скачать книгу бесплатно
Elizabeth’s fear of horses was her own business, and under ordinary circumstances, Worth would never have mentioned it. The possible consequences of Elizabeth’s need to punish her father kept this from being an ordinary circumstance.
Drawing a long strand of hair under her chin, he used it to raise her face. “My sisters used to call it blackmail.” In spite of her being nothing but a troublemaker, the indignation on her face made him want to kiss her again.
“You can’t blackmail me over a silly kiss. I don’t care if you tell the entire world you kissed me.”
“But you would care if I told Russ you’re afraid of horses.”
Her sharp intake of air must have sucked in half the mosquito population of Colorado. After a bit, she said, “Me, terrified of horses? That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He’d never heard a less believable denial. “You are, and you don’t want Russ to know, or you would have told him by now.”
She went very still. “I’m not afraid of horses.”
“That’s good, because Russ is real anxious to put you up on Wall Street. Wally’s a good-looking stallion who’s all muscle and power, and you don’t want to believe the hands if they try and tell you he’s a mean, fractious son of a gun.” Wally had the temperament of a favorite nanny; even so, Worth never put an insecure or unknown rider on over half a ton of finely-tuned horseflesh.
Elizabeth didn’t say anything for the longest time. Then she deliberately pushed aside his hand and stood. “Jamie and I will leave tomorrow.” She didn’t look at Worth. “I’m not staying where we’re not wanted.” Her voice was stiff with pride and wounded dignity.
For a second, Worth felt like a heel for harassing her, then he remembered the trouble she’d managed to stir up in only one day and hardened his heart. Catching the afghan still wrapped around her, he pulled her back down to the swing. “You’re not going anywhere. Russ and Mom want you here for the wedding, so you’re staying. And you’re going to behave yourself and forget about your plans for sabotaging the wedding. If you don’t,” reaching for her hand, he played with her icy fingers, “I’ll tell Russ your dirty little secret about being afraid of horses.” He wouldn’t, no matter the provocation, but she didn’t need to know that.
She yanked her hand away from him. “He won’t believe you.”
“Maybe not. But I’m guessing he’ll start wondering when you keep refusing to ride.”
“I’m not afraid of horses.” She stared straight ahead, her hands clenched in her lap. “I have lots of reasons for not riding.”
“I’ll bet you made up a real nice list before you got on the plane.” It didn’t seem to occur to her that if she told Russ the truth, Worth would lose his leverage over her.
“Blackmail and blackmailers are despicable.”
“Dregs of the earth,” he agreed cheerfully. This time Worth made no effort to stop her when she stood.
“I have my son to think about.” She started for the door. “I won’t have him hurt by your fun and games.”
“Elizabeth.” He hadn’t run a large ranch for more than his adult life without learning how to crack his voice like a whip. She stopped dead in her tracks. Standing, Worth reached past her shoulder and held the screen door shut. “I would never put Jimbo in harm’s way. You can trust me on that.”
She turned, leaning against the door, her eyes glittering in the light from the house. “Trust is a word people use too easily. They don’t understand what trust is. I have no idea if I can trust you. I don’t even know if you know what the word means.” Turning back to the door, she removed his hand and went inside.
Worth returned to the swing, contemplating the puzzle Elizabeth presented. Why did she hide her fear of horses from her father? Russ was hardly the type to tell his daughter never to darken his doorstep again, nor was he likely to force her to ride in spite of her fears. A part of the puzzle was missing, which intrigued Worth.
He wondered who’d betrayed her trust.
Russ, because he hadn’t gone to her when her husband was killed? If a woman couldn’t trust her father, rely on him in her darkest moment, who could she trust? Russ had let his daughter down badly, and he knew it. Worth could do nothing about that. He could make sure their problems didn’t hurt his mother.
Elizabeth Randall was a bundle of nerves held together by not much more than sheer grit. A fierceness in her eyes had told him she’d fight desperately for her young son’s well-being. She didn’t need to fight Worth. He had no intention of harming her or her son, but he would not allow her to compromise his mother’s happiness or his freedom.
Her response to his ultimatum had surprised him. She hadn’t cried or whined or begged. Or tried to sweet-talk him. He would have believed, had halfway expected, at least one of those.
She could have tried a little feminine persuasion. Tried to bribe him with a kiss or two. Or an invitation to her bed.
He wouldn’t have accepted. For many reasons, not the least of which, she was a guest in his house.
He certainly wasn’t worried he might enjoy sharing her bed so much that he’d allow her to disrupt his plans. Nothing about Elizabeth Randall worried him. She was nothing more than a skinny, red-haired troublemaker. Worth had handled plenty of trouble in his time. He wasn’t worried.
Even if this time, trouble had come with olive green cat eyes.
Elizabeth watched as a chipmunk darted recklessly across the dirt road and disappeared in a patch of wild roses. Dark blue spikes of larkspur waved in the slight breeze. Worth turned onto another road where water trickled along the roadside ditch and willows displayed their catkins. Overhead, swallows dipped and soared in a blue, cloudless sky.
Some might call the landscape beautiful. Elizabeth knew the darker side of nature lurked below the idyllic surface. If a predator didn’t get the small animal, automobile tires probably would. Roses had thorns, larkspur poisoned cattle, and the swallows were fighting for nesting territory. In Nebraska, the roots of a willow tree in her yard had caused extensive damage to her house’s plumbing.
It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t pretty. It was life.
Elizabeth knew all about life.
She might not know all about smug, arrogant men who thought they could kiss you one minute and blackmail you the next, but she was learning fast.
A prime example of the species currently sat behind the wheel of a beat-up, dark blue, extended-cab pickup, wearing worn jeans and a faded blue work shirt with rolled-up sleeves. If Worth Lassiter expected her to swoon over the muscles in his forearms, he could think again.
She’d had enough of him and his muscles.
Her mistake had been allowing him to kiss her. All right, kissing him back. For a short time, she’d felt desirable, cherished. More proof of what a horrible judge of character she was. Only a weakling and an idiot would think his arms were a refuge. As she’d learned quickly enough when he’d used her weakness against her.
He’d be positively overjoyed if he discovered exactly how weak she was.
For the second night in a row he’d invaded her dreams. Invaded. Dominated. Starred in.
Dreams of a sexual nature. Dreams she didn’t need. Didn’t want. He had no right to ruin her nights.
He should be content with ruining her days.
“I came with you today because Jamie loves riding in a car.” In the backseat, Jamie gurgled happily to himself. “Your silly threats last night had nothing to do with me accepting your invitation.”
No response. As if her claim was so ludicrous, he couldn’t be bothered to refute it.
Which naturally increased her irritation. “And I am not afraid of horses. I’ve been riding horses since I could sit up. I rode my first pony all by myself when I was two.”
“So Russ has repeatedly told us. According to him, you’re a born cowboy.”
“I fell off and broke my arm.” She regretted the words the instant they popped out.
He chuckled heartlessly. “Russ forgot to mention that part.”
“He usually does.”
“Is that why you’re afraid of horses?”
“I’m not, and what difference does it make to you if I am? You’re like all cowboys. Whether I got an A in math or graduated third in my high school class or did well in college doesn’t mean a thing to you. You don’t care if I can run a coffee shop or coordinate a convention for three hundred out-of-towners or find rooms for a busload of tourists whose travel agent messed up their plans. Cowboys judge a person by her riding skills or roping skills or cow-chasing skills. Nothing else matters.” Belatedly she clamped her mouth shut, having revealed too much.
“Why haven’t you ever told Russ you’re afraid of horses?”
“I’m not afraid of them, but speaking hypothetically, when exactly was I supposed to tell him?” she asked tartly. “Every summer when I was shipped off to visit him and he threw me on some huge, wild monster who’d been running free all winter and saw no reason to wear a saddle? Before or after the concussion, the sprained ankle, the bruised hip, the horse bite?”
“Those injuries don’t sound hypothetical to me.”
“Russ has had his share of injuries. You heard him last night. Gotta be tough to be a cowboy.” In spite of her efforts, bitterness coated her last words.
“Are you tough?”
As if she’d admit she wasn’t. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be a cowboy.”
After a bit Worth said, “Russ can look over a herd of horses or cows and pick up instantly on the least little thing wrong, but I’m guessing he has no clue what makes you tick.”
It didn’t take a genius IQ to figure that out. “My mother says cowboys refuse to understand any creature with less than four legs.”
“I suppose her feelings explain the divorce. I’m surprised she married Russ in the first place.”
A question Elizabeth had considered frequently over the years. “Mother was a city girl who fell in love with the cowboy mystique. Ranch life came as a rude shock to her. When I was about three, she had a miscarriage. She needed comfort from Russ, but he buried himself in ranch work, so she cried a lot and they fought a lot and the marriage disintegrated.”
“And you blame Russ.”
“I don’t blame either of them. Onions and ice cream go together better than my parents did. People should marry people they have something in common with.”
“Is that what you did? Mom said your husband wasn’t a cowboy. What was he?”
“A history professor at the university.” She could have added Lawrence was also a liar, a fraud, and a thief, but she didn’t. She sensed Worth looking at her.
“I’m not going to bad-mouth him because he chose a different career from the one I have,” Worth said.
“Russ does.”
“Seeing you hurting must upset Russ. He wants to make everything better for you, help you cope with your loss, but he has no idea how, so he’s angry and frustrated and the only person he can take his anger out on is your husband. It’s not logical, but it’s human nature.”
“I didn’t come with you to listen to a sermon or homespun counseling,” Elizabeth said tightly. “I’m not hurting and I’m coping just fine with my loss. As you pointed out last night, I have Jamie.”
“And your memories.”
Elizabeth briefly squeezed her eyelids shut against the sharp pain. The last thing she wanted from her marriage was memories. Not after the way Lawrence had tarnished them. Clutching her seat belt she pinned a smile on her face and said, “Yes, of course. My memories.”
Worth paused as he came out of the feed store. Elizabeth crouched in front of the large storefront window pointing out items to Jamie. Her son was trying to gnaw his way through the plate glass.
Grinning, Worth tossed the supplies in the back of the pickup and strolled over to the store window. “I think Jimbo needs a bone to chew on.” He swung Jamie up into his arms and gave Elizabeth a bland look as she stood. “I would have helped you up, but I know how you hate being helped.”
“I don’t need your help. I’d be just fine if you’d leave me alone.”
He felt a curious reluctance to do that. Only a fool stuck his finger in a light socket, but Elizabeth Randall made him want to poke and prod her. Everything from her skinned-back hair to her trim, belted khaki trousers and buttoned-up shirt indicated a woman who believed in controlling all facets of her life. Worth might have believed the outer trappings were it not for the heated emotions which ebbed and flowed deep in her expressive eyes. Elizabeth Randall was made for intense feeling, deep loving and raw passion. He wondered why she went to such lengths to deny her nature.
And knew an insane urge to solve the riddle before she returned to Nebraska.
Securing Jamie in his safety seat, Worth said mildly, “I’ll try and remember you want to be left alone.”
“While you’re remembering that, remember my son’s name isn’t Jimbo.”
“Some things aren’t worth the effort of remembering.” He slid behind the wheel.
“What is worth the effort?” she asked waspishly.
Worth gave her an amused look, enjoying the sudden color washing across her face.
“Never mind,” she said.
“When a woman asks a man a question, it’s because she wants it answered.”
“You’re a real sagebrush philosopher, aren’t you? Is there anything you don’t consider yourself an expert on?” She strapped herself in.
He turned sideways in the driver’s seat, his right arm across the back of the seat and watched her face. “My sisters like to change the subject thinking they can get me off the track. They can’t.”
“Being single-minded is nothing to brag about. I’ve never met a man so determined to—”
He cut her off. “Kisses in the dark are worth remembering.”
Her mouth closed, and she swallowed hard.
He smiled slowly. “Unbuttoned green pajamas.” He had looked away immediately, honorable behavior he had a feeling he’d forever regret. The glimpse had shown him a nicely-shaped, womanly mound. The perfect size to fill a man’s hand, its tip hard against his palm.
More red splashed her cheeks, and she swallowed again. “Never mind. I’m not interested in your memory.”
Worth lifted an eyebrow. “Then let’s talk about yours.”
“I have no memory,” she snapped. “I’d forgotten all about yesterday morning in the kitchen and Jamie unbuttoning, that is, I hardly remember kissing you because it didn’t mean a thing to me, and—What are you doing?” she shrieked as he slid across the seat. “It’s broad daylight, and we’re sitting in the middle of a parking lot. You can’t kiss me here.”
He captured her head, his fingers busy with the tight knot of hair at the back of her neck. “I hadn’t thought about kissing you right now, but if you want me to…My mother taught me it’s rude to say no to a lady.”
“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said breathlessly.
Her eyes were enormous in her pale face, and Worth could read the lie as easily as if she’d written it on a giant green chalkboard. He read other truths there, too. Her awareness of him as a man. Her curiosity. Distrust. And fear.
He wanted to prove she’d lied. Deepen her awareness. Satisfy her curiosity. His gut clenched. Satisfy his. Answer the question as to whether a green-eyed redhead who sparked with anger at the slightest provocation brought that same electricity to bed.
“Your husband was a very lucky man,” he said.
She stared at him, and then slowly shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “He wasn’t.” A single tear ran down her cheek.
CHAPTER THREE
WORTH could have kicked himself for being an insensitive clod. He’d seen the pain on her face earlier when he’d mentioned her husband. The man had died in a car accident. Where was the luck in that? A woman shouldn’t have to endure that kind of suffering.
He wished she’d slugged him or burst into tears. He could have handled those. The single, silent tear unmanned him. Awkwardly he reached over and wiped it away. “He died young, but blessed with a wife and son he loved, he must have died a happy man.”
Elizabeth jerked back from his hand. A funny look flashed across her face. “He probably did die happy,” she said slowly. The thought had apparently never before occurred to her. It didn’t seem to ease her sorrow.
