Crazy for Lovin’ You (9 page)

“You're no slouch, either, lady,” the woman said, making notes in her spiral book. “Has anyone ever told you you're a Sandra Bullock lookalike?”

Taylor blushed at the compliment. “No way. I—”

“I haven't talked to a man yet who would throw her out of his bed. Right, Walt?”

The photographer stopped snapping pictures and lowered his camera. “You got that right, Annie. Girl-next-door type works for me every time.”

“See what I mean?” Ann said, looking at them and nodding with satisfaction. “When Walt gets finished with these pictures, we'll run them along with this article on the high school championships. I'll do a small side piece on the ranch, along with the fax and reservations number you gave me in syndicated papers across the country. I think you're going to have more business than you can handle. And not just the female kind.” The short, plump, gray-eyed brunette raised one eyebrow as she studied the four of them posed by the fence outside the barn.

“Definitely a good representation of the best Texas has to offer.” She looked at her notes. “Now let me make sure I've got my facts straight. Dev, you're the stock contractor who provides the animals for the rodeo. You're a bachelor raising a young son?”

“That's right,” he answered.

“And Grady O'Connor. You're the town sheriff and a rancher. What was the name of your place?”

“Miller's Mound. The land was in my late wife's family.”

“So you're a widower? A bachelor. Any kids?”

“I've got twin girls, nine years old,” the lawman said. “Someday the ranch will be theirs.”

Taylor smiled at his obvious discomfort with the attention. For all their good looks and joking, none of these guys seemed especially at ease in the limelight.

The reporter turned away and said to her photographer, “I think I've got what I need. How about you?”

He nodded. “We have to go through downtown Destiny to get to the interstate. I'll shoot a few there.”

Ann nodded. “Taylor, Mitch, guys,” she said looking at each one. “It's been a pleasure.”

Mitch shook her hand. “Thanks, Annie. I owe you one.”

The reporter shook her head. “That exclusive interview you gave me after your injury was the break, pardon the pun, my career needed. Now we're even.”

“Okay. You take care. And thanks. You, too, Walt,” he said, shaking hands with the photographer.

After the news media left, Taylor glanced at Dev, Grady and Mitch. Two out of three were grinning at her like indulgent big brothers. But Mitch looked like a tornado about to touch down.

He shuffled his boots in the dirt, then rested his hands on his hips as he stared down at her. “You know, Taylor, when her piece comes out, you could be busier than you expect.”

“I'm not worried. I've got lots of help on the
ranch—Jim, the hired hands and the teenagers will be coming and going all the time.”

“Hiring the teens is a good thing,” Mitch commented. “Keeps them busy and out of trouble.”

“You should know,” Grady said, grinning good-naturedly.

“Do you hear me arguing?” Mitch glanced at his friend then met her gaze again. “But you need to make sure you're not in over your head, as far as hired help goes.”

“Are you hinting that she should hire you, Rafferty?” Grady snapped his fingers. “I know, Taylor. Mitch could be your bodyguard.”

She chuckled, hoping he was joking. Hoping more that they wouldn't pick up on the fact that her smile was phony baloney. The mere idea of Mitch guarding her body sent shivers of anticipation coursing through her.

“What makes you think he's not already doing the job?” Dev said.

Mitch glared at the two of them. “Don't you guys take anything seriously? Especially you, Grady. You're the law in these parts.”

“I have a sense of humor,” the sheriff said, shaking his head. “And I know how to use it. A good cop knows when to be serious and when to lighten up.”

“Seems sensible,” Taylor said.

Mitch glared at them. “Why don't you two wait for me at the house. If you think your swelled heads will fit through the door.”

“Okay.” Grady lifted his hat and settled it more firmly on his head.

“Can we help ourselves to the sweet tea?” Dev asked.

Taylor nodded. “What kind of hostess would I be if I didn't let you make yourselves at home?”

The two men sauntered in the direction of the house and she was alone with Mitch.

“Taylor, I'm serious. It never occurred to me until Annie started talking about guests. Are you really prepared?”

“I think so, but I won't know until the chute opens, will I?” she asked, speaking in language she knew he would understand.

“I don't know—”

“Don't worry.” She put her hand on his arm and the warmth of his skin seeped through her palm, then raced through her body, heating her everywhere. “I'll be fine. I've given it a lot of thought, planning and preparation. This is something I've wanted to do for a long time. I'm looking forward to meeting people. It's business, but also a social outlet I think I've needed.”

“By social, do you mean men?” Intensity jumped into his blue eyes.

Taylor backed up a step. “What if I do?”

“Do I have to tell you you're playing with fire?”

“I know how to play. I survived you, didn't I?”

“Never mind me. The point is that—”

“The point is nothing.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that the wind blew across her face. “You're not my bodyguard. You're not my big brother. We have no connection and you have no responsibility toward me at all.”

And none of her words washed away her wish that it was different.

“Taylor, listen to me—”

She shook her head. “You're leaving, Mitch. When the championships are finished you're out of here. Why
should I listen to you? I appreciate the fact that you're concerned about me. Really I do. But after you're gone, what difference does it make? You'll do whatever it is you do and I'll take care of my life, my ranch. My roots.”

“Just because I'm not here, doesn't mean I won't care about you. And worry about you.”

“It's not necessary.” She shrugged and hoped it was casual, that he couldn't hear her heart thumping in her chest. But she couldn't help smiling. “If you'd been this nice ten years ago, Destiny would have had to put out a Help Wanted sign for a new local bad boy.”

He stared at her for several moments, then started to laugh. He shook his head. “You're a pistol, Taylor Stevens.”

“Takes one to know one, Mitch Rafferty.”

“You never really knew me, Taylor,” he said. He started to walk toward the house.

“Mitch?” She waited until he stopped, then glanced at her over his shoulder. “I knew you then. I know you now. You're not riffraff. You're a nice man, a
good
man, and it's about time you stopped trying to hide the fact.”

“A vicious lie and I will deny it to anyone who asks.”

The sight of his broad back built a sigh up inside her but she managed to hold it back until there was no way he could hear.

“I am in so much trouble,” she said to herself.

M
itch drove up the long ranch road, then pulled his truck to a stop in front of Taylor's house. He leaned his head back and drew in a big breath. The championships were a week away. He'd been working long hours on and off the ranch to make sure the event happened. When he wasn't busy with that, he'd been tied up with a development deal not far from Destiny. The planning meeting he'd just left had ended after eight and they were picking up again early in the morning. He was tired to the bone and all he could think about was seeing Taylor. Busy as he was, nothing had kept him from thinking about her, worrying about her when he wasn't around.

It had been three weeks since the reporter had interviewed her. Three weeks since the night he'd kissed her and she'd pulled back. They'd shared a lot of meals since then, and idle chitchat, but nothing more intimate. The kiss had done something to her, and not in a good way. She'd been polite, friendly, but distant. And she'd
moved her things to the room downstairs off the kitchen.

He should have been grateful. She was a woman who knew what family was all about and he was a mutt no one had wanted. They were oil and water. She would be better off with Dev Hart or Grady O'Connor. Anyone but him.

If only he could get that message from his head to his heart.

Now that she was no longer in the bedroom across from his, he found he'd missed her—and not just her fragrance and froufrou body stuff in the bathroom. He missed
really
talking to her. Mini conversations about the weather just weren't up to his usual standards and expectations from Miss Taylor Stevens. Suddenly he couldn't wait any longer to just see her. He opened the truck door and stepped out.

He let himself in the house and dropped his briefcase in the office at the front just off the entry. Then he went in search of Taylor.

He found her in the kitchen. Cooking.

He couldn't help grinning when her flowery fragrance drifted to him and he realized by that and her clothes she'd just bathed. He drank in the sight of her legs, bare below her white shorts. Her form-fitting pink T-shirt stopped just at her waist, but when she reached up into the cupboard, he was treated to the sight of some smooth midriff skin. From the side, he could see that her pretty face was squeaky clean and without makeup, and a hot-pink scrunchy held her sun-streaked brown hair on top of her head.

If she brought up the weather, somehow he was going to turn the conversation to something personal if he had to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

He cleared his throat so she wouldn't be startled. “I see someone else is just getting home from work.”

She turned and smiled at him—a genuinely warm and welcoming expression in her beautiful brown eyes before the shutters went down. “Howdy, stranger.”

“If that's your way of saying I've been busy, you're not just whistling Dixie. So have you.”

“You're right. But how did you know?”

Because he knew her routine, her fragrance and the fact that when she was working, she wore jeans. He didn't see her bare legs until her work day was finished.

“Just a guess,” he said.

She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a longneck bottle of beer, his favorite brand. Apparently she was noticing things about him, too. Then she grabbed an opener, yanked off the cap and handed it to him.

“I have a feeling you can use that.”

“You're a good woman, Taylor.”

She gifted him with a wide, bright smile, and something between pleasure and pain swelled in his chest. He realized these last weeks here at the Circle S were probably the happiest he'd ever known. On the circuit, he'd competed day in and day out, half the time not even knowing what town he was in.

After the injury, he'd channeled his energy into college classes, his degree, then getting his business off the ground. But somehow, after seeing Taylor again and spending time with her, he was beginning to feel ties. To Destiny? To her?

Roots?

“I'm just whipping up some rice, chicken stir-fry and vegetables. Do you want some? I made enough for
two in case you came home for dinner.” She glanced at him over her shoulder.

Did she realize what she'd just said? That he was home? He'd never really felt that anywhere. His life had been a series of foster parents, then a rented room when the department of social services had cut him loose. But this place—and Taylor—were getting under his skin. He just wasn't sure whether or not he was happy about it. Every time he'd sat on a bull, he'd been prepared for a rough ride. He didn't think there was any way to get ready for the twists, turns, ups, downs and pain of a relationship. He didn't have what it took.

Mitch took a drink of beer. “Dinner's the best offer I've had all day.”

“Sounds like you haven't had a very good day. Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head because he wanted to very much. The idea was too appealing. But he didn't like what that meant. The idea of sharing himself with her made him want to hop the bus to parts unknown before he got in so deep he couldn't get out.

“So what have you been up to?” he asked, turning the conversation away from himself.

“I've been training my hired help. All of 'em are good kids and I think they'll work out great. Cal White especially. I wish I could keep him here forever. He works hard. He's fun and funny. And he takes part of his pay to ride the bulls we board here for Dev. Sound familiar?”

He grinned. “Nope.”

She leaned her elbows on the counter across from him and smiled back. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“If the shoe fits.” He shrugged. “What else have you been up to?”

“I picked up my brochures and advertising material and I've been mailing them out to big travel agencies across the country.”

“Any response from the newspaper article?” he asked, then took a long swallow from his beer.

“Major response. I mailed a thank-you note to Annie and Walt,” she said. “I've got both long summer holiday weekends completely booked. Various weeks in between are reserved, too. I'm even getting reservations for fall and winter.”

Her eyes sizzled with excitement like sparklers on the Fourth of July. The only time she'd looked more beautiful to him was when he'd surprised her in the tub, wearing nothing but bubbles, pink cheeks and a smile.

“Good.” Wimp word. A weak reaction for a woman who was well on her way. But if he said more than that one word, he couldn't hide the deep rasp of need he knew would creep into his voice.

He wanted to grab her around the waist and dance her through the house in celebration. But his reaction to thoughts of her and roots and home and telling her about his day raised his guard faster than a prairie fire with a tail wind.

“Thanks, Mitch.”

“For what?”

“Your recommendation. Getting Annie out here. I don't for one minute believe it was about the championships. Publicity for a rodeo event spreads by osmosis just through the kids who compete, their folks and friends. Not to mention the local Texas sports pages. You kept your word to give me some good PR and there's no doubt in my mind that it helped.”

“You're welcome.”

“In spite of the past, everything that happened, you did what you said.”

“You thought I wouldn't?”

“Not for a minute.”

“
You're
a fibber,” he said, tossing her words back at her.

“Not me. You're a good man and I appreciate it.”

But he noticed that she kept the kitchen counter between them. He couldn't blame her for that, or any doubts she might have about him, either. He wasn't in her league and never would be, no matter how much money he made.

Still, an almost overwhelming urge came over him to reach out and touch her, pull her around the barrier between them and into his arms. He wanted to storm her defenses and get her to lower the gate. To let him in, for her and himself, too. But he'd tried the relationship thing twice and been stomped into the dirt both times. Did he dare go for number three? Could he risk it again? Did he even want to chance having his feelings handed back to him?

Taylor had just thanked him for not holding a grudge about what had happened ten years ago. There was no point; he didn't care anymore. Not about Jen.

But Jen had been his first and most difficult lesson. Her message to him: he wasn't good enough for a woman he cared about to love him back. He wanted to believe he was a fair man, but damn it all, Taylor was Jen's sister. He'd said it himself—the fruit didn't fall far from the tree. Why should he believe she was different?

Her father hadn't liked him. Mitch was an abandoned kid from the wrong side of the tracks and the man had found ways to remind him—hold it against
him. Like father, like daughters? After leaving Destiny, he'd become a big-money winner on the pro rodeo circuit and the buckle bunnies had lined up like competitors waiting for their shot. The lesson: women had hated or loved him and basically judged him not for who he was, but his status.

All except Taylor. Only she'd been a girl then. But she was a woman now and every painful lesson he'd ever learned came roaring back.

Taylor set her elbows on the counter, then rested her chin in her palm. “You look tired, Mitch. Tell me what you've been up to today,” she said. “I know you don't want to discuss it, but give me the high points. The light version.”

He found he wanted to tell her just like ten years ago when he'd also claimed he didn't want to talk to her.

He let out a long breath. “I spent several hours in front of the Destiny City Council trying to convince them to change the zoning so my company could build a shopping center. I tried to convince them that their wives and daughters would be forever grateful to have stores in their own backyard. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn't the best strategy.”

“I think it would be great. Now we have to go a long way or use catalogs to shop. If they agree, does that mean you'll be around for a while?”

“Yeah.”

She turned away to pull plates out of the cupboard. He couldn't see her face to read her expression. Would she want him around? How would she feel if he stayed? He found the idea of basing his company in Destiny didn't make him want to catch the first bus out
of town. In fact, the longer he was here, the better he liked the notion.

Ten years ago when he'd left, he'd put all his energy into bull riding, then his education and business. He'd worked hard at forgetting his life here. And that included Taylor.

Since coming back, he'd remembered the bad times, but there were good memories, too. Like the way he'd looked forward to describing for Taylor a particularly great ride on one of her father's bulls. He'd enjoyed telling her what happened to him at school. And when children's services had given him the bad news on his eighteenth birthday that he was on his own and no longer eligible for state assistance, Taylor had been the one he'd sought out to talk to. She hadn't let him down, either. She'd helped him find a room to rent and kept after her father to give him more work hours so he could pay for it. He'd thought their friendship was habit, or just the fact that she was always hanging around. But now he wasn't so sure. He
still
felt that connection with her, the sensation that he could tell her about anything. Except…

He recalled that night. Fourteen-year-old Taylor had tried to tag along with him and his friends to the lake. He'd brushed her off and she'd been all horns and rattles and fit to be tied. As things turned out, it was probably the best decision he'd ever made. She was so young. She could have been the one…

But she wasn't. And the next night Jen had dumped him. He'd lashed out at Taylor—the only one who had never given him anything but friendship—and she'd said she loved him. Do you always hurt the ones you love?

There was no doubt she was a woman worth caring
about, but love? He wasn't sure he knew what the word meant. Sure he had feelings for her. But putting a label on them just wasn't something he wanted to risk.

“How do you feel about that?” She spooned chicken and vegetables over the rice she'd just put on the plates.

“Hmm? What?”

“About staying in Destiny?” she clarified. “Would it bother you? After all, you're a former rodeo celebrity. Now you're a highfalutin businessman. Can you be happy hanging your hat in a one-horse town like this?”

She tried to joke, but the look in her eyes told him the answer mattered to her. One memory he wished he could erase was the look of hurt he'd seen on her face that night he'd pushed her away. He couldn't change the past, but he could do his best not to make the same mistakes. He wouldn't hurt her again. When his gaze strayed to her mouth, and filled him with an almost uncontrollable yearning to kiss her, he turned away. A guy like him without roots and family ties couldn't help but hurt her.

If he'd been thinking straight, he'd have moved out right after he'd turned down Melissa Mae Arbrook's blatant invitation. Right then he'd known something was wrong. Instead he'd come back to the ranch to a naked, bubble-covered Taylor and kissed her. Although not when she was naked, which he had a feeling he would regret till his dying day. Because the weeks since then had only worked to make him want her until it was a constant ache inside him. Contrast and compare—what it felt like to have her, what it felt like to not. Having her was definitely better, but not especially smart.

He had tried to keep his feelings for Taylor under the heading brotherly, but hadn't managed to do that since he'd laid eyes on her again. But it was never too late. Meaning he'd better not kiss her like a lover. Better yet, not at all. If he laid a hand on her, he didn't think he could keep from kissing her senseless. Or touching her until she moaned with passion, those seductive little noises in her throat made him burn for her until he thought he would go up in flames.