How to Seduce a Texan

by Karen Kelley

  Nikki drew in a deep breath. Ugh! Her eyes began to water. She rapidly blinked. She had a feeling her phone calls would be a lot shorter from now on.

  “The cabin was the only thing available.”

  “Well, you can’t stay there. I wouldn’t expect any of my reporters to live in those conditions, let alone a female.”

  Her back stiffened. “What do you mean by that? I’ve worked the streets, stayed in some real dumps to get the story, and did a damned good job reporting the truth, too.”

  “But you haven’t had to work the rough parts of the city in a long time. You’re out of practice, and really, what do you know about the country?”

  “Damn it, Marge, you know I can do this. I won’t let a silly fluff story beat me.”

  “If you think you can, then, by all means, stay. And Cal Braxton doesn’t know you’re a reporter. How could he? I haven’t told anyone—have you?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Of course I haven’t.”

  “Then he doesn’t know. I have to rush out, Nikki. I have an important meeting I can’t miss. If it gets too awful, just turn around and come right back to the city. I won’t think badly of you for giving up.”

  There was a distinctive click.

  Give up? Give up! She didn’t think so. She never gave up.

  She snapped her phone closed before it dawned on her that she’d been played. Marge had known she would never walk away from a challenge.

  Great, just great. She looked up in time to see Bandit waddle out of the barn and toward a tree.

  Maybe Marge had played her. It didn’t matter. She still wasn’t going to quit. She stomped back to the cabin.

  Marge was right about one thing: Cal couldn’t possibly know she was a reporter. He wasn’t on the rebound, either, or he’d be flirting outrageously with her. There had been subtle nuances but nothing blatant. That Cynthia chick must’ve really done a number on him. At the moment, Cal didn’t seem too pleased with the female population. Damn, there went her wild nights of hot sex.

  She paused halfway up the path from the outhouse. Was she giving up on the sex?

  Cal was a hottie with all those bulging muscles. When she’d lunged herself at him after going eyeball to eyeball with the raccoon, she’d had the chance to get up close and personal with all those muscles, and they’d felt as good as they’d looked.

  And damned if he hadn’t caused her pulse to race when he’d leaned close to her right before he’d walked to his pickup and left.

  Had he been flirting then? She wasn’t sure. Her hormones had been raging so hot they’d fogged her brain. Whatever he’d been doing, it had been nice.

  No, she wasn’t giving up on sex, either—only regrouping. Cynthia might have done a number on his head, and possibly his heart, but Nikki was there to kiss and make it all better, and she’d get her story, too.

  The Barracuda never lost.

  She grabbed the broom off the hook before she went back inside. He didn’t think she’d last.

  “Cal hasn’t seen nothin’ yet. I might not be country, but that doesn’t mean I’m soft. I’ll show him just what this city girl is made of.”

  A cloud drifted in front of the sun and the room darkened. Cold washed over her as though…as though what? A ghost had reached out and touched her?

  Okay, the room was just a little too dark and dismal. She really hated the dark. And that’s all this was. Some illumination and she’d be fine.

  She reached toward where a light switch should be. It wasn’t there. Nor was there one in any of the other rooms. Well, crap. She should’ve guessed there wasn’t any electricity, either.

  This wasn’t at all funny.

  She began to furiously sweep the wooden floor. Cal Braxton would not run her off, even if he was doing it because Cynthia had jilted him!

  Nope, she was here to stay. She chuckled. He’d be in for a big surprise if he knew how she really felt about the cabin. But he didn’t, and she wouldn’t let him find out, either.

  By the time she’d swept the last of the dirt out of the house, Cal was pulling up in front of the cabin.

  She stepped to the front porch and leaned the broom against the side of the house. She pushed her hair out of her face as she watched him get out of his pickup, a hammer and tacks in one hand and a square sheet of shiny metal in the other.

  “There’s no electricity,” she told him.

  His grin sent tingles down her spine, and for a moment she could only stare, lost in a fantasy of them naked and in bed having hot, wild sex.

  “And your point is?”

  What was her point? Hell, she’d forgotten what she’d just said. Oh, yeah, electricity. Now he was smirking. She jutted her chin, refusing to back down.

  “I’ll need a flashlight or kerosene lamp before it gets dark. That’s my point.” Wasn’t that what they were called? Kerosene lamps? The thought of having something so flammable in a weathered and worn cabin did not appeal to her. But she would have it, if it provided light, and even if it killed her.

  Oh, not a good thought.

  He looked surprised. “You’re staying then?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? This is exactly what I was looking for. Rustic, just like the early days.”

  “There’s a kerosene lamp in the kitchen and I have a flashlight in my pickup I’ll loan you.”

  Her stomach growled, which reminded her of something else. “I’ll need food and somewhere to store it. Unless it’s delivered.” She tried to keep the hopeful note out of her voice. Meals brought to her door would be nice, and it would make it a lot easier to stay in this dump.

  He laughed. “Now that wouldn’t be roughing it, would it? You’d only be defeating the purpose, and we want you to experience the country to its fullest.”

  Don’t do me any favors. What she wouldn’t give for a big, juicy fast-food burger and an order of fries right now.

  “I brought some things from the ranch that I thought you might need.”

  She glanced past him and could see the boxes in the back of his pickup. Not one McDonald’s bag poked above the rest. She’d been afraid of that. So what did pioneer women eat? She had a feeling she would be expected to cook. Not good, since she always managed to burn toast.

  He went inside and into the bedroom. It took him only a few seconds to tack the metal over the hole where Bandit had gotten inside.

  When he stood, she noticed just how tall he was. She was five seven and a half, yet he towered over her. He had to be at least six four or five.

  “Come on. I’ll help you carry your stuff inside.” He didn’t wait for her to respond but headed out the door, going straight to his pickup and hefting a box out of the back.

  “Don’t do me any favors,” she mumbled but made sure she hadn’t spoken loud enough for him to hear. She didn’t relish this much physical labor. An air-conditioned gym was one thing; actually carrying in boxes was another.

  She liked the way he hefted, though, but Nikki didn’t think he would let her get away with standing on the front porch and ogling his muscles as he carried in the boxes. She was, after all, roughing it.

  Whoopie.

  “This should give you plenty of research for your book,” he said as he paused with his foot on the bottom step.

  They were almost eye to eye. He really was very delicious looking.

  “You did say you were writing a book, right?”

  She stepped around him and down the steps. “Research. Yes, a book. I’m a writer.” When she thought about it, she hadn’t really lied. Except about it being a book rather than an article. She had a feeling if she was here very long, she could write volumes about Cal.

  “Then I’ll have to make sure you don’t go away empty-handed.”

  She reached over the side of his pickup and grabbed a box. She could’ve told him that she was certain she would leave with plenty of information.

  But she didn’t.

  Chapter 4

  She’d better get her story soon, Nikki tho
ught to herself as she lugged in another box from the back of Cal’s pickup and plopped it down on the kitchen table.

  And Marge was paying how much so she could vacation in this dump? Getting back to nature really sucked, and as soon as she had her scoop, she was off to a vacation spot with glitz and glamour—and a massage therapist!

  She dug around in the first box and pulled out a cookbook. Oh, goody. “I don’t cook,” she muttered.

  “This will be a great time to learn, then. You should be able to write a fantastic…book with all the experiences you’ll have while staying at the cabin. I bet it’ll be a bestseller,” Cal said as he began emptying the boxes.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Enthusiasm, that’s good.”

  She had a feeling he was being sarcastic. Again, she wondered if he knew the real reason why she was here. She mentally shook her head. He couldn’t know she only wanted to do a story on him and not a book about how pioneer women had struggled through the Depression. At least now she knew why they were so damned depressed.

  She pushed her hair behind her ears. God, she was getting paranoid. Marge was right: there was no way Cal could know why she was really here. If he did, he’d have run her out of town by now.

  Her stomach rumbled. Food, she needed food. She eyed the stove. Starvation or blowing herself up. Hmm…Which was the lesser of two evils?

  “How do I operate this?” She warily walked over to the black beast.

  “The wood is outside the back door. You’ll want to use kindling to get it started.”

  He stepped outside to the porch and grabbed a handful of sticks and a small log, then dumped everything in front of the stove—on her clean floor. Well, sort of clean.

  “You might check first to make sure there’s not a critter inside.”

  “Critter?” She took a step back. What the hell was a critter? She took a wild guess and assumed he must be talking about a small animal. The thought of another wild animal did not sit well with her.

  Was she nervous? The Barracuda? She was a tough city reporter and she never cowered. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as he opened the oven door. But she couldn’t stop the sigh of relief when nothing slithered out.

  “All clear except for a few cobwebs.”

  She grimaced. “I’d just as soon not eat cobweb-seasoned food.”

  There were cloths in one of the boxes. She grabbed one and a small empty tub. At least he’d brought dish soap rather than lye soap—she’d rather not leave here with chapped, red hands.

  After filling the tub with water, she added a squirt of soap. She was adapting a little too quickly, she thought wryly. Better to adapt than to run back to the city with her tail between her legs.

  Cal didn’t say a word as she began to clean. He also didn’t offer to help. She had a feeling he was having fun at her expense. Maybe it was time to give a little back. She accidentally sloshed some water over the side of the tub. He moved fast enough then.

  “Oops, sorry.” But she wasn’t.

  That had been very juvenile of her. She bit back her smile. It had felt damned good, though.

  “No problem.” He moved out of her way, then leaned against the table.

  Cal was almost certain Nikki had done that on purpose. She was probably getting really pissed at him by now. It wasn’t hard to see she didn’t like the cabin or anything that went along with it. And she was taking her anger out on the mammoth beast as she scrubbed away the dirt and grime.

  It was all he could do to keep from grinning. He casually crossed his arms in front of him. Nope, she wouldn’t last a day.

  But then guilt began to set in. She was really going to town cleaning that stove. His natural inclination would be to pitch in and help.

  He should help. What if she broke a fingernail or something?

  Was he losing his friggin’ mind? Going soft? Yeah, right, help a reporter who wanted to scoop everyone else with her story on him, and he’d bet there wouldn’t be a word of it in his favor.

  His gaze moved downward. Besides, he liked the way she moved. When she wiped across the top of the stove, her ass wiggled back and forth nicely. Sweet temptation.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  He continued to stare at her as if she hadn’t spoken. There was a streak of dirt across her cheek, and suddenly she didn’t look like city to him. She must really want this story bad.

  “You’re going to show me how this thing works, right?” she asked.

  He glanced at the stove. It almost sparkled. “Yeah, I’ll show you,” he said as he reined in his thoughts. “We wouldn’t want you to blow yourself up or anything.” He pushed away from the table and went to the oven.

  “This is where you start the fire.” He opened a door and stuck the small pieces of wood inside, then crumpled some paper and stuffed it inside as well.

  She nodded.

  “Wait for the kindling to begin to burn, then add the bigger piece of wood and shut the door.” He noticed she watched everything he did. Okay, he’d give her credit for paying attention.

  “Then what?”

  “You really don’t know how to cook?” He thought she’d been joking. She looked serious.

  “I microwave dinners or I go to restaurants.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever gone hunting, either.”

  She paled. “I have to hunt my food…and murder some poor animal?”

  This was the time to lie and tell her that not only did she have to hunt it, but she had to skin it as well. She’d be out the front door faster than he could say newspaper article.

  But where would the fun be in that? He wanted to teach her a lesson. Let her know she couldn’t play with other people’s lives.

  “No, you don’t have to hunt or skin it. I’ll bring meat from the freezer at the ranch.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the room. Her gaze landed on the wooden box. “And is that the refrigerator?”

  “Icebox. I didn’t think to bring a block of ice. I’ll bring it on my next trip.” He’d thought she’d be gone by now and all that would be left would be a trail of dust as she headed back to Fort Worth. The woman had stamina, he’d give her that much.

  “A block of ice?” she asked.

  He opened the icebox. “It goes in here. As the ice melts, the water drains through the tube and into a pan.” He squatted in front of the icebox and raised a slat, then showed her the metal pan that was behind the slat. “You’ll need to keep it emptied or you’ll be doing a lot of mopping. Do you think you can handle that?” He straightened.

  When her spine stiffened, it was all he could do to keep from laughing. He liked seeing the fire flash in her eyes.

  “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  “I just bet you will.”

  Their gazes met and held. After only a few seconds, she looked away. It was a small victory, but he savored the moment. He planned to savor quite a few more before she threw in the towel.

  “I stuck a jar of peanut butter and one of jelly in the box until you get the hang of it. There’s a loaf of bread in there somewhere, too. You’ll find silverware and dishes in the cabinets, but you might want to wash them before you use them. No one has rented the place in a few months.”

  “I can’t understand why,” she said, then smiled, but it didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes. “I mean, I expect to have a wonderful time while I’m here. I’m sure I’ll discover a lot more than I’d planned.”

  “I’ll get your block of ice,” he said.

  Nikki thought she was going to get a story while she was here but that wasn’t going to happen. She might be a pretty good reporter but she’d met her match with him. She was in for a big surprise.

  He strode toward the front door, letting the screen slam behind him as he left. He didn’t look back as he climbed into the pickup and started it up. But before he was out of sight of the cabin, he couldn’t stop his gaze from going to the rearview mirror. She hadn’t come outs
ide to watch him drive away this time. Had he hoped for one last glimpse?

  Yeah, he’d been at his brother’s ranch way too long.

  Actually, it wasn’t so bad. This was where he’d grown up. He and Brian had covered nearly every inch of the place. There wasn’t a lot of extra money back then, but they hadn’t needed video games or even cable television. They’d had something even better: their imaginations.

  Trees had become forts, and hills had been made for capturing and laying claim to. They’d fought battles and conquered marauding Indians and even a pirate captain or two.

  Then they’d grown up. At least he had. Sometimes he wasn’t so sure about Brian.

  He pulled to a stop beside the barn and turned off the engine before getting out. The sprawling ranch house brought back a lot of good memories. It was bigger than when they were kids. Brian had added a wing for guests and put in a swimming pool. It looked exactly like in the brochures, complete with spa packages.

  He shook his head. Spa packages.

  Not that it mattered to him. And he was still proud of his little brother. Brian had done all he’d set out to do. Cal started toward the house.

  “Hey, Cal,” Brian called from behind him.

  Cal turned around. His brother stood just inside the barn. “I thought you weren’t going to be home until tomorrow.” He headed back toward the barn.

  Brian had gone out of town to look at some horses. Why, Cal had no idea. He had more than enough, if you asked him. Sometimes he wondered how they could be so much alike but so far apart at the same time.

  “They weren’t what I was looking for. Besides, I have to find a new massage therapist since Amy quit. With Shelley sick, I’m needed more here.”

  Cal noticed for the first time how tired his little brother looked. Maybe what he had to tell him would lift some of the weight he seemed to be carrying on his shoulders.

  “One called asking about the ad that was in one of the papers. Good idea advertising in some of the bigger newspapers, but then, I doubt you would’ve found one around here.”

  “That fast? Great. When is she coming in for an interview?”