Hawk's Way: Garth

by Joan Johnston

  Candy felt Garth’s moist breath against her cheek when he spoke. She turned slightly and realized that their mouths were only inches apart. She raised her eyes to his and saw they were hooded, the dark eyes lambent. She was appalled at the desire that pooled between her legs. Her breasts felt full and achy. Her nipples were erect.

  Candy stood frozen as Garth lowered his mouth to hers. She was prepared for violence. It was what she expected, and it would have freed her from his thrall. His lips barely touched hers before they retreated, only to return for another taste. She kept her mouth closed, but he made love to her lips, kissing first one edge and then the other of her mouth before sliding his tongue along the seam.

  Candy moaned when she felt Garth’s tongue slip between her lips. The warmth, the wetness, made her feel weak. She needn’t have worried about falling. Garth’s hand slid around her waist and turned her to face him, sealing their bodies together from the waist down. There was no mistaking his arousal, which only intensified her own disjointed feelings.

  Candy pressed the heels of her hands against Garth’s chest with the thought of pushing him away, but instead her fingers curled into his cotton shirt, clutching him tight.

  Candy was in way over her head. She knew how sexually experienced Garth was, and that she had to guard against his persuasiveness. But it was that experience which made him so successful in his seduction. Whenever she seemed reluctant for him to go a step further, he backed off. So a love bite on her throat that drew a guttural groan from her was followed by teasing kisses that had her melting in his arms.

  His fingers tunneled into her hair and held her still for a ravishing kiss, then slid down to her nape and gently massaged the tender flesh there.

  Candy was far more innocent than Garth knew. Her disastrous experience with him three years ago had kept her from letting things get very far with the men she had dated in college. No man besides Garth had ever touched her.

  So when Garth’s hand slid up to cup her breast, it recalled the memory of how he had hurt her in the past. She cried out in anticipation of the pain and jerked herself from his grasp. Her cry frightened the colt, which turned and kicked up its heels.

  Garth grabbed her and threw them both out of the way of the colt’s slashing hooves. He took the brunt of the fall, protecting her in his arms. When they finished rolling, he was lying on top of her in the grass.

  Candy stared up at him, eyes wide with fright.

  “You damn fool! Don’t you know better than to shout like that around a horse?” Garth said between gritted teeth.

  “I was—”

  “What were you yelling for, anyway? I know damn well I didn’t hurt you!” he ranted.

  “Not this time,” Candy retorted.

  She watched a muscle work in Garth’s jaw, but his tirade abruptly ended. She gave his shoulders a push. “You can get off me now.”

  Garth took most of his weight off her, but he didn’t free her. The grass was surprisingly cool beneath her, and several blades tickled the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and turned her face away, unable to bear the taunting look on his face. But he didn’t allow her to hide from him for long. He grasped her chin and turned her face toward him.

  “Open your eyes, Candy.”

  “No, Garth.”

  He lowered his body so that he was cradled between her thighs. He was aroused again. Or still. Candy didn’t know which, but it hardly mattered.

  “Open your eyes,” he demanded.

  She blinked against the sun’s glare and stared at him in defiance. “Let me up.”

  “In a minute. First, we have a few things to get settled.”

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

  “That’s too damn bad,” Garth said. “I think what just happened between us proves you’re not indifferent to me.”

  Candy’s lips pressed flat. She couldn’t deny the rush of passion she had felt in Garth’s arms. Or the fact that she had enjoyed every moment of his kisses. But she still wasn’t sophisticated enough to accept the fact that she could feel sexual desire for a man she wasn’t even sure she liked.

  When she remained stubbornly silent, Garth commanded, “Talk to me, Candy.”

  “What do you want me to say? That I enjoyed what happened? I did. That I want to repeat the experience? I don’t! You’re pushing too far, too fast, Garth.”

  Garth eased his body away from hers. Her outburst was something he understood. A woman liked a little courting before she succumbed to a man. He was willing to play the game, now that Candy had told him the rules. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

  Garth rose and pulled Candy to her feet. He began dusting her off, but she slapped his hands away. “Leave me alone. I can take care of myself.”

  She swatted the last of the grass from her fanny, then turned back around to face Garth. “What are you grinning at?”

  “Can’t a man smile when he’s happy?”

  Candy scowled. She marched past Garth toward where she had left the gelding tied and heard Garth following close behind her. She felt the heat of him, smelled the musky scent of aroused male that even three years later had the power to make her remember the taste of him. Candy turned, forcing Garth to stop in his tracks.

  She jabbed a finger at his chest and said, “Don’t push me, Garth. You won’t like what I’ll do.”

  Garth’s grin widened. “Try me.”

  Pushed to the limit, Candy took him at his word. Her hand arced and her open palm hit his cheek with a loud crack. She was appalled at the clear imprint of her hand on his face and the dark flush that quickly followed. Garth’s eyes narrowed, and his lips flattened, but he made no move to retaliate.

  Candy trembled, shaken by the attack, which had surprised her as much as it had Garth. She swallowed over the sudden thickness in her throat. “I…I didn’t mean…”

  “Forget it,” Garth snapped. “We’d better be getting back to the house. Charlie will have supper waiting for us.”

  Candy mounted her horse and rode back to the ranch house in silence. She couldn’t imagine what had caused her to react so violently to Garth’s provocation. She had never hit anyone before in her life.

  When the ranch house came into sight, Candy realized that if she didn’t want to have to apologize in front of Charlie One Horse she had better do it now. “I’m sorry.”

  Garth eyed her askance. “It’s not the first time I’ve been slapped.”

  Candy flushed. “It’s the first time I’ve slapped someone,” she retorted. “Are you going to accept my apology, or not?”

  “Apology accepted.”

  As they dismounted at the stable, Candy had the awful feeling that Garth wasn’t the sort of man who easily forgave and forgot. She was bound to him and Hawk’s Way for the next several months, at least until she had learned enough to feel confident about opening her own stable. Now they were engaged in a war of nerves. He was determined to have her; she was determined to resist him.

  Candy had been certain she could hold her own against any efforts Garth made to seduce her. As she had just discovered, things weren’t turning out quite like she had planned. She made up her mind that she, for one, wasn’t going to be the next tempting morsel on Garth Whitelaw’s plate. Because as she knew from bitter experience, the wrangler ate up little rich girls, and spit them out when he was done.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Charlie One Horse was bent over, checking the pot roast in the oven, when Candy came through the kitchen on her way upstairs. She mumbled something about washing up and disappeared in the direction of the stairs. Charlie took one look at Garth’s face as he stepped through the screen door and poured him a whiskey from the bottle he kept over the stove. “What you been doin’ to that girl got her so mad she whacked you?”

  Garth rubbed his cheek, wondering how Charlie knew he had been slapped. To his chagrin, he felt several scratches left by Candy’s nails. “Stay out of it, Charlie.” Garth sat down at the heavy oak table
in the center of the kitchen. He downed the finger of whiskey and held out his glass for another.

  “She ain’t like them other women of yours,” Charlie said as he poured the second whiskey.

  “Candy knew what she was getting into when she agreed to come here,” Garth said. “Let it go, Charlie. This is none of your business.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ ever my business, but I’m the one gotta put up with your bad temper when some female’s givin’ you fits.”

  “Charlie.” Garth’s voice held a warning tone that made the housekeeper look behind him. Candy was standing in the kitchen doorway.

  “Are we eating in here?” she asked.

  “You can forget the silver and crystal,” Garth said. “You’re not a guest at Hawk’s Way anymore.”

  Candy stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans to hide her agitation. “I wasn’t expecting any special treatment. I was just asking where supper is being served.”

  “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you there, too,” Garth said. “The food’s on the stove. Every man helps himself.”

  Charlie shot Garth an incredulous look. That was the first he had heard of such a practice. When the family was home they ate supper in the dining room. Charlie usually served the meal, although Tate or Faron sometimes took a turn.

  Charlie picked up a pair of pot holders, took the pot roast out of the oven and plopped it on top of the stove. He looked pointedly at Garth. “Here it is. Dig in.”

  Garth gave Charlie a baleful stare which the old man ignored.

  Charlie took out two plates and filled them with roast beef, potatoes and carrots. He handed one plate to Candy and took the other for himself, then made sure they had silverware and glasses of tea. He settled on a chair on the opposite side of the table from Garth and pulled out a chair next to him for Candy.

  “Delicious,” Candy said as she dug in. “You really are a good cook, Charlie.”

  “Thanks, girl.”

  Garth was torn between his hunger and his pride. Finally he got up and served himself a plate of food. “We’ll start work at dawn tomorrow,” he said to Candy. “You might as well learn how and what we feed our stock.”

  “Don’t you hire people to take care of that sort of thing?” Candy asked.

  “Sure,” Garth said. “But somebody has to tell them what to do. Parasite prevention, fresh water, proteins, vitamins and minerals and the right amount of forage are all as important as the right amount and kind of feed.”

  Candy felt a little overwhelmed. “Am I going to learn all that?”

  “That’s up to you. But it’s as true of horses as it is of humans—you are what you eat. If you want healthy animals, you have to pay attention to nutrition.”

  Candy nodded her head in understanding. “I see what you mean. All right. Is there some sort of literature that explains all that?”

  Charlie exchanged a look with Garth. Apparently there was more to the spoiled little rich girl than met the eye.

  Garth had known Candy was clever. Now she had proved she was also inquisitive, which was not a bad trait for a pupil. “Sure,” he said. “I’ve got lots of stuff you can read. If you come into the parlor with me after supper—”

  Candy nearly choked on a bite of food. Charlie slapped her on the back, but it took a moment for her to stop coughing. She wasn’t about to follow that beast back into his den anytime soon.

  Garth swore under his breath when he realized that Candy’s memory of their encounter three years ago was as vivid as his own. He stood, leaving his food half finished. “I’ll put the books on my desk. You can get them on your way upstairs later. I’m going out.”

  “Where you goin’?” Charlie asked. “You gotta be up early in the mornin’.”

  “None of your business,” Garth snapped. He grabbed his hat from the rack by the back door and slapped it on his head, letting the screen door slam behind him. Then he turned right back around and stomped back through the kitchen into the parlor. They could hear books dropping on his desk. A moment later he returned. “Don’t stay up late reading,” he snarled. Then he was gone.

  “Wonder what got into him,” Charlie muttered.

  Candy wasn’t about to explain. She was grateful for Garth’s willingness to provide the books, which led her to believe that even if he intended to pursue her, he also intended to uphold his end of the bargain.

  She stayed in the kitchen long enough to help Charlie with the dishes, even though the old man said he could manage. “Things are easier when there’s another pair of helping hands,” Candy said as she scraped the remains of Garth’s supper into the disposal.

  Charlie handed her his plate and said, “I didn’t think rich folks did their own dishes.”

  Candy smiled wryly. “My father raised me to believe in the work ethic. If he spoiled me, it was by making me believe that I could have anything I wanted if I was willing to work hard enough for it.”

  “So why you want to go into the horse-raisin’ business?” Charlie asked.

  “There’s a lot of history and tradition involved with cutting horses. I want to be a part of it.”

  “You got all the money a gal would ever need. Why not just buy up a ranch and let somebody else manage it for you?”

  “I want the satisfaction of breeding my own horses and training them to be champions. That’s why I came here.” She refused to admit to any other reason than her stated one, even to herself.

  “Then you better get on out of here and get to those books,” Charlie said. “I’ll finish up.”

  Candy didn’t want to leave, but she found herself unable to fight both Charlie and the desire to dig into the materials Garth had left for her on his desk.

  It felt strange stepping into the parlor. Looking back, she wondered where she had gotten the courage to confront Garth Whitelaw and tell him she loved him. She felt extreme embarrassment—and a great sense of loss—when she looked back on that evening.

  The fireplace was as cold now as it had been that long-ago night, no more than a blackened hearth. She walked up to the mantel, above which hung a map that delineated the vast borders of Hawk’s Way past and present. Someday she would have a place of her own, and in the years to come her children and grandchildren would be able to point back to the moment when she had taken that first step.

  Candy crossed to the rolltop desk where Whitelaw business had been conducted over the past hundred years. There sat a stack of books and pamphlets nearly a foot high. She picked up the one on top and read: Horse Feeding and Management. And another: Rules of Thumb for Equine Feeding. And another: Feed a Horse Like a Horse. She thumbed through a thick book as she crossed to the leather chair by the fireplace. She turned on the standing lamp beside the chair, sat down and put her feet up on the rawhide stool at its foot and began to read.

  Garth was calling himself seven kinds of a fool for leaving the comfort of his home to drive around in his pickup. He hadn’t had any specific destination in mind when he had left, only the desperate need to escape. So naturally he found an excuse not to go anyplace when all he really wanted to do was return home. Near midnight Garth decided that Candy must surely be in bed, and he would have the parlor to himself for a drink, which he sorely needed.

  Because Garth believed everyone to be asleep, he entered the house quietly. He headed straight for the parlor, but was brought up short when he realized there was still a light on in the room. He crossed the threshold with matching amounts of reluctance and eagerness, afraid of what he might find.

  She was there.

  Candy was sound asleep, stretched out in his chair. One bare foot rested on the rawhide stool. The other was draped over the arm of the chair. Her boots were strewn like fallen soldiers beside the stool. A book lay open across her stomach, and her cheek rested on her hand on the arm of the chair.

  She looked young and vulnerable, and he felt a sudden anger that she should be there waiting for him. He approached her like a wolf drawn by the bait, but wary of the steel jaw
s of the trap waiting to snap shut on him.

  He knelt beside the chair and softly called her name. “Candy.”

  She made a sound in her throat which he took to be a subconscious acknowledgment of his presence, but otherwise she didn’t move.

  He knew he should wake her up and send her to bed, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to look at her at his leisure. He had never before noticed the tiny wisps of hair at her temples or the mole just below her ear or the slight jut of her chin. Her lashes created a feathery coal crescent along cheeks that bore the tiniest of freckles. The fingernails that had scratched him were her own, cut short and covered with a clear polish.

  He ran a finger over lips that looked as sweet as strawberries. She instinctively turned her face toward his caress, much as a baby might when nudged by a mother’s breast. Garth’s physical reaction was powerful and instantaneous. He bit back the oath that sought voice. The last thing he wanted was to wake her up so she could see him on his knees looking every bit like he was worshiping at her feet. Not that he was. He just found her fascinating to look at.

  He picked up the book on her lap, closed it and set it on top of a stack of six or seven beside the chair. Apparently she had done a lot of reading while he was gone. The more he learned about Candy Baylor the less certain he became of who she really was. None of the growing list of adjectives he could apply to her left him feeling the least bit satisfied. He didn’t want to admire her intelligence or her curiosity or her determination. He wanted to enjoy a romp in bed with her.

  Garth knew he could probably arouse Candy enough while she slumbered that by the time she was completely awake she would gladly join him in bed. He found himself strangely reluctant to take advantage of her that way. Which made him wonder what it was about Candy Baylor that kept him from acting the way he normally would with any other woman.

  She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever known, though she was pretty enough. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him with those light gray eyes of hers that caused that achy feeling in his chest. Not that she used them to flirt with—at least, not this time around. They were clear and honest and there was nothing of the deceit he had expected—and often found—in other women.