here, I might as well take advantage of your expertise,” she told him. “Garrett, there are one or two things you might want to take care of, as well.”

The list went on and on. “Don’t expect us back for dinner,” Joshua said when he’d heard the last of her orders.

Garrett’s startled gaze clashed with his. “We’ll be back,” she said with expected contrariness.

He placed his hand on her knee. “You really must let me thank you for all your trouble by taking you to dinner,” he said emphatically.

“No thanks are necessary,” she insisted, her teeth clenched.

“We’ll discuss it on the way.”

“The matter is settled.”

“We’ll see.”

It was Mrs. Mac’s chuckle that finally ended the debate. “Don’t rush back. Enjoy yourselves,” she said.

“Oh, I intend to,” Joshua replied, his gaze lingering on Garrett’s scowling face.

“You are impossible,” she informed him twenty minutes later when they met outside. “Do you have to have everything your own way?”

“I’d be happy to accommodate your wishes,” he said.

“Then leave me alone.”

“This trip wasn’t my idea.”

“You could have told her no.”

“She’s my boss.”

“Who are you kidding? You don’t need her business. You’re only here as a favor to Cal.”

“I can’t very well be rude to his grandmother, though, can I?”

“You’d be rude to God himself, if it suited your purposes. That must mean that this trip into Cheyenne suits your purposes. Would you mind telling me how?”

“I wanted to spend some time alone with you,” he said bluntly.

She regarded him with frank skepticism. “Why?”

“You fascinate me.”

Hands on her hips, obviously seething with indignation, she faced him. “Maybe we ought to get something clear now, Mr. Ames. I may live a simple life, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve met men like you before, rich men who think the whole world should be at their beck and call, callous men who don’t give a damn about the feelings of the people they hurt. I am not about to become your personal toy while you’re in town. If you’re bored without your usual bevy of adoring women, then get your work done and go home.”

Joshua might have been stung by her analysis of his personality and integrity, but he was more intrigued by the story behind her anger. It was apparent to him that some man had hurt her deeply and for a surprising instant, he wanted to find him and beat him to a bloody pulp. The thought of trying to avenge Garrett’s honor, when she had made it quite clear she could take care of herself, was amusing. It was made all the more ironic as he recalled all those infuriating years in his youth when he’d been too frail even to stand up for himself, and it had been Cal who’d come to his rescue more times than he cared to remember.

He owed Cal more than he could say for his staunch defense and for ultimately teaching him to defend himself. By the time he’d eventually rallied from the recurring childhood bouts with illness, he might have been resigned to being an unathletic weakling, but a fiercely protective Cal had seen to it that hadn’t happened. He’d taught him to stand up to his overly protective mother and given him the skills to fend off bullies. Now, with regular workouts at the gym, he took his physical strength for granted. He’d be almost glad of the chance to use it to slay dragons for the woman who hid her vulnerability behind a facade of tough talk.

Instinctively wanting to help, he reached over and caressed her cheek. “Who hurt you?” he asked gently.

For a fraction of a second she seemed to be lost, caught up in the tenderness of his touch. Then she blinked away a faint sheen that might have been the start of tears and backed away. “We’ll take the truck,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll drive.”

“We’ll take my car. I’ll drive.”

Garrett scowled. “Mr. Ames, this isn’t some test of wills here. We’re expecting more snow today. Your car won’t be able to handle it.” She directed a scathing glance at the convertible. “What on earth possessed you to rent something so unsuitable?”

“I like convertibles.” He dropped his voice to a seductive murmur intended to play across her senses. “Haven’t you ever ridden in one with the top down and the wind blowing through that long blond hair of yours, whipping it into your face?”

For an instant she looked almost wistful, then she said dryly, “Not when the windchill factor sets the temperature twenty degrees below freezing and there’s snow in the air.”

He shivered at the reminder. “You have a point. Okay. We’ll take the truck, but I’ll drive.”

“It’s straight shift.”

“That’s the only kind we rich playboys drive,” he mocked, finally getting a smile from her.

She handed him the keys. “You win, hotshot, but when the blizzard starts, don’t beg me for help.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, the prospect of a blizzard raises all sorts of interesting possibilities for tonight.”