“Work faster,” Crawford replied. “We need him in custody sooner rather than later.”
They spoke for several more minutes, and by the time the call ended, frustration burned in the pit of Rhett’s stomach and he knew he needed to step up his game. However, as he thought of how skittish Caitlin seemed around him, he also knew he had his job cut out for him.
It was exactly six o’clock when he knocked on the front door of the house. He was surprised to feel more than a little nervous anxiety fluttering around in the pit of his stomach. He felt like a teenager on his first date, desperate that she would like him and would want to see more of him.
He needed that as an FBI agent on a mission, and he had to admit to himself that he wanted that as a man. There was nothing better for sharing secrets than pillow talk. It was definitely time for a little seduction.
Caitlin stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, for the hundredth time cursing Esme for coming up with the idea of inviting Randall to dinner and cursing herself for agreeing to it.
There was no question that Randall Kane rattled her to the bones. There was a softness in his gaze, a softness that at times flared into something hot, something greedy that half stole her breath away.
If she’d met him two months ago she might have pursued the obvious chemistry that snapped in the air between them. Before leaving the country Caitlin had enjoyed sex, although she’d been careful in her choice of partners. She hadn’t been promiscuous, but she also hadn’t been a prude.
When she’d finished up her medical training, there was no question that what she’d wanted next for herself was a long-lasting relationship that included marriage and perhaps some children.
She turned away from the mirror with a sigh. Now that dream seemed as distant as the stars in the sky. She couldn’t even abide the thought of a man touching her, caressing her—what were the odds she’d find love in her current state of mind?
She’d agreed to having Kane to dinner because she was lonely. She adored Esme, but the housekeeper usually ate before Caitlin, leaving Caitlin to eat her evening meal alone at the table. She and Esme had talked about everything there was to discuss and Caitlin hungered for something new, something different and, in a weak moment, she’d agreed to having Randall here for dinner.
She heard the knock on the front door and Esme’s voice as she greeted their dinner guest, and nervous energy tumbled around in Caitlin’s stomach. She’d thought about wearing something other than her usual jeans and T-shirt, but instantly had rebelled at the idea of dressing up for Randall Kane.
The only nod she’d given to having a guest was that she’d left her hair down around her shoulders and changed into clean jeans and a fresh navy T-shirt.
With a deep breath for courage, and a quick spritz of her favorite perfume, she went down the stairs. She smelled him before she saw him. Beneath the fragrance of the Mexican cooking, she followed the trail of his sexy cologne into the kitchen and the sight of him created a bubble of simmering energy that pressed tight against her chest.
He wore a pair of slacks as well as he did his jeans, and the dress shirt not only emphasized the broadness of his shoulders, but also did amazing things to his sexy eyes. He’d obviously taken time with his appearance and she almost wished she’d put on a dress or at least a pair of nice dress slacks instead of her usual jeans.
As he smiled at her those eyes of his slid from her head to her toes, feeling like a heated caress against her skin. “Evening,” he said. “Esmeralda was just telling me she makes her own salsa and guacamole.”
Caitlin nodded. “You’re definitely in for a treat. Esme’s tacos are an art form unto themselves.” She told herself to relax, that it was just going to be a simple meal with simple conversation and nothing more.
“Caitlin’s daddy loves my tacos,” Esme said and her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “I don’t know why that crazy man hasn’t called me. Whenever he travels he always calls me at night. I usually don’t go to sleep without talking to him.”
She bit her lower lip as if she’d said too much, and in that moment Caitlin was stunned to realize that Esme was in love with her father.
Esme and her father? She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered it before. It certainly explained why Esme hadn’t left the O’Donahue household when Caitlin was grown, why she’d never had a relationship with any other man or built a family of her own.
Did Mickey feel the same way about her? Was that why Mickey had never dated? Because he had somebody at home who made him happy? Oh, Dad, where are you? Caitlin thought.
“I thought the two of you would enjoy eating in the dining room,” Esme said, her composure quickly recovered.
“What about you?” Caitlin replied with a sense of panic.
“Oh, I’ve already eaten. Why don’t the two of you go on in and make yourselves comfortable and I’ll have the food out in no time.”
Caitlin narrowed her eyes and stared at the older woman, wondering if she was attempting a little match-making. Esme gave her an angelic smile and then shooed them out of the kitchen.
The dining room was rarely used unless Mickey was having some of his high-powered political friends to the house. Usually meals were taken in the kitchen when it was just Caitlin, Esme and Mickey.
The ornate mahogany dining table could seat ten comfortably, but Esme had placed Caitlin and Randall across from each other at one end of the table. It was set with bright red stoneware plates, filled water glasses and two red-and-yellow bowls that held lettuce and shredded cheese.
“Would you like a drink?” Caitlin asked as she walked to the wet bar in the corner of the room. She felt as if she needed to chug a beer or two for courage.
“No, thanks. I’m not much of a drinking man,” he replied.
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously as she poured herself a glass of wine. “A ranch hand who doesn’t enjoy a drink? I think maybe that’s a first.”
He smiled easily. “There was a six-month period in my life when I drank too much. I pulled myself out of the bottom of a bottle a little over seven years ago and I’ve never looked back.”
“That’s admirable, to know you have a problem and then fix it.”
Those broad shoulders of his moved up and down in an easy shrug. “I don’t know how admirable it was, all I knew at the time was that I had a choice to make between living and dying and I decided living was definitely more appealing.”
She wanted to ask him what had happened preceding that six-month period that had plunged him into the bottom of the bottle, but she didn’t want to know too much about him. Personal information might produce a false sense of intimacy that she didn’t need, didn’t want in her life.
“Please, sit down,” she said and gestured him to the table. She had never felt so on edge, so awkward in her life.
“After you,” he replied.
She was aware of his gaze intensely focused on her as she rounded the table and sat in the chair. She wanted to tell him to stop looking at her as if she were a delectable dessert he intended to savor later.
Thankfully, at that moment Esme came in carrying a serving tray that held all the rest of the toppings for the tacos. “I hope you like things spicy, Randall,” she said as she placed the items in the center of the table between them.
“I’m a spicy kind of guy,” he replied with an easy grin.
“I figured that the minute I laid eyes on you,” Esme replied with a smile. “Caitlin has a little spicy in her, too.”
Randall raised one of his eyebrows and looked at Caitlin in speculation. “I look forward to seeing that side of you sometime.”
Don’t hold your breath. That’s what she wanted to tell him, but instead she merely started thinking of ways to kill Esme for even suggesting that Randall come to dinner. She took a sip of her wine and wished for the evening to be over.
“I’ll be right back with the tacos,” Esme said and disappeared into the kitchen. There was a moment of a
wkward silence before Esme returned, this time carrying a large platter of tacos and a bowl of Spanish rice. “I’ve got sopaipillas and honey for dessert.”
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Randall exclaimed. Esme giggled like a schoolgirl and then left the dining room.
“She’s been with your family a long time?” Randall asked.
“For as long as I can remember. Dig in,” she said.
“Your mother?” he asked as he grabbed one of the huge tacos and put it on his plate.
“Died of cancer when I was little. I was only three and have no memories of her, although my dad has told me a lot about her.” Some of the tension inside her began to ebb a little. “Dad was very much a hands-on kind of father when it came to raising me, but Esme certainly helped make the job easier for him.” She grabbed one of the tacos for herself. “She has been a loving, supportive part of my life.”
“Does your father have a girlfriend? Maybe he’s holed up someplace with a beautiful woman?”
Caitlin shook her head. “I’d know if Dad had a girlfriend. He’s never shown much interest in being with anyone.” Once again she thought of the look on Esme’s face when she’d spoken of Mickey and wondered if Esme and her father had been in a long-term relationship.
“I was just wondering if it might have been a scorned woman who took a couple of potshots at me the other night thinking I was your father.”
Caitlin focused her attention on her plate. “I find that hard to believe.” What she found interesting was that he felt the same way she did, that those bullets had been meant for Mickey.
“Must have been tough being raised without a mother.” She looked up to see Randall begin to build his taco.
“Not really. Mickey was as adept at painting fingernails as he was at breaking horses or backing the right politician. I guess it’s a case of you can’t miss what you don’t know. I had Dad and Esme and never felt a lack of anything. Tell me about your parents and life with them.”
Any nervousness that had worried her disappeared as they ate and he regaled her with stories from his youth. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and as he told her outrageous stories of rodeo debacles and life with a bull-riding father and barrel-racing mother, she found her laughter again and it felt wonderful.
By the time Esme served the sopaipillas and coffee, Caitlin was more relaxed than she’d been in a month. On an intellectual level she understood that bad men had done bad things to her in the jungle, but that didn’t mean all men were bad, and Randall definitely seemed to be a good man.
There was real love and respect in his voice when he talked about his parents. “What happened to them?” she finally asked, remembering that he’d told her he had no family.
“They were coming home from a rodeo late one night and a semitruck crossed the center lane and hit them head-on. They were both killed instantly. We later found out the truck driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel.”
“That’s terrible,” Caitlin exclaimed. “How old were you?”
“I was twenty-five.”
“You must have been devastated.”
“It was tough,” he agreed. “I still miss them sometimes.”
From there the conversation turned to favorite movies and food, places they had traveled to and life on a working ranch, and she realized they had a lot in common.
“These are absolutely amazing,” he said as he drizzled honey over a second sopaipilla.
“Esme is worth her weight in gold when it comes to cooking.”
“Do you cook?”
“I can, but I don’t very often,” she replied. “Esme insisted I learn. When I was young I was responsible for the evening meal one night a week. Esme always told me I got an A for effort and my father told me I should always make sure I had enough money to hire a cook.” She smiled at the memory.
He laughed and popped the last of the sweet treat into his mouth and then sighed. “If we don’t get up from this table this very minute, I’m going to sit here and eat every last one of those and then tomorrow I’ll be too sick to work.”
“Why don’t we take our coffee into the living room,” Caitlin suggested. It was still relatively early and if she were perfectly honest with herself she would admit that she was enjoying his company.
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed and grabbed his cup and stood.
Minutes later they were both seated on the leather sofa in the living room. Once again a tiny flicker of tension tried to take hold of her at his nearness. His scent surrounded her, and sitting this close to him she could see the tiny flecks of gold that made his green eyes sparkle so brightly.
“So, what are your plans now that you’re back in the States?” he asked.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.” She frowned thoughtfully. She felt as if she couldn’t make any plans at all for herself until she found out what was going on with her father. “Things are kind of up in the air right now with my dad gone.”
“Does he have friends he might be staying with?”
“None that I know of.” She’d hoped he was with Hank Kelley, but Dylan would have told her if the two men were together. Dylan had known she was worried. “Hopefully he’ll be calling me anytime now. We checked in with each other about once a week when I was out of the country.”
“And he’ll come back when he knows you’re back home?”
“Definitely,” she replied. She would absolutely insist her father come home no matter where on the face of the planet he was when he called. She needed him here. She wanted answers and they had to figure out what to do about the mess he was in.
“I’m anxious to meet him. He sounds like a terrific guy.” He looked at her curiously. “What did bring you home from your work? Did you know that your father had gone missing?”
“No, nothing like that. I didn’t know he wasn’t home until I got here.” As memories of what had brought her home tried to take hold of her, she broke eye contact with him. “I just wanted to come home.”
“The living conditions there must have been fairly primitive,” he observed.
She nodded. “They weren’t the best, but that wasn’t what made me want to come home.” She didn’t want him to think she was some kind of a spoiled woman who couldn’t put up with a little dirt and discomfort.
Still he gazed at her curiously, as if wanting to know every secret she possessed. “Did something bad happen when you were down there? Did you lose a patient or something?” His voice was soft, as if he sensed the turmoil inside her and wanted to help her ease it.
“No, nothing like that,” she replied, still unable to look at him, afraid that he might see something in her eyes, something on her face that would indicate trauma. “I just got homesick,” she finally answered even though she knew it was inadequate.
“Personally, I’m glad you came home.”
Her gaze shot back to him to see a flirtatious smile curving his hot, sexy lips. Suddenly she wanted him gone, needed him gone because that smile of his, that shine of something just a little hungry in his eyes, both scared her and thrilled her. She was afraid that if she spent another minute with him she might tell him what had happened to her, she might want to seek comfort in his arms.
“It’s getting late. We should probably call it a night,” she said.
He looked at her in surprise and then glanced at his watch. She knew it was only around seven-thirty, hardly late in anyone’s world, but she felt the burning need to get away from the scent of him that drew her in, the swift flutter of crazy desire he evoked, a desire that warred with a tinge of fear inside her.
“You’re the boss,” he said as he placed his cup on the coaster on the coffee table and then stood. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a woman’s company as much as I enjoy yours.”
Caitlin didn’t know how to reply, so she was silent as she got to her feet and together they headed for the front door. When he reached it he turned back toward her and she realized she stood far too
close to him, but her feet refused to move her backward.
“Thanks for the good food and the great company,” he said.
“No problem.” Her voice sounded slightly breathy to her own ears.
“I really enjoyed it.” He took a step toward her. His eyes shone with that hungry glaze that both disturbed and drew her in with an intoxicating power. In that moment of his nearness she knew he was going to kiss her.
Step back! A little voice screamed inside her head. Stop it before it starts. But her feet refused to obey her mind, and then his lips were on hers in a hot feather-soft kiss that strangely enough didn’t feel threatening at all. In fact, it was more than a little bit wonderful.
It was only when his arms raised to embrace her that she felt trapped, that the birth of panic rose up inside her chest. She pushed against his chest and stepped back.
“I don’t know what it is you’re looking for, Randall, but you definitely won’t find it here with me.” Her voice trembled slightly.
“Kind of like trouble, I’m not looking for it but I’m ready for whatever comes my way.” He rocked back on his heels and studied her with slightly narrowed eyes. “I like you, Caitlin, I thought you liked me and I figured we’d just let things take their natural course.”
“Nothing is going to happen here with me.”
“And why is that?” All trace of that simmering hunger in his eyes was gone, replaced by a still intensity.
She folded her arms in front of her chest and refused to look at him. “Because I don’t like to be touched.” Tears burned at her eyes and she consciously willed them away, not wanting him to see them.
“Caitlin, look at me.” There was a quiet command in his voice and she found herself obeying, once again gazing at him. “If you don’t like to be touched, then it’s because somebody hasn’t been touching you right. Good night, Caitlin.”
Senator Hank Kelley sat on the edge of the bed in the bedroom he’d been sleeping in since he’d escaped to his son Cole’s ranch in Maple Grove, Montana. The ranch, owned by both his twin sons, Dylan and Cole, was more like a compound, with enough high-tech security to keep anyone inside safe from outside threats.
Rancher Under Cover Page 7