Tyler gave a bitter laugh. "Everything that SOB does is personal. I'll bet he thinks that sun rises just for his benefit."
"You see?" Caitlin smiled and brushed her mouth over his. "That's just what my brothers would say."
"Is it," he said, after a minute.
"You sound just like them. Even your voice has the same timbre." She smiled and touched the tip of her nose to his. "So?"
"So?"
"So, I've told you about me. Now I want to hear about you."
A muscle knotted in Tyler's jaw. "There's not much to tell."
Caitlin grinned. "Mr. Kincaid is the founder of Kincaid Incorporated," she said smugly, "which is based in Atlanta, Georgia. He serves on the board of several major corporations and he is honorary chairman of—"
To her absolute delight, Tyler blushed.
"Hell," he muttered, "you read that stupid brochure my PR department put out." He drew back, glared at her from under his brows. "How'd you get your hands on that?"
"Never underestimate a country girl, Mr. Kincaid." Caitlin laughed softly. "I turned on my computer, went out on the internet and looked you up."
He grinned. "Did you," he said softly.
"Yes. Yesterday. After you almost gave poor Leighton apoplexy with one look, I figured it might be a good idea to know just who I was up against, Kincaid."
She caught her breath as he slid his hands under the blanket and stroked them over her flesh.
"What a fine idea, McCord."
"Looking you up on the net?" she said, and shuddered as his fingers brushed over her breasts.
"Being up against me," he murmured, and cupped the back of her head. "Come here, McCord, and kiss me."
She did, and before her heart could take a second beat, the kiss went from soft and gentle to passionate and exciting.
"Tyler," she whispered.
"Cait." He turned her in his arms so she was facing him. The blanket slipped, unnoticed, from her shoulders. Sunlight bathed her skin with gold. Travis felt as if a fist were clenching around his heart. "Cait," he whispered, "take me inside you."
He watched her face change, watched her eyes darken, her mouth soften as he sought entrance. She smiled, a smile as old as Eve: "Yes," she sighed, "oh, yes."
Slowly, slowly, she impaled herself on his rigid length, taking him deep, filling herself with him, feeling her womb constrict as her soul took flight.
I love you, she thought, Tyler, I love you ...but his mouth was on hers, his hands were on her hips, he was guiding her in this slow, lush dance, in steps her blood had always known.
And she lost herself in his embrace.
Afterward, he held her close while his breathing slowed and the earth steadied on its axis.
She was warm in his arms, as warm as a kitten basking in the sun, and just as pliant.
He stroked her hair and tried to make sense of what was happening to him.
He'd always been successful with women. There was no boastfulness in admitting it to himself. The simple fact was that there'd never been a woman he'd wanted that he hadn't been able to have.
But something else was happening here.
Each time he looked at Caitlin, each time he touched her, he felt... Tyler closed his eyes. That was the problem. He didn't know what he felt. It was as if something were stretching and stirring inside him.
And it scared the hell out of him..
He was thirty-five years old. He'd built an empire with nothing but his own sweat and skill; he'd run the rapids on Alaska's wildest rivers. He'd skydived, skied mountains without trails and gone spelunking in caves that stretched for miles—and he was terrified of whatever it was his heart was trying to signal to him about a woman he'd only met a week ago.
A woman who was the stepdaughter of the man he was determined to destroy.
Tyler looked down at Caitlin, nestled so sweetly in his arms. He had to tell her the truth. Who he was. Why he'd come here.
What he was going to do.
His mouth thinned.
God, he couldn't. It was too soon. How could he lay his life out to her that way? "I'm not Tyler Kincaid," he'd say. "I'm a man named John Smith. My mother is dead, my father is Jonas Baron but he refuses to admit it, and when I was younger, I did some things..."
His throat closed.
He'd never told those things to anyone. Those things had happened to John Smith. He was Tyler Kincaid. How could he even consider dumping all that on Caitlin? They'd only known each other for a short while, been lovers for a night.
And yet—and yet, if miracles were real, if magic could happen, if she felt what he felt...
"Tyler?"
He smiled, gathered her close as she sighed and stirred in his arms.
"Yes, love."
"Tyler." Her breath whispered against his throat; she kissed his damp skin, tasted it with the tip of her tongue. "I just wanted to say your name."
Tell her, he thought fiercely, tell her it's a name you created…
"And—and to tell you that I've never—I've never been so happy." She gave a little laugh and tilted, her head back, so she could see his face. "If I had any feminine wiles at all, I'd know better than to tell you that."
He bent his head, caught her mouth with his and kissed her. "Cait," he murmured.
"I like it when you call me that. No one ever has." She smiled against his lips. "You know how I feel, Tyler?"
"As if your life is just beginning," he said, sliding his thumbs along her cheekbones. "As if this dawn is the start of the rest of your life."
"Yes! Yes, that's right. Oh, Tyler, I want—I want—"
"I know you do." Tyler framed her face with his hands. "But first, sweet Cait, I have things to tell you."
"Me, too." She sat up in his lap, her eyes glowing. "Something wonderful happened last night."
Tyler chuckled. "It certainly did."
Caitlin laughed and put her hands on his shoulders. "I mean, before I got here. Jonas called me into the library. He said he had something to tell me. That's when he told me you were going away."
"Now the woman admits it," he said softly, teasingly, filling his soul with the sight of her. "The old man told you I was leaving, and that made you happy?"
"Hush." She kissed him again, sat back and gave him a worried look. "Don't even joke about it. That part almost tore my heart out."
Tyler took a deep breath. "That's what I need to tell you, Cait. About why I came to Espada—and why I'm not leaving."
"You don't have to explain."
"I don't?"
"No, of course not. You bought a home here. You wouldn't have done that if you didn't intend to stay in Texas. And no matter what Jonas pretends, I know you're not the sort of man who'd knuckle under to his bullying." Caitlin moistened her lips. "I don't know what the trouble is between you, but I do know you won't run away from it."
Tyler linked his hands together at the base of her spine.
"That's right, Cait. I won't. I can't. I have business to settle with Jonas Baron, and until I do, I'm not going anywhere. Sweetheart, I know you think he's been good to you. Well, maybe he has, in his own selfish way, although how you can still believe it after he's told you, bluntly, that you're, hell, I don't know, less valuable to him because you don't carry Baron blood—"
"That's what I have to tell you. That's all changed."
"Changed?" Tyler repeated. "How has it changed?"
But he knew. Even before Caitlin said the words, he knew. "Jonas changed his mind. He's decided to will Espada to me."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOUR days.
Four days had gone by since she'd spent the night in Tyler's arms.
Caitlin knew how much time had elapsed not only to the hour but to the minute, just as she knew how many times she'd thought about Tyler, wanted him, longed for him.
Now, she was starting to know how much she hated him.
Her mouth trembled as she led the mare from the stable. It was the same hor
se she'd been riding the day she'd almost run Tyler down. If only she hadn't gone riding that day. If only she'd ridden toward the hills, not toward the road.
Caitlin gave herself a shake. What was that old expression about not crying over spilled milk? You couldn't change the past. The future was what mattered, and her future was going to be wonderful.
Espada would be hers.
The mare whinnied and tossed her head.
"Easy, girl," Caitlin said softly, as she lay the saddle on the animal's back.
She'd always loved the quiet of early morning down at the stables. The grass, still wet with dew; the sun, warm on her face ...all the creatures that called Espada home were stirring and stretching as the new day began.
Less than a week ago, she'd stirred and stretched in Tyler's arms. She'd greeted the dawn of another day with his kisses on her lips, his hands on her skin...
The mare snorted and danced sideways.
"Sorry," Caitlin murmured, and let out the cinch strap.
Thinking about that night, and that morning, was, pointless. They'd happened and now they were over. And the sooner she stopped wondering why Tyler was doing this to her, the better.
"Mornin', Jonas."
She looked up. Jonas had joined Abel at the corral. His smile was almost as broad as the brim of his Stetson.
Her stepfather had been doing a lot of smiling lately, although he certainly hadn't been smiling when she'd returned to Espada on Sunday. She'd made the drive more on instinct than anything else, her heart filled with Tyler, her body still singing with their commingled passion. The world had seemed perfect—until she'd spotted Jonas, sitting on the front steps of the house, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth and a scowl as dark as a thundercloud on his face.
She'd killed the engine, stepped down from the cab of her pickup truck and hesitated. She'd told herself not to be a fool. She was a grown woman, and if she wanted to stay out all night with a man Jonas didn't like, that was her business.
So she'd shut the truck door, squared her shoulders and walked briskly toward the house.
"Good morning," she'd said, and started past him, but Jonas had risen to his feet and blocked her passage. "You know what time it is, missy?"
"Ten," she answered pleasantly, after a glance at her watch. "And I promised Abel I'd help him with the new stud, so if you'll excuse me—"
"Looks to me as if you've already been dealin' with the new stud."
Caitlin felt her cheeks burn, but her gaze was unflinching as it met her stepfather's.
"Don't," she said softly. "Please, don't say anything we'll both regret."
"I ain't sayin' nothin' but the truth. You been with Kincaid."
"Yes. I was with Tyler. And it has nothing to do with you."
Jonas spat the cigar into the grass. "It has everythin' to do with me, girl, and with Espada. I've been tryin' to tell you, Kincaid is no good. He come here after somethin' that ain't his to take."
"It's me he wants," she'd said softly. "Me, Jonas. Is that so difficult for you to accept?"
"You tell him I've decided to will Espada to you?"
The unease that had scrabbled at the edges of her mind during the drive home reached out for her, but she forced it aside.
"Believe it or not, Espada was hardly on our agenda."
Jonas grasped her arm. "Answer me, girl. Did you tell him?"
"Yes."
"And? What'd he say?"
Nothing. That was what Tyler had said. He'd simply looked at her, his face expressionless. Then he'd lifted her from his lap, set her on her feet and walked into the house.
"Tyler?" she'd said, staring after him, and he'd stopped, turned back, taken her in his arms and kissed her.
"Sorry," he'd murmured, holding her close. After a minute, she'd felt his body harden and he'd made love to her again, not gently but hard and fast so that when it was over, she'd been clinging to him, her skin flushed and damp, her breathing rapid. "Cait," he'd whispered, "Cait, forgive me," and she'd taken his face in her hands and told him there was nothing to forgive, that it had been exciting, being taken that way.
Staring into her stepfather's pale, chilly eyes that Sunday morning, she'd forced herself not to think of anything but Tyler, didn't let herself dwell on why Tyler hadn't responded to her wonderful news about Espada, why he'd made love to her with such desperation...
Why he'd asked her to forgive him.
She'd looked Jonas in the eye and told him to mind his own damned business. Then she'd gone into the house, up to her room, and phoned Tyler...
Phoned him, and reached his answering machine, the same as she'd reached it twice more before she'd realized he didn't want to talk to her, didn't intend to return her calls or to see her again.
"Goin' ridin'?"
Caitlin looked up. Jonas was strolling toward her, smiling pleasantly.
"Uh-huh." She made the final adjustments to the mare's saddle and swung up into it. "She needs a good workout. I figured I'd take her out for a while."
"Well, you be back by lunchtime, you hear?" Jonas grinned. "Got a surprise for you."
"I'll be back." She touched her heels to the animal's sides but before she could move out, her stepfather grabbed the bridle.
"Don't you want to know what it is?"
Caitlin forced a smile. "It wouldn't be a surprise, if I knew."
Jonas chuckled. "Spoken like a true Baron," he said, and let go of the bridle.
A true Baron, Caitlin thought, and clucked softly to the mare. Was that what she was now? She must be; only a true Baron could inherit Espada. She waited for the rush of pleasure that should have accompanied the realization but it wasn't there. She hadn't felt pleasure over anything, not in days, not since she'd let herself face the truth, that Tyler wasn't going to call, that all she'd been was a one-night stand, a woman he'd leched after and, once he'd gotten what he'd wanted, there'd be nothing more.
The mare was edgy. Hell, so was she.
"Okay," Caitlin said, and gave the animal its head.
The mare headed for the northern hills that rimmed Espada's lush grazing land at a trot. Caitlin touched her heels to the horse's flanks and urged it into a gallop. A hot wind slapped at her face, lifted the damp curls from her forehead and she blanked her mind to everything but the heat, the horse and the scents of the meadow.
After a while, she slowed the pace to a trot, then to a walk. Caitlin leaned forward, patted the mare's arched neck. She and Abel had discussed the animal last night and decided it was time she gave Espada a foal.
"Pretty soon now," Caitlin said softly, "I'm going to introduce you to that handsome stud in the last stall." The mare's ears twitched. "Just take my advice, girl. Enjoy yourself—but don't believe a thing he says."
The mare whinnied and Caitlin laughed, but the laugh caught in her throat and became a sob. She threw back her head and glared at the cloudless sky.
"Damn you to hell, Tyler Kincaid," she said. "Damn you to hell, forever."
Then she leaned forward, tightened her grasp on the reins and set the animal into a hard, fast gallop.
Tyler stood on the patio of his house in the Texas hills and stared out across the land.
An Express Delivery box had arrived that morning. It lay on the table behind him. He'd emptied it and now everything he'd spent a lifetime searching for lay neatly stacked inside his briefcase.
"I have everything you'll need, sir," the P.I. had told him when he'd called.
He sure as hell did.
There was a sworn statement from the woman who'd served as receptionist to the doctor who'd delivered a live male infant to Juanita Baron on July 18, thirty-five years before. Another from the doctor's wife, who'd listened to her husband's deathbed, guilt-ridden confession of his complicity in reporting the supposed stillbirth of that same infant boy.
And there was the most damning bit of evidence of all.
There, in that neat pile of papers, were documents that bore the name of the
drifter who'd come onto the Baron ranch and into Juanita's life, all those years ago. There was little doubt he'd been her friend, her confidant...but not the father of her child. The private investigator had not only found the drifter's name, but he'd also found his history. The man had been in the army. He'd had medical records...
Medical records that made it clear the drifter could never have fathered a child. He'd suffered a hideous wound, while serving in the army—a wound that had, without question, left him sterile.
There was no doubt about it now. DNA tests, blood tests, Tyler would demand all of it, but the results would only confirm the truth.
Jonas Baron was his father.
Tyler swung away from the placid meadow and the rolling hills.
"Damn you to hell, you son of a bitch," he shouted, but the angry imprecation did nothing to relieve the pain and rage inside him. He pounded his fist on the glass-topped patio table but the glass was tempered and wouldn't break. And he wanted it to break, wanted to see it break, shatter into a thousand pieces, the way his life had been shattered.
And his heart.
If only he'd never begun this damned stupid quest for closure. If only he'd accepted Adrianna's birthday gift. If only he'd accepted his life. Most men would have been pleased with what he'd accomplished. The wealth. The power. The name people respected, and what did it matter if he'd created his name himself? He was Tyler Kincaid. The boy named John Smith was long-gone.
Except, there'd never been a John Smith. There'd been a boy born to Jonas and Juanita Baron, and the boy's mother had died knowing his father intended to abandon him.
Tyler picked up his briefcase, walked down the patio steps and across the grass.
A couple of weeks ago, the investigator's report would have had him cheering. He'd have had all the answers he needed, all the proof he wanted before he took his revenge on Jonas Baron.
And then he'd fallen in love with Caitlin.
What sense was there in denying the truth? He loved her, and once he did what he'd come here to do, she would hate him. He was going to destroy the stepfather she loved, make enemies of the brothers she adored and he'd never known, and strip her of the thing that was as much a part of her as her soul.
Sandra Marton - Taming of Tyler Kincaid Page 15