One Stubborn Cowboy (3 page)

"Good, it's settled." Sally glanced at her watch. "I'm going to have to go. Kit drove me in and he'll be wanting to leave soon. I'll wait out front for him. I don't like to keep him waiting." Sally gathered her packages and started for the door, Beth and Kelly walking alongside.

"Speaking of Kit, did you hear about the run-in he had with Kelly?" Beth asked mischievously.

"No, what happened?" Sally looked at Beth, then at Kelly.

"Beth," Kelly protested, but to deaf ears. Beth proceeded to relate the entire incident, suitably embellished to Kelly's advantage, and exaggerating only slightly.

Kelly didn't know how to handle small town gossip, especially when she was the center of it. In future she'd have to keep that in mind before she started yelling at anyone in public.

Sally turned to Kelly with wide eyes. "How did you dare? You look so delicate and feminine. And Kit is so awesome when he's mad."

Kelly pulled a face. "So am I."

"I'm impressed. Just wait until I tell Clint. He'll love it. Come to our place tomorrow, Kelly, to see the pony."

Kelly had second thoughts, but couldn't think of a reason to refuse when she'd just asked Beth for help.

"Sally, why don't you walk over to Kelly's place now, and write out the directions for her. She lives in Margaret's house. You can see some of the changes she's made since she's been here. She's brightened up the place and it looks really nice, Molly said. I'll let Kit know where you are when he comes."

Sally agreed, and she and Kelly started back toward the old, small Victorian house near the edge of town. "It still seems odd not to see Margaret sitting on the porch as we drive by," Sally murmured as they walked on the wooden sidewalk. "I'm sorry about her death."

"I never knew her. Actually, I didn't even know she existed until she was gone," Kelly replied wistfully. "I wish I had. I always wanted some family. I was orphaned young and grew up in foster care."

"Well, families aren't necessarily all they're cracked up to be. Look at the one I'm in," Sally said darkly.' "Though I'm lucky to have Clint."

"Clint?"

"My husband, Clint Lockford," Sally answered.

Kelly looked at her in surprise. "I thought Kit was your husband."

"Good grief, no! Kit's not married. I can't even imagine such a thing! Anyway, he's ages older than I am. Clint and I have been married for a year now. He's a darling."

Kelly suddenly felt lighter, happier. She didn't stop to analyze why; enough to know Kit Lockford was not married and that she might be seeing him soon.

They walked the short distance to Kelly's house where Sally duly admired the changes Kelly had made. The house was brighter, with curtains open to the sun and fresh air, rather than closed to preserve the furniture as her aunt had apparently kept it.

Sally wrote careful, precise directions to the ranch, giving them to Kelly with a renewed invitation for the next afternoon.

An impatient horn from the driveway had her springing up from the kitchen table nervously.

"It's Kit. I've got to go." Sally scrambled for her parcels.

Kelly picked up a couple of packages and walked with her out to the truck, curious to see Mr. Kit Lockford again.

His hat was low on his face, his hands tapping an impatient tattoo on the steering wheel. He made no effort to get out and help his sister-in-law, just watched the two women descend the three wooden steps from Kelly's porch and walk toward the dirt driveway, his face impassive.

On the bottom stair Kelly's gaze clashed with his. Light blue eyes to dark stormy ones, Kelly lost awareness of Sally, of the rough walkway, the summer heat, everything as she returned his hard, compelling stare. Her breath constricted in her throat and she could feel the heated blood pound through her veins as each step brought her closer to him. She didn't look away, drawn to him as a moth to a flame.

Sally tossed her packages into the back, took the ones Kelly carried and added them.

"Thanks, see you tomorrow." She hastily went around the rear of the truck and climbed into the cab.

"Hi," Kelly said saucily, still impaled by Kit's gaze. She refused to cower around this arrogant man, wanting to see if she could provoke another reaction. She hoped he couldn't hear her racing heart. Determined she would not be the first to look away, she kept her eyes firmly on his, seeing the shifting emotions as he met her gaze.

Tilting her chin a little, Kelly let a trace of mockery enter her own eyes. Time someone took Mr. Lockford to task for his arrogance. And just maybe she was that someone.

Kit ignored her greeting, but his eyes left hers to insolently trail down her figure, lingering on her high, firm breasts clearly defined by her cotton top, again on her narrow waist and on the long legs lovingly molded by snug jeans. When his eyes met hers again they were hot with hunger and something else.

Kelly flushed, her nerves tingling as if he'd touched her. Then anger flashed. The nerve of the man. That was the second time she'd let him get to her. She longed for some scathing comment that would put him in his place. But the slamming of the passenger door drew Kit's attention and the moment was lost.

"Sally's brave. I admire her," Kelly said softly, determined he'd not leave without speaking to her.

When Kit's eyes swung back to her, she smiled sweetly. "Imagine being brave enough to ride with you, Taylorville's own Paul Newman." Her voice was as soft as silk.

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He was a race driver, like you. And he had sexy blue eyes, just like you." Her look was pure sassiness.

He put the truck in reverse and backed swiftly out, tires squealing, without another word to Kelly. His face was closed and hard.

"Drive safely now," she called sweetly.

Watching as he drove off, Kelly was rewarded by one last quick glance from Kit Lockford. He scowled even more as she smiled gleefully, triumphantly at his look and gave him a saucy wave. Cheered by his last action, she turned back to her house, honors about even.

Chapter 2

Damn, but she was sassy,
Kit thought as he drove down the highway, his adrenaline pumping as it hadn't in quite some time. He'd like to shut that sassy mouth. Preferably with his. Bring color to her cheeks from passion rather than from anger. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, though he wished they could tighten around that smart-mouth blonde back in town.

He hadn't felt like this about a woman in years. Why that young madam? Who was she? Beth had mentioned her name when he stopped at the store first—Kelly Adams. Told him where to find her. But nothing more.

He ignored his sister-in-law as he drove, his expression tight as he battled forgotten feelings and long-buried yearnings. He hadn't had a woman in years and suddenly he was aching for one he'd seen only twice. He wanted her with a surprising intensity, brought about by abstinence, undoubtedly. He hadn't planned to see her again.

Though maybe he had, if he was honest. Why else would he have volunteered to drive Sally into town today? He flicked a glance at his young sister-in-law, huddled by the door, gazing out the window. She was so timid, almost afraid around him.

He tightened his lips and looked straight ahead. Then they softened slightly as he remembered Kelly Adams. She wasn't afraid of him. And from her attitude today, she still didn't know about him. He smiled grimly, taking wry pleasure from that fact.

Her attitude hadn't changed from their first encounter. She was bold, sassy, challenging. Why hadn't someone told her about him? Where was the pity, the damned compassion that made him feel like an invalid, like half a man? He felt as if he'd been given a reprieve. At least until next time.

Now he knew where she lived. He'd been surprised when Beth Stapleton had told him Sally was at Kelly's house, and pointed it out to him. Kelly. A nice name. Was she Irish? She sure had a temper. He almost smiled. She seemed easy to rile. And then she almost spit fire. Would she be as passionate in bed?

With a groan he dragged his thoughts away. The last thing she'd ever want was to be in bed with him.

"Are you all right, Kit?" Sally asked, turning to look at him.

Flushing slightly, he nodded. "Who's the blonde?" He'd find out what he could about her. Maybe find out she was already taken, not that it would make any difference to him. There couldn't be anything between them even if she wasn't taken.

"Kelly Adams is the author of
Amy and the Giant Pancake,
that book I got for Julie at her last birthday, remember?"

He frowned. She was a writer?

"Umm." He remembered. He'd read the book to the little girl a dozen times or more during her last visit. "She here for a visit?"

"She inherited Margaret Palmer's house. She's Margaret's great-niece. I think she's moved here for good. Wouldn't that be exciting?"

He smiled at Sally. He knew she was nervous around him, afraid of his temper. But he liked his brother's wife and would never harm her.

"Yeah, exciting. Does her family like Taylorville?" Had his tone been casual enough? Would she guess he was trying to find out some more about the pretty newcomer?

"She's alone, as far as Beth knows. Beth met her a few days ago when she first moved in. Molly Benson brought her by. She's pretty, isn't she?" Sally asked, watching him carefully.

"Molly?"

Sally giggled. "No, Kelly Adams."

He shrugged. "Pretty enough." There was no denying that, and to do so would raise speculation. He sighed softly as he turned in to the ranch. It didn't matter. He'd do better to stay home in the future, avoid further run-ins with pretty Kelly Adams. It would be safer for him.

* * *

Kelly was ready to leave for the Lockford ranch much too early the next afternoon. She'd chosen jeans and a light blue cotton knit shirt because it brought out the clear blue of her eyes. She had a nice figure, and the casual clothes displayed it to advantage. Not that she cared, she told herself as she examined how the top hugged her breasts, the jeans molded her bottom. But her body began to tingle in growing anticipation, remembering Kit's raking looks. She licked dry lips.

Unable to wait any longer, Kelly started out, carefully following Sally's directions. They were clear and simple and soon Kelly turned onto the access road for the ranch.

The rolling grassland flanked the narrow lane as it twisted and turned, following a natural valley. When the valley gradually widened it gave way to a long plateau. The Lockford home was straight ahead, a low, rambling, one-story stucco house with a red tile roof and lots of large windows. A wide wooden deck spanned the front, three shallow stairs leading up to the front door, and an incline of some sort at the far end. To the right, behind the house, was a large faded red barn, the corral at the side occupied by several horses dozing in the sun. Smaller buildings dotted the flat portion of the land. Beyond the structures, the grassy hills rose and fell. Cattle grazed in the distance. She could almost hear the silence.

Kelly drew up beside two large pickups near the deck. The blue-and-white one she recognized immediately. Did that mean Kit was home? Now that she might run into him again, she was nervous. Brushing her hands against her jeans, she climbed out and walked up to the front door.

It stood wide open, a screen door preventing entry of unwanted insects. Kelly rapped on the frame. The afternoon was still and quiet. She turned to look around her, at the silent hills, the tranquility of the ranch. She had expected more activity. Was everyone out on the range?

Kelly rapped again, and heard a curious thumping. Then a familiar voice, deep, drawling and lazy, called out. It sounded different when not tinged with anger.

"Come in. The door isn't locked."

She entered the house and found herself in a long hallway, dim after the bright sunlight. Ahead she saw a tall figure outlined against a window at the far end.

"Hi." She was more nervous than she'd thought she'd be. How long before her eyes adjusted? Where was Sally?

"What are you doing here?" he asked, moving closer.

"Gracious as ever, I see," she said, standing taller. She'd been right. Kit Lockford was a tall man, shoulders broad, chest strong and full. His waist was lean, tapering to slim hips, his long legs covered by tight denims. She feasted her eyes on him as they adjusted to the light. He looked masculine, powerful and sexy as hell.