Yet Trace fit right in. The thought came unbidden.
She frowned. She wasn't going to think about Trace Longford any more today. Or her strange reaction to him. She was used to being around men. For heaven's sake, she had five brothers, four older and one younger. And as a nurse, being ordered about by male doctors and interns was enough to cure any woman of early infatuations with men. She had plenty to think about with settling in a strange home, out in the middle of a cattle ranch, miles from stores, theaters and traffic. She didn't need to think about sexy Trace Longford.
***
The loud pounding on her bedroom door brought Kalli instantly awake the next morning. She sat up, suddenly fearful. Was there a fire? An emergency of some sort? Flinging off the sheet, she hurried to the door and snatched it open. Stunned, she stared at Trace Longford. He was fully dressed, his hat in one hand. Clean shaven, hair combed, he was obviously ready for work. Leaning on his forearm braced against the jamb, he loomed over her, his gaze raking her as she held onto the doorknob, her heart pounding.
"What's the matter?" she asked breathlessly.
"Nothing, just looking for you, that's all. It's almost six. I came first thing, like I said. Where's breakfast?"
She stared at him. Then looked over her shoulder, out her window. Dawn was just breaking. A glance at her clock showed it was indeed just six o'clock. She turned back in total disbelief.
His eyes skimmed her bare legs. She was suddenly aware of her skimpy sleeping attire. The T-shirt belonged to one of her brothers. Faded and soft after countless washes, it molded her figure like a second skin, ending mid-thigh. Conscious that her hair must be a mess, that she was probably still flushed from sleeping and that there was only the thin layer of cotton between her and this man, she stepped back a foot, swallowed hard.
"I'll be out in a minute," she said and slammed the door in his face as heat and tension filled her. Breathing hard, she tried to infuse some strength into her weak knees. She felt as if he'd touched her with his hands, not just his eyes. Her heart beat rapidly, and her breath came shallow and fast. Heat built deep inside. What would it feel like to actually have him touch her? Run his hard hands up her thighs, pull her hips against his? Feel that warm, smooth copper skin against hers?
"Oh, God, don't let me develop a crush on a cowboy."
She turned away to find her jeans and get dressed. Aware that only the thickness of the door separated them, she hurried to the bathroom and closed the door. Locked it. As if that could lock out the images of them tangled together that played in her mind. She really wished she could just touch him for a moment, see if he was as hard as he looked beneath those muscles. See if that skin was as warm and taut as it appeared yesterday in the glittering afternoon sun. Splashing cold water on her face, she tried to drive away the images skipping around in her mind.
When she was dressed in jeans and a yellow cotton top, hair brushed to soft, dark, silky waves caught in a clip and left to hang down her back, she ventured into the kitchen. Trace leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle, waiting as the coffee machine filtered the brew. The fragrance permeated the kitchen. Sunlight was beginning to fill the room, dust motes dancing in the rays.
He looked up when she entered, his eyes dark and mysterious as he stared at her, not at all embarrassed by taking over her kitchen. By filling it with his presence. His hat rested on the counter. His hair shone as black as her own, but straight, not wavy, with none of the reddish highlights that gleamed in hers.
"Make yourself at home," she said sarcastically.
A smile touched his lips and then disappeared. "Thought you were anxious to start learning how to run a ranch," he said easily, unaffected by her sarcasm.
"I am, but at six in the morning?" she protested.
"There's a lot to do on a working ranch, and in the summer the morning's the coolest time to do it. The men are all up and eating now. Thought we could eat breakfast together and go over what you want done, what you want to learn. Plan the day, then get started. That's what Philip and I did when he was sick."
She knew it made sense, but at six o'clock?
"Who feeds the men?"
"Charlie Pearson. You have four hands. Charlie cooks for all of them in addition to his other duties. Joshua takes care of the horses and helps out in other areas. Jose and Tim mostly take care of the cattle, the fencing, the water holes."
"Why don't you eat with them?" She knew she sounded ungracious, but six in the morning wasn't the best time for her. She had never liked early mornings.
"Thought you'd want to discuss some things privately." He shrugged. "If not, we can mosey over there and join them."
She shook her head and gave up. She headed to the refrigerator, then withdrew the eggs and bacon she'd purchased in Jackson yesterday. This one time, she'd cook.
Contrary to what Trace had said, he didn't discuss the ranch over breakfast. He questioned her about Boston instead.
"Why do you want to know so much about me?" she asked fretfully after telling him about her family and her brothers, wishing he'd volunteer something about himself. She wanted to know more about him. About the ranch, she meant.
"Figure if I can understand what experience you've had, I'll know better how to teach you about running a ranch. What did you do before you inherited this place?"
"I was a nurse."
He was surprised. "A nurse?"
She nodded, then grinned. "Does that surprise you? I've been an emergency room nurse for almost eight years."
He stared at her. She was delicate, dainty, pretty. And she was used to the gruesome experiences in a big city emergency room. He shook his head. Philip had mentioned her from time to time. Even saying that he'd left her the ranch, but was sure she'd sell it to Trace.
Only she'd refused his first offer and shown up yesterday, ready to stay. Hell, he'd worked the ranch for years, helped Philip out time after time, ramrodded the entire operation since last Christmas, and it all went to some petite nurse from Boston who probably didn't know a steer from a bull from a heifer.
"Can you ride?"
Kalli smiled happily and nodded. "Yes. I told you, I spent summers here when I was a girl."
“From the looks of you, that was some time ago." He didn't know why he wanted to get a rise out of her, but he did.
She carefully placed her fork on her plate lest she be tempted to fling it at this arrogant cowboy. "Actually, I've been riding again in Boston since I learned I was coming out here. I can ride just fine, Mr. Longford."
"We'll see, won't we. And the name's Trace. Just Trace." He finished his coffee and pushed back his chair. He carried his dishes to the sink, then ran water over than and turned to meet her surprised eyes.
"Ready, Miss Bonotelli?"
"The name's Kalli, just Kalli," she sassed back.
She caught up her hat and was right behind him when he left the house. She fumed at the way he got under her skin. His long legs ate up the distance to the barn, and she almost had to run to keep up with him. He was doing it deliberately, she was sure.
"Are we in a hurry?" she asked breathlessly.
He stopped and looked at her, not tilting his head, his black eyes narrowed as he took in her situation.
"How tall are you?" he asked.
"Just over five feet two," she replied, using the moment to catch up and take a deep breath. "Not six feet like you. My stride is shorter."
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, turning to walk slowly toward the barn.
"And you don't need to patronize me, cowboy," she muttered beneath her breath. But she appreciated the slower pace.
She couldn't manage the saddle. It was too heavy and the horse too high for her to get it on. Trace watched her struggle with it for a long moment. When she glared at him, he stepped forward and took it from her, effortlessly settling it on the horse's back. He cinched him up, checked the stirrups and tinned to her. "Normally everyone saddles his or her own mount. But si
nce you're the boss lady, I'll do it for you. Need a hand up?"
She hated his patronizing air. Dammit, she couldn't help her size. She hadn’t had to saddle her own horse at the riding academy. Glaring at him, she hesitated. She didn't want him touching her. She was afraid of what her reaction would be. The feelings he stirred in her were unlike any she'd experienced before. Yet she knew she couldn't get in that saddle without some help. The horse was enormous, and the stirrup was almost at shoulder level. She glanced around for something to step on, a mounting block, a stepladder. Uncle Philip had had a platform for her to use. It was long gone. There was nothing else. What choice did she have?
"Very well, thank you." She'd keep it formal. Polite. Not let him suspect for an instant that touching him would have any effect on her at all.
Trace cupped his hands together and leaned over her. Kalli gave him her foot and reached for the saddle horn with one hand. She steadied her other hand against his shoulder, feeling the steely strength of his muscles, the heat from his skin scorching her hand. She lost her concentration when her gaze met his as he slowly straightened and lifted her effortlessly from the barn floor. His dark eyes held hers. The sensations swimming around them, between them, threatened to swamp her. She was lost and had the strongest urge to lean forward the few inches that separated them and lightly touch his lips with hers. Would his mouth be hot and hard against hers, or would he temper his male strength to coax a feminine response?
"Kalli, get in the saddle." His voice was almost hoarse as he held her with his hands beneath her boot, his eyes impaling hers. If she didn't stop looking at him like that he'd kiss her so hard her head would spin. Like his was. As far as he was concerned, the sooner she was gone, the better. He didn't need any sexual overtones in dealing with the lady. He wanted her gone, it was as simple as that.
She scrambled onto the horse, settled in the saddle. The stirrups dangled too long for her short legs. Dammit.
"I'll adjust them." He wouldn't think of her jean-clad thigh so close he could lean his cheek against it, wouldn't think about her womanly hips at eye level, or the sweet scent of flowers and strawberries that seemed to emanate from her body. He yanked on the strap, settled the buckle and straightened the leather. Taking her ankle in his hand, he threaded her foot into the stirrup. Running his hand lightly up her leg, he tested her seat.
His hand burned as he felt the taut muscles of her thigh, imagined it wrapped around him in the heat of lovemaking. Felt the soft curve of her hips as he judged her seat in the saddle. Wished he could feel them beneath him, his hands clasping her.
He heard Kalli draw in a breath, but dared not look at her. As if nothing was wrong, he crossed beneath the horse's head and adjusted the right stirrup, his hand lingering on her thigh, her hip. The painful constriction in his jeans made him pause a moment longer than he wanted. Hell, he had to get away from her before he made a damn fool of himself and couldn't walk.
Her hand brushed against his, trying to dislodge his hold, but her fingers got tangled up with his, and Trace raised his gaze to hers, surprised to note a slight flush across her cheeks, the sparkle in her dark eyes. Her lips parted as she panted slightly in the still morning air.
"I could have done that myself," she snapped, embarrassed at the reaction her body betrayed her with.
Slowly he pulled his fingers from hers, reached out and handed her the reins. He spun on his heel and headed for his own mount.
"Part of the job, ma'am." Dammit, he was playing with fire tangling with this lady. He'd learned his lesson a long time ago. And learned it well. He wouldn't let long-dormant sexual awareness blind him to all good sense. This woman was nothing but a problem. Someone to get rid of as soon as he could. He wanted her land. Nothing else.
Maybe a couple of nights in her bed.
The insidious thought came uninvited, unexpected. His entire body tightened in anticipation at the thought. Clenching his teeth hard, he stepped up into his saddle and settled in. Reseating his hat, he nodded for her to start.
Kalli turned her horse and rode quietly from the barn, pausing in the yard, waiting for Trace to join her. When he pulled up beside her, she studied him uncertainly, trying to put the incident behind her. He appeared to have seen nothing unexceptionable in her behavior. And she wanted to keep it that way.
"Which way do we go? I want to see it all!"
He nodded toward the right and they started off.
"I almost didn't come here, you know," she said as her gaze darted avidly in all directions. She turned from time to time to look behind her, wanting to see everything.
"How's that?"
"I had an offer for the place, from a neighbor, the Flying Cloud Ranch. My parents pressured me to accept. It's been ten years or so since I've been here. But I remembered how much I loved it. I always wanted to live here with Uncle Philip, but then I got caught up in nursing and just never found time to come back. I've read every western that's ever been written, from Zane Grey to Louis L'Amour to Larry McMurtry. And I have over seventy tapes of western movies, from Shane to Silverado to Lonesome Dove. God, after inheriting this I just couldn't stay in Boston."
It was even worse than Trace thought. She was some starry-eyed romantic who thought ranching was like a storybook. "It's not like you see in the movies," he warned. "You'd do better to accept my offer, stay a while, then return to Boston."
She was silent for a moment. Had she heard him correctly?
"Your offer? You own Flying Cloud Ranch? You're the one who wants to buy me out?" she asked in disbelief.
He nodded.
"You have a hell of a nerve coming here and pretending to help me out when all along you're trying to get my property!"
"You asked me to stay," he reminded her.
"No wonder you told me I don't belong here—"
"You don't belong here," he interrupted. "You're some starry-eyed romantic city girl who thinks the wild West is alive and waiting to fulfill your fantasies. As soon as the novelty wears off, you'll leave so fast it’ll make your head spin. I'll try to keep you from running the place into the ground before you leave."
He knew he'd have his hands full convincing her to give up the place. She looked like a kid in a candy store, excited, happy, fascinated. It would be up to him to show her how hard life on a ranch really was, to convince her to sell. To him.
For a long moment he didn't like the idea. She was so happy, he felt almost mean planning to drive her away. Yet he had to convince her to leave. Give it up, sell and return to Boston. He wanted the land, needed this ranch to expand his holdings. He didn't have time for some city woman who fantasized about ranch life.
"You won't stay," he said, knowing he'd make sure, no matter how much her body called to his. When it came time for him to marry again, it would be to one of his own kind, a Wyoming woman born and bred, with a similar heritage, similar outlook and joint future.
God, be wasn't thinking of marrying again! He'd already tried that once, with disastrous results. He'd been without sex for too long if just being around this woman kindled thoughts like that.
"I will stay, Trace Longford. I've wanted this all my life. This ranch was given to me as a gift, and I will treasure it. I don't want your help. I'll find another foreman. But nothing's going to drive me away." With that, Kalli settled her hat firmly and kicked her horse, taking off across her ranch.
2
Trace spurred his horse and caught up with her, settling to match her pace as they flew across the range.
Angrily, Kalli pulled her horse to a walk.
Trace reined in and looked at her. "I'll stay on as foreman until you decide what you want to do."
"I already know what I'm going to do. I don't need you undermining my confidence and trying to get me to sell."
"I won't. I'll show you all I know. It's in both our interests to keep the ranch going in top condition."
Kalli looked away, considering his offer. If he owned the Flying Cloud, he had to know what he
was doing. He had enough money to buy her place, if she would ever sell. Could she trust him, however? A sudden unwelcome thought arose.
"You mentioned a daughter yesterday. Are you married?" Surely he couldn't be. If he was married he wouldn't be putting his hands on her legs, wouldn't have caressed—yes caressed— her hip when checking to see if she fit the saddle. At least she didn't think he would have behaved in such a manner if he was married. He didn't strike her as the type to play around. But then, what did she know of him?
"No. Divorced." His gaze touched on her for a moment, then swept across the acres before them. "I assume you're single, as well," he said, not looking at her.
"Yes. Tell me about your daughter." The relief she felt hearing he was divorced was surely too strong to make sense. She just needed him to guide her in running the ranch. If she took him up on his offer. She wasn't looking for an affair with a sexy cowboy. Especially one she was sure didn't like her.
"She's twelve. As tall as you, but not filled out as nicely."
"Does she live with you?" Kalli ignored his implied compliment.
"Yeah. Her mother didn't want her."
Kalli looked at him in surprise, but he was studying the far horizon. "How could any woman not want her own child?" she blurted out. She cherished the warm ties in her family, the love and affection of both her parents toward all their children.
He looked at her in some surprise. “There’re a lot of woman who aren't maternal. Alyssa wanted fast cars and fast men. She had no use for domesticity. No use for a kid. She left us, we didn't leave her. Becky does just fine without her."
"Does she write or visit?" Kalli couldn't comprehend a mother turning her back on her own child. How awful for the child. Did she feel abandoned?
"Haven't heard from her in over eleven years." His eyes narrowed. "Not that it's any business of yours," he said bluntly.
Kalli felt the heat rise in her face. He was right. She was just being nosy. But she was interested. She couldn't understand anyone ignoring her child for eleven years! That meant he had raised his daughter since she was an infant. "It must have been hard on you, raising her all alone."
Cowboy's Bride Page 2