Reckless Promise (6 page)

Tom stepped into the fantasy, that stupid
leer back on his face, and Mac clenched his teeth. Enough fantasy.
He had to find out what the hell was going on. Tom wasn't going to
mess with his sister. Or with his fantasies.

He wiped Tom out of the picture along with
the red satin, and tried black lace. Better. He walked toward the
lodge. Slowly. Good thing his feet knew the way, because Poppy
filled his brain. She'd be unhooking her bra by now, and stepping
out of her panties. He stumbled into the fence that surrounded the
pool.

"Hey, Mac, hurry up," Tom shouted from the
pool. "Water polo. We need another player."

"On my way." Mac strode into the house and
down the hall to his room. He had a mission. A promise to keep. If
Poppy was really hitting on Tom, he'd stop it if it was the last
thing he ever did.

He hit the pool about five minutes later and
really tried to concentrate on the game, but couldn't keep from
watching Tom. He looked like the same old brother-in-law Mac had
known for five years, not the letch-on-the-prowl he'd seen a few
minutes ago.

Mac had almost succeeded in getting his mind
on the game by the time Poppy arrived. When he saw her, the winning
goal slammed past him and the game ended, leaving him with nothing
to do but stare. Funny, he hadn't had any problems watching the
ball instead of the nearly naked brunette posing on one of the
loungers. Poppy made her look like the overly made up tramp she
was, and the way she scowled at Poppy didn't improve the
picture.

He vaulted out of the pool in one smooth
motion and bent to pick up a towel. When he straightened and shook
wet hair out of his eyes, he found himself nose to nose—well,
collarbone to nose—with Poppy.

Her hair smelled like hot, spicy sin.

He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath,
then tilted his head just enough to let the flames of her curls
brush against his mouth. He felt her heat across the few inches of
space between them, and was lost.

His body reacted as instantaneously, as
overwhelmingly, as embarrassingly as if he were eighteen again. In
about half a second he'd be poking out of his suit. The only thing
he could do was take a giant step backward. He hit the water with a
splash and sank to the bottom.

When he came up for air and climbed out of
the pool, she'd moved away. Except that before he even thanked
whatever deity looked after crazed, terminally hormone-overloaded,
mid-thirties men, he saw her on the other side of the deck. His
mind went blank at the sight of her bending over to take a soft
drink from the cooler on the ground. Poppy, in a bathing suit that
rioted with scarlet and orange and yellow, so that she looked like
she'd been gift-wrapped in flame. He dropped to a lounger and
draped his towel across his lap.

"Your tongue's hanging out." Tom sat in the
next chair and handed him a beer.

Mac grabbed the bottle and held it to his
temple. Brought it to his mouth and gulped. Took a deep breath and
recited a quick multiplication table.

"She does have that effect, doesn't she?" Tom
sounded proprietary.

Mac wanted to punch the smug grin off his
face. "You're married," he reminded Tom again.

"Married." Tom's gaze lingered on Poppy's
lush curves. "Not dead."

Before Mac could decide which of the
unfriendly things in his mind to say first, Poppy sauntered over to
them and folded gracefully onto the foot of Tom's lounge chair.

"Hi," she said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all." Tom moved over about half an
inch to make room for her.

Mac growled, and shot a glance over his
shoulder. Alice wasn't in sight, but the curtain at the kitchen
window twitched. Great. Either she would watch Poppy hit on Tom—or
vice versa—or else Chickie would relay the play-by-play.

Poppy gave Tom that megawatt smile, and Mac
would almost swear she positioned herself to give Alice a ringside
view. Then she stretched. If he were to be fair about it, her suit
wasn't all that skimpy. The problem was what it covered. He tilted
his beer and took a swig big enough to choke on. Tom pounded him on
the back until he stopped coughing.

She turned to Tom. "Is there a trail ride in
the morning?"

"You bet. Every morning, and once or twice a
week, an overnight ride. You interested?"

"Absolutely. I haven't had a chance to ride
in years. I can't wait." Simple enthusiasm bubbled in her
words.

Mac frowned. He didn't sense any attraction
there. And for all the flirty smiles, there hadn't been any back
there in the barn, either. He didn't understand. All the more
reason for him to ride herd on her. Twenty-four/seven, if
possible.

"You come on down to the corral about eight
thirty and we'll pick you out a horse," Tom said. "That'll give us
about half an hour before the others show up."

If Mac hadn't been barefoot, he'd have kicked
Tom. Poppy might not be a problem, but he was beginning to think
that Tom was. They were going to have a little talk. Soon. "Moses
assigns horses," he said.

Her smile dimmed. "Moses? Oh, I don't
know..."

"I'll take care of it." Tom left no doubt
about his intention to do it.

"I'll be there at eight-thirty," she
promised. She did another one of those stretches that turned Mac's
mouth to desert. He adjusted his towel and glanced toward the
house. The curtain hung straight and undisturbed.

Poppy asked about the horses, how many they
had, where they came from, who trained them. She interspersed the
light, impersonal chatter with under-the-lashes glances at Mac that
kept him simmering. He wished Tom would leave.

About the time he thought Tom had grown
roots, Alice came out on the patio and called him. Tom rose
reluctantly. "Don't forget, eight-thirty." He strode off toward the
house.

Finally. Mac leaned toward her.

"So, you raise the ranch horses," she said.
"I'd like to hear about your breeding program. I've always had an
interest in practical genetics."

"You know anything about horses?" Frustrated
lust turned his voice to a growl.

"No, but I know something about genetics.
We'll have to talk about it." She stood and gathered up her towel.
"But right now I'd better get in out of the sun."

"You haven't even been swimming." He got up
and she backed away a step. "The water's great."

She shook her head. "No, I—"

Alice came out onto the porch. "Mac," she
called.

"Okay, let's go swimming." Poppy pushed Mac
into the pool.

She acted almost as though she didn't want
him to be with Alice. But he didn't have time to think about that.
He locked his arms around her and took her with him. A man could
drown happy this way, with Poppy plastered against him, her legs
tangled with his. She broke away and streaked for the shallow
end.

He raced right behind her. She grabbed a big
ball and tossed it at him. Treading water, he caught it and threw
it back, intending to dive and swim underwater to ambush her.
Before he could move, three people had joined the game and there
went his chance to get close and physical under cover of the
water.

An eternity later, the game ended, and he had
a chance to get within touching distance of her. She twisted to
pull one strap away from her shoulder and check for sunburn. "I am
getting pink. I'd better get out, too," she said.

Never one to waste an opportunity, he put a
couple of fingers on her back and pressed lightly. "You're right,"
he said. "A little pink, but not too bad." He smoothed his hand
down her back, surprised the film of water didn't turn to steam
from the intensity of his thoughts. "Not too bad at all."

"Sun screen." She drifted away toward the
steps.

He watched with appreciation the unveiling of
the curvy, scarlet-clad rear and the world-class legs. Maybe she'd
like him to go back to her cabin and put some lotion on her
back.

He hurried out of the pool to join her. Tom
had come back out and stood talking to her. He arrived just in time
to hear "...get together."

Tom looked up. "Oh, Mac. Alice wants you in
the office."

Damn.

"See you later." Poppy moved off toward her
cabin.

Mac went inside, cursing his sister's rotten
timing. The minute he set foot through the office door, she grabbed
his arm.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I want to talk to you."

"I got that." He sighed. "Now what?"

"What happened out by the pool?"

"She asked about riding tomorrow."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"But she sat so close to him she might as
well have been in his lap. And she probably wouldn't say anything
with you there. And—"

"Alice—"

She covered his mouth with one hand. "I
know." She sighed. "Am I making a mountain out of a mole hill?"

"Yes." He patted her shoulder and hoped he
hadn't lied. The way Tom had looked at Poppy at that first meeting
flicked across his mind, but he ignored it and gave Alice a hug.
"Okay now?"

She nodded. "Okay. Back to work."

He watched her walk down the hall. He'd never
seen Tom interested in another woman before. And he couldn't figure
Poppy out at all. One minute she acted pure bimbo, seduction on the
hoof, and the next, an intelligent and captivating woman.

Whatever she was, Tom represented a problem.
Time for that talk. By the time he'd looked everywhere in the
house, his temper simmered close to full boil. Tom had slipped out
of the house, almost as though he knew Mac wanted him. Mac stamped
out onto the front porch and stood for a minute to cool off,
soaking in the view of sky and mountain, pastures with sleek
horses. His horses.

His sister's marital mess.

So he went looking for Tom. Not at the
corral. Or inside the barn. Moses glanced up from mending a
stirrup.

"Seen Tom?" Mac asked.

"Nope. Popular guy, though."

"How's that?"

"That redhead come pokin' through here.
Didn't say what she wanted, but it sure wasn't me."

Mac glared at him, but Moses bent over his
work, oblivious, and Mac stalked back outside. He headed back up
toward the house, cutting through the row of guest cabins.

And there Tom stood. Leaning against the door
of Poppy's cabin, clearly on his way out and so involved in the
conversation that he didn't notice Mac.

Poppy said something, urgent but too low for
Mac to hear.

Tom laughed. "Mac!" He slapped his knee. "You
thought Mac and Alice—" The words were lost in gales of
laughter.

She scowled.

"Poppy," Tom said when he could talk again.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed, but that's so
ridiculous—"

"You didn't see them," she snapped. "And
isn't the husband always the last to know?"

"You don't understand. I'm sure it wasn't
easy for you to tell me." She opened her mouth and Tom held up a
hand. "Mac is Alice's brother."

She looked up and saw Mac. Saw that he had
heard. Saw the fury he couldn't control when he realized what she'd
thought. She flushed scarlet.

His flash of anger dwindled to wicked humor.
She'd pay for misjudging him that badly.

Chapter 4

Mac stood in the office doorway and watched
Tom sort papers. "Brad's coming up the road. Want to bet he's
looking to get his job back?"

Tom looked up. "No bet. Of course he is.
Nobody else will hire him."

"We going to take him back?"

"I don’t think we have a choice. He's a
sleazeball, but every other hand in the county has already hired on
somewhere. The other men are going to bail if we don't get more
help."

Mac shrugged. "Maybe Moses can work him hard
enough to keep him out of trouble."

"Just as long as he stays away from the
guests. And Alice."

And Poppy.

* * *

Poppy pulled the pillow over her head and
stifled a moan. She'd have to stay in this cabin for the rest of
her life. Not only would Tom tell Alice about her stupid
conclusion-jumping, but facing Mac would be clear off the scale of
embarrassing.

No way could she face going to dinner. Never
eating again would be a small price to pay for not having to face
the ridicule.

The dinner gong sounded loud and clear, even
through a layer of feathers. She wasn't going. Except that Tom's
whole reason for being in her cabin had been to outline a plan for
the dinner hour. And she had agreed, and he counted on her.

With a sigh, she tossed the pillow aside and
got up, cursing her inconvenient conscience. A flick of the brush
through her hair got her as ready as she'd ever be for the showdown
at the OK dinner table.

Tom wasn't there. She looked around the room
again. No Tom. If he expected her to carry on with his stupid plan,
he could at least be here to play his part. She turned to escape
back to her cabin.

"Looking for someone?" Mac loomed in front of
her, big and tall and solid, and completely blocking her way. "Tom
and Moses aren't back from town yet."

His wicked, teasing smile sent desire
flushing through her. "Thanks," she mumbled, and bolted into the
dining room before he said anything designed to rub her nose in her
silly mistake. She took a chair as far from his end of the table as
possible, and barricaded herself in the middle of a jovial family,
where she concentrated on the difficult task of getting small bites
of food from plate to mouth.

If her performance the night before had been
Oscar quality, tonight's wouldn't have gotten her understudy in a
high school play. It took all her concentration to keep from
looking at Mac. The minute she relaxed, her gaze headed his way
like a student bound for the door after finals.

After several centuries of stilted
conversation and food she didn't taste, Alice's question, "Everyone
ready for dessert?" came as a relief. Alice smiled at everyone, but
her glance passed over Poppy, as usual. Just as if she didn't know
about the humiliating mistake.