by Debby Conrad
Looking up at her five-foot-five-inch frame, Luke said, “So do I.” He reached for a magazine from the seat pouch in front of him and riffled through the pages.
“You need to be taught some manners,” she said between her teeth as she sat down beside him and wedged her Gucci bag under the seat in front of her.
Her hand shot under his thigh and right butt cheek. Luke turned to stare at her. “Getting a little frisky, aren’t you?”
She yanked the seat belt free and shot him a look as she buckled it. “You wish.”
“Honey, you’re not my type,” he said, giving her the once over. “But if you should get horny while you’re at the ranch, I wouldn’t mind accommodating you. My room is just across the hall from yours.”
Her mouth gaped open. “If you value your job, you’d better never speak to me like that again. Or I’ll tell my father just what kind of man he’s got working for him.”
Luke only smiled at her. He wanted to laugh his ass off. But he could wait. Besides, his smile had already done the trick. She unbuckled her seat belt, stood and motioned for a flight attendant. “I’d like to change seats, please. This man is annoying me. Something in first class would—”
Luke winked at the tall brunette and interrupted. “My wife’s mad at me because I told her she was too skinny. It was insensitive of me.” He tugged on Rusty’s arm and said, “Sit down, honey. You’re causing a scene.”
Rusty spun around and glared at him.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re overbooked,” the flight attendant explained with a smile. “Please take your seat. And if it’s any consolation, I think you look great. I’d give anything to lose five pounds.” With that, the woman shuffled down the aisle to tend to another passenger.
Rusty shifted her gaze around the cabin, then dropped back into her seat. As the plane prepared for take-off, she said softly, “Sam was the only one who ever called me Rusty. My real name is Rustina. You can call me Ms. Paris.”
After they were airborne, Luke adjusted his seat to recline a few inches, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. The sweet smell of her intoxicating perfume hovered in the air around him, driving him crazy. It was going to be a long, long flight, he thought, nodding off to sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
“PLEASE LIFT YOUR SEAT backs and fasten your seatbelts,” the flight attendant said as she drifted past.
Rusty returned the magazine she’d been reading to the seat pocket in front of her and dug her elbow into Mr. Galloway’s side. “Wake up. We’re getting ready to land in St. Louis.”
His mouth pulled into a sour grin as he opened his eyes. “I heard.”
His voice was as cool as ice water. Some travel companion he was, she thought. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since take-off. And the only time he’d opened his eyes was when she’d asked the flight attendant what kind of bottled water they served. His mouth had twisted into a sort of tight-lipped smile, and then he’d closed his eyes again and promptly ignored her.
Looking across Galloway, she saw snow flakes blowing around in the darkness. She’d packed in such a hurry, she hadn’t thought about snow. It had been eighty-nine degrees when they’d left Palm Springs. Pulling the edges of her white cardigan sweater together, she shuddered at the thought of cold weather. She loved the hot sun, although one would never guess it. She’d always been careful to lather on the sun screen and avoid overdoing it. She didn’t want to wrinkle and look old before her time— like most of the California women she knew.
“It’s snowing here. Do you think it will be snowing in Kentucky, too?” she asked.
“It was snowing to beat the band when I left this morning.” He ran his hands over his beard stubble and then through his hair before he raised his seat back and looked out the window. “I sure hope you brought something more practical to wear on your feet than those yellow ice skates you’re wearing. You’re liable to break your pretty little neck.”
Was that concern pouring from his tight, grim mouth? “I didn’t bring any boots. You were rushing me, and I forgot.” The truth was, she didn’t own a pair of boots.
His gaze darted her way. “Well, you brought sneakers or something, didn’t you?”
She turned her head, studied her red nails and ignored him. She’d miss her manicurist and her yoga classes at the spa. She doubted Red Ridge, Kentucky had a spa. Funny, she hadn’t thought of that town in years.
“I should have known. Little Miss Hoity-Toity doesn’t wear anything but three-inch, designer label shoes.”
Her head whipped around. “And what’s wrong with that? I always try to look my best. Besides, I didn’t know when I dressed this morning that I’d be flying clear across the country to some backwoods town in Kentucky, or that it would be snowing.” She silently chastised herself. This wasn’t a vacation, for heaven’s sake. She was going back to the farm to be at Sam’s side, in case he needed her. So, no more thoughts about spas and manicures.
“It’s the middle of February. What did you think it would be doing outside?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I hadn’t given it much thought, but that’s beside the point. It certainly wouldn’t have hurt you any to throw on a suit and visit a barber before showing up on my doorstep.”
“I only own one suit, and I save it for weddings and funerals.”
Funerals. She gasped. Soon she’d have to plan Sam’s funeral. At least with Natalie, Rusty knew exactly what she’d wanted. Nothing but the best. The more lavish, the better. And Rusty had spared no expense.
But what about Sam? What would he want? Her eyes began to tear. The poor man was dying, and she was more concerned with his taste in coffins and flowers than what he was dying from.
The plane touched down, jerking her forcefully to the left and pushing her shoulder into Galloway’s. Then it shot down the runway until finally coming to a stop.
Rusty wiped the tears from her eyes. “What’s wrong with Sam?” she asked. “Is it …?” Oh, God, she couldn’t bear to say the word.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” he said without looking at her.
First her mother, and now her father. Soon, she’d be all alone in the world. Which was pretty much how it had been most of her life.
“But, you don’t understand. We have to get to Kentucky tonight. My father is very ill,” Rusty explained at the ticket counter inside Lambert International Airport in St. Louis.
“I appreciate that, and I’m sorry about your father,” the disinterested man behind the counter said. “But that’s one of the worst snow storms to hit that part of the country in years. There are no planes flying east anymore tonight.”
“Thanks,” Luke said to the man, coming up behind Rusty. “We understand.” Looping his arm through hers, he dragged her away from the counter. “While you were trying to fight Mother Nature, I made some calls and got us a room for the night. But they’ll only hold it for an hour, so we have to get a move-on.”
She stopped walking and stared up at him. “Room? As in one room?”
“We were lucky to get it. People are stuck here because of the storm.”
“I’m not sleeping in a room with you, if that’s your dirty little plan.” She thrust her chin out and speared him with a chilling look.
“You have a better plan?” Luke spat out. “If not, I suggest you make one pretty fast, because I’m leaving. I’ll meet you back here in the morning. There’s a flight scheduled to leave at eight sharp, if the weather cooperates.” With that, he resumed walking.
“You can’t just leave me here,” she said, hurrying behind him.
He shrugged, but kept walking. “That’s your choice.”
Her heels clicked on the tile floor. “Would you please slow down?” she screamed at his back. “I can’t run in these shoes.”
Luke slowed his pace, allowing her to catch up to him. Several people in the terminal watched them with interest. “Better?” he asked, sarcastically.
“Yes. Thank you.”
She matched his pace and seemed totally oblivious to the men who ogled her as she walked, or the women who stared at her with envy.
So, she was an attractive woman? She was still spoiled rotten and had her nose in the air. She deserved to be knocked down a peg or two, and she definitely needed a good spanking. And Luke would love to be the one to do both.
“So, how tall are you?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.
“I don’t know. Six-two, I think.”
“No wonder you walk so fast. Without my heels, I’m only—”
“Five-five,” he supplied.
She blinked at him, but kept walking. “I suppose you think you know how much I weigh, too. Not that I’d tell you.”
“One hundred ten pounds.”
She looked offended at his guess. “One hundred seven,” she stated emphatically.
“Like I said earlier, you’re too skinny.”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t forget my bags.”
How could he forget those? Two of them had been over the weight limit, and he’d had to pay seventy-five dollars extra—for each of them. They followed the arrows pointing to the baggage claim.
After retrieving Rusty’s bags, Luke flagged a porter, shrugged his arms into his coat, and plopped his hat on top of his head. “Maybe you should grab a coat from one of your bags before we go outside,” he said to Rusty. “It looks kind of nasty out there.”
She shivered in the flimsy dress and thin cotton sweater. And each time the automatic doors had opened, she’d clutched the sweater around her as if it would help.
“I’ll be fine,” she said stubbornly as the porter loaded the bags onto a silver cart. She followed the man to the doors.
Luke shook his head. She obviously hadn’t packed a winter coat. “Here, put this on.” He shrugged out of his coat and helped her into it.
“Thank you.” Smiling satisfactorily she marched outside and would have fallen on her pretty little butt if Luke hadn’t caught her by the arm.
He glanced down at her yellow shoes on the icy pavement, and shook his head again. “Don’t move,” he ordered, letting go of her arm long enough to hail a cab. The porter loaded her bags into the trunk. Luke tipped the man, helped Rusty get into the cab, then slid in beside her. After announcing the name of the motel to the driver, off they went.
“I’ve never been this cold,” Rusty said, her teeth chattering as she rubbed her small hands together.
Just think how damn cold she’d have been if I hadn’t offered her my warm coat, Luke thought, but didn’t voice his opinion as he fought off a chill.
“I can’t wait to get to the hotel. While I’m soaking in a hot tub of bubbles, you can call room service and order me a lobster salad, a fresh papaya juice, and a mineral water. I hope they have a decent masseuse, too.”
Luke threw back his head and howled. Little Miss Priss was in for a big surprise.
It’s not as if Rusty had expected the Ritz, but she certainly hadn’t expected a flea-bag motel with a drippy shower head, no bath tub, and one double bed with a sagging mattress.
Her luggage filled the tiny, dull room, making it difficult to maneuver around. She’d caught the cowboy shaking his head at it more than once.
Sighing in frustration she sat down in the rickety chair in the corner. She’d been looking forward to a night of relaxation and a tasty dinner. But the place not only didn’t have a masseuse, there were no restaurants on the premises, either. Galloway had run across the street to some fast food place and brought back dinner in a bag. Greasy hamburgers and greasier fries—as if she would consider sticking those things in her body. When she’d politely declined his offer to eat, he’d shrugged his big shoulders, said, “Suit yourself,” and then proceeded to eat her share, as well as his own. The man had no manners.
The bright, green, neon, No-Vacancy sign outside shone brightly through the window since the drapes barely met in the center. And the sound of the blaring television, coming through the walls of the room next door, had already given her a headache.
Yet the cowboy seemed right at home in their miserable surroundings. Of course, he’d once been in prison. Maybe this room was equal to a five- star hotel to him. When he finished wolfing down the contents of the grease-soaked, white, paper sack, he yanked off his boots, stretched out on top of the bed, and clicked on the television remote.
“I can’t believe you’re lying on that filthy bedspread. Do you have any idea what kind of people have touched that thing? Or what kinds of things they’ve done on it?” She screwed up her face and glared at him.
He raised his eyebrows at her and grinned. “I hadn’t given it much thought. But since you’ve obviously been fantasizing about things of a sexual nature, why don’t you share your thoughts with me?”
“You’re disgusting.” Rusty stood, inched her way between the bed and dresser and unzipped one of her bags. She pulled out her toiletry, lingerie and cosmetic bags and placed them on the chair. Next, she opened the largest of her suitcases and sifted through it until she found a silky, peach chamois to sleep in. Not that she’d be able to sleep in the dreadful room, but at least she’d feel comfortable.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she informed her unwanted roommate. She gathered her things and slammed the bathroom door. There was no lock, and she wondered seriously whether or not she should trust Galloway not to come in.
She supposed if he’d intended to rape her he’d have done it by now. And besides, he’d said she was too skinny. The man obviously wasn’t interested. Still, she kept her eyes trained on the door while she undressed.
Peace and quiet at last. Luke smiled to himself as he flipped through the TV channels. He prayed Rusty would take a nice, long shower. The longer she stayed in that bathroom, the longer he wouldn’t have to look at her.
The woman ground on his nerves. She was too good to sit in coach. Too good to eat fast food. Too good for this room, even though it was the last one in town.
And, she was too good for him. Not that it bothered him in the least. He didn’t give a damn what she thought about him. In fact, he kind of liked the idea that she’d turned her nose up at him. It served to remind him that he had no business thinking lusty thoughts about her.
She was Sam’s daughter. And even if she weren’t, she wasn’t his type. He didn’t like mouthy females with their noses out of joint. Regardless of how sexy she was, he couldn’t picture Miss Hoity-Toity rolling around in the sheets, getting hot and sweaty. Hell, she’d probably be afraid that her hair would tangle, or her make-up would smear. And what would she say if things got hot and heavy between them and he simply ripped off her clothes? She’d probably sue him for ruining one of her designer labels.
Luke sighed in frustration and rolled his eyes. He was wasting his time thinking about how Rusty would react if they made love, because it simply wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let it happen, not even if she begged him to sleep with her. Which she wouldn’t.
He glanced at the bathroom door and listened to the spray of the shower and the squeal and rattle of the rusty pipes as he tried to picture her naked. Her breasts were small, and he knew they’d be firm in his hands, with rosy pink nipples. And since she was a natural redhead, the patch of hair between her …
He slammed a fist into the mattress and blew out a heavy breath. So, if he wasn’t interested in sleeping with her, then why in hell couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
Maybe it was because he knew he couldn’t have her. That had to be it. He focused on the television and tried to concentrate on the cop show playing, but the blood curdling scream coming from beyond the bathroom door had him jumping from the bed and storming through the door in two seconds flat.
He discovered Rusty standing in the middle of the bathroom, suds in her long, red hair and water droplets trickling down her arms and legs. She was trembling and pointing to the shower stall. She seemed to have forgotten she was naked.
“It’s in there,” she cried,
latching onto his arm and digging her red nails into him. “Oh, God, it was so awful. This huge, hairy beast came crawling down the shower curtain.” She shuddered, and took a deep breath. “I can’t bear to think about it.”
“Was it a rat?” he asked.
She nodded her sudsy head. “Yes, it must have been a rat. You have to kill it. I can’t stay in this place with that … thing.”
“Okay, calm down.” He stared at her small, naked breasts, then ran his gaze down the front of her. Her rosy, pink nipples were erect. Her waist was slim, and her skin creamy white. Water dripped from the thatch of dark red hair between her legs and onto his sock-covered feet. She shivered as she continued to clutch his arm.
He felt himself growing hard and swore under his breath, hoping Rusty didn’t notice his erection. He could just imagine her calling him a pervert, or something of that nature. Reaching for a bath towel, he wrapped it around her shoulders. “Why don’t you wait outside?”
Quickly, she hurried from the bathroom and out of his sight. Looking around for some kind of weapon, he was disappointed with the selections. The best choice seemed to be Rusty’s blow dryer. He armed himself and slowly pulled back the shower curtain. He laughed.
She stuck her head in the door. “What’s so funny?”
“Don’t you know the difference between a cockroach and a rat?”
“No! Apparently, you’re accustomed to seeing such things. But I’m not.” She clutched the towel to her front and turned her back on him, treating him to a view of her cute, little, sexy bare ass. He swore again.
Rusty must have heard, because she turned to face him. When she realized he’d been staring at her backside, she said in a huff, “Although, I’m beginning to see the difference now. You’re a rat.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THE MAN WAS INFURIATING, Rusty thought just as the shower turned off. She knew that any minute now Luke Galloway would emerge from the bathroom and expect to climb into bed with her.