Texas Temptation

To Liz Cutler,
a good friend and fellow writer whose knowledge is
impressive and patience immeasurable.

A
storm was coming.

It moved in swiftly from the south, thick swelling clouds carried in by a hot heavy wind that swept the harsh West Texas land. Lightning split the dark horizon, illuminating the distant mountains. The air trembled in anticipation of the coming rain.

Jared Stone sat on the steps of the trailer he'd called home for the past eight months and watched the electrical display zigzag across the night sky. Jagged fingers of brilliant silver light flashed repeatedly, but there was no thunder. Not yet, anyway. Just the deafening echo of silence.

Lifting the bottle to his mouth, Jared tossed back a long swallow of rotgut whiskey, then grimaced as the liquid burned his throat and settled in his stomach with a kick strong enough to send a football two hundred yards.

Strange, but he'd actually come to enjoy that part.

The wind slid over Jared's bare chest like sun-warmed silk, and the sensation made him think of a woman's hands. Frowning, he stared into the darkness, wondering if he'd deprived himself of feminine company for so long as punishment or simply because he hadn't had the time.

Jared stared at the bottle in his hand. “What do you think?” he asked his companion.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. He glanced up at the sound and stared out into the darkness, but there was nothing to see. Nothing but the silhouette of a one-hundred-foot oil derrick staring back at him from almost a half mile away. A flash of lightning illuminated the tower, and Jared's hand tightened around the bottle. It was impossible to stop the image that flashed in his mind for what seemed like the thousandth time....

Jonathan.

Jared squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a sharp breath. Almost four years had not dulled the memory of his twin brother's death. There'd been a storm that night, too. No one should have been up on the rig. Especially Jonathan. He'd been too green, too inexperienced. And at twenty-nine, too damn young.

Since they'd been ten years old, both Jonathan and Jared had dreamed of building their own oil well, despite the fact they came from a family of ranchers. It had taken ten years after graduating high school to convince their father, J.T., to back the project, but they'd finally worn him down. Jonathan, who'd returned to college in his late twenties to get his master's degree in geology, and Jared, with ten years' experience working every rig that would hire him, were ready to start drilling. They'd both believed in the well; both been equally determined to hit oil.

But one had died.

In his grief, J. T. Stone had closed the rig down after Jonathan's accident, despite Jared's argument that doing so meant that Jonathan would have died for nothing. But J.T. had insisted, and the project was abandoned, leaving the derrick and equipment to the elements of a lonely West Texas plain called Stone Creek.

Until now.

Jared took another pull of the whiskey. If only he hadn't left in anger for South America right after his brother's funeral and not come back. If only his father hadn't died so unexpectedly eight months ago. If only...

Damn you, Jonathan Stone.

Jared threw the bottle, and lightning flashed as the sound of shattering glass rent the air. Clouds were moving in quickly now; the wind whipped at the ends of Jared's dark hair. He stared at the derrick, cursing the wooden beast as if it were a living thing.

Since he'd come back, everyone had told him to give up. Sell the land or lease it out. There'd been no oil drilling on Stone Creek for three years. It was ranch land. His stepmother, Myrna, pestered him continually to sell his fifteen thousand acres, but Jared had flatly refused. His great-great-grandfather had bought this land with a lick and a promise, and that was all Jared had now, too.

Only Jake, his older brother, and Jessica, his younger sister, never questioned or discouraged him. Each of them had their own legacy of Stone Creek: Jake, sixty thousand acres of ranch, and Jessica, fifteen thousand acres, which included the abandoned town of Makeshift. Each of them understood they needed to safeguard their inheritance their own way.

Even his nine-year-old half sister, Emma, had painted a picture of a gushing oil well and told him to put it on his refrigerator where he could see it every day.

If only the investors would be so optimistic.

Jared had already mortgaged the land and used every penny of the money J.T. had left him to start drilling again. But it wasn't enough. He needed a backer, and the only company that hadn't turned him down yet was a Dallas-based company, Arloco Oil.

Arloco was Jared's last hope. Without their backing, he'd have to shut down. Something had to happen. And it had to happen soon.

Another bolt of lightning struck, close by this time. Rain bounced off the dry earth, scattered at first, then building in speed and intensity as the storm settled in.

Jared lifted his face to the sky and welcomed the feel of the rain on his skin. The sky lit up again and the ground shook from the accompanying thunder.

* * *

She was miles away and yet she could see it.

It loomed in the distance, growing larger and taller with every passing mile. Her heart pounded at the sight. It was as beautiful as it was foreboding. As promising as it was hopeless. As seductive as it was frightening.

Excitement coursed through her as she drew closer. She'd been twenty-three the summer Jonathan had brought her home with him to introduce her to his family and show her the rig. She'd never forget the pride in his eyes when he'd showed her the derrick. Every foot of that well had been a labor of love for Jonathan and his brother Jared.

The odds against actually finding oil were horrendous; roughly ninety percent of the wells never hit. But neither Jonathan nor Jared had even considered that possibility. She'd had the feeling they would have drilled to the center of the earth and headed for China before they gave up. She smiled at the thought. No, that probably still wouldn't have discouraged them. They hadn't been identical in looks, but they'd certainly been identical in determination.

And now Jared was back.

Annie's palms were sweaty as she pulled in front of the trailer where Jonathan had brought her four years ago. The same trailer where he'd proposed. The same trailer where he'd made love to her for the first time.

And for the last time.

She'd left Jonathan there that summer and gone home to finish her last year of school. How could she have known she'd never see him again?

Her hand shook as she opened the driver's door of her Cherokee, and when she stepped out the ground felt unsteady under her boot. The clouds had moved on from the storm last night, leaving a deep blue sky and the scent of fresh damp earth. She'd loved Stone Creek the minute she'd laid eyes on the open land. She and Jonathan had been going to build a house not far from here; they'd even marked off the spot with rocks and pieces of wood.

She didn't know where that spot was anymore.

Annie turned and stared at the derrick, letting her gaze slowly scan the length of it from bottom to top. She remembered the day Jonathan had scaled the rigging, teasing her until she came up and joined him. She'd been terrified as she'd climbed, but he'd sweet-talked her the whole way, telling her he'd never let any harm come to her....

If only she could have done the same for him.

Her eyes started to blur and she blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Nights had been the hardest after Jonathan's death. One day had become another, until a year had finally passed, then another and another. She'd stayed busy with school, then work. And slowly, without her even realizing it, the darkness began to lift.

She still missed him, she always would, but she'd finally managed to say goodbye.

She stared at the trailer again and hesitated, suddenly overcome with a desire to get back in her car and leave. Jared wouldn't want to see her, she was sure of that. There were enough painful memories of Jonathan around here. She knew how hard Jared had taken Jonathan's death, and she would be one more reminder to him that his brother was dead.

Heart hammering, she moved toward the trailer, then drew in a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Nothing.

She knocked again. Louder.

Still nothing.

Frowning, Annie stared at the door. It was only ten o'clock. She could see there was no activity at the rig, so she doubted he was there. She started to turn away, thinking he might have gone into town, but there was a dusty black pickup parked in front of the trailer. He should be here. He was supposed to—

The sound of breaking glass from inside the trailer cut her thoughts short. She drew her brows together, then turned the knob and opened the door.

It was dark inside. The scent of cold coffee and wet clothes filled the trailer, and she nearly stumbled over a pair of damp jeans lying by the front door.

“Jared?” she called hesitantly. An unintelligible response came from the bedroom.

She took a shaky step toward the sound, then stopped. Dear Lord, what if he had someone with him and she was intruding? She started to turn away, but another cry came from the bedroom, one filled with such anguish that she couldn't possibly ignore it.

Heart pounding, she moved through the living area, stepping around a large map laid out on the tiled floor. Smaller maps covered a brown fabric couch, and several bottles containing soil samples were lined up on an oval pine coffee table.

The bedroom door was ajar, and her fingers were trembling as she placed her hand on the knob and pushed. The room was in near darkness, except for the glow of a clock on the nightstand. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside the clock.

“Jared?” She stepped closer to the bed.

At least he was alone, she noted. He moved restlessly in his sleep, tossing the covers off his shoulders and uttering another low moan.

Was he sick?

She couldn't see his face because he was lying on his stomach, facedown in his pillow, his fists clenched tightly beside his head. Her heart thundered in her chest as she reached out a shaky hand to touch his bare shoulder. He mumbled something incoherent and his muscle twitched at her touch. His skin was hot and damp with sweat.

She leaned over the bed. “Jared, are you all—”

He moved so fast she hadn't time to react. His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into the bed with him as he kicked the covers off completely. In less than a heartbeat he had her underneath him and his long hard body stretched out over her.

His
naked
body.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and in the next moment his lips closed over hers. She opened her mouth to say something, but his tongue invaded, kissing her with more passion, more desperation, than she could have dreamed possible.

Panic consumed her. Her cry was muffled against his mouth, and when she placed her palms against his chest and pushed she might as well have tried to bench press a two-hundred-pound weight.

Annie's mind raced. Her heart pounded.
Stay calm,
she told herself. He was obviously still asleep, or else he thought she was someone else. As soon as she could manage to say something, he'd realize what he was doing and stop. There was no need for her to worry. Jared would never hurt her, she was sure of that.

At least, she
thought
she was sure.

His lips moved over hers in a rhythm as timeless as it was sensual, and she felt herself go weak with the force of his kiss. He moaned again, and this time there was no doubt it was pleasure, not illness or pain. The need she heard and felt from him vibrated through her, sending shivers of electricity coursing through her body.

It had been so long since a man had kissed her like this, like he wanted to consume her, and longer still since she'd felt even a spark of response. He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth hard against her own, taking her again and again with a wild abandon that left her breathless.

And undeniably excited.

This can't be happening.

She made a sound into his mouth that was more like a moan, and he responded by cupping her breast and moving his hips against hers. She felt an intense sudden urge to wind her arms around his neck and pull him closer. An ache spread through her belly into her thighs.

She knew she had to stop.

Immediately.

She pressed her palms more firmly against his broad hard chest and pushed. He paid no attention. His lips left her mouth and moved down her throat leaving hot, wet kisses.

“Jared,” she finally managed, but her raspy voice sounded more like encouragement than an objection. He must have thought so, too, because he pulled her tighter against him, cupping her buttocks as he moved against the juncture of her thighs.

He was fully aroused, she realized, and despite her embarrassment, she couldn't deny that she was aroused, as well. His hand moved to the waist of her jeans, and she gasped as he quickly unsnapped the button and started to slide her zipper down.

“Jared!”

In a dim corner of his mind, Jared knew there was a problem with this dream. He just wasn't quite sure what it was. The pleasure pumping through his body at the moment certainly wasn't the problem, and neither was the feel of the soft smooth skin under his fingertips. This was the stuff that real dreams were made of. And since he'd never quite had one this intense before, or this enjoyable, he wasn't quite ready to let go of it yet.

He kept his eyes closed, struggling to hold on to the fantasy—

“Jared!”

A woman called his name again, and he heard the alarm in her voice. This was no dream, he realized abruptly.

Maybe there
was
a problem, after all.

He opened his eyes slowly, waiting for them to adjust to the dim light. There was a woman in bed with him. A living breathing long-limbed woman with short blond hair.

And she sure as hell hadn't been here when he'd gone to bed. He definitely would have remembered, no matter what state he'd been in.