by Janet Dailey
“That’s finished,” Dyson drawled and flipped the report shut. His mouth twitched a smile in Ty’s direction as he slid the report into one of the pockets of his briefcase, fully aware the boy had been studying him. At his age, Dyson regarded any eighteen-year-old male as a boy.
His own curiosity was better concealed. This offspring of Chase Calder didn’t seem to fit his father’s mold. It had been obvious at the ranch airstrip before they’d taken off this morning that the relationship between father and son was strained. Disagreement between parent and child was somewhat normal, but this situation particularly interested Dyson.
“I’m glad we’re having a smooth flight so far,” he said to open the conversation. “It’s easier to talk when you aren’t bouncing all over the sky.”
“That’s true.”
Words weren’t wasted elaborating on the fact. Ty was closemouthed like his father, Dyson observed. “The day you leave for college is a milestone in any man’s life. It seems there is always a mixture of anticipation and regret.” He subtly attempted to encourage Ty to state his feelings.
“I suppose so.” He almost smiled, acknowledging to Dyson that his guess about mixed feelings was accurate.
“Have you given a thought about what you want to major in?” Dyson tipped his head to one side in a show of interest.
A trace of dry amusement briefly glittered in the brown eyes as his smile deepened. “Nothing, if I can get away with it.”
The answer intrigued him. “What do you mean?”
“I want to take classes in everything—veterinary science, animal husbandry, land management, natural resources, some mechanical and engineering courses, accounting, psychology . . .” Ty paused, indicating the list was endless. “I want to learn something about everything.”
“A little knowledge can be dangerous,” Dyson warned while he made a closer study of the boy.
“I don’t look at it that way, Mr. Dyson,” he replied calmly.
“Make it E.J.,” he invited.
“E.J.” Ty nodded. “I’m only interested in learning. I don’t give a damn about getting a degree. If I have a grasp of the basics in a variety of areas, it’s going to be difficult for anyone to pull the wool over my eyes.”
“Or easier,” Dyson murmured.
The response drew a shrug and a faintly reckless grin. “As one of the old cowboys, Nate Moore, told me, common sense can’t be taught. You either have it or you don’t. All the education in the world won’t make any difference if you don’t have the common sense to apply it wisely.”
“Smart man.”
“Nate Moore is the resident cowboy philosopher.” Ty smiled wryly. “He doesn’t talk much, but when he does say something, it’s usually worth remembering.”
“Most of the true cowboys I’ve met never thought too much of formal schooling.”
“Nearly all the kids in my high school were ranch kids. A few of them dropped out of school and went to work riding for somebody or helped full time at home. As far as I know, none of the others who graduated with me have enrolled in any college, unless it was a couple of the girls.” With all the chores he had to do at home, Ty had never gotten very close to any of his classmates who didn’t live on the Triple C. And on top of being an outsider to those who did, he was a Calder, so he’d never been real chummy with any of them either.
“You seem to be breaking the tradition,” Dyson observed.
The amusement that flashed in his eyes was almost sardonic. “Closer to shattering it.” Ty was too bitterly aware that his father still hadn’t become reconciled to his decision to attend college.
“I have great respect for your father.” Dyson had sensed Chase’s displeasure toward his son this weekend, but he hadn’t known the cause of it. After Ty’s remark, he knew the reason. “He’s a fair-dealing, down-to-earth man who isn’t above putting the screws to someone to get what he wants. He’s sharp, very sharp,” Dyson stated firmly, a glint of admiration appearing in his faded blue eyes. “But his attitude is sometimes archaic. The days of the cattle barons are over. A ranch has to be treated like any other big business. The operation must be streamlined and highly efficient and it has to make use of the most modern methods available if it’s going to survive and compete. Every available resource must be used to its capacity. Your father knows that, but he isn’t willing to admit it. I guess that’s one of the problems of growing older. You like doing things the way you are used to, positive it’s the best way because it’s the most familiar.” Dyson smiled crookedly, including himself in the comment. “But you have a head on your shoulders, Ty. What you’re doing will ultimately breathe new life into that ranch.”
This unexpected endorsement of his decision from someone of E. J. Dyson’s caliber, untainted by any personal prejudices or desires, washed the niggling doubts from Ty’s mind. He didn’t claim that he had looked at the situation in that light of Dyson’s reasoning. His motives were more selfish, centering on a desire to contribute something no one else could offer.
“I hope that happens.” Too many veteran cowboys had knocked him down a few pegs for Ty to express overconfidence. “That’s why I want to take any course that might benefit me in the long run.”
“You can’t study all the time. You be sure to leave some room in there for a little fun and some girls.” Dyson winked.
“I’ll make sure there’s room for the girls.” Ty grinned.
“Now you’re talkin’ like a Texan,” the man jested. “By the way, I meant what I said to your mother. While you’re going to college, you’re welcome in my home any weekend. Now, I’m not just saying that to hear myself talk. I’m expecting you to come.”
“I will,” he promised.
“Once you meet my daughter, I know you will,” Dyson declared.
That was a detail that had slipped Ty’s mind. He frowned as he tried to recall the discussion that had included mention of his daughter. “I remember that you said something about her once.”
“That was probably when I was telling you about the university. Tara Lee has enrolled as a freshman there, the same as you, although I doubt if she’s as serious about her education. She’s a bright girl; getting good grades comes too easy for her, I’m afraid.”
“It must be nice.” His school grades had always been above average, but he’d had to study to get them.
“A word of warning about my daughter—from one man to another,” Dyson said. “Tara Lee attracts boys like flies to a honey jar. She’ll be meeting the plane when we arrive, so keep in mind when you see her that she’s a regular butterfly, flittin’ from one boy to another.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” His curiosity was piqued. Ty simply couldn’t fit that image of a girl to this slight, bland man. She obviously didn’t look like her father; either that, or he was exaggerating her beauty out of paternal blindness.
The plane taxied to a stop in front of a private hangar lettered with a sign identifying it as Dy-Corp Development Ltd. Ty unbuckled his seat belt and waited for the older man to leave the plane first. Hot air rolled up from the concrete apron to envelop him in its stifling midst, heat shimmers putting waves in the nearby buildings. Ty felt the perspiration breaking out between his shoulder blades and above his lip. He was accustomed to Montana’s dry heat, not this humidity of a Texas summer.
He straightened to his full height, stretching muscles cramped from the long flight. A miniature tractor with a small trailer in tow came chugging out to meet the plane while the members of the ground crew that had put chocks behind the wheels hurried to open the baggage compartment. Ty took a step in that direction.
“Never mind the luggage,” Dyson told him. “They’ll unload it and stow it in the trunk of my car.”
A horn honked as a silver Cadillac whipped into the parking lot next to the hangar. Dyson raised his hand in greeting, then walked briskly toward the car, indifferent to the glaring heat. Ty’s long, lazy strides had no difficulty keeping up with him. A young woman climbed
out of the driver’s side of the car and came forward to greet them.
Ty stared. He couldn’t help it. Dark and vivacious, she was everything both wholesome and sexy in a female. Her dark sable hair was long and softly curled about her shoulders in a style that was purely fresh and feminine. Her complexion had a clean look to it, glowing golden with a light suntan and radiating a warmth that he seemed to feel in his blood. The cherry-pink color on her lips matched the spaghetti-strapped sundress she was wearing.
Graceful as a doe, she ran up to her father and put both hands on his shoulders to lean up and kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry I’m late, Daddy. I hope you haven’t been on the ground too long.”
“We just got off the plane.” He returned the kiss, then directed her attention to Ty. “I want you to meet my daughter, Tara Lee. This is Ty Calder.”
When those velvety dark eyes turned on him, Ty was dazzled. He had dated some attractive girls. He’d lost his virginity shortly after he’d turned seventeen during a wild, partying weekend in Miles City and had met up with the same experienced lady since. But this was beauty.
“How do you do, Tara Lee.” His voice was husky and low, vibrating with the inner turmoil she was stirring.
“Ty Calder.” She repeated his name, a provocative pair of dimples appearing near the corners of her mouth. “Of the Calder family?” She slid a sidelong look at her father for confirmation, a hint of mocking, but not unkind, humor in her voice.
“The same.” He nodded.
“Welcome to Texas, Ty Calder.” She offered him her slim hand. He took it and held it. His gaze skittered down to the bodice of her sundress and observed the shimmer of perspiration collecting in the little bit of cleavage that showed. Firm young breasts rose slightly with the rhythm of her breathing. “Will you be staying long?”
“Yes . . . I’m pleased to say.” His glance came back to meet her steady and knowing gaze. The faint smile that lifted the corners of her lips didn’t reject his interest.
“Ty has enrolled in college here. I believe I mentioned it to you,” E. J. Dyson inserted dryly.
“I remember that you were busy twisting arms on the admissions board to get somebody’s son accepted at the university.” She shrugged diffidently, bare shoulders gleaming golden in the waning sunlight. With a small tug, she slipped her hand free of his grip, gently teasing him with a look because he’d held it too long. Ty simply smiled, because he wanted her to know that he was attracted to her—more than attracted, he was captivated. “Daddy does business with so many people that I can’t begin to keep track of who is who.”
“Except the Calders?” He taunted her lightly with the phrase she had used earlier, marking his family as something separate.
“The stories Daddy brings home about your ranch up there—I’ll bet most of them aren’t to be believed.” Her voice had a genteel southern accent, bearing little resemblance to Dyson’s hard, twanging drawl. Ty could have listened to her talk all night. “Does your daddy really own a ranch almost as big as Rhode Island?”
“Close enough.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” she declared and linked an arm with her father, laughing up at him. “So I can compare stories and discover whether you’ve been telling me some tall tales.”
She seemed to forget about Ty as the trio walked to the silver Cadillac. She smiled at the men loading the luggage in the trunk of the car, and Ty noticed the way the men fell all over themselves in their haste to respond. It was vaguely irritating.
“I see Tara Lee persuaded you to let her drive your car,” Dyson said to his partner, George Stricklin, who waited by the Cadillac.
“Yes, she did,” he admitted. Tara was the one emotional weakness Stricklin permitted himself. From the first moment he’d seen her as a teenager, she had reminded him of the China doll his mother had kept locked in a glass case. It was an object to be looked at and admired, but not touched. He regarded Tara with the same distant adoration.
5
After listing his major in agriscience and animal husbandry with a minor in business administration, Ty signed up for more than a full load of classes. During rush week, he waited until he found out what sorority Tara Lee Dyson was joining before he pledged to a fraternity. When it came to the hazing that accompanied his initiation into the fraternity, Ty was a pro at handling it. His only other extracurricular activity was the college rodeo team.
Once the initial period of adjustment had passed and Ty settled into the routine of university life, it seemed the first semester came to an end almost before it started. Despite the two weekends he’d spent at the Dyson home and the intermixing of their respective fraternity and sorority, he had spent little time with Tara. With her looks and personality, she had become one of the most popular girls on campus in the first month. The competition for her attention was fierce.
His frat house had a Christmas party on the weekend before the holiday vacation period began. For most of the evening, Ty was forced to watch Tara laughing and dancing with others. Twice he had managed to ask her to dance, and both times someone had taken advantage of his pledge status and cut in. His frustration was reaching an intolerable level when he finally saw his opening. Tara had just emerged from the powder room to rejoin the party. Ty intercepted her before any of his fraternity buddies noticed and steered her away from the common room into the small sitting alcove under the stairwell.
“Ty Calder, why ever did you bring me here?” The look in her eyes overruled the mild protest of her words and told him that she knew.
“Where else can I spend five minutes alone with you without someone interrupting us?” he countered huskily, her loveliness stirring up all the rawness of his desire.
“Daddy was wondering if you are planning to come to the house this weekend before you leave for home,” she murmured.
The bench settee was hardly satisfactory, but it was the only seating available. She sat at an angle, facing him, with her shoulders against the corner. Her position kept him at a distance, only their knees touching as Ty leaned toward her, a hand spread on the leather-covered bench cushion near her hip. The faint gold light brought out the ebony sheen of her hair and the creamy smoothness of her skin. Her lips were cherry-red and shining a silent invitation that knotted the ache in his loins.
“Are you going to be there?” His want was in his voice, and he took no trouble to conceal that his decision was hinged on her presence.
“I’ll be there part of the time, of course, but I’ve received invitations to at least a dozen parties.” Her social calendar always seemed to be booked solid. Ty was never sure whether he was pleased or irritated by the social whirl that took so much of her time and constantly changed her escort. There was consolation in knowing she had no steady boyfriend and frustration in not having the opportunity to change that.
“I have a term paper to finish, so you’d better not expect me.” He searched for a glimmer of disappointment, anything to give him encouragement.
“I’ll tell Daddy,” Tara replied smoothly, not giving him the satisfaction he sought.
Whoops of laughter spilled into the alcove, destroying the intimate atmosphere Ty sought. “Let’s get out of here.” His hand moved onto her knee, caressing its roundness beneath the cherry wool skirt. “Let’s go somewhere quiet so we can talk. I haven’t had five minutes with you all evening.”
She cast a dark glance in the direction of the noise, then let it slide back to Ty. “It’s a wonderful idea, but I promised Ed Bruce that I’d ride back to the sorority house with him.” She smiled apologetically. “Maybe another time.”
“That’s what you keep saying.” A grimness edged his jaw. “I’m beginning to wonder when that will be. Tell him you’ve changed your mind and you’re going with me.”
“No,” she refused and lifted his hand off her knee. “It isn’t my fault he asked me first, so don’t become churlish because I accepted. No one tells me what to do, Ty Calder, not even my daddy.”
&
nbsp; In a fluid movement, so characteristically graceful, she rose to her feet. A second later, Ty was standing, finally close to her. The perfumed scent of her body stimulated his already aroused senses while her dark, natural beauty touched deeply into his soul. His hand formed to the curve of her waist to stay her from walking away. He towered before her petite frame, looking down with all the hunger of his young male needs.
Despite her words and action, she wasn’t angry with him. Tara was simply laying the ground rules. No one was going to dictate to her or control her—or limit her number of male friends. It was not conquests she wanted, but the freedom to be with whom she pleased, when she pleased.
“Dammit, I just want to see you and I never get the chance.” His voice vibrated in frustration. Before, he hadn’t been willing to join the contingent of boyfriends. He had wanted her all to himself, but at the moment Ty was desperate enough to settle for anything that would allow him the pleasure of her company.
Her softening expression nearly made him groan aloud. “No one has asked me to the first basketball game after the New Year.”
“Will you go with me?” Ty asked thickly, leaning an inch closer.
“Yes.” Her dark eyes glowed with promise, and their look broke the last vestiges of his restraint.
His grip tightened on her waist, bringing her against him, while his other hand tunneled into her hair to cup the back of her head. He didn’t mean to be rough with her, but the pressure of his mouth on her warmly pliant lips was hard and demanding.
There was a rush of triumph when he tasted the brief flare of a response. He wanted more and tried to take it, only to be met by a determined resistance. Her hands pushed at his chest as she pulled away from him.
Ty hurried to apologize. “Tara, I—” She pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence him.
“My daddy should have warned me about you,” she murmured and eyed him with an awareness she hadn’t shown before. Ty would have pressed this new advantage and gathered her again into his arms, but she slipped free of his grasp with a casualness that negated her earlier admission. “I’m not ready to be rushed into something, Ty Calder, so let’s go back to the party.”