Taming the Lone Wolf

by Joan Johnston

  The whole wall of the house that encompassed the combined kitchen and living area contained French doors that opened onto a large elevated patio. The view included a forest of evergreen pines and fir interspersed with aspens that had lost their leaves earlier in the fall. The light and empty space immediately brought him comfort.

  “Is this your house?”

  Stony whirled from the refrigerator door and stared at the sprite who was standing barefoot not three feet away from him.

  “You should be wearing slippers,” he said to the child, aware of how parental he must sound, when the last thing he ever wanted to be was a parent.

  She looked down as she wiggled her toes on the polished hardwood floor. She glanced coyly at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Mama’s getting me slippers for Christmas.”

  Not without money, she wasn’t, Stony thought grimly.

  “Your feet must be cold,” he said, scooping the child up and carting her back toward the bedroom. She didn’t weigh as much as a case of beer. “You can wear a pair of socks.”

  “I’m not supposed to wear socks without shoes,” she said soberly.

  He met her gaze and frowned.

  Her chin trembled. “Mama says so.”

  “I’m not going to bite you,” he snapped.

  Rose burst into tears. “Mama!”

  “What’s going on?” Tess said, hurrying from the bedroom.

  Stony was dismayed to see she had left his T-shirt on and merely added a pair of worn jeans. It wouldn’t take much to have her naked. She was barefoot, too.

  “I told the kid she shouldn’t be running around barefoot on this cold floor.” He watched Tess’s bare toes curl against the wooden floor. His gaze skipped back to her face, and he saw the blush was back in her cheeks.

  “I don’t have the money for slippers,” she murmured.

  “Put on a pair of socks.”

  “I think I’m capable of judging whether my feet are cold,” she retorted.

  He shifted Rose to one arm and bent down to touch Tess’s bare feet. “Your toes are like ice,” he said flatly. “Put on some socks.”

  “I don’t wear socks without—”

  “Shoes,” he finished. “Then put on some socks and shoes.”

  “Is that an order?” she asked.

  He wanted to say yes, but the mulish tilt of her chin advised against it. “A suggestion.”

  “Very well. I’ll be right back.”

  “Bring some socks and shoes for Rose,” he called after her. He looked down at the little girl who was peering at him wide-eyed.

  “I don’t like you,” she announced.

  “I don’t like you, either,” he said.

  Rose didn’t seem phased by the insult. “I’m hungry,” she said.

  “So am I,” Stony muttered. “That’s probably why I’m in such a foul mood.” It couldn’t have anything to do with the two females who had invaded his lair.

  “I can help cook,” Rose said.

  “Can you now?” Stony set her on the counter beside the fridge so she would be off the floor while he rooted around for breakfast fixings. He set the eggs on the counter while he hunted out the bacon and English muffins.

  A moment later he heard a tiny “Uh-oh,” followed by the sound of eggs cracking on the floor.

  He whipped his head up and caught it on the refrigerator shelf. He grabbed at the painful spot and turned to find the eggs spilled from the carton and creating a gooey puddle on his floor.

  The little girl’s eyes were wide with fright. “I’m sorry.”

  Stony fought down the urge to yell at her, remembering how quickly she could summon tears. Besides, accidents could happen to anyone. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. This time.

  “Are you going to spank me?” the little girl asked, her chin aquiver.

  “I didn’t think parents spanked their kids anymore,” Stony said. “It’s against the law, or something.”

  “Mama says she’s going to spank me. But she never does.”

  “I’ll bet,” Stony said. That explained why the kid was spoiled rotten.

  “Mama loves me,” the little girl said solemnly.

  Stony took in Rose’s big green eyes, her unmanageable, curly head of hair, the chubby arms and legs, and felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart. Rose was lovable, all right. He had to give her that.

  He looked down at the chaos she had created with a box of eggs. Lovable. And messy.

  “Oh, no!”

  Stony looked over his shoulder at Tess, who was eyeing the broken eggs on the floor with dismay. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No problem. We can have a bowl of cereal instead. No cooking. Saves on dishes.”

  “I’ll clean up that mess,” Tess volunteered.

  “I’ll do it,” Stony said, eyeing the arm she had arranged in the sling the doctor had given her. “You’re incapacitated.”

  “What’s ’pacitated?” Rose inquired.

  “Means she can’t do anything with that broken arm,” Stony explained to the child. He caught Rose around the waist and, stepping around the broken eggs, hauled her over to the far side of the breakfast bar, where he sat her on one of the two stools there. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and began sopping up the eggs and dropping the shells into the disposal in the sink.

  “You must not get much company,” Tess said, settling on the second stool.

  “I can stand on this side of the bar,” he said, rinsing his hands and drying them. He grabbed some bowls from the cupboard and dropped them with a clatter on the breakfast bar. He only had one box of cereal, a healthy wheat flake, and he began pouring it out into the three bowls.

  “I don’t like that kind,” Rose said.

  “It’s all I’ve got,” Stony replied.

  “I want the kind with marshmallows,” Rose insisted.

  “Rose, darling—” Tess said.

  “Eat it or go hungry,” Stony said.

  Rose moved her bowl just as Stony began to pour milk, and it spilled across the counter.

  Stony set down the milk carton as softly as he could, using his last bit of patience. “It’s time we had a talk, young lady,” he said to Rose.

  “I don’t like you,” Rose said, her chin tilted in a mulish imitation of her mother.

  “I thought we settled that,” Stony muttered, glaring back at the little girl. “I don’t like you, either.”

  “Rose—”

  “Stay out of this, Tess,” Stony said.

  “I will not,” Tess said, rising from her bar stool, her green eyes flashing. “You seem to be forgetting who you are. And who we are.”

  “I’m an idiot,” Stony muttered. “And you’re interlopers.”

  “What’s ’lopers?” Rose asked.

  “Intruders,” Stony snarled.

  “What’s ’truders?” Rose asked.

  “Unwelcome guests,” Tess answered before Stony could speak. “I think we can save you and ourselves a great deal of unpleasantness, Mr.—I don’t even know your last name,” Tess said, astonished at the realization. “I’m sorry we’ve intruded on your peace. If you’ll allow me to use your phone, I’m sure Harry DuBois will be willing to come and get us.”

  Stony shoved a hand through his hair, catching the wayward curl on his forehead, which immediately tumbled back down again. “Look,” he said. “I don’t want you to leave. Besides, you have nowhere else to go.”

  Tess sighed. “Unfortunately, what you say is true. But I don’t think this is going to work, Mr.—What is your last name, anyway?”

  “It’s Carlton, but call me Stony.”

  “Very well, Stony. As I said, I don’t think this is going to work.”

  “I’m not used to having people around.”

  “Especially not children, it seems.”

  “I don’t like kids,” he said flatly.

  “Why is that?” Tess challenged.

  Stony thought of his father and his father’s very young new wife and t
heir new family that had excluded him. He had to admit his half brother had been cute. His father had been fascinated by his second son. That kid had gotten all the attention Stony had always craved from a father who had always been too busy working to play with him. Thirteen-year-old Stony had felt sick with guilt and shame at his uncontrollable envy and resentment of the time and attention his father gave his newborn son.

  He couldn’t tell Tess any of that. “Kids are a lot of bother,” he said instead.

  “I shall make certain Rose is not a bother,” Tess said crisply. “Is there anything else?”

  “Just keep her out of my way.”

  Tess looked around the small cabin. What Stony asked was unrealistic, considering the size of the place. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I want to go home,” Rose said to her mother.

  Stony watched as Tess hugged the child. “I wish we could go home, too, Rose. We have to stay here.”

  “I don’t like that man,” Rose said.

  Stony met Tess’s gaze over the child’s head. He wasn’t proud of his behavior. But he couldn’t help his feelings, either. However, there was something he could do to ease the situation for all of them.

  “I’ve got another job up around Jackson Hole,” he said. “I’ll be leaving this afternoon, so you’ll have the place to yourself. I have groceries delivered on a regular basis from town. If you need more, call the supermarket and give them a list.”

  He hadn’t been meaning to take on more work right away, but it seemed best to put some distance between himself and Tess—for whom he felt too great an attraction, and the little girl—who didn’t like him.

  “What is it you do?” Tess asked.

  “I find cattle rustlers. And bring them to justice.”

  Tess stared at him openmouthed.

  He turned on his heel and left the room before she had a chance to ask if he knew the man who had apprehended and killed her husband.

  Chapter Three

  STONY HAD SPENT most of the past six weeks on horseback or in his Jeep tracking a bunch of winter rustlers that had proved particularly elusive. He hadn’t been home once since he had rescued Tess Lowell, spending his time instead at a place he kept in Jackson Hole within sight of the Grand Tetons. It was two days before Christmas, and he wanted to be in his own home for the holiday. Even if he had to share it with strangers.

  He wondered if they had already left. Maybe Tess had figured out some other way to support herself, and she and the little girl were gone. Perversely, he found himself wishing they were still there.

  Tess had been on his mind a great deal lately.

  He figured it was simply that he hadn’t had a woman in a long time, and he had found the sight of her green cat’s eyes staring back at him from an alabaster face surrounded by wispy auburn curls especially attractive. He couldn’t help remembering the look of her long legs slipping from under his covers. Or the soft weight of her breasts beneath one of his worn T-shirts.

  He wanted her. There wasn’t anything rational or reasonable about his desire. It was purely primitive. Like a male beast in rut. He had to have her.

  He planned to have her.

  His heart beat a little bit faster when he saw the smoke coming from the chimney of his cabin as he traversed the narrow, winding dirt road lined with tenfoot mounds of county-plowed snow that led up the mountain where he lived.

  She was still there.

  He left the Jeep outside rather than putting it in the garage and let himself in through the front door, anxious to see her again.

  He was stunned when he stepped inside. His place didn’t look the same. Not that it didn’t look nice. The Western furniture had been rearranged to create a cozy sitting area around the wood stove in the fireplace and everything sparkled with cleanliness. She had brought evergreen boughs inside and strung them across the pine mantel, adding splashes of red with small velvet bows. And she had put up a Christmas tree with homemade decorations and lights. There were even presents beneath it.

  It felt like a home. But not his home.

  He hadn’t celebrated Christmas since he had left his father’s house at eighteen. It conjured too many memories of his father and the wife and child who had usurped what little place he had in his father’s life. He had decided he didn’t need anybody to love him. After college, instead of going into his father’s lumber business, he had escaped to this mountain hideaway to be alone, renting a place in town until the house was done.

  The Christmas tree brought back painful memories of being shut out, of feeling lonely and alone. Only he wasn’t alone this Christmas. Not if the fire in the chimney meant what he thought it did.

  His nose led him to the stove, where a savory stew was bubbling, apparently intended for supper later in the day. He used a wooden spoon to take a taste. It was delicious, tangy with sage and bay.

  The house was quiet. Normally he liked the quiet. Now it irritated him. Where was she? Where was the little girl?

  He went hunting for Tess and found her in the guest bedroom, sitting on the side of one of the twin pine beds, reading The Three Little Pigs to her daughter. He stood in the doorway, listening to their laughter as Tess huffed and puffed and blew the house down. It made his chest constrict for no good reason he could discern.

  He knew when she felt his presence. Her shoulders tensed, and she stopped reading in midsentence. She could likely smell him, feel his heat. He felt hers.

  “Why did you stop, Mama?” the child asked. “Did the big, bad wolf blow the brick house down?”

  When Tess turned to look at him over her shoulder he felt a shiver of raw sexual hunger roll down his spine. The hairs stood up on his nape. His nostrils flared, and his body tautened.

  She recognized the danger. He saw it in the way her pupils dilated, the way her mouth fell open to gasp a breath of air, the way her body readied itself to fight—or to flee.

  She couldn’t run from him. Not without the child. And the two of them hadn’t a chance of escaping.

  He saw the anxiety in her eyes, along with an unnaturally heightened awareness. She moved slowly, cautiously, standing and laying the children’s book down on the bed.

  He suddenly realized the cast was gone. Her arm was healed. But she was still here. He felt a surge of triumph, almost of euphoria. He had the oddest feeling she was going to walk right into his embrace.

  He took a step, opened his arms to her, and found them filled seconds later as an exuberant little girl launched herself at him from the bed. He caught Rose only an instant before disaster.

  “You came back!” Rose chirped, clinging to his neck like a limpet. “Mama said you would. Mama said you’re a nice man. Mama said you’re taking care of us.”

  He scowled. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

  Her tiny brow furrowed uncertainly, and her worried glance skipped to her mother. “Mama?”

  “I believe Rose is willing to give you a second chance,” Tess said in a voice that shuddered over him.

  He met her eyes. “Thanks to you, I suppose.”

  She smiled, and a spiral of desire drew his loins up tight.

  “I might have had something to do with it.”

  Her smile faded as sexual awareness rose between them.

  Rose grabbed his cheeks between her palms to turn his attention back to her. “I like it here,” she said. “I can play in the snow, and chop limbs from trees and stuff. Mama said you might let us stay if I’m a good girl. I’m not supposed to say I don’t like you anymore,” she added naively.

  Stony’s glance shot to Tess and caught her blush of embarrassment. So that was how she had gotten the girl to change her mind about him.

  “I promise to be good,” Rose said. “Will you let us stay? Have you seen our Christmas tree? Mama made some presents for you. Do you want to see your presents?”

  “Rose,” Tess said, “give Stony a chance to catch his breath.”

  His breath was caught already—somewhere in his chest.

/>   Rose wriggled to be let down, and he set her on her feet. She grabbed his hand and headed toward the living room as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. He glanced helplessly over his shoulder at Tess, who gave him a winsome smile as he was led away. He held out his hand to her at the last possible moment, and she laid her slight palm in his, allowing herself to be tugged after him.

  Electricity shot up his arm as he made contact with her flesh. If it hadn’t been for the hold the little girl had on him he would have taken Tess then and there. He flashed her a look that told her his intention and saw the trepidation rise again in her eyes. She recognized the trap too late. She had been caught, and he would not let her go until he had assuaged the powerful need in him to have her beneath him, to put himself inside her and make her his own.

  * * *

  TESS HAD REALIZED the danger too late. She had known Stony was attracted to her, felt it all those weeks ago when she had woken up in his bed. She had assumed he was civilized enough to control his impulses. She should have known better. No man was civilized where sex was concerned.

  Harry had warned her. “He’s dangerous. Stony Carlton is a lone wolf who doesn’t live by anyone’s rules. Watch yourself around him.”

  She had laughed at Harry and reassured him that after a year as a waitress at the Buttermilk Café she was perfectly capable of quelling the pretensions of a too-forward man.

  She felt a frisson of excitement skate up her arm as Stony’s hand tightened around hers. She had known she would have to deal with the attraction between them sometime. She just hadn’t thought it would be this soon.

  “Mama made you a—” Rose cut herself off, putting tiny hands in front of her mouth. Wide-eyed she confessed, “I’m not supposed to tell. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

  Stony led Tess to the sofa she had angled in front of the fireplace and drew her down on it. An instant later Rose was in his lap chattering again. Because her daughter asked a question she wanted answered herself, Tess didn’t bother shushing her.

  “Where have you been?” Rose asked. “What have you been doing?”

  Stony’s thumb caressed Tess’s wrist. Her blood began to thrum, and goose bumps shot up on her arms. She stared at him, mesmerized, as he spoke.