by T. J. Kline
“Earth to Angela?” he teased.
Her eyes jerked upward and she blushed furiously, her fingers fidgeting with a ring hanging from a gold chain at her throat. “I . . . I should go back.” She glanced toward the house. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Chicken,” he taunted.
He wasn’t sure why he wanted to goad her, but the desire he could see in her eyes sent a white-hot jolt of need through him, shocking him. He was convinced he must be completely irrational to continue to entertain the visions of her hands on him. The heat of his body suddenly had less to do with physical exertion and more to do with the intensity of her gaze.
She lifted her chin in defiance, as if daring him to challenge her. “Is it really that hard for you to believe that I just want to do my job?”
“When you look at me that way, it is.” Derek laughed quietly at the blush that crept over her cheeks.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” He arched a brow in disbelief as she played with her necklace a moment longer before tucking her fingers into her pockets. “What are you so worried about anyway? You keep saying that you take good care of your animals. If that’s true, then that’s what I’ll report.”
There it was, the ice-cold reporter he’d seen when he’d turned her away at the rodeo. He wondered which woman was the real Angela: the emotionless ice queen he saw now or the blushing temptress he’d pinned against the wall earlier. Derek tossed the pitchfork into the wheelbarrow and moved it toward her, forcing her to exit the doorway and stand in the aisle of the barn.
“I seriously doubt you’re concerned at all with the truth.” He shut the door to the stall and stood in front of her with his arms crossed. “You’re looking for something, but it’s not the truth. And I’m not going to let you use my family for ratings.”
She cocked a hip to the side and looked thoughtful. “You know, you protest an awful lot for someone with nothing to hide.”
“Who me? I’m an open book.” He shrugged. “Ask me anything you want.” He pushed the wheelbarrow to the back of the barn and reached for his t-shirt, which lay across a nearby bale of straw. He slapped it against his thigh to knock off the bits of straw, slid his arms through the holes, and slipped the material over his head. “You wanted an interview? Now’s your chance.”
“Open book, huh? Okay, I’ll call your bluff.” A flash of curiosity lit her green eyes and she gave him a slight smile.
His mouth felt like he’d swallowed cotton balls, and he clenched his fists to keep from burying his fingers into her hair and taking her mouth hostage. Derek shrugged, pretending that her nearness wasn’t tying his stomach in knots, and sat on a bale of alfalfa stacked in the aisle of the barn. “Give it your best shot.”
She arched a brow and stepped in front of him, immediately falling into her reporter persona. “Tell me about yourself.”
“That’s not a question,” he pointed out with a lopsided grin. “What do you want to know? I’m the youngest of three. You met Jen and her husband, Clay. She’s the oldest, then Scott.”
“He and Sydney are newlyweds, right?”
Derek nodded. “They were married about seven months ago.” He wasn’t sure where her questions were leading, but so far they seemed harmless.
“What about Mike’s wife?” She tipped her head to the side and crossed her arms in front of her.
Derek narrowed his eyes and wondered at her defensive gesture. He was the one under the barrage of questions, yet she felt the need to put up barriers? “She died when I was just a baby. I never knew her. Silvie has never married, but she’s worked for Mike as long as I’ve been here. Anyone we’ve forgotten?”
She reached for the necklace again; her other arm stayed wound around her waist and twirled the ring between her fingers. “What about you?”
“What about me?” He shrugged again but leaned back against the wall and crossed his ankles in front of him. “You applying for the open position?”
He was teasing, but she glared at him. “Again, you flatter yourself. I mean, what about your parents? Mike mentioned that he started the company about twenty-five years ago with a partner. I’m assuming he meant your parents?”
Derek nodded. “My dad. He and Mike were traveling partners and rodeoed together. They passed this property several times before they earned enough prize money to pool it together to get this place and go into business. They went from being rough stock riders to stock contractors.”
“Silvie said they were killed in a car crash when you were very young?” Her voice was soft, almost sympathetic, and she gripped the ring on the chain.
He noticed her hand trembling and cocked his head to the side. He uncrossed his ankles and reached for the hand at her throat, pulling her between his thighs. “Hey, are you okay?”
Derek wasn’t sure what was going on in that pretty head of hers, but something about their discussion had upset her. When she didn’t answer him, he pried her fingers from the necklace gently and picked up the ring on the chain, examining it. She gasped as their gazes met. He felt like she’d reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. The raw pain he saw in her eyes made his chest ache. For a moment, he could only think of replacing the hurt in her eyes with something far less agonizing.
His fingers found her chin and he slid his thumb over her jaw, watching as her anguish was replaced by the hunger he was certain was reflected in his eyes. “You’re going to be my downfall, aren’t you?”
He didn’t give her a chance to respond as his lips met hers in a feather-light caress. His fingers curled at the back of her head, twining in her hair. Her fingers grasped his t-shirt and he deepened the kiss, his free arm circling around her back and pulling her close. He felt lighting shoot through him, centering in his loins, igniting a fire that would consume them both if he didn’t stop this now. His brain insisted he break the contact, but he’d fantasized about doing this for days. His lips refused to release her, and he licked her lower lip. Her mouth opened with a slight gasp and he slipped his tongue inside, meeting her own and tormenting him with the taste of her. He smiled against her lips, momentarily content in the knowledge that she tasted like the peaches and vanilla that made up her unique scent. Their tongues dueled even as alarms sounded in his brain.
Ignoring the warning, his hand slid along her spine before his thumb trailed over her ribcage, his other hand settling at her waist. She leaned into him, arching against him, and made a soft whimpering sound, pressing her breasts against his chest. He couldn’t break away from her without one final taste of her honeyed sweetness, and he sucked at her lower lip as he broke the kiss. Derek pressed his forehead against hers and took a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent that had haunted him since their first meeting. Her eyes met his, glimmering with desire that matched his own.
“It’s a good thing you’re not applying for the position,” he said, grinning down at her.
He saw the irritation ignite in her eyes, shining from within, and she shoved him away. “Jerk,” she muttered, turning to storm from the barn.
Derek’s hand snaked out and grabbed her by the wrist, tugging her back toward him. “Wait a second,” he chuckled. “Don’t get all bent out of shape. You were kind of freaking out and I wanted to distract you.”
“By molesting me?” She jerked her hand away from him.
“Well, by definition, molestation would be undesired and you didn’t seem to mind at all.”
He grinned at her and reached for her hand. He wasn’t sure why he had this overwhelming need to touch her again. He’d never felt it with any other woman, but he was quickly realizing Angela wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known. This time she didn’t fight him and his hands settled on her hips. It was a gesture meant to keep her close without seeming too intimate. He didn’t want to risk her running away from him.
“Will you answer a question for me?” He pulled her with him as he sat back down on the alfalfa, and she stood between his thighs. He hoped that by appearing relaxed, it wo
uld make the question seem less threatening.
“I suppose.” She followed him, her movements jerky and stiff, as if she distrusted his motives.
We have that in common at least. Neither of us trusts the other.
“What’s with the necklace?”
“My necklace?” She reached up and touched the ring hanging at the base of her throat. He traced the line of the chain with his fingertip and watched her pulse jump, her chest heaving in an effort to breathe naturally. His finger traced her collarbone and she dropped the ring as if it were on fire. “It’s nothing.”
She was lying. He had no doubt that the necklace had a tremendous amount of meaning for her and wondered why she wouldn’t share it, especially considering she had just been grilling him about his family. What was she hiding?
“So you’re not an open book.”
She backed away from him, just out of reach, retreating behind nonchalant coolness. “Trust me, cowboy, this isn’t a book you’d want to read.”
He watched as she turned on her heel and walked out of the barn, back toward the house. Derek wondered if kissing her had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life, but if that were the case, why was he imagining what would happen if he followed her into the house and lost himself in those emerald eyes again?
Chapter Seven
* * *
ANGELA HEARD THE early morning commotion downstairs and rolled over to see the sun glaring through the open window. Dishes clattered, a baby cried, and laughter floated up the stairs to her bedroom as she pulled the sheet over her head. Sounds of early morning breakfast with siblings—a close-knit family—all sounds she’d longed to hear for the past fifteen years, so unlike the silent mornings from her childhood with no one to help her get ready for school and no one to greet her when she arrived home. She pulled the sheet from her head and wondered if the family downstairs realized how lucky they were to have one another and how many people would give everything to have what they had.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed just as a knock sounded at the door. “Angie, are you up?” Silvie’s voice was sweet but insistent. Angela caught her breath—no one but her father called her Angie. She felt a rush of emotion crash over her, realizing she needed to call him and see how he was doing.
She reached for a sweatshirt at the foot of her bed and pulled it over her head. Burying the tears that threatened to spill over, she hurried to open the door a crack. “I’m up. I’ll be down in just a couple of minutes.”
“Derek is already waiting for you at the barn when you’re finished eating.”
“Already?”
Silvie smiled at her sympathetically. “Our day starts early around here. We’re usually up and out the door before seven.”
Seven? She was used to doing the evening report with a follow-up late at night. Most of the time she didn’t even get to bed until two or three in the morning. She was never up early. In the interest of getting her story, it appeared she was going to need to adjust to the early morning hours they kept here at the ranch.
“I’ll be right down,” she assured the older woman.
She closed the door and heard Silvie’s footsteps making their way back downstairs. She hurried to the dresser, deciding to forgo the shower until after her time with the horses, and pulled out old jeans and a t-shirt she’d unpacked. She could feel the morning sun already heating up the air, and she shoved the t-shirt back into the drawer in favor of a tank top. She glanced at her image in the mirror and wrinkled her lip before rubbing her eyes.
“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” she said to her reflection.
In truth, she had tossed and turned most of the night, sleep eluding her. As much as she wanted to blame her sleeplessness on the conversation with Derek stirring up memories of her mother, she knew it was because of his kiss. She couldn’t put it out of her mind, nor could she forget the way her body had responded to him.
She’d kissed plenty of boys in high school and men in college, even afterward, but none of them had left her shaking with need, hungry for more. The simple touch of Derek’s hand on hers had sent icy shivers of longing down her spine. Her entire body had melted in liquid heat when his lips had touched hers, leaving her body quivering with unsatisfied desire. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the way his mouth had moved over hers, coaxing her to respond, and how his hands warmed her skin, teasing the yearning in her belly to an inferno that couldn’t be extinguished by sleep.
She forced her focus back to the present and pulled her hair into a ponytail, the red tresses hanging to the middle of her back in loose waves, before hurrying to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth.
Angela made her way down the stairs, taking them two at a time, fully prepared to skip breakfast and head out to the barn. She didn’t want to keep Derek waiting. After last night, she didn’t want him to have any ammunition to use against her. After the promiscuous way she’d responded to his kisses, he had enough ammunition already.
As much as she wanted to feel his hands on her again, she couldn’t get involved with him. Falling for the subject of one of her stories, especially one she was certain wouldn’t end well, was a recipe for a broken heart, namely hers. And if anyone ever found out about her father, that would sound the death knell on her career. Newscasters, like politicians and beauty queens, were supposed to be above reproach. That meant they weren’t allowed to have alcoholic parents or fathers in rehab.
Silvie was waiting for her in the kitchen, loading the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. Without turning, she reached into the cupboard and took down a coffee cup. Angela laughed and took the cup from the older woman.
“Derek’s right. You really do know everything that goes on in this house, don’t you?”
Silvie joined her laughter. “After all of these years and raising those two boys, I don’t think anything would surprise me anymore.” She turned back to the dishes. “How’d you sleep?”
“Rough night,” Angela admitted.
“Well, I guess that’s to be expected in a new place.” Silvie eyed her suspiciously as she turned on the dishwasher. “Or maybe you have something on your mind you need to get settled.” Her expression shifted as she moved toward the refrigerator. “Did you want me to fix you some breakfast? I can make you some eggs if you want.”
“Oh, no, don’t even worry about me, Silvie. I’ll just get a cup of coffee and grab an apple.” She reached for the fruit in the bowl on the kitchen table.
“Coffee is fresh and there’s cream in the fridge. I keep a pot going all the time since the boys are in and out all day.” She wiped her hands on the towel. “I’m going to be here in the house with the little ones if you need anything today.”
Angela could hear the excitement tingeing the woman’s words, making her sound years younger. She couldn’t help but smile at Silvie’s sense of adventure when the thought of spending the day with babies would send Angela into a frenzied panic. “Sounds like you’ll have your hands full today. Don’t worry about me.”
“You take care of Derek today,” she ordered. “I already packed a lunch for the two of you. Derek’ll have it in the office. Remember to have some fun today and don’t let him work you too hard. I think a little fun is exactly what you need.”
Silvie exited into the living room and Angela poked her head out the back door, looking toward the corral where she saw two horses tied and waiting patiently for riders. A ripple of anxiety centered in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the animals. She poured a cup of coffee, topping it off with cream. Rubbing the apple on her pant leg, she pushed the door open and prepared to meet her fear head-on.
Several cowboys passed her on the way to the corral. A few made their appreciation known, but she pretended not to see their sidelong glances. She saw Derek coming out of the barn wearing his usual t-shirt and jeans combination, his baseball cap on backward, carrying a saddle over one shoulder. She couldn’t help but appreciate the br
eadth of his chest and the way his muscles rippled with each movement. As he reached one of the horses, he tossed a Navajo blanket over its back. She was surprised to see that the animal’s back was almost as tall as his chin, which was impressive considering how tall he was. She sipped her coffee as she watched him in the corral.
“You should come learn to do this,” he suggested, barely glancing her way. “First rule of rodeo, know how to saddle and unsaddle your own mount.”
“Tomorrow, I promise.” She hoped he believed her, but she wanted to look up how to do it on the Internet before she tried her hand at it. Later today she planned on spending a lot of time online researching several things, including how to groom and saddle a horse.
He bent over and reached for the leather belt under the saddle, pulling it tight and latching the buckle. “Doesn’t that hurt him?”
Derek unhooked the stirrup from the top of the saddle and snapped it to the side. The horse didn’t even flinch or move from its bored position, its head hanging as if it were asleep. He leaned his elbow against the saddle and looked at her. “Does it hurt when you put a belt on?”
She sipped the cooling coffee. “No.”
“Exactly.” He reached back and buckled another belt on the back of the saddle, this one much looser before clipping a strap under the horse. “This is a flank cinch. It’s not going to serve much of a purpose for you today, but if we were roping, it would keep the saddle in the right position on the horse.”
“Is that the same kind of flank strap you use on the bucking stock?” she asked, curious about the gear he was putting on the horse. The last thing she wanted was to be on her butt in the middle of the corral as she learned to ride. She wouldn’t put it past him to sabotage her attempt to get her to leave.