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“Trust me. I never get involved with a woman who has wedding rings in her eyes. Fun and casual is all I want from a relationship.”
He looked so serious that Merrie bit her tongue and counted to ten. Okay. So the dope didn’t want to get married. So what? Her problem was a lack of a social life. If she’d been dating like a normal woman she wouldn’t have thought he was half so sexy. That was the problem with having a plan. She was scared silly she’d fall for a guy who didn’t want to live on her ranch.
Get that...her ranch. Like she’d ever convince her grandfather to let a woman take it over. She’d only been trying to convince him since she was a kid, and she wasn’t any closer to owning the Bar Nothing Ranch than she’d been at the horse-crazy age of ten.
The corners of her mouth turned down. Everyone kept saying she had to compromise—she couldn’t have it all. And if she held out for the ranch before getting married, she might end up with neither.
“Why so serious?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled.
“Sure. Tell me about your family’s ranch.”
Startled, Merrie looked at him. He couldn’t read her mind, could he? “It’s great. My mother is an only child, so Grandpa doesn’t have a son to give it to. Of course, that’s an archaic attitude, but he says he’s too old to join the twentieth century and that he wouldn’t want to, anyway. He keeps hoping one of my brothers will be interested in running the ranch, but I’m the only one who really cares—Cody and Daniel aren’t the ranching type.”
“What about Lianne?”
“She’d rather be boiled in oil.”
Merrie rested her elbow on her knee, watching as he methodically laid out a pad of gauze, then cut strips of adhesive tape.
“So it’s you, Lianne, Cody and Daniel?”
“Yup. Mom wanted to go for five, but Dad said enough was enough after Lianne was born.”
The grim set to Kincaid’s mouth suggested that even one baby was one too many, and that four must indicate mental instability. She frowned.
“Does your grandfather want to retire?”
“Sometimes. He talks about selling the ranch so he and Grandma can move someplace warm, especially during the winter. Montana gets pretty cold.”
“I’ll bet.” Kincaid dabbed fresh disinfectant on the scratch and then blew across her skin to take the sting away. Merrie buried her face again, trying not to think about the pleasant masculine scent rolling from his body. An eternity later he finished bandaging the injury.
“All done,” he announced.
“I suppose you want your shirt back,” she said, sitting up and moaning. They’d hit the floor of the tree house with a bang, and despite her assurances of being tough, it had been over eight months since she’d ridden a horse or worked hard in a physical sense.
“Would you hit me if I said yes?”
“Most likely.”
“Then you’d better keep it.” He gently tugged the shirt over the bandage and smiled. Merrie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Drat. Drat. Triple drat. She didn’t want to feel something for him. Sensual meltdown from a smile didn’t mean anything. Not really. It was just because her thirtieth birthday was coming, reminding her about the biological clock. Men could father babies at any age, but a woman had to have a schedule if she wanted a family. And she really wanted children—three at the very least.
“Forget about the vacuuming,” he murmured. “I’ll get someone to take care of the house.”
Merrie stiffened. It was a good thing she hadn’t started trusting Kincaid. He’d probably been nice to make sure she didn’t file a lawsuit for getting injured on his property.
“No way,” she said stubbornly. “Lianne is a great housekeeper. You’re not replacing her because of me.”
“I’m not replacing anyone. I just said—”
“No.” Merrie rubbed the side of her neck, thinking furiously. All at once a devilish idea struck her. “I know, you can come to Montana for your vacation. That’s the answer to both our problems. It might not be a fancy resort on a sunny beach, but dude ranches are all the rage right now. It’s trendy to get dirty.”
“Getting dirty isn’t a problem, but I—”
“It’s okay,” she assured. “Grandfather won’t mind. The more the merrier.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” Kincaid said, exasperated.
Merrie grinned, thinking of all the ways a down-and-dirty holiday at the ranch could knock some holes in Logan Kincaid’s arrogant attitude. It might be fun—not that she’d let him get hurt. Wranglers prevented tender-footed guests from ending up on the wrong side of a horse, or a bull.
She’d make sure a good wrangler was assigned to look out for him...it just couldn’t be her. It wouldn’t be smart to expose herself to an excess of Logan Kincaid. He could make a woman’s heart do funny, stupid things. So she’d keep her distance and they’d both have a great time. After all, sleeping on a beach sounded boring. A waste of a perfectly good vacation. He needed to be saved from himself.
“It’s expensive,” she said cheerfully. “But I’m sure you can afford it. I usually drive to Montana, only we’d better fly to save time. A friend of mine is a travel agent—I’ll call her and get two tickets to Rapid City. That’s in South Dakota, but it’s the nearest commercial airport to the ranch.”
“I know where Rapid—”
“We can probably leave tomorrow if we hurry. It’ll be great,” Merrie enthused. “You’ll love it. And I’m sure Grandfather will give you a discount, especially if you stay for the month.”
Logan shook his head. He’d grown up in the cattle country of eastern Washington. He’d even worked at a feedlot for a couple of summers, earning money for college. It was a long time ago, but he didn’t have any illusions about cattle drives and the romance of the Old West.
He bent forward, fixing Merrie with his eyes. She was impetuous and completely unsuitable. She made a prudent man want to run in the other direction... which just went to prove he wasn’t prudent, because he also wanted to bury his fingers in her wild hair and taste her impudent mouth.
“I’m not interested in going to a ranch,” he said, far less emphatically than he’d intended. “And certainly not for a month.”
“No?” The tip of her tongue flicked across her lips and along the glistening edge of her teeth.
“No.” His firmness was spoiled by the beginnings of a smile, and Logan groaned silently. He could swear Merrie didn’t have any idea how tempting she was, sitting in his bathroom with her short-shorts and rumpled hair. That hair...he shook his head. It was long and loose, and would look fabulous spread across a man’s pillow in the morning.
Except it wasn’t possible.
The Fosters were clearly an old-fashioned family, with close ties and relationships he couldn’t begin to comprehend. Merrie’s sister was a creative woman who thought only of babies and a husband. Merrie might dream of owning the family ranch, but she had “forever” written all over her delicious little body...forever as in marriage.
If there was one thing he knew, Logan Kincaid wasn’t a forever kind of guy. His notion of a long-term relationship was including nightcaps after dinner.
Schmuck.
Logan rubbed the back of his neck. From a certain point of view, his attitude didn’t read so great. But it wasn’t as though he pretended something different. The women he dated shared his aversion to marriage. Gloria Scott was just a nuke—she didn’t count.
“Hey, are you catatonic?” Merrie waved her fingers in front of his face, one eyebrow lifted.
He shook his head. “Just thinking.”
“About Gloria?” she asked, her face bright with amusement.
“Sort of. The next few weeks are going to be tough. I feel like a trophy she’s trying to win. ‘No’ isn’t in the woman’s vocabulary.”
Merrie wiggled on the stool, her breasts swaying against the fabric of her borrowed shirt. The tips peaked against the light abrasion and Logan shifted uncomfortably with the sudden, tight fit of his jeans.
“She’s really that persistent?”
He shoved the medicinal supplies back into the cabinet. “You have no idea. I may have to move to New York sooner than expected if things get too tense. It’s awkward since Gloria’s father owns the firm.”
Merrie fidgeted with the ends of the knot tied beneath her breasts. “You’re moving to New York?”
“Sooner or later. I grew up in a small town and hated it. I prefer big cities.”
She made a disgusted sound. “Seattle isn’t big’ enough? Seattle is huge. We’ve got espresso stands on every corner and professional baseball, what else could a bona fide city lover want?”
Logan shrugged. “I want to work on Wall Street. It’s the pinnacle in my kind of career.”
“Boy, sounds exciting. You certainly know how to live. Traffic, noise, pollution—just wonderful.” Merrie’s voice was flat; she obviously didn’t think much of Wall Street and New York. “So, are you really going to make a billion dollars before you’re forty?”
“Not much danger of that.” Logan leaned against the edge of the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. “But I’m making progress. I’m a good stockbroker.”
“Who needs a vacation...” Merrie laced her fingers and stretched her arms over her head. It did intriguing things to her body and Logan narrowed his eyes.
“I told you, I’m not going to Montana.”
“I know what you said. But on the other hand, would you rather stay here in Washington and wait for Gloria What’s-Her-Name to come back and nag you about marriage?”
Logan stared at Merrie for a long minute, confused emotions racing through his head. Dismay, amusement... desire. She had a drastic effect on him—an effect bordering on pure anarchy. Gloria Scott was just annoying, but Merrie Foster could do serious damage to his peace of mind.
Still, she was right about Gloria—the lady was nothing if not tenacious. No one could force him into getting married, but he might have to quit the firm if things got too unpleasant. Besides, he really needed a vacation.
He’d been distracted lately. Bored. Hell, he might as well admit he’d gotten disgusted with his wealthy clients. They were irritating. They wanted to get richer, then whined because they failed to follow sound advice. Time-off was definitely a good idea. And it wouldn’t be easy to get reservations anywhere decent, not at this late date.
“What will it be?” she asked. “Orange blossoms or horses?”
He looked at Merrie, with her eyes filled with laughter... and made up his mind. “Horses. I’ll start packing.”
Chapter Three
“How often do you do this?”
Merrie glanced at Logan Kincaid, sitting next to her in the small Cessna. He’d stared ahead with his jaw and fingers clenched during the entire flight. It was hard not to take his jitters personally. He obviously didn’t have a lot of confidence in female pilots...or at least in this female pilot. From the moment they’d gotten to the private airstrip in Rapid City he’d been full of excuses why they shouldn’t fly the second leg to the ranch.
“Do what?” She adjusted a dial and pretended to be confused by the blinking lights on the instrument panel. The plane was registered to the ranch, but she was the only member of the family with a pilot’s license, so it was available whenever she wanted.
“Fly,” he muttered. Logan peered out the window and Merrie waggled the wings out of pure irritation. He took one look at her hostile expression and made an obvious effort to relax.
“Once in a while,” she said, intentionally sounding vague. “But it’s an expensive hobby, and I’ve been saving my money.”
“Uh...yeah. To buy the ranch. A teacher doesn’t earn that much. Saving must be hard.”
The observation surprised Merrie, because she hadn’t thought he’d actually listened during their conversation about marriage lists and husbands and wives, and dreams for the future.
“You’d be surprised,” Merrie murmured. “I tutor students at night and I don’t pay rent because I live in an apartment over my mom and dad’s garage. And I earn a lot every summer working as a wrangler. I’m hoping my grandfather will be impressed by a big down payment.”
Logan shifted in the cramped seat. “How did you learn to fly?”
Her mouth tightened in disgust. “It was Granddad’s idea. He paid for the lessons, hoping I’d forget about wanting the ranch. He sure doesn’t know much about women. But he got his money’s worth, because there are a lot of tourists who don’t want to drive from Rapid City. They pay well, and that way we have the plane for emergencies.”
Logan shifted again, banging his elbow on the cockpit door. Merrie hid a smile; the compact Cessna wasn’t designed for a man with such long legs and broad shoulders.
“Was that before or after he assigned you to the cookhouse?”
“After. Granddad had got a little more subtle by the time I turned eighteen. He graduated from blustery commands to bribery. It didn’t work, but I took the lessons because I could see how handy they’d be out here.”
The radio crackled and Merrie exchanged a few words with a ham operator. Seeing the familiar landmarks, she turned into the approach for the private airfield on the Bar Nothing Ranch. Kincaid tensed again as they descended and she rolled her eyes.
“I’m very good,” she said pointedly. “Even Granddad flies with me.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Huh. Do you want to circle the ranch to see it, or go straight in?”
“Straight in. Er...down.”
“Tough guy,” Merrie muttered. The wheels touched down and she taxied to a comfortable spot near a waiting pickup. A cowboy sat slouched in the driver’s side, his hat tipped over his eyes. Probably Chip Packwood—he could sleep through anything. “We’re here,” she said unnecessarily.
“Yeah.” Secretly impressed, Logan glanced around at the rolling, tree-studded hills, all golden in the long rays of afternoon light. The small airfield was meticulously maintained. On one side stood a fuel tank next to a sturdy building, with Bar Nothing Ranch lettered neatly on its side. However chauvinistic, Merrie’s grandfather seemed to be a fine manager.
“You haven’t said much,” Merrie said, flicking switches and unfastening her belt.
He glanced back at her and shook his head. “I’ve been catching my breath. You’re sort of like a tidal wave. I haven’t had a peaceful moment in the past twenty-four hours.”
Her green eyes flashed with irritation. “You didn’t have to come.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. He didn’t want to admit he’d enjoyed being caught up in Merrie’s headlong rush. He had the feeling she swept everyone along with her enthusiasm. The students she taught. Ranch guests. Everyone. In her own unique way, she was irresistible.
Uh-oh.
Logan took a deep breath. Irresistible wasn’t a good word to attach to a woman, especially Merrie. Irresistible suggested acceptance and commitment. Even if he wanted to get married, it wouldn’t be to someone so intense. Still...it might be interesting getting to know her.
“I’m here now, so I may as well make the best of things.” he said casually. “How do I get the door open?”.
“It’s easy, like this.” Merrie leaned across him and felt for the latch on the door. Logan immediately put his hand on her waist and grinned at the startled surprise in her face.
“Nice view,” he drawled, his gaze flicking over the shadowed opening of her plaid shirt. She’d undone the top few buttons after they’d left Rapid City, saying it took a while to acclimatize to the heat of Montana after rainy Seattle. “Of course, it would be even better without the shirt...I should know.”
“Fink,” she growled, withdrawing immediately to her own side of the plane.
“For shame, you ought to be more polite to the paying guests.”
“For your information, wrangler isn’t spelled h-o-o-k-e-r,” she snapped. “And don’t you forget it.”
