He glared at the bed. At the closed door. He raked his fingers through his hair and swore beneath his breath.
He pulled out the chair and sat down, then reached for the telephone. He hoped like fury that Squire answered the phone. He didn’t want to put up with Daniel’s snickering, if Matthew had to explain the situation to him. Daniel had been egging Matthew to, well, a polite man wouldn’t think too hard on what his younger brother had been yammering at him to do with Jaimie.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Matthew was too honest not to admit, to himself at least, that lately his own thoughts had been leaning in that direction even without his brother goading him. His fingers jabbed the buttons on the phone so hard that number eight stuck, and spent another minute prying it loose. By the time the line was ringing, his mood had settled even lower.
Joe answered the phone. Matthew nearly groaned with relief. Briefly he told his foreman where they were and why. He didn’t expect much of a response from Joe. The man wasn’t known for his conversation. But his foreman did confirm that it was snowing heavily at the ranch. Thankfully, Joe didn’t see fit to comment on fact that it was his sister who was holed up with the boss in a motel.
Five minutes later Matthew hung up. The bathroom door was still firmly shut. He wondered briefly, fruitlessly, what she was doing in there. Probably standing there, making faces at him from behind the safety of the closed door.
He rotated his shoulders restlessly and unbuttoned his shirt as he went over to study the controls on the heating unit built into the wall beneath the lone window in the room. He turned down the thermostat and flicked open the tan drapes. Snow, illuminated by the bright globes of the parking lot lights, still fell in a steady cloud of white.
Why hadn’t he double checked the weather before leaving the ranch? Why had he brought her with him? Why on earth had he kissed her?
He was crazy, that was why. And she’d driven him there.
He breathed impatiently and yanked the tails of his shirt out of his jeans, his eyes on the closed bathroom door. Then, realizing what he was doing, he scrubbed his hands down his face and tried concentrating on something else. Anything else.
He flipped on the television. Sat in one of the rickety chairs next to the table. Stood up again and prowled around the room for a few minutes. Finally he yanked back the burnt orange bedspread and propped both pillows against the headboard, then sat back, trying not to think about the fact that unless that sassy redhead did sleep in the bathtub, she was going to climb into this very bed sometime before morning.
There was a remote control attached to the nightstand next to the bed and, for lack of anything better to do, he reached over for it. Ten channel-surfing minutes later, he turned off the television and tossed down the remote control. It had been a long time since he’d been in a motel, sure. But when had they started showing X-rated movies? His mind was already active enough without them.
He got up and rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door. “You! planning to sleep in the tub after all?”
The door jerked open, and Jaimie stood there, staring up at him her eyes stormy. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her freshly washed face. She was wearing a loose white T-shirt and the same jeans she’d been wearing earlier. “Maybe.”
He shrugged, trying to ignore the unwanted shaft of desire that blasted through him. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s fine with me. But if you don’t mind, I’d kinda like to use the facilities—”
Sure enough, pink color rose right up her neck, and though a good five or six inches shorter than he, she managed to look down her nose at him. “By all means.” She swept past him.
Before he went into the bathroom, he saw her slap her purse onto the dresser, followed by the rustle of the paper bag. She was muttering beneath her breath as she leaned down to pull off her brand-new boots.
Oh, yeah, he thought grimly, dragging his eyes from the way her jeans tightened over her rear. This was going to be a lot of fun. A real hoot. He slammed into the bathroom, yanked off his T-shirt and turned on the shower.
Cold.
Chapter Four
As soon as she heard the rush of water, Jaimie sagged. She pulled out the straight-backed desk chair and sat down. The narrow mirror on the wall beside the television reflected her image.
“What have you done wrong lately to deserve this?” Her reflection just looked back at her. Uneasy.
Okay, so maybe she’d had a fantasy or two strongly featuring Matthew. Everybody had a fantasy or two. Right? It wasn’t as if she really intended...
For heaven’s sake. It was Valentine’s Day. For a few more hours, anyway.
She brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek and turned to look at the bed. The dated bedspread was heaped at the foot of it, the pillows bunched against the headboard.
The shower stopped, and through the closed door she could hear the metallic clink of the shower curtain rings. Too easily, her mind pictured Matthew whipping back that heavy white vinyl curtain, water sluicing from his powerful shoulders as he reached for the white towel hanging above the—
“Oh, Lord.” Her heart started pounding all over again. She quickly bent and tugged off her other boot and shimmied out of her jeans. The doorknob rattled, and she dived for the bed, swiping a pillow and pulling up the covers. She would have pretended to be asleep, but she wasn’t that good at pretending. It was enough that she didn’t succumb to her cowardly urge to make herself a bed on the floor. She’d been engaged to be married. But she’d never been in a motel room with a man before. The etiquette of it all—if there was such a thing—was simply beyond her.
When Matthew stepped into view, she was holding the remote. It was an effort, but she managed to keep her eyes on the television. More or less. He crossed in front of the bed and sat on the chair by the window. His white T-shirt, sticking damply in spots, stretched snugly across his shoulders before it disappeared into the waist of his faded jeans.
She shifted uneasily against the pillow and pressed the channel button.
“I called the Double-C. Let them know we’re waiting out the snow here.”
His voice drew her eyes. His hair was darkly wet and slicked back from his face, making his eyes even more piercing. She looked back at the television, nodding.
“How’s your hand? The splinters.”
“Fine.”
He leaned back in the chair, which gave an ominous creak. “We’ll be able to get back as soon as it’s light.”
His voice was calm with no trace of his earlier frustration. Its deep tone set shivers scurrying across her shoulders. Again she nodded. Dropping the remote onto the mattress, she turned on her side, away from him, and closed her eyes. It didn’t help. His image was printed firmly on the inside of her eyelids. Until now she’d never seen his feet bare before. It seemed distressingly intimate.
Matthew studied her back. Her hair streamed across the white pillowcase like strands of fire-licked mahogany. It was also all he could see of her, considering the way she was buried beneath the covers. She was nervous, he realized with a start. Otherwise she would be giving him a full measure of sass and vinegar.
“Sleepy?”
“Yes.”
His lips twitched. Little liar, he thought silently. He watched her for a long while, knowing that she wasn’t getting any closer to falling asleep. Raking his fingers through his hair, he rose and walked back to the bathroom, feeling her eyes on him as soon as he passed the foot of the bed. When he came out with his boots on, she had pushed. herself up on one elbow.
“Where are you going?”
He pulled on his coat. “To the truck.” Her eyes rounded. “I’ll be back,” he assured. He wasn’t at all sure that his promise calmed her nerves any. He pocketed the key and left her staring after him.
Once outside he found the wind had calmed a fraction. At least he could see further than ten feet in front of him. He turned up the collar of his coat and strode over to his Blazer where he opened the back gate. The boxes from the
grocery were lined up neatly, and he wasted no time reaching for two six-packs—one soda, one beer. His ears were burning with the cold but he took enough time to pull a deck of cards out of the glove box.
It was for a good cause, he told himself as he stuffed the deck in his coat pocket and strode back to the motel. She would relax, and maybe he could get his mind off of...well just off.
At the top of the stairs, he dropped some coins into the vending machine, adding to his small load. When he let himself back into their room, Jaimie popped up on her elbow. Her eyes took in his small burden as she slowly set aside the television control.
“Planning to drink yourself to sleep?”
That was more like the sassy woman he knew. He set the six-packs on the table. “Maybe. Here.” He handed her a diet cola and the box of Cracker Jacks he’d gotten from the vending machine. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he added gruffly.
Her eyes widened and color touched her cheeks as her long, slender fingers wrapped around the box. Then he felt stupid and wished he’d just kept his mouth shut. He yanked off his coat and tossed it aside. “Come over here.”
She eyed him over the box of carmel popcorn. “What for?”
So I can have my way with you, he almost growled. If only to see her reaction, he assured himself. He gestured to the table, feeling absurdly warm again. “I don’t have any construction paper and glue so playing cards’ll have to do. Unless you’re fascinated with some program on the idiot box there.” He glanced at the television and did a double take. “I see you found the cable channel.”
Her eyes flew to the television and her jaw dropped. “I didn’t... Oh, Lord...” She turned bright red and scrambled for the remote. The screen went blank and she tossed back the blanket, giving him an eyeful of long, long, legs and a flash of black-and-white striped socks. “I wasn’t watching that.” She carefully set the Cracker Jacks on the nightstand.
He shrugged, reaching for a bottle of beer and checking the thermostat again. But it was set as low as it could be set. Maybe it was just him roasting from the inside out. “Suit yourself.”
“I wasn’t. You must have left it on that channel.”
“Now, Red, why would I do that, when I’ve got live entertainment right here?” He said it lightly, but as he took a long pull of beer, his eyes followed the way she tugged the hem of her T-shirt an inch further down her thighs. He simply couldn’t help it. No wonder he was feeling hot under the collar.
She gaped at him wordlessly, then tugged at her T-shirt again. She snatched up her jeans and dashed into the bathroom. When she returned, her regular color as well as her composure had returned. Mebbe she’d given herself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror. How to put up with a man when stuck in a motel room in three easy steps.
She took an inordinate amount of time opening the soda and taking a long sip as she stood near the foot of the bed. “What kind of cards?” she asked warily.
He shuffled the deck. “Choose your game. I’m easy.”
“My foot,” she said beneath her breath.
“I heard that.”
Her impish smile was sudden and brief and utterly bewitching as she scooted around the table to the second chair. “They must’ve made these chairs in the forties,” she said when it wobbled beneath her slender form. “So what are we playing?”
“Depends. What’s your game? Hearts? Gin?”
“I don’t play cards much.” She shrugged. “How about five-card draw?”
His hands hesitated, then shuffled again. “What’re we playing for? And money,” he glanced at her, “or other assets aren’t options.”
“Why not?” Not that she had a cent she could afford to lose.
“I don’t play for money.”
That wasn’t exactly an explanation. She knew he didn’t have any moral objections to poker, because she’d seen Squire, Matthew, Daniel and Jefferson play on a number of occasions. Of course, they always played for chips. And she knew that Matthew almost always won. She shrugged again, absently looking around the spare motel room. “Well, I don’t know. Where’s the challenge if we aren’t playing for something?” Suddenly she jumped up, leaving the chair wobbling. “I know what we’ll do.”
Matthew watched her rummage through her purse. “What are you looking for?”
She straightened with a triumphant smile and dashed out the door. It closed with a soft snick behind her. Shaking his head, he waited. Sure enough, within a minute, she was knocking softly on the door that had locked automatically upon her exit.
He went over and opened it, propping a lazy arm on the jamb. “Need something?”
“Yeah, in. It’s cold out here.”
“Maybe you should have put on your boots,” he suggested, glancing down at her vivid socks.
Her toes wiggled, and she folded her arms around her and rolled her eyes. In fact, her entire body wriggled with the cool air in the corridor. Something that his body took extreme notice of, he realized as his amusement faded, only to be replaced by that awareness of her that never really left him. He moved out of the way and headed back to the relative safety of the deck of cards and the wobbly chairs.
She followed and tossed a bag of foil-wrapped chocolate Kisses on the table. “We’ll play for those.”
Matthew couldn’t help it. He looked from the bag to Jaimie’s soft, rosy lips. “Kisses?”
Her ivory throat worked as she swallowed, then she sat on her chair, somehow managing to fold her lethally long legs up on the chair along with her sweetly curved rear. She tore open the bag and poured the candy out on the table. “We’ll split the bag,” she said and her husky tone wrapped itself around Matthew’s spine.
He stifled an oath. What was he doing, sitting here in this infernal motel room with a beautiful woman a decade his junior, playing poker for Kisses, for God’s sake? He should have just bunked do on the floor and gone to sleep, whether he felt bad that she was nervous, or not.
Yet here he sat. Straightening his share of candy into a neat little row of silver-foiled soldiers and absently shuffling the cards while his mind couldn’t get past the notion of tasting that chocolate on her lips. He already knew how she tasted flavored with lemon-laced tea. What would it be like if she unwrapped one of those chocolates and placed it in her mouth? The chocolate would soften and melt, sliding down that long, elegant throat. She would taste ever so sweet—
“Matthew?”
He stared at her. “What?”
“You planning to deal there? Or just shuffle all night?”
Her words were sassy enough. But she wouldn’t look at him. And riotous color had filled her cheeks. The confounded woman probably knew exactly what he’d been sitting there thinking. What he’d been thinking even before she had drawn off her coffee-stained sweater and introduced him to the visual delights of pink long johns this morning.
He slapped the deck down on the table, waiting for her to cut. “Ante up.” He slid a chocolate to the center of the small table before making short work of the deal.
She added her candy to his and picked up her hand. The bracelet circling her delicate wrist caught the light as she arranged the cards.
“What’s lucky about it?” he asked abruptly. Surely that was a safe enough topic.
She slowly raised her eyes from her cards. “Excuse me?”
“Your bracelet. Why is it lucky?”
“Oh.” She looked at her wrist for a moment, then returned her attention to her cards. “It was my great-grandmother’s. On my mom’s side.” She set two cards facedown on the table. With her head cocked, she looked at the new additions he dealt.
“And it’s lucky because...”
“I said so.” She slid him an impish look and added another candy to the pot.
He caught himself starting to smile.
“Actually, it was a gift to her from my great-grandfather. She passed it to my mother when she was pregnant with Joe. Now it’s mine.” Her eyes softened with an expression Matthew couldn’t quite read. �
�It’s the only thing I was able to keep of Mom’s when she died. Everything else went to auction,” she said after a moment. “It’s like if I take it off, then she’ll be even more gone.” She smiled, shrugging self-consciously. “Silly, I know.”
“Not so silly,” he murmured. Now it was either play the game or continue sitting there watching her. He figured the game was safer and he called her bet. “It’s a good thing we’re only playing for Kisses,” he observed when she displayed her hand.
He laid down his three of a kind and slid the candy to his side of the table.
“Do you cheat?” she asked casually.
“No.”
Her lips twitched. “Figures.”
He watched her expertly shuffle the deck. “Thought you didn’t play cards much,” he drawled.
Like a waterfall the cards danced from one hand to the other. She shuffled again and presented the deck for his cut, her eyes laughing. “I don’t. But I spent a few months in Reno.”
He’d played cards nearly his whole life. He couldn’t shuffle like that. “What as? A dealer?”
Her laugh was rich. And infectious. “Hardly. A cocktail waitress. But you pick up a few things.”
They anted and Matthew picked up the hand she’d dealt. Nothing. He scooted a candy to the pot, anyway. “Sounds like you’ve had some interesting jobs.”
Her smile dimmed. “A few.”
Matthew watched her for a moment. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that.”
Her shoulder moved a fraction. “You’d be one of the first who didn’t.” She looked up and Matthew wondered why it should bother him that the twinkle in her eyes seemed to be a little forced. “Come on,” she said. “We playing poker here or having a private therapy session?” She tapped her cards on the table.
Matthew raised the bet. She won back the candies that she’d just lost. Aside from her fancy shuffling, she wasn’t a half-bad player, Matthew decided a while later. But she couldn’t bluff worth spit. She had only one candy left. He ran his thumb along the edge of his cards. There was no way on earth she had a good enough hand to beat his. If she did, she would be squirming all over in her seat. Still, he felt strangely reluctant to let the game end.
The Rancher And The Redhead Page 6