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Kara’s breathing became deeper and heavier. He was seducing her and she knew it. Knew it, and was falling hard and fast. She’d never been exposed to an experienced man’s advances. Her dates had been with quiet young men as unsure and reserved as she was; passion had never been a remote possibility. In D.C., confident, good-looking, assertive men like Mac never gave her a second glance, let alone gazed at her with intense dark eyes while murmuring how sexy she was. Never had she been lifted onto a hard male lap while his mouth and hands aroused this hot, melting sensation that made her close her eyes and wriggle closer to him, helpless in the mounting throes of ardor.
Mac let his mouth wander to her cheeks, then along the curve of her jawline to her ear, where his teeth nipped sensuously on the lobe. “Your skin is so soft,” he marveled. “Beautiful and creamy soft.” He was nibbling on her neck now, and his hand made a bold foray under her sweater. “I want to see more. I want to taste you, feel you.”
With a slow, sure touch he slipped his hand inside her bra, his fingers gliding deeper into the cup to caress her already taut nipple.
“Mac, no!” Kara cried frantically, unnerved by the flooding warmth surging through her body. The sensual heat spread like wildfire through her veins, from wherever his lips and fingers touched her. The most secret intimate part of her felt unaccustomedly swollen and achy and embarrassingly wet.
“No?” Mac reluctantly removed his hand from beneath her sweater. “Am I going too fast for you, sweetie?”
She pressed her thighs together, trying to suppress the too-exciting pleasure he had evoked.
“W-Way too fast. After all, we just met.” Yet she couldn’t summon the willpower necessary to get off his lap and return to her own seat. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, making her achingly aware of his powerful muscular strength.
“True. But we’re not bound by any stupid traditional courtship rules.” Mac’s hands slid down her back to cup the roundness of her bottom, his fingers kneading the firm softness there as he lifted her still closer.
“That’s what’s so great about this whole deal, honey. We’re spared the getting-to-know-you games, the who’s-going-to-make-the-next-move strategies, the is-it-too-soon-for-sex conundrum, the commitment worries. We’re already beyond all that, even though we just met. We know what the outcome is—we’re going to be married. There is no purpose in holding back—or holding out.”
His voice was soft and warmly reassuring. As he talked, his hands grew bolder and more insistent. He caressed the backs of her thighs with long sweeping strokes, the tips of his fingers moving toward her inner thighs with leisurely smoothness. Instinctively, her legs parted, and he began to trace erotic circles, his fingers moving higher toward the place that burned and throbbed for him.
Kara’s pulse was racing wildly. The raw sexuality of his caresses blitzed her natural inhibition and reserve and common sense, the three hallmarks of her personality. She was reeling with pleasure, unable to control the shooting streaks of desire burning through her.
“Kiss me,” Mac growled huskily, but he didn’t wait for her to comply to his sensual command. He cupped her chin in his hand, angling her mouth to meet the hot hard slant of his.
There was nothing hesitant or tentative about the way his mouth took hers. His lips parted hers easily and his tongue penetrated the moist hollow of her mouth, as he moved to secure her more firmly against him. One hand fastened in her hair to hold her head, the other continued to glide over the curves of her body with slow enticing strokes.
The kiss deepened and grew longer, more intimate. She had never been kissed with such mastery, such fierce hunger. Dazed and dizzied, Kara had neither the control nor experience nor sophistication to hold back her response. She was throbbing everywhere, her whole body flushed and heated with the sensual fire Mac had kindled and set blazing.
Kara felt as if she were drowning in a wild, thrilling whirlpool of sensations. She moved restlessly, clinging to him and trying to get even closer. She was aching with an urgency and an emptiness she had never before experienced, a force which could not be ignored. Sensuality pumped through her body like a potent drug; she felt as high as Montana’s Big Sky.
And then suddenly, unexpectedly and most unwelcomely, the sharp ring of a telephone sounded, blasting through the sensuous cocoon enveloping them, with the force of a gunshot.
“Damn!” Mac muttered, lifting his mouth from hers. His hands stilled on her body. “This is the downside of car phones. Back in the good old days, you couldn’t be reached when you decided to do a little parking.”
The car phone rang again. The sound offended Tai who had momentarily ceased his meowing, and he voiced his protest with another screeching cry.
Kara whimpered softly as Mac set her away from him. Her body roiled in a turmoil of frustration and thwarted need. It was as if she had become instantly addicted to his touch and was now undergoing the physical deprivations of withdrawal.
“Yes, this really is Uncle Mac, Autumn,” Mac said into the phone. “No, I’m not some bad guy pretending to be him. It’s okay that you called me, Autumn. That’s why we have the car-phone number written down beside the phone, so you can get in touch if you need to.”
Mac’s voice filtered through Kara’s shell-shocked haze. As she began to slowly regain her composure, she noticed that Mac appeared to be quite collected. He seemed to have pulled himself together with remarkable haste. Embarrassingly remarkable haste.
While her mind was still awhirl, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone phrases, Mac was conversing with his young niece as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.
Maybe it hadn’t, not for him.
The nasty possibility seemed too obvious to ignore. Maybe a heavy make-out session in his Jeep was strictly routine for him. While she had lost her head, made mindless and helpless under the potent spell of his sexual expertise, he had remained in complete control. He couldn’t have recovered himself so quickly and so completely if he’d been as far gone as she, Kara was certain of that.
“She what?” Mac’s voice rose to a shout. “Autumn, put Webb on the— He what? Oh, great!” The way he said it left no doubt that he considered the opposite to be true. “Just great!”
Kara dared to glance at him. He didn’t appear collected now; he was clearly agitated.
“Autumn, I’ll make a deal with you. If you and Clay sit quietly in front of the television set until I get back, I’ll order you whatever you want from the toy catalog. “Yeah, the Christmas Wish Book. One thing apiece. But remember, for the deal to be valid, you and Clay can’t fight and neither of you can move from in front of the TV.”
He replaced the receiver and restarted the engine, flooring the gas pedal. The Jeep roared back onto the highway in a burst of speed. Mac was scowling. There wasn’t a trace of the sexy, seductive lover evident in his grim expression.
Kara nervously twisted her fingers. She felt as if she were on an emotional merry-go-round—first up, then down, going round and round, giving her no time to adjust or maintain any sort of equilibrium.
The silence was getting to her. As long as it was quiet, she was free to reflect on her shockingly abandoned response to Mac. And that, of course, led to thoughts of his response to her. He’d been hungry and impassioned, but turned cool and controlled immediately, as if a switch had been thrown. The implications of that made Kara cringe.
“I guess...something’s going on at the ranch?” she ventured. “With the kids?” Talking to Mac was better than sitting here agonizing over their earlier hot scene.
“Something’s always going on with those kids,” Mac growled. “Autumn called to tell me that the sheriff picked Lily up in a bar just outside Bear Creek, a place called the Rustler. There’s a pool table and darts and a jukebox there. The patrons are hardworking, hard-drinking cowboys who don’t mind a good fight when things get dull.”
“And women aren’t welcome there?”
“Oh, there are women who go to the Rustler. But they’re either good ol’ gals or women who are not looking—” He paused and cleared his throat.
“For a committed relationship?” Kara asked tactfully.
A slight smile creased Mac’s face. “Something like that. It is definitely not a place for seventeen-year-old schoolgirls,” he added, his expression turning dour. “My ranch manager drove over there to bring Lily home. That means Autumn and Clay are alone again.”
“Thus, your bribe.”
“You don’t approve of bribing kids?” Mac demanded testily.
“Well, I—”
“I can’t risk trying out any fancy child-rearing theories from this distance. I have to rely on what works. And promising toys and candy is the most successful ploy I’ve got. It’s also the only one,” he added glumly.
“If you bribe the two little ones with toys and candy, what do you use to bribe the older kids?” Kara asked.
“Nothing. You can’t buy them. Brick and Lily do as they please.” Mac heaved a groan. “Sometimes I think it’s too late, that they’re already destined to be future career-criminals. I mean, the kids have always been brats. Their parents considered themselves free spirits, who ‘didn’t believe in restraining kids’ natural curiosity and exuberance with rules and restrictions.’ That’s a direct quote from my sister-in-law, Linda. I heard her say it so often, it’s emblazoned on my brain. And my brother bought into that, though we certainly weren’t raised with the complete freedom Reid and Linda were determined to give their kids.”
“It seems to me that children want some limits,” Kara murmured. “Complete freedom would be terrifying. There should be certain boundaries to make kids feel secure.”
“I agree with you completely.” Mac smiled, his relief evident. He reached over to lay his hand on her knee. “We’re going to be a good team, I can tell. Have I thanked you for coming out here, Kara? I am so grateful that you’re willing to—”
“I don’t want your gratitude,” Kara interrupted quickly. “I haven’t agreed to anything, yet.” She deliberately crossed her legs in an attempt to dislodge his hand. He took the hint and removed it.
His words stung her. His gratitude seared even more deeply. He was grateful she was here to rescue him from the solitary burden of dealing with his nieces and nephews. He was so grateful to her that he was willing to pretend an attraction to her, to kiss her and arouse her...
Was that his plan? Throw some sexual crumbs to the desperate old maid and she’d be so thrilled and appreciative that she’d be unable to resist him and his plans for her? Kara winced.
Mac tried to interpret her expression. Stubborn, sad or mad? Or a little of each? He wished he knew her better, wondered if he should keep pushing or back off. After some consideration, he decided to give her the space she seemed to want. For a while.
He decided a neutral topic of conversation would be in order.
“Tell me about your job,” he said conversationally. “The Rev said you work for the—uh—department of...um...” He racked his brain but couldn’t come up with the name of the department. He had not been particularly interested in her place of employment, which would soon be in her past. “The government,” he amended.
“I’m a statistician with the Department of Commerce.” Kara didn’t bother to add that she had less than thirty days left before her position there was terminated, that she was taking her vacation this week rather than lose it.
She hadn’t told Uncle Will about her pending unemployment, either, not wanting to spoil their time together with her job woes. Now she was inordinately relieved she hadn’t said anything. Let them believe she was too dedicated to her career to be a proper mail-order bride.
“A statistician?” Mac mulled that one over. “Then you must be good with numbers.”
“I—uh—always did well in math,” she confessed rather reluctantly. She well remembered that females with a prowess for mathematics were hardly the romantic ideal, at least not among the young men she’d known through her school years.
“Great!” exclaimed Mac. Was he unaware of the stigma against numerically gifted women? “You can do our taxes. That’s my annual nightmare. And then there’s the matter of the children’s trust funds, set up for them by their parents’ insurance policy...another numbers headache I’ll gladly cede to you. And you can do the books for the ranch and handle the budget.”
“I—”
“Oh-oh, there I go again. Making presumptions.” Mac tried to look penitent. “I mean, of course, if you decide to stay, you’ll be taking over those chores.” He tried to sound as if he wasn’t sure she would be staying on as his wife.
Kara eyed him. That smarmy tone of his reminded her of the fairy tale where the Big Bad Wolf tried to convince the hapless Little Pigs on the other side of the door that he was harmless and innocent.
“I’m going to take Tai out of his carrier,” she announced. The cat’s vocal protests over his confinement were a welcome diversion to her, a note of reality in this astonishingly unreal scenario she seemed to have landed in.
“Good idea,” Mac agreed amiably. He was smiling, lost in his own thoughts. For the price of a one-way plane ticket, he was getting a sexually desirable wife, a caretaker for the kids and a math whiz! A very good return on his initial investment, despite the presence of the noisy spoiled cat as part of the package.
“Nice kitty,” he murmured, reaching over to pet the cat who’d settled himself on Kara’s lap with a disgruntled meow.
Tai tried to bite his hand.
“He’s nervous around strangers,” Kara half explained, half apologized.
“Not to worry. He’ll have plenty of time to get to know me.” Mac would’ve liked to rest his hand on her leg, perhaps even link his fingers with hers. It seemed a romantic gesture that she would like, and it would set the possessive aura he wished to convey.
But Tai’s less-than-amiable disposition and sharp white teeth precluded that.
“Did I mention that Reverend Will’s oldest daughter, Tricia, is severely allergic to cats?” Mac asked casually. “The reason I know is because the Rev and Ginny bought her a cat for her birthday several years ago, and poor Tricia ended up in the hospital emergency room with a serious allergy attack. The Rev pleaded from the pulpit the next Sunday for somebody in the congregation to please give the cat a home because the Franklins couldn’t keep it. There were several offers and a happy ending to the story. The cat got a new family and Tricia got a pet bird.”
“You’re making that up!” Kara accused.
“Now why would I do that? I was just providing you with some essential information.”
“You’re implying that Tai won’t be able to stay at the Franklins’ house with me!” Kara’s hazel eyes widened with apprehension, despite her doubts about his credibility.
“Oh, he won’t be. That’s a given,” Mac assured her.
What if it were true? It occurred to Kara that she hadn’t asked Uncle Will if she could bring Tai. She’d assumed he would know the cat would be coming along with her. After all, her former stepfather was well aware of Tai’s existence; she mentioned him several times in every letter she wrote. There were times when Tai and his feline antics were more interesting than anything going on in her own life!
“But I want you to know that Tai is welcome to stay at the ranch, even if you decide to stay in town with the Rev,” Mac offered, sounding for all the world like a Boy Scout bent on doing a good deed. “Of course, leaving him by himself in a strange place with a household of strangers could definitely be traumatic for such a sensitive cat. He might suffer long-lasting emotional scars.”
“As if you care!” Kara flared. “You just want to make me—”
“Yeah,” Mac cut in, a devilish grin lighting his face. “That’s right, I do.”
It took Kara a moment to catch on, her experience with suggestive banter being practically nonexistent. She flushed scarlet and fell silent.
For the remainder of the drive, conversation was desultory and always initiated by Mac. There wasn’t much to see in the darkness, but Mac commented on the terrain, the mountain peaks towering to the sky and promised a view of breathtaking fall scenery during the daylight hours. He told her a little about the history of the area and some Wilde family history, as well.
The Double R Ranch, whose brand was two R’s back-to-back, had been owned by the Wildes for four generations, passing from father to son.
“It was an easy tradition for the first three generations because each family had only one son, along with some daughters who were not eligible to inherit the ranch,” Mac explained. “Then my dad and mother had three sons, Reid, James and me. Crisis! Who’d get the ranch? It ended up being me because I loved the place and wanted to stay here. Reid headed for Southern California, and James to the world of academia. My dad signed over the ranch to me ten years ago, not long after Mother died. Dad lives in Scottsdale, Arizona now and is the sought-after bachelor in senior citizen circles.”
Kara listened attentively. “So you got the ranch and your brothers got nothing?” She had no siblings of her own but could imagine the hard feelings such partiality must engender.
Mac nodded. “Reid didn’t care, he’d married into money. James was resentful. He thought Dad should give him some sort of cash equivalent, but Dad refused to even consider it. He told James that he’d paid for his education, that James was earning a comfortable living as a college professor and the ranch was for the Wilde son who’d live and work there. End of story.”
“Does James still feel cheated?”
“Of course. James thrives on collecting injustices done to him. Reid’s kids made a major contribution to his collection. Don’t count on him or Eve coming out for our wedding,” he added dryly.
Kara was not about to touch that bait. “Well, I think it’s terribly unfair that all the Wilde daughters were automatically cut out and not even given a choice if they wanted to live and work on the ranch,” she said instead, in defense of her own sex. “It’s downright medieval.”
Mac nodded. “Yeah, my aunts weren’t too pleased. Neither were their aunts. But that’s tradition for you.”
“No, that’s stupid, sexist tradition for you,” Kara retorted. “If I had a daughter—”
“Hopefully, we will,” Mac interjected. “Along with the requisite Wilde male heir, of course.”
Kara ignored him. “If I had a daughter, she would split any inheritance evenly with her brother. There would never be a single doubt about that.”
Talking about her and Mac’s hypothetical children was entirely too provocative a subject. She felt edgy and belligerent, needful to keep him at bay.
“We’re jumping the gun here, honey,” Mac drawled. “After you meet Reid’s kids, you may opt for immediate sterilization.”
“They can’t be as bad as you say,” Kara insisted, feeling the need to disagree with anything he said.
“You’re right—they’re even worse.” Mac turned off the main highway, onto a dirt road. “The house is a few miles ahead. Prepare yourself for the onslaught.”
Three
The headlights of the Jeep lighted the gravelly road leading to the ranch house. Kara saw clusters of tall, thick evergreens horseshoed on three sides of the house—to protect it from the sweep of blustery winter winds, according to Mac. The house itself was a sprawling stone-and-wood one-story structure with a wide porch spanning the front.
Lights blazed from every window, illuminating the landscaped bushes, shrubs and small ornamental trees surrounding the paved stone walk leading from the circular drive to the front door.
“Home, sweet home,” Mac said drolly. “I can hear the welcoming cacophony already.”
He was exaggerating, of course. From the confines of the car, Kara could hear nothing at all. The apprehension that had been gnawing at her for miles erupted into a surging force. She was in the middle of nowhere, miles from the only person she knew in the state of Montana! And she was about to face a tribe of brats, so monstrous that their own blood relative was willing to marry a perfect stranger in an attempt to cope with them.
She turned to Mac, feeling as desperate as he must have felt when he’d shelled out the money for her plane ticket. She couldn’t spend the night in his home! The idea of such intimacy sparked a nerve-tingling anxiety that was one part fear and three parts excitement. Oddly, the excitement was more disturbing than the fear.
“Mac, please, I—I can’t do this. Please, please take me to Uncle Will’s tonight.”
Mac studied her face, which was a picture of distress. Her enormous hazel eyes were filled with tears, her lips were quivering. “You make me feel like a rat,” he murmured. “Scaring a pretty young woman, making her cry. Damn, I am a rat!”
He reached out to trace the sensual curve of her warm full lips. Remembering the feel of that sweet mouth under his and remembering her immediate and passionate responses to him caused a tightening ache in his loins.
