Only Jonas would want a wild mustang for his equine program. Not exactly a quality ride—and yet Shaman relished the chance to learn, and to shape the animal’s spirit. It had to be done just right: slowly, patiently.
One thing a man learned in the military was patience.
He ran his hand lightly over the mare’s neck, making certain the lead rope wasn’t too tight. She did have a shiny coat and beautiful brown eyes. It was the attitude that he had to work on.
“Hi.”
When Shaman heard the voice behind him, he knew at once that it belonged to the sweet angel who’d ditched him.
“Easy, Candy,” he said, taking his time turning to face his visitor. She was dressed in blue jean capris and a filmy pink top today, a sexy dream destined to keep him sleepless. “Hello, Cupertino.”
She seemed surprised by what he’d called her. He shrugged. It was her name, and he wasn’t much for anything fake. “What brings you out here?”
She held up a picnic basket. It was high noon and hot; he was sweaty and had been alone with his thoughts too long. “The rain check,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to leave the other night.”
“No, you’re not.” He ignored the basket and gently tugged Candy forward by the lead rope. The mare didn’t seem too disposed to be pliable, and Shaman moved carefully so she wouldn’t shy away. “But that’s okay. I’m not much of a guy for talking during meals.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He ignored that, too, drawing Candy in a circle. “What’s in the basket?”
“Veggie wraps, made by Shinny and Blanche. Cheese and crackers. Some white wine. White-chocolate pretzels and strawberries. They said you and your family are vegetarian.”
He kept the woman waiting for a few minutes, drawing out his surrender to her. Candy kicked up a hoof, trying to show him that she might be on a lead, but that didn’t mean she was giving up any of her sassy spirit.
“Sounds good,” he finally said. “Why don’t you take it into the kitchen, put it on the table and leave it for me?”
She stared at him. “I...know you’re not much for conversation, but I’d really hoped...”
He looked at her directly, daring her to be honest. “Hoped for what?”
After a moment, she said, “I’m not sure.”
She wasn’t being honest. And he demanded honesty. “Just leave it in the kitchen,” he told her. “Tell Shinny and Blanche thanks. And I sent your bag to Cat this morning, with Jonas.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to leave it here.”
“Yeah, you did.” He wasn’t going to give her an inch.
She didn’t say anything, and he felt her indecision. After a minute, the tall, gorgeous blonde carried the picnic basket to the farmhouse, disappearing inside. He stayed outside with Candy, never looking toward the house, yet listening for the sound of her white Land Rover to start up. After thirty minutes, when he didn’t hear it, he put Candy away with a hose-down she despised and a rub she tried to kick him for as her equine thank-you. Then he let her go, after putting out hay for her to eyeball with wild eyes. She galloped off to forage for herself—but he knew she’d remember that treats were here and always available after training.
She’d remember, and she’d have to make up her mind to cool her attitude just a bit, day by day.
He went inside the house, took off his boots. The picnic basket wasn’t on the table. Instead, the table had been set, with white wine in the glasses. Tempest was asleep on the sofa, her long, silky hair falling over her shoulder.
He could stand here all day, doing nothing more than stare at her.
But she hadn’t come here to be stared at.
“Cupertino,” he said, “wake up.”
She came awake, her big blue eyes widening when she saw him standing over her. “Thanks for the grub,” he said. “Either you go now or you stay. If you stay, know that I intend to love you like you’ve never been loved.”
She didn’t move, but kept her wide eyes locked on his, with that same angelic look she’d worn two nights before.
“Fair warning,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her from the sofa. “Get the strawberries. I’m in the mood for something sweet.”
She made a move to do as he requested, but when he started slowly undoing the buttons on her blouse, she didn’t pull away. Shaman kissed her, ravaging her mouth, not bothering to hide the fact that he wanted her like mad. She moaned, and he murmured, “Rain check later,” and carried her down the hall.
* * *
TWO WEEKS LATER, Shaman waved to the demolition crew who’d come to raze the barn, his brother Gage standing nearby to help oversee it with him. Today was the day, a big day. Finally, they could begin the complete rebuilding of Dark Diablo. Tearing down the barn and bunkhouse was necessary in the vision Jonas Callahan had for his vast acreage.
It was good to tear down old and build new. Cleared out ghosts.
“What is that?” Gage demanded, his vision not on the crew’s heavy equipment, as it should have been, but on the fabulous blonde leaving the farmhouse after a very satisfying night spent in Shaman’s arms.
“Looks like a woman to me,” he said. “Focus, bro. We’ve got a job to do here.”
“I know it’s a woman. In fact, I know who it is.” Gage stared at him. “What I want to know is why she’s here.”
Shaman shrugged. “Cupertino hangs around on occasion, brings me a meal or two.”
His brother was agog. “Not you.”
He shrugged again. “Guess so.”
They watched the blonde get in her Land Rover and drive away. Shaman always hated to see her go. He never knew if she’d return. She usually came around dinnertime, and stayed through the night, letting him worship her between the sheets.
Sometimes she didn’t return for a day or two, and that always worried him. One day she’d get tired of him, a simple man with not much to offer, and he would never see her again. Whatever demons she was exorcising out of her soul were nothing she cared to talk about. In fact, the two of them didn’t do much talking.
“Listen,” his brother said. “Tempest is not someone you just toy with. That is a very kind woman. Cat and Chelsea consider her a friend.”
“Yeah.” Shaman liked her, too. His gaze went back to the giant bulldozer about to push into the enormous old barn. “She’s real nice.”
“No, no.” Gage shook his head. “You don’t understand. Tempest is a good woman.”
“I got that. You’re getting twisted up for nothing, bro. Listen, Cupertino brings me dinner. I guess she thinks I’m starving. And I say thanks, because the truth is, she’s a darn good cook. And I like to look at her.” He shook his head. “You can’t expect me to turn that down.”
Gage was clearly astonished. After a minute, he said, “You call her Cupertino?”
“That’s her name.”
“But do you know who she is?” he demanded.
“She’s a woman who grew up in Tempest.” Shaman didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t like he was sending out engraved invitations begging her to come by. She showed up when she wanted, she left when she wanted.
“She’s in negotiation right now for a starring role in a major Broadway production that might be turned into a movie, for one thing,” his brother told him.
“Is she?” Shaman watched the bulldozer tear into the first wall, collapsing it. Dust and bits of wood flew everywhere.
“If you’d read
the newspaper, you’d know that,” Gage said. “The New York Times publishes a Sunday edition that’s really quite informative, if you cared to learn about the world around you.”
He laughed. “The paperboy must have left me off the route.”
“Online Times is just fine. You can read it every day. Takes very little effort. You get twenty free articles the first month, and if you decide you like being informed about the world outside of your shell, you can subscribe. It’s great.”
“Yeah, well. There’s no internet here. If you haven’t noticed, we’re miles from civilization.” And Shaman didn’t really care. He liked the setup just the way it was. He didn’t want to know more about the woman than he did. Whatever it was that she wanted from him, it suited him well.
“There is internet,” Gage stated. “In fact, the internet is how Cat found Tempest in the first place.”
That caught Shaman’s attention. “Our niece wrote her?”
“Yes. Cat wanted Tempest to come home. She thought my wife’s writing creativity would get a boost if she met Tempest. Cat had other reasons for choosing her for pen pal status, but that’s the main idea. So don’t tell me the internet doesn’t work. It’s what brought her all the way from Italy.”
“Doesn’t matter. She’ll go to her gig when she’s ready. In the meantime, she doesn’t look like she’s suffering, does she?” Shaman asked, crossing his arms. “I mean, if you’re trying to infer that she can do better than me, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no prince, bro.”
Gage shook his head. There probably would have been more discussion of the wonders of the woman who seemed to want nothing more than nights in Shaman’s arms, but two walls collapsed on the barn, and workers started yelling and running around, ending the debate.
Thankfully. Because if he heard any more about what a goddess she was, he was going to have to tell her to take her picnic basket and hit the road. Shaman knew that, like the beast in the fairy tale, you should just appreciate the pretty things in life—while in the back of your mind you heard your mother saying, “Don’t touch anything in the store! You might break it.” You heard your father say, “A woman only wants a man with money and power.”
One day it’ll be over.
Right now, I just try to make her happy.
ISBN: 9781459245235
Copyright © 2012 by Cathy Gillen Thacker
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
The Texas Rancher's Marriage Page 22