The Rancher Returns (4 page)

Gavin and his friends could get loud and rowdy here at the cottage without disturbing his grandmother. That accounted for why the place was so spacious with the cupboards bare—except for a refrigerator stocked with beer and wine coolers. Not to mention that a deck of cards seemed to be in every room.

“Yes, of course you can come in. You own the place.”

“But you're my grandmother's guest.”

Had he said that to remind her she wasn't
his
guest? To remind her that her presence on the Silver Spurs was something he didn't support? Layla would find out soon enough.

She moved from the door and he followed, closing it behind him. “Would you like something to drink?” Grinning brightly, she said, “There's plenty of beer and wine coolers in the fridge.”

Gavin chuckled. “I'll take a beer.”

She nodded. “One beer coming up.” She felt his gaze on her backside.

“Here you are. I feel funny doing this,” Layla said, coming back into the room carrying a cold bottle of beer.

He lifted a brow. “Doing what?”

“Serving you your own beer.”

“No reason that you should. You're my grandmother's guest.”

That was the second time he'd said that, Layla thought. Not one to beat around the bush, she crossed the room to hand him the beer, and then wished she hadn't. Their hands had only briefly touched so why was heat filling her? And why was he looking at her as if that same heat filled him?

She quickly took a step back and wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans.

“You think that will get rid of it?”

She met his eyes. She knew what he'd insinuated, but she wanted to be sure. “Get rid of what?”

“Nothing.”

He then opened the bottle and took a huge gulp. Afterward, he licked his lips while she watched. Her chest tightened. He lowered the bottle from his mouth and held her gaze. “Want a sip?”

She drew in a deep breath to clamp down on her emotions. Was he offering to share his beer? For them to drink from the same bottle? Doing something like that was way too intimate for her. Evidently not for him. A distinct warmth coiled around her midsection. The way his eyes darkened wasn't helping matters.

She should call his bluff and take a sip. But that might lead to other things. It might give him ideas. The same ideas floating crazily through her head. The last thing she needed was an involvement with a man. Any man. Especially him. Her work was too important to her. The idea of an October fling was not. “No thanks. I had one earlier and one was enough for me.”

Instead of saying anything, he nodded and raised the bottle to his lips to drain the rest. She watched his throat work. When had seeing a man drink anything been a turn-on?

When he finished the bottle and lowered it, she asked, “Want another one?”

He smiled at her. “No, one was enough for me.”

She couldn't help but smile back at his use of her words. “I don't know, Gavin Blake. You seem like the sort of guy that could handle a couple of those.”

“You're right, but that's not why I'm here.”

His words were a reminder that he hadn't shown up tonight for chitchat and drinking beer. “Yes, you said you wanted to talk. Is there a problem?” Layla knew there was and figured he was about to spell it out for her.

“Who taught you to play the harmonica?”

She'd expected him to just dive in. His question threw her. “My grandfather,” she said, angling her head to look up at him. “He was the best. At least most people thought so.”

“And who was your grandfather?”

“Chip Harris.”

Surprise made Gavin's jaw drop. “Chip Harris?
The
Chip Harris?”

Layla nodded. “Yes,” she said, intentionally keeping her voice light. Very few people knew that. It wasn't something she boasted about, although she was proud of her grandfather's success and accomplishments. He'd been a good man, a great humanitarian and a gifted musician. But most of all he had been a wonderful grandfather. Her grandparents had helped to keep her world sane during the times her parents had made it insane.

Layla saw Gavin's dark, penetrating eyes suddenly go cold. “Is anything wrong?”

“So that's how you did it.”

She raised a brow. “That's how I did what?”

“How you were able to talk my grandmother into going along with your crazy scheme of Jesse James's treasure being buried on my property. You probably heard she's a big fan of Chip Harris, and used the fact that you're his granddaughter to get in good with her. Get Gramma Mel to trust you and—”

“You jerk.” Anger flared through her. His accusations filled her with rage. “How dare you accuse me of doing something so underhanded, so unethical and low? You might not know me but you know your grandmother. How can you think so little of her to imagine she has such a weak mind she could be taken in by anyone? How can you not trust her judgment?”

Layla drew in a disgusted breath and then added furiously, “For your information, I never once mentioned anything about my relationship to Chip Harris to her. Ms. Melody's decision was based on my research, which she took the time to read. And she asked questions and found some of her own answers. So regardless of what you believe, her decision was based on facts, Gavin Blake. Facts and nothing more.”

Gavin was stunned by Layla's rage. When her words sank in, he regretted accusing her of manipulating Gramma Mel. He'd crossed the line and he knew it. He owed her an apology. “I'm sorry. I should not have accused you of that.”

“But you did. Save your apology for your grandmother. She's one of the most intelligent women I know. But tonight you made her out to be a woman who can be influenced easily by anything, especially name-dropping. Like I said, you should know your grandmother better than that.”

Gavin didn't say anything. Probably because he knew she was right. His grandmother was as sharp as a tack. She'd told Layla so many stories of how he'd tried to pull one over on her...unsuccessfully. Maybe he should do what his grandmother had done and read Layla's report for himself.

“I should not have come here tonight,” he finally said.

“No, you should not have, especially if you came to talk that kind of BS. I don't have time for it.”

Layla's words seemed to irritate him. “You don't think I have a right to question why you're here?”

She didn't back down. In fact she took a step closer. “You have every right. But you already know why I'm here. If you don't agree with your grandmother or you want to question why I feel a dig on the Silver Spurs is warranted, I can understand that. But what you did, Gavin, is question my integrity. I take that personally.”

“You have to admit the idea of buried treasure on my land is pretty far-fetched.”

“Maybe to you but not to me. You're a SEAL. I'm sure there are times when you engage in covert operations where the facts lead you to believe your assignment will be successful...although logically it doesn't seem possible.”

He frowned. “It's not the same.”

“I think it is. I did my research on the life of Jesse James. Five years' worth. I studied his life, specifically that bank robbery in Tinsel. That's what led me here. If you took the time to read my research, you would see it's all there. All I'm asking is for you to give me the same courtesy Ms. Melody did and take the time to read my work.”

“I don't have to read a report to know what you're claiming isn't true.”

In frustration, Layla blew out a breath and threw up her hands. “Why are you so stubborn?”

Instead of answering he gave her a careless shrug of his broad shoulders. “I'm not being stubborn. Just realistic.”

He wasn't even trying to be reasonable. “So what do you want, Gavin? Since you believe that I've hoodwinked your grandmother and I'm a lunatic on the hunt for buried treasure, did you come here tonight to ask me to leave? To tell me to get off your property because you won't allow me and my team to dig?”

When he didn't say anything but continued to stare down at her with those dark, penetrating eyes of his, she knew what she'd just said was true. “Fine. I'll leave in the morning.”

She moved with the intention of walking around him to show him the door. He surprised her when he reached out and grabbed her arm. The moment he touched her it seemed every hormone in her body sizzled. She couldn't move away from him. His hand skimmed down her arm in a sensual caress.

“What do you think you're doing?” She heard the tension in her voice and felt her heart rate quicken. Their gazes held and something hot in the depths of his eyes held her hostage. She wanted to break eye contact and couldn't. How could any one man have so much sex appeal? Create such primal attraction?

Layla became angry with herself because of her reaction to him. The man standing in front of her had destroyed her plans. He'd placed her in a difficult position with the administration at the university and with her team. She'd have to cancel excavation and lose her funding. She might never get another chance to prove her theories. Yet at that moment all she could think about was how fully aware of him she was.

“What I'm doing is touching you,” he answered moments later, as if he'd needed time to give her question some thought.

Well, she had news for him. He should keep his hands to himself. So why wasn't she telling him that? And why was there a throb inside her? One that had started in her stomach but was now going lower to the juncture of her thighs? And why, when she saw his head lowering, did she just stand there? When his lips touched hers and he wrapped her in his arms, she sank into him. The same way he was sinking into her mouth.

The kiss was making her forget everything, even the fact that he wanted to throw her off his ranch. The only thing she could concentrate on was how his tongue was moving around in her mouth, sending shivers up her spine until she heard herself moan.

But he was moaning as well, and then he deepened the kiss. She recognized this for what it was. Lust. And that usually led to sex. If that was his plan, he could take it elsewhere. She had no intention of getting involved, no matter how fleetingly, with a man who refused to take her work seriously.

She pulled her mouth free and took a step back. “Like I said. I'll be off your property in the morning.” She then walked around him to the door.

Before opening it, she glanced back at him. He stood in the same spot, staring at her as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Seriously? Did he think she was that complicated? As far as she was concerned, he was the problematic one.

He was the man who, with very little effort, it seemed, could tempt her to lower her guard, to surrender to this need he created inside of her. A need she hadn't realized even existed. And it appeared he was dealing with his own need if the huge bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans was anything to go by. There were just some things an aroused man couldn't hide.

“We need to keep sex out of this, Gavin.” She'd had to say it, considering the strong sexual chemistry flowing between them. Chemistry both of them were fully aware of.

He stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing, but she saw the tightening of his jaw. Had her words hit a nerve? Had they made him realize that she wasn't as gullible as he thought?

When he began walking toward her, her heartbeat quickened with every step he took. Never had she felt such a strong primal attraction to any man. Even his walk, his muscled thighs flexing erotically with every step, tripped her pulse. It had her drowning in the sexual vibes pouring off him.

When he came to a stop in front of her, he grabbed her hand to keep her from opening the door. Immediately, like before, they became attuned to each other. Why was there such a strong physical attraction between them? No man had ever made her forget about work. But she struggled to remember that work was the reason she was here. That and nothing else.

“Don't know about you, but I can't keep sex out of it, Layla. I think you know why. Whether we like it or not, there's a strong sensual pull between us. I felt it the moment I set eyes on you this morning, and if you say you didn't feel it as well, then you would be lying. You might pretend otherwise, but you want me as much as I want you.”

No matter what he said, she would deny it. She hadn't come to the ranch for this. She had come to Cornerstone, Missouri, to do a job—to prove her theory and move up in her career—
not
to have an affair with a navy SEAL who could overtake her senses. A man who was proving, whether she wanted him to or not, that she had sexual needs she'd ignored for too long. But regardless of that proof, under no circumstances would she sleep with him. Doing so would be a very bad idea. It would be a mistake that could cost her all she'd worked for up to this point. Besides, hadn't he all but told her to get off his land?

Instead of a straight-out denial, she said, “What I want is to be allowed to do my job. I need to do that dig, Gavin.”

His gaze hardened. “Why? To prove me wrong?”

“More than proving you wrong, I need to prove to myself and my peers that I am right. There's a difference, but I don't expect you to understand.”

* * *

Yes, he understood the difference. Hadn't he felt the need to prove that he was his own man? To prove that being a SEAL hadn't been about his grandfather's and father's legacies but about establishing a legacy of his own? The first Gavin Blake had been handpicked to be part of the first special operations unit that became known as the SEALs. And Gavin's father, Gavin Blake Jr, had died a war hero after rescuing his team members and others who'd been held hostage during Desert Storm.

For years, he'd thought being Gavin Blake III was a curse more than a blessing. You couldn't share the name of bigger-than-life SEAL predecessors without some people believing you should be invincible. It had taken years to prove to others, as well as to himself, that he was his own man. Free to make his own mistakes. Now he cherished the memories of the heroes his grandfather and father had been and he was proud to carry their names and to continue the family legacy of being a SEAL. In the end, he'd realized becoming his own man hadn't been about proving anything to others but proving it to himself.