One Stubborn Cowboy (9 page)

"Arrogant, self-centered, self-absorbed..." She was almost whispering the words, but turned toward him so he'd be sure to hear her.

"Point taken. Yes, I was born at the family ranch about fifteen miles or so north of town."

"And your folks still live there?"

"Sure."

"Other brothers or sisters, besides Clint?"

"No, just the two of us."

"Still nice, for holidays and birthdays and all. You have relatives around."

"Lord, relatives. There's a parcel of them around. I've cousins galore, aunts and uncles. It's downright crowded at holidays, especially Christmas. We all get together at someone's place and it seems as crowded as the dance the other night."

Kelly smiled, trying to envision it. "When I was little, I always wished for a family, every birthday and every Christmas." She sighed softly and her smile faded. "It never came true."

"A lot of wishes and dreams never come true," he said as they arrived in Stanton.

She glanced at him guiltily. No doubt one day she'd marry and have a family of some sort, so a part of her dream would eventually come true. But what dreams had Kit lost with the loss of his legs? Had he loved Althea? Been devastated by her loss? Was he hoping somehow after their charade was played out that he could win her back?

He drove through town and stopped before a large brick building. The sign in front proclaimed Ben Wilson, D.V.M.

"Won't be long." Kit parked the truck in the shade of a large eucalyptus and left his window down. He started up the walk on his crutches and Kelly watched as he swung along the hard-packed dirt. He handled himself well, using his powerful shoulders and arms. His legs looked as if they still had strength in them. Of course, he did have partial use of them. Was it enough to keep them toned?

She wondered how he'd been before. A splendidly fit cowboy riding wild broncs and bulls. She wished she'd known him then, though he wouldn't have looked twice at her. She was not wild and rowdy like Althea. She couldn't have kept up.

It was hot; there was little air stirring. Kelly felt the rivulets of water trickle down her back, bead on her forehead, run between her breasts. If he didn't get back soon, she'd melt. She opened the door, searching for a breath of air. The heat from the hot asphalt reflected back.

Just when she was considering following him into the building, which had to be air-conditioned, he came out, a large plastic bag dangling from one hand.

He looked at her when he climbed in, and smiled. "You look like a wilted rag."

She smiled faintly. "I feel like I've just lost ten pounds in body fluids. It's hot!"

"Close to a hundred, I think. How 'bout I buy you an ice cream?"

Kelly smiled. "Sounds great. What did you have to get here?"

"Antiseptic. I've got a couple of steers that tangled badly with barbed wire. I wanted some salve to keep infection at bay. The Frozen Cow is a drive-through. What kind of ice cream do you want?"

In only a short time Kit had procured two tall ice-cream cones, Kelly held his while he drove to a shady spot at the back of the little hut. His hand brushed against hers when he reached for it.

She was already licking hers. The heat was wreaking havoc on the ice cream and it was all she could do to keep it from melting over the edge of the cone.

Kit licked his cone, his eyes watching her. God, she was sexy with that little pink tongue darting here and there to capture errant drips of melting ice cream. He watched as she concentrated on keeping the drips from getting away. When she closed her lips over parts of the frozen confection in an effort to keep ahead of the melt, he felt a hot tightening low down.

He wanted to feel that cold tongue dance with his, have his heat warm her, have his lips press against her cool ones and heat them up. She'd taste of chocolate and woman and her own unique flavor. He couldn't look away. The sensations in his body clamored for release. Clamored for her!

She licked the scoops into a tower shape, and Kit watched fascinated as she took that into her mouth, withdrawing some of it, her lips closed over it as it slowly slid from her heat.

He almost groaned with the desire that swept through him. He had it bad if he thought eating an ice cream was erotic. But all he could think of when she moved her tongue and mouth was how it would feel against him. If she would lick him like that tower in her cone, if she would put her mouth...

He threw his ice cream from the window, heard it land with a soft plop on the grassy verge.

"What's wrong?" Kelly asked, surprise in her voice.

"Nothing." Nothing he could tell her, for heaven's sake. "I didn't want it after all." He kept his eyes straight ahead. His hands reached for the steering wheel and he held it in a tight grip. He hadn't felt like this in over two years. With a sense of shock he realized he'd thought he'd never feel like this again. Not after the accident. Not after what Althea had made perfectly clear.

But he did. He wanted Kelly Adams in the most primitive, carnal way. He wanted to feel her hands against his skin, her hot mouth on him, her tongue mating with his, then moving against his skin. He wanted the same erotic licking on his skin she was doing with that damned ice cream.

He closed his eyes in frustration. Wouldn't she laugh if she ever suspected! Or would she be embarrassed and try to say something to let him down easily? She was kind. Her help at the dance showed him that. He sighed.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, her teeth crunching into the crisp cone. He turned back, watching her nibble at the cone, his jeans so tight he was in pain. He shifted slightly away from her, praying she wouldn't notice his arousal. Two years ago he'd have made some smart remark and drawn her attention to how she made him feel. Not now. Why, a girl like Kelly could have anybody. The last thing she'd want was a cripple making a play for her.

He gazed at the shrubs and trees that offered scant shade, desperately trying to ignore her tongue's forays on the ice cream.

"I called Will Smith about the black pony. He told me where he's grazing. If you want to go see him, I can take you tomorrow."

"Great, I sure would. Thanks a lot. I have the sketches I did of Popo, but the expression on the black pony's face seemed so sad. I'd love to see him up close."

Was that the writer in her, seeing an expression on a pony's face? Damn, it was just a black pony. Probably bored to tears waiting for the Smiths' grandbaby to grow up. But instead of disgust at her sentimentality, Kit found himself hoping the damned pony still looked sad tomorrow so she wouldn't be disappointed.

"What time can we go?"

"I'll pick you up late morning," he said, wondering now if it was a good idea. He'd be smarter to stay as far from her as he could. He couldn't afford to get tangled up with any woman. Althea had put his heart through a wringer. He couldn't risk that happening a second time. And just being around Kelly had him more aware of her subtle femininity than anyone in the past dozen years.

"Can we have a picnic? I'll bring the food?" she asked, finishing the last of her cone and wiping her hands and mouth on her napkin.

Kit turned his head to watch her, unable to help himself. Holding the wheel tightly so he didn't reach over to grab her, he watched as the napkin wiped off the lingering traces of ice cream. He'd like to lick the stickiness from around her lips, feel the softness of her skin against him. Then plunge into her cool mouth and heat it with the fire that raged through him. She was driving him crazy and she didn't even have a clue.

"Yeah, we can have a picnic." He started the truck and backed out to the street. The ride home was as silent as the ride to Stanton had been. Kelly wondered why he'd invited her along. He hadn't said much to her and he could have told her about the pony while they were in front of Beth's store.

Kelly didn't understand the silence. But even more she didn't understand the rising tension in the cab. She was aware of him as she'd never been aware of a man before—his long legs not far from her on the bench seat, his broad shoulders and strong arms and hands. What would it be like to have those hands on her? He'd never touched her, except to hold her hand so tightly last Saturday it had ached for two days. And kiss her. The memory of his kiss in her hallway flashed through her, the way his body had leaned against hers, the heat of his muscles, the hard ridge of his arousal. Had he wanted more than a kiss? How could she let him know she might want more herself?

Her face flamed and she stuck her hand out the window to divert some of the rushing air into the cab, to cool her down. If possible. The air was as hot as she was. Would he kiss her again? Or was that only for show, to prove something to Althea Kendricks?

"Did Althea leave yet?" she asked as they drew near Taylorville. She was glad she was almost home. What if she did something stupid? Like run her hand down his thigh, brush her fingers through the small openings between the buttons of his shirt, knock his hat off to feel his thick hair?

"No." The word was short, harsh.

"Oh." Had he seen her again since the dance? She clenched her hands into fists.

"She called Sally to talk. Don't ask me why, she's years older than Sally and they were never friends. But she's staying in town for a while, at her folks'."

She studied him as he drove. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his eyes narrowed. Was it from the glare of the sun, or in anger at Althea? He must know she'd called Sally to let him know she was staying. What was Althea doing? Had Althea decided Kit was the man for her after all and come back to get him?

"So we continue pretending?" Kelly asked hesitantly. Or had Saturday night been enough to salvage his pride?

He flicked her a quick glance and nodded. "We continue."

She smiled and settled back on the seat, quietly satisfied. The situation was dangerous. She was already far more interested in this cowboy than she should be. She felt protective toward him and he didn't need it. She felt indignant on his behalf at the way Althea had behaved. And she ached for the freedom and way of life he'd lost with the accident.

But there was nothing to pity in the man. There was excitement, enchantment and exhilaration being with him. And danger. Danger to her heart and her own peace of mind. Kelly tried never to kid herself. It hadn't worked as a child, it wouldn't work as an adult. She could help Kit out. But that was as far as it would go. No matter how much she might wish for more.

"Why did you agree to help me, Kelly?" he asked softly.

She stared at him, not wanting to confess the real reason. She carefully thought out her words. "Well, I guess as a lark." She would never have considered herself a femme fatale, someone to score off another woman. That held immense appeal. "And I guess because I don't like to be beholden to anyone. You're going to take me to see the black pony. If I can help you out, we'll be sort of even."

He nodded at her words but didn't respond. Devastation seared him.
As a lark.
Damn, Althea had been right. Women wouldn't want anything to do with a scarred cripple. Kelly was helping him out as a lark, just for fun. When Althea left, Kelly would forget him as fast as they'd met.

He pulled in to her driveway and stopped.

"Thanks for the ride and the ice cream," she said, putting her hand on his arm.

"Any time," he said, feeling her touch pierce straight through to his heart. He wanted to pull her into his arms, make the day's heat fade in contrast to the fire roiling through him. But he didn't even look at her. It was safer not to.

"I'll be by in the morning," he said.

She hesitated a moment then jerked her hand free. Opening her door, she slid across the seat and out into the hot afternoon sun.

"Do you like anything special for lunch?" she asked, slamming the door and looking in through the window, anger simmering in her tone.

He looked at her then. It was safe; he couldn't reach her. But why the spurt of temper? Her eyes were icy as they glared back at him. For a moment he wondered if she had wanted him to kiss her. It hit him hard in the gut.

"Anything you fix: will be fine."
Anything you do will be fine,
he thought, unable to look away from the icy disdain in her blue eyes.