A Bachelor For The Bride (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #2)

by Mindy Neff

  “Fierce little thing, aren’t you? You always were a champion of the underdog.”

  “Are you lumping yourself in that category?” The idea was so absurd she surprised herself by laughing out loud. “Nobody looking at you would ever accuse you of being an underdog.”

  His smile edged up, mirroring hers. “At least not to my face.”

  “Tough guy,” she muttered, looking around, unable to hold his gaze. When he smiled, she wanted to melt. “Who do the cows belong to?” A Holstein and her calf stood in a clump of knee-deep grass that grew between centuries-old oaks. They lifted their black-and-white faces as though they scented the humans.

  “Beats me. I’ve noticed them wandering around before. Must be a break in the fence somewhere.”

  “If they hang around we might have to put them to use. At least we won’t run out of milk.”

  “I can’t quite picture you milking a cow.” Tanner picked up her hand. Creamy skin, short nails. A closer inspection revealed she was no stranger to work. Definitely at odds with that fancy face.

  And she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring. Curious.

  “I’ve never actually done it before,” she admitted. “I understand the concept, and I could probably do it in a pinch.”

  He noticed that her hand trembled slightly just before she pulled it away.

  “I imagine you could do a lot of things in a pinch.” It took guts to stand up against kidnappers, to ride off with a man she hadn’t seen in ten years, whom she hadn’t really known even back then.

  Tanner kept forgetting they were near-strangers. She’d always occupied such a large portion of his thoughts and dreams, that he felt as though they were intimately acquainted.

  And linking himself with Jordan intimately, even in his thoughts, was going to get him in deep trouble.

  He’d learned to set goals, reasonable goals. And he’d exceeded them. But he knew not to reach for something that was unreachable, knew which field was open and which was forbidden.

  Jordan was forbidden.

  She belonged to another man. And to a town and family who would never accept him—no matter how much money he had.

  “We’re not exactly cut off from civilization,” he said. “Grazer’s Corners is off-limits for a while, but there’s a town not far from here, up toward Yosemite. I won’t make you milk the cow. We can make a run for store-bought milk and supplies if need be.”

  Jordan turned toward him, touched his arm. “I realize you’re helping me, Tanner. I didn’t mean to give the impression that I felt like a prisoner.”

  He shrugged, tamping down the image that sprang to mind. If he thought it would work, he’d hold her as his prisoner. For life. But he wasn’t a man who liked to win by default.

  “You’re a good sport, Blackie. Until we hear from Sonny, I’d like to keep a low profile.”

  “As long as I don’t have to stay cooped up in the house.”

  “Not in it. Just close to it...and to me.”

  Jordan nearly strangled on a soft breath. The way he’d said those words, like a sensual threat, had her heart pounding like a runaway Thoroughbred’s.

  Her gaze locked on to his and she found it next to impossible to look away. His long hair, the color of rich coffee, framed striking, masculine features, that could easily grace a movie screen. His lips looked firm and yet soft—so enticing. She felt herself sway, drawn toward him; felt dizzy and restless and wanting.

  “Baby, you keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna forget this was your wedding day...along with my manners.”

  His words hit her like a splash of icy water to the face, jerking her to her senses.

  Dear Lord, she hadn’t truly realized the ramifications of their situation, hadn’t fully considered the tough part....

  Living under the same roof with bad-boy Tanner Caldwell.

  Chapter Six

  He hadn’t been able to sleep. Especially knowing that Jordan was just down the hall, within touching distance. Those moss-green eyes and all that black hair...Damn. She’d haunted him for ten years. But he’d been busy, and far enough away that he’d worked past the yearning. Or had tried to.

  Now, his store of control was crumbling. Being close enough to smell her, to touch, to taste... Hell, he was a basket case—and he’d spent less than twenty-four hours in her company.

  If lack of sleep wasn’t enough to put him out of sorts, a trip to the bathroom did the trick.

  Silk stockings slapped him in the face as he reached in to twist the knobs of the shower.

  Every nerve, cell, and muscle in his body came startlingly awake. Draped next to the hosiery was a pair of minuscule, white G-string panties. Hell on fire, he swore to himself, Latrobe didn’t know what he’d missed on his wedding night.

  And right that minute, Tanner wished he didn’t know, either. He ran a hand over his face, tried to rein in his imagination.

  The sexy undies made it impossible.

  Swearing, he gathered the delicate feminine lingerie, laid it on the sink, then reached in and twisted the tap.

  Just the one. The one marked Cold.

  Nothing short of ice water would do.

  A WHILE LATER, he realized he shouldn’t have bothered. The smell of French roast wafted from the kitchen. The double doors stood open, and Jordan was outside, apparently gathering the last of the season’s wildflowers.

  He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her, tension humming through his body. She’d obviously gone through the dresser drawers where he kept extra clothes, and had appropriated one of his tank tops and a pair of sweats he’d cut off into shorts.

  As she bent over, he couldn’t help but notice the absence of panty lines. Since he’d seen that particular article of pure sin draped next to the stockings in the bathroom, it had teased his imagination, and now fueled his knowledge that she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath the shorts.

  He groaned. The woman, and her lack of undergarments, was going to drive him crazy.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re up early.” He’d thought debutantes liked to sleep until noon. He wished like hell that this one would live up to a few stereotypes.

  She whirled around, pressed a hand to her breasts.

  Her unbound breasts.

  Damn it, he was going to have to find a mall and get this woman some decent clothes. Quick. Otherwise he’d go mad...or pounce.

  “You scared me,” she said, clutching a fistful of cut flowers and a pair of scissors.

  “Sorry.”

  Her chest rose as she took a steadying breath. “I’m used to being up with the horses. Even on the days Daddy wants me at the office in town, the animals still need care.”

  “Busy girl.”

  “I don’t mind.” She brushed by him, opening the cabinets in search of a vase. “I like having something to do.” She glanced at him and smiled. “You might be sorry you stuck your neck out for me. Inactivity tends to make me cranky.”

  He barely refrained from suggesting an activity—a sexual one. As it was, she was like a skittish horse, flitting around the kitchen, filling a vase with water and arranging her flowers just so.

  He had to admit she made the straggly blossoms look fancy. Then again, flower arranging was probably a required course among her set.

  The rich smell of coffee teased his senses. He was in dire need of caffeine—and balance. Despite himself, his gaze kept straying to her shorts. “I could use a little less activity if you don’t mind. Why don’t you sit. You’re making me dizzy.”

  She paused, and glanced at him. “You’ve beat me to the punch.”

  He frowned, eyeing the coffeepot. In order to get it, he’d have to come close to Jordan. He didn’t trust himself not to touch. “How’s that?”

  “You’re the one who’s cranky.” As though she’d read his thoughts, she poured a cup of coffee. “Sugar?”

  “Just black.”

  “Sure?” she asked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Your disposition could s
tand a dose of sweetness. Several tablespoons full, if you ask me.”

  “Just black,” he repeated. “Are you always so chipper in the mornings?”

  “Disgustingly so, according to friends and family. It’s a curse.”

  He shook his head, raked his hair back off his forehead, and accepted the mug she held out. Already, a smile was bathing his insides. He liked that she was making the best of a strange situation. A lot of women would be wringing their hands and whining over the forced isolation.

  But Jordan Grazer had grit. “Actually, your cheerfulness is kind of nice.”

  “See there? We’re making progress.”

  “I didn’t know we’d lost ground.”

  “I mean, we’re cohabiting nicely.”

  “Depends on your definition of ‘nicely.’ I’m not used to fighting my way through feminine undergarments to get to the shower.”

  Color bloomed on her cheeks, yet she held his gaze with a saucy look. He’d seen that look before. At the bar. A challenge.

  If she knew how close he was to acting on that challenge, she’d probably tear off at a run.

  Then again, maybe not. More than one rich girl looking for thrills had been intrigued by him. There was something about a guy like him that drew women—the wrong kind of women.

  He wondered if Jordan was aware that several of her uptown girlfriends had wanted to give him a try. It had disgusted him, really, their attitudes. They might be willing to dally with him on the sly, but they’d never think of bringing him home.

  He saw the way she pinched the hem of the gray shorts, working the material between restless fingers. He realized her sassiness was a bluff. Beneath the bravado was an innate sweetness she’d never been able to hide.

  Still, the contrast was enough to make him want to head back to the cold shower.

  Instead, he took a sip of steaming coffee.

  “Have you called your man yet?” she asked.

  “I’ve barely got my eyes open.” He noticed that she was mangling another of the dish towels. An indication of both unease and the fact that she liked to keep her hands busy.

  “We can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

  “It might seem like nothing to you, but the work’s being done behind the scenes.”

  “That makes me nervous. I’d rather be doing something myself.”

  “You ever investigated a kidnapping attempt before?”

  “No. Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  That stopped her. “You said you’re in security. What do you do, guard the President or something?”

  “Close. I safeguarded Mr. B.”

  “Were people making attempts on his life?”

  “You’d be surprised what people will do for money.”

  “I guess I’m coming to understand that a little more. I don’t like it, though.”

  “Not many would. If you ask me, the world’s going to hell in a handbasket. Too many people are either eager to sue or intent on stealing. They’re unwilling to work for what they want.”

  “That’s an awfully broad generalization. Not everyone has bad intentions. And in some cases, there are legitimate reasons to bring suit against somebody.”

  “You live a sheltered life, duchess.”

  “I resent that.” She fussed with her blossoms, then went back to twisting the dish towel. “Just because I’m willing to give people the benefit of the doubt doesn’t mean I’m naive. What’s made you so cynical?”

  “Guess I’ve seen the seedier side of human nature.” He hooked an ankle around one leg of the chair, then straddled the seat, his forearms resting on the wooden back. It was a self-preservation move. In her righteous defense of mankind, her chest had expanded, clearly showing the outline of firm breasts against the skimpy cotton of the tank top. Her jet-black hair was caught up in a bouncy ponytail, making her look younger than her twenty-seven years.

  “But you’ve seen some good, too, haven’t you?”

  “Some.”

  “Well, then. There you have it.”

  His brows grew together. “Have what?”

  “An argument to counterbalance all that cynicism.”

  “You’re one of those who looks at the glass half-full.”

  “It’s a good attitude to take. Makes for a much happier disposition.”

  He snorted. “I never quite learned that knack. Especially since my glass was always damn near empty.”

  “But you’ve made changes in your life,” she argued.

  “So?”

  “So, you fill up your own glass, Tanner. You don’t look for somebody else to do it for you.”

  “Ah, and here we’ve come full circle. In a roundabout way, you’re accusing me of being just like the suers and takers.” If she knew just how full his glass was—how far he’d come in life—they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

  Her breath hissed out in obvious exasperation. Tanner felt a grin tugging. She was not the typical uppity debutante, as he’d first thought. But she was way too trusting, in his opinion.

  “You’ve twisted my words and missed my point,” she said. “I wasn’t speaking monetarily. If you’d give yourself half a chance, spend a little more time thinking positively, maybe that chip on your shoulder wouldn’t be giving the Sierra Nevada a run for their money.”

  “Who says I’ve got a chip on my shoulder?” He didn’t like being psychoanalyzed. Especially when the diagnosis was so accurate.

  “It’s plain as day. And I’m very aware that my family helped put it there.”

  He stood, sending the chair scraping across the tile floor. Striding to the sink, he dumped his lukewarm coffee and poured a fresh cup. He noticed that Jordan backed up a step, knew that his expression resembled a storm cloud ready to unleash a torrent of fury.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to ease the roil of emotions. He might have a healthy bank account, but money didn’t buy away loneliness, didn’t erase bad memories.

  “If we’re going to take responsibility, let’s put it where it belongs. My father was a drunk. He deserved to get fired.”

  She reached out to him, touched his arm. “But you didn’t deserve to be abandoned.”

  Her eyes were soft with compassion. He didn’t want her pity. And he didn’t want to open those old wounds again—a shame he’d spent ten years trying to outrun.

  “I was of age, Blackie. Can’t really call that abandonment.” But it had felt like it. He’d come home, covered with soot from fighting the fire in the Grazers’ vineyards, to find the shabby travel trailer gone. Douglas Caldwell had hitched the silver bullet to the back of the pickup and skipped town, never even bothering to leave his son a farewell note.

  The next day, Maynard Grazer had told Tanner that no Caldwell was ever again allowed to set foot on Grazer property. Jobless and homeless, Tanner had been forced to grow up in a hurry.

  And if he really thought about it, he owed Maynard Grazer a debt of gratitude. The unfairness, and the shame, had fueled Tanner’s determination to make something of himself.

  Which he’d done beyond his wildest dreams.

  Jordan’s fingers curled around his forearm, squeezing in compassion.

  “I won’t apologize for having advantages, Tanner. But I want you to know that I never thought less of you...because of your family’s financial status.” She closed her eyes, took a breath. “That probably didn’t come out right. I—I’ve always liked you.”

  Her stammering words made his heart feel like a marshmallow. No wonder he’d never been able to get her out of his mind. She was unique.

  And she was so close, her hand warm against his arm. Just once, he thought. Dear God, what could it hurt? He’d fantasized about her lips, her taste, for so many years. And after he was assured she was no longer in danger, he’d have to let her go.

  She was promised to another man.

  He might never get the chance again.

  He turned, took the dish towel from her hand, noticed that her eyes had
deepened to the color of rich moss.

  Jordan licked her lips, unable to look away from Tanner’s penetrating gaze. An undeniable current—potent and electric—charged the air in the room. She didn’t know how it had happened. One minute she was offering comfort and honesty; the next, all she could think about was awareness.

  Awareness of Tanner. So strong, so close, so virile. Her heart slammed against her chest as his hand slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. His long hair slid across his shoulders as he bent his head.

  “I have to kiss you, Blackie,” he whispered, his voice deep and raw with emotion. “Stop me.”

  “I can’t.” And it was the absolute truth. She couldn’t have moved if her life had depended on it.

  As though he feared she’d disappear, he brought his fingertips to her cheeks. So softly, so reverently, he stroked her. His eyes closed, as though he were in pain. He started to pull back. She reached up and caught his hands in hers.

  “Please,” she whispered. Unable to think beyond the moment, she leaned into him. As his hands cupped her face, his lips feathered against hers, nibbling, testing, savoring. She’d never known a touch could be so gentle, so full of longing.

  A longing she felt, too, with every fiber of her being. Like a storm raging inside her, desperation built. She wanted the world to go away, wanted there to be no obligations or responsibilities.

  She wanted to be free to explore, to accept this tenderness, to see where it would lead. She wanted to dream. About Tanner.

  But she wasn’t free. Through the haze of desire, that realization finally penetrated.

  Reluctantly, sensibly, she pulled back.

  “We have to stop.” She was engaged to another man. Somewhere out there, criminals could be searching for her. She had obligations to uphold that didn’t include Tanner Caldwell, obligations that would have devastating consequences for her family if she turned her back on them, if she took something for herself, took what she wanted.

  And right now, she wanted Tanner Caldwell. Wanted him with a fierceness that threatened to block out reason.

  She saw a muscle tick in his jaw, saw the questions in his brown eyes, the desire. Then he nodded ounce and let her go.