Roping a Runaway Wife

by Jans, Honey

  Rafe frowned. “What did you expect? We can’t make people believe we’re a couple if we sleep in separate rooms, can we?”

  She studied his implacable expression for a moment. His line of reasoning was correct, even if it did irk her. “No, I suppose not. But I’m not sleeping with you. I told you that before. Remember?”

  A smile played about the edges of his hard mouth. “I know what you said. And if you’ll think back, you’ll recall that I said you won’t be able to resist the temptation.”

  “Your ego is about to take a beating. You, sir, are very resistible. And you don’t have to show me the way to the bedroom. I remember where it is.” Sarah strode past him totally embarrassed by what she’d blurted out. Good heavens, she’d have to watch her tongue around him. Reminding him of their wedding night was a dumb move.

  She opened the door to the master bedroom, feeling as if she were caught in a time warp. This was where it had all gone wrong three weeks ago. Rafe had carried her into this room on their wedding night. He’d left her alone to get ready for bed as he went in search of champagne. On the bed she’d found an envelope addressed to her lying on the bed. It explained in no uncertain terms that Rafe had married her for her business connections. She didn’t know who had tipped her off and in the end it didn’t really matter.

  Rafe wanted to convert part of the ranch into a country inn and Sarah was the granddaughter of Samuel Maxwell who owned a worldwide consortium of hotels and inns. It was a match made in heaven.

  Then she noticed a rolled up blueprint on the dresser and unrolled it to find the conversion drawings. She went to confront Rafe and overheard him telling Zeke that his plan to add a dude ranch was going to move forward. In that cold moment of realization, her dream world shattered.

  So she ran off into the night, just as Rafe had said. She’d run as far and as fast as she could go, using her credit cards to buy an airplane ticket. She even fell so low as to allow her grandfather’s lawyers to brush off Rafe’s inquiries. She was told that Grandfather said he was disappointed that she’d taken up with a common rancher, but it was understandable considering the stock she’d come from.

  Sarah sucked in a deep breath and entered the room. No use dwelling on the past. This was a different place and time. She was determined to set things right and walk away even if it did break her heart. It was better than love with strings attached.

  Rafe walked into the bedroom behind her. “I cleared out a few drawers for you.”

  Sarah laid her bag on the bed and pulled out a bunch of wadded up garments. She glanced at Rafe. His face was a gambler’s face, closed and calculating. Not wanting to delve too deeply into his emotions, Sarah turned away and went to the closet. “Thanks, but I probably won’t need all the space.”

  The bed creaked as Rafe sat down on it. Sarah could feel his gaze on her as she shook out a green dress and hung it up. She walked back to her bag, only inches from Rafe, and hesitated for a moment with her hand on a stack of frothy undergarments, unwilling to share such intimate things with him. She glanced at him. There was a softness in his brown eyes, and a slightly dazed expression on his handsome face. The sensual awareness sizzling between them took her breath away.

  Suddenly, he frowned and got to his feet. “I’ve got some paperwork to do. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  Sarah could only gape at him when he strode from the room, as if the devil himself were on his heels. She finished putting her few things away. It didn’t take long. In her line of work as a nature photographer, she had to be able to move quickly.

  Rafe strode down the hall and made his way to his study. His hand shook as he shut the door behind him. Oh, God, how he ached to throw her on the bed and ease his frustrations inside her beautiful body. And she’d like it, too, he knew she would. He stalked over to the desk and slumped into his desk chair. To have her in his lair, smell her perfume, brush up against her, was almost more than he could handle.

  He jerked open the bottom desk drawer and pulled out the bottle of whiskey he had stashed inside. Reaching for a glass, he poured out two fingers of the amber liquid. He brought the glass to his lips, swirling the liquor around and inhaling its intoxicating aroma. Gazing unseeing into its honeyed depths, he saw the fiery flash of her green witchy eyes, and the pouty curve of her mouth. Would her lips still have the potent kick of the alcohol? He groaned at the tantalizing thought, and closed his eyes. Shifting his hips, he tried to loosen the hold his jeans had on his burgeoning erection.

  Scowling, he slammed down the glass, splashing his hand with whiskey. Damnit, he wasn’t going to turn into a lovesick fool over her again. Last time, she’d nearly cost him his sanity. Picking up the bottle of whiskey, he stuffed it back into the desk drawer. He wasn’t going to let the little witch in the bedroom make him weak, either.

  He wiped his hand on his jeans, stretching his legs out in front of him. His gaze fell on the paper lying on the desktop. He picked up the document and scowled at it again, although he knew the words by heart. That skunk, Nevell Blackthorn, had been a burr in his side since they were kids. And now the polecat was trying to force him to sell the ranch. Rafe crumpled the offer from the realtor. He’d see Blackthorn in hell before he’d fork over the deed to the Double-H to him.

  He threw the paper in the trash and leaned back to think of a more attractive subject. Sweet Sarah, with her witchy eyes, soft sexy body, and fiery hair. Would she be just as hot? He smiled at the thought because he was going to do his best to find out.

  Sarah gathered her sleep wear and went into the bathroom to change. She wasn’t willing to take the risk of Rafe walking in on her.

  When she came out, Rafe was sitting on the bed, pulling off his boots. He did a double take when he saw her. “What in the heck are you wearing?”

  Sarah smiled and glanced down at her red long johns. “My pajamas.” She walked around him and got into bed.

  “It looks like an old union suit that’s seen better days.” Rafe frowned at her obstinate smile. “In case you haven’t noticed, it gets kind of hot around here in the summertime. You’re going to roast in that thing.”

  She decided sourly that he looked as disappointed as a child being denied a piece of candy.

  “Tough, it’s what I feel like wearing to bed.” She watched him unbutton his shirt, pulling the tails free of his jeans. When he unsnapped his fly, she cleared her throat. “Aren’t you going to go into the bathroom to change?”

  “Nope.”

  The wicked twinkle in Rafe’s eyes made Sarah grit her teeth. He was well aware of the effect he had on her nerves and he was enjoying it. The rat! She laid down and turned her back to him, determined to hide how rattled she was. As the covers flipped back, she cautiously glanced over her shoulder. Rafe was standing there, naked as the day he was born. Good heavens, he was magnificent.

  “Slide over, Princess, I’m ready for bed.”

  “Naked?” Sarah squeaked and sat up. Rafe’s nude body was everything her imagination had conjured up, in spades.

  “That’s right. Nothing is what I feel like wearing. Any objections?”

  “Suit yourself. Makes no difference to me.” She clung to her side of the bed feeling it sag as he climbed in. He took up way too much room, making her feel terribly small and vulnerable. She watched his muscles ripple as he reached across her to turn out the light. As his chest brushed against her breasts, she gasped. He smiled down at her, a gunfighter’s smile, cool and certain of victory. Sarah shrank away from the contact and turned her head.

  “What, no goodnight kiss?” he asked.

  Sarah glared up at him. There was a need in his eye that didn’t correspond with his mocking tone. “Dream on, buddy.”

  It was going to be a long night.

  Sarah felt the bed move. She murmured in her sleep and rolled over. Something shook her shoulder, but she ignored it. A swat to her bottom made her sit up in bed. Rafe was already dressed and there was a strained look on his face.

  �
�What did you do that for?” she sputtered.

  “It’s time to start your new life as Mrs. Raphael Halliday, wife. Rise and shine.”

  Sarah yawned. “What time is it?”

  “Four-thirty. Mrs. Murphy starts breakfast right about now. If you plan to take over her duties you’d better get a move on. You do know how to cook, don’t you?”

  Sarah frowned. She glanced up and saw the crease between his mouth and cheek deepen as he smiled in response. “Don’t worry. You won’t starve.”

  Rafe grinned. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s the hands. They’re used to Rose’s good home cooking. I don’t want them to up and quit after they get a taste of yours. Good hands are hard to find.”

  Sarah yawned, then scowled up at his smiling face. Maybe being a housekeeper wouldn’t be the snap she’d expected. “So cold cereal and toast isn’t what they’re used to?”

  “Afraid not, sugar. They want a hot hearty breakfast and they want it in an hour.” His brown eyes twinkled. “Think you can handle it, wife?”

  “Stop calling me that,” she grumped back at him. “You stink, Halliday, you know that?” His answering smile made her grit her teeth. “Get out of here so I can get dressed.” She scowled at Rafe as he walked to the door. His cocky attitude made her blood boil!

  He’d been right. Sleeping in the long johns had been a bad idea. She’d roasted all night. But roasting wasn’t half as bad as lying next to Rafe and not reaching over to hold him. She had spent weeks fantasizing about what sleeping with him would be like. Now when she had the chance, she couldn’t let herself touch him. If she did, she had a feeling she’d be trapped. And would that be so bad? a little voice in her head echoed.

  Rafe stopped in the doorway and turned to look at her. “Time’s a wasting. You won’t have time to primp and preen in front of the mirror this morning.”

  Sarah threw her pillow at him. It bounced off his head.

  Rafe grinned, picked it up, and lobbed it back at her. “If you wanted to play, you should have done it while I was still in bed. Although you’re about as sexy as old Zeke, dressed in that union suit.”

  Sarah glanced down at her red long johns as she heard the door close. They were warm and serviceable, and about as sexy as warm mush. That was why she’d chosen them. She’d used them toward him off like garlic with a vampire.

  Sarah hastily scraped the burned bits off a stack of frazzled toast when she heard a step behind her. She made to hide the evidence behind her and then gave it up as a lost cause. How could you hide a disaster as big as the Titanic?

  She turned to glance over her shoulder, blowing a sweaty tendril of hair away from her damp face. Rafe stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, eyebrows raised, as he surveyed the mess. Sarah resisted the urge to throw a piece of burned toast at him, and reminded herself that it had been her idea to save his reputation. “Well, what did you expect? I didn’t say how well I could cook. Especially not for twelve hungry hands at five in the morning for Pete’s sake.”

  A smile curved the edges of his mouth. “I didn’t know it was possible to burn oatmeal.” He looked into a large pot on the range that was sending up whiffs of smoke then glanced back at her. “It is oatmeal, isn’t it?”

  Sarah’s ire increased at his amused tone. “Yes, it’s oatmeal. This is starting to look like a pretty rotten deal from my end of things, Halliday. I’m not so sure I’m housekeeper material.”

  The smile left his face. “You’d better try, Sarah. You were going to be a perfect ranch wife, remember? Did you at least make coffee?”

  She scowled at his overly patient tone. “Of course, I’m not that big of a screw up.”

  He nodded. “I’ll carry the urn into the dining hall. You grab some bowls. We’ll have to make do with burned oatmeal this morning. Lunch can be cold sandwiches and lemonade but by supper time you’d better have figured out how to cook.”

  “Or else what?” Sarah asked suspiciously as they walked into the dining hall.

  He smiled at her surly tone. “Or else you’re going to be sitting across from a passel of ornery, starving cowboys.”

  Sarah cringed at the thought. “Actually, I figured I’d take my meals in the kitchen.”

  “Well then you figured wrong. We eat together like one big happy family.”

  He went back to the kitchen and made one last trip to the dining hall with the platter of scorched toast.

  Sarah sighed as she viewed the unappetizing mess. At least she’d made enough to feed an army. Which was what she was feeding, judging from the sound of a dozen pairs of boots coming toward them down the hallway.

  Rafe reached out to take her hand drawing her to his side when she would sooner have backed out of the room. “Remember,” he said softly, “you promised to make this look real.”

  Sarah looked up at his hard face uneasily and wondered how she could have ever thought a tough hombre like him needed rescuing. Quickly, she turned her attention from his enigmatic expression to the ranch hands that were filing into the room.

  “Well, I’ll be damned, will you look at that god-awful spread.”

  Sarah glanced at the speaker, a young cowboy barely out of his teens.

  “Watch your language, Travis. There’s a lady present,” Rafe said in an authoritative voice. “I’d like you all to meet my wife. You will all mind your manners in front of her, understood?”

  Sarah was well aware that Rafe was chastising the cowboy, and at the same time staking his claim publicly. She turned to scowl at him and said acerbically, “Why don’t you just slap a brand on my behind and get it over with?”

  Rafe raised an imperious eyebrow at her. “Now, honey, is that any way for a sweet young wife like you to talk? The boys won’t know that you’re kidding.”

  Sarah heard the challenge in his voice and knew that she was beat. If she went against him now, she would break their bargain. She’d set herself a chore and she intended to see it through for her own peace of mind.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, turning and smiling at the men. “Come on in and try to enjoy the food.” The group filed past her. There were plenty of “thank you ma’am’s,” and curious glances shot her way. It was apparent that she had been the subject of gossip the night before. If she remembered right, Zeke couldn’t keep a secret to save his soul.

  The cowboys were a mixed bunch of sizes and ages, but they all had one common denominator; they were deeply tanned and looked tough as nails. There was one tall blond, older, cowboy that stood apart from the rest. He gave her a probing glance as he passed by. Sarah was wondering why he was so interested in her when Zeke passed by. Sarah smiled and held her hand out. He scowled at her and brushed on by without speaking. Surprised by his sullen expression, she hastily withdrew her hand. It was plain to see that he wasn’t happy to see her.

  “Go ahead and get started,” she said brightly. “There’s more food in the kitchen if we run out.”

  Sarah was loading the dishwasher after breakfast when she heard the screen door slam as the last of the hands left the dining hall. At least she didn’t have to worry about doing all these dishes. Now all she had to do was find a cookbook and figure out what she could make for supper. Whatever she chose it was going to have to be enormous because they ate like horses.

  After pouring herself a cup of coffee, Sarah sat down on a porch chair and sighed. It was going to be a difficult summer, and it had only just begun. She wasn’t sure that she was up to the task of cooking for this mob. Let alone defending her heart from Rafe’s assault. The man had only married her for her family name. It was still a bitter pill to swallow.

  No doubt if she confronted him with it, he’d deny it to his last breath. Sure Rafe might desire her for other reasons but marrying into the Maxwell Family didn’t do any harm to a man that wanted to turn his large working ranch into a dude ranch on the side. What he didn’t know was that she’d walked away from her heritage years ago because there were too many strings attached
. Just like there were too many strings attached to their marriage. There was no way that she could be all Rafe expected her to be.

  No doubt the extra income would come in handy, she thought as she glanced around the slightly shabby surroundings. Zeke’s exasperated voice broke into her reverie.

  “I still think you’re a damned fool, Rafe. Sleep with her if you’ve gotta, but then get her the hell out of here before she screws you up again.”

  “Don’t worry about it, old pal. I know what I’m doing this time around. But sleeping with her does sound like a damned good idea. Maybe then I’ll be able to think straight around the little witch.”

  Sarah got out of the chair and tiptoed into the kitchen. Her hands shook as she set her coffee mug on the counter. So he was going to get her out of his system. How? By using her until he used her up? It served to increase her resolve to remain immune to his charms.

  The doorbell rang. She swung open the door to see a petite, brunette with a little moppet in tow. “Can I help you?”

  The lady pulled back the screen door and grinned. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. We only met once at the Ramseys’ barbecue. You and Rafe only had eyes for each other that night.”

  Sarah blushed remembering that night; It had been the star-filled night when Rafe had proposed. It seemed like ages had gone by since then but it was only a few weeks ago.

  The lady grinned and held out her hand. “I’m Lisa Halliday, Rafe’s sister-in-law. And this is my daughter, Mandy.”

  Sarah couldn’t help smiling back. Lisa’s cheeriness was infectious. “Hi there. Come on in. I don’t know what brought you here, Lisa, but you’re a life saver.”

  Lisa’s eyes opened wide in alarm. “Why, is there something wrong?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Sarah hastily reassured her. “Do you know how to cook?”