Crazy for Lovin’ You

by Teresa Southwick

  Taylor listened carefully, and his heavy steps grew faint as he went downstairs. Quickly she got out of the tub and grabbed a bath sheet, pulling it around her. She let the water out, then went into her room and shut the door. After drying off, she pulled on undergarments then a peach-colored pair of knit shorts and a matching top. She brushed her straight hair into a ponytail on top of her head, letting wayward strands around her face fall wherever. Some blush and a little lipstick were the finishing touches.

  When she left her room, there was a glow in her heart and a spring in her step. All because Mitch Rafferty was downstairs. There was a big void in her world when he wasn’t around, but he was a big man. Flutters in her stomach kicked up like the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. Damn it. If she knew what was good for her, she would get this ridiculous reaction to Mitch under control between here and facing him in her kitchen.

  But when she padded barefoot into the room, the hitch in her chest at the sight of him told her no such luck. He was turning a corkscrew in a wine bottle, his back to her. What an extraordinary sight. In his white shirt, with the long sleeves rolled to his elbows, he set a high standard for masculinity. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist where his shirttail disappeared into his jeans. Lean hips and long legs completed the picture that unsettled her susceptible heart. She should turn away now and go back up to her room. But she didn’t. For two reasons. She was no coward. And she still needed his approval for her dude ranch promotion. Both good reasons.

  “So, Mr. Peeping Tom,” she said.

  He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Lighten up, Taylor. I didn’t see squat. Besides, you’re always wearing work shirts and jeans. When do you get a chance to show off those beautiful shoulders? And that pretty pink toenail polish?”

  “Next thing I know you’ll be telling me my teeth are like stars, they come out at night and my eyes are like—”

  “If the shoe fits,” he said.

  “So who hit you with the poetry stick?” she asked, failing utterly at extinguishing the glow his words produced. Instead the warmth spread from her belly and radiated outward, traveling at light speed to every part of her.

  “Why is it so hard to believe that you are an attractive woman?” He opened a cupboard and closed it again when he saw it contained plates.

  “They’re in the hutch in the dining room,” she said, turning to go get something to put the wine in.

  She opened the glass door and retrieved two long-stemmed crystal glasses, then joined him in the kitchen, keeping the bar between them. He poured the chardonnay into each one.

  He met her gaze. “You didn’t answer my question. Why don’t you believe you’re attractive?”

  She didn’t have any wish to deny it. “My sister was a tough act to follow. It’s pretty hard to compete with perfection. And after my engagement went bust, I figured it was time to get real, to stop trying.” She shrugged. “I’m just me and that’s just the way it is.”

  He handed her one of the glasses. “You’re not a quitter.”

  “I don’t believe that’s quitting,” she shot back. “But for argument’s sake, how would you know?”

  “I just do. The girl I remember from that night ten years ago didn’t give up on a jerk who lashed out and tried to push her away.”

  “As I recall, I was the one doing the pushing.” She took a sip from her glass and let the smooth, cold liquid slide down her throat.

  He grinned. “That’s what I mean. You don’t take any guff.”

  “Look, Mitch. I don’t want to talk about me.”

  “I do.”

  Taylor watched him take a drink. A lot of guys would look like a sissy holding a delicate crystal glass instead of a longneck bottle of beer. But Mitch Rafferty had more masculinity in his pinky than most guys. He oozed macho, and was so darn good-looking her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

  “What about me?” she asked, hoping she wouldn’t regret the question.

  “You said you loved me that night.”

  She wished he hadn’t said that at the same time she was taking a drink. The wine went down the wrong way and she started to cough at the burning. Mitch was around the counter in three strides and patting her on the back.

  “You okay?” he asked, holding her by her shoulders.

  “Fine,” she said, eyes watering. “Look, Mitch, there’s nothing I’d rather do than forget about that night.”

  “Me, too. But I can’t. I was hoping we could get it out in the open, discuss it, then put it away for good. Did you mean what you said?”

  “I was fourteen years old. Of course I meant it.” She took a deep breath. “But you were right.”

  “I like that. About what?”

  “I was just a kid. A skinny one at that.”

  “You were right, too.”

  “That’s always good,” she said, flashing him a grin. “About what?”

  “You said I should wait and you would show me.”

  “I was angry. I didn’t mean—”

  He settled his knuckle under her chin and raised it, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful. When you walk down Main Street Destiny, I bet you give guys whiplash.”

  “You’re exaggerating. I don’t—”

  “You’re a woman now, Taylor. You’re not a skinny little girl.” He shook his head in wonder and admiration. “Lady, you showed me big time.”

  Suddenly all her self-warnings were about as substantial as dust in the Texas wind. He was so charming, so sensual, so—everything.

  Her heart skipped when he cupped her jaw in his palm. The intense expression in his bad-boy blue eyes shot a shiver of desire straight into her feminine core. When he slipped a strong arm around her waist and snuggled her against the solidness that was him, she turned into a quivering mass of jelly, and his lips hadn’t even touched hers yet. Her bare legs brushed against his denim-clad ones, creating a friction that spread through her like wildfire, threatening to make her go up in flames.

  Then he lowered his head and his lips met hers. The soft contact stole the breath from her lungs as he slowly and thoroughly explored her mouth. Then he branched out, kissing her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheek, her jaw. He nibbled his sexy, seductive way down her neck and stopped at a spot just behind her ear. Tingles exploded over her shoulders and arms and stole over the rest of her body. He stole her will to resist. But she had to find the strength to pull away. She didn’t want to hurt again the way only Mitch could make her hurt.

  That rational thought was like a high beam headlight through a fog bank. It gave her the split second of clarity and resolve that she needed. She took his face between her hands and tenderly kissed his cheek before slipping out of his arms. Instantly, achingly, she missed the exhilarating feeling that only being close to Mitch gave her.

  “I don’t know about you, big guy, but I haven’t had dinner yet,” she managed to say on a shaky breath.

  “Can we talk about this?”

  When he reached out a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Taylor was almost lost again. Not counting the one ten years before, that was kiss number two. She didn’t want to go for three. She didn’t believe in third time’s the charm. Kiss of death? It would be better not to find out.

  She took a step away from him and tried to smile. “I don’t think there’s anything to say. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

  He drew in a breath. “Okay.”

  She hadn’t known how much she wanted him to disagree with her until he didn’t. But it was for the best. Truly.

  And her sister, the lawyer, would have a field day telling her anyone who protested that much was probably guilty as sin.

  Two days later, Taylor was still struggling to get that kiss out of her mind. Although the visit from Mitch’s reporter friend helped. Now they were outside snapping pictures for the article while the woman directed as if she were a Hollywood heavy hitter.

  “If I were you, Taylor, I’d hire Mitch, De
v and Grady just to hang out on the ranch. Business will boom. Women will flock to the Circle S. Guaranteed.”

  Taylor glanced at Grady, Dev and Mitch—the testosterone trio beside her. There would be no living with them. Mitch’s reporter friend had done it now. Ann Crandall had arrived at the ranch right about the same time Dev and Grady showed up for their meeting with Mitch about the rodeo championships.

  “I could use the extra work, little T.” Dev grinned at her.

  Grady laughed. “I don’t think I’ve got the time. But maybe you could do a life-size, stand-up, cardboard representation of me. For that I’d only charge you a one-time, dirt cheap, flat fee. Should bring the ladies in.”

  “Maybe Melissa Mae Arbrook.” Mitch laughed at the other man’s shudder. “Don’t sweat it, guys. With me here, Taylor doesn’t need you.”

  Texas was big, and Destiny more wide-open than some places. But Taylor had a feeling there would no longer be space wide-open enough for their egos in the Lone Star state.

  “You just did the local hatmaker a favor.” Taylor smiled at the late-twentyish reporter Mitch had called in a favor from. “Their heads just grew several sizes and now custom-made Stetsons are the only way to go.”

  “You’re no slouch, either, lady,” the woman said, making notes in her spiral book. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a Sandra Bullock lookalike?”

  Taylor blushed at the compliment. “No way. I—”

  “I haven’t talked to a man yet who would throw her out of his bed. Right, Walt?”

  The photographer stopped snapping pictures and lowered his camera. “You got that right, Annie. Girl-next-door type works for me every time.”

  “See what I mean?” Ann said, looking at them and nodding with satisfaction. “When Walt gets finished with these pictures, we’ll run them along with this article on the high school championships. I’ll do a small side piece on the ranch, along with the fax and reservations number you gave me in syndicated papers across the country. I think you’re going to have more business than you can handle. And not just the female kind.” The short, plump, gray-eyed brunette raised one eyebrow as she studied the four of them posed by the fence outside the barn.

  “Definitely a good representation of the best Texas has to offer.” She looked at her notes. “Now let me make sure I’ve got my facts straight. Dev, you’re the stock contractor who provides the animals for the rodeo. You’re a bachelor raising a young son?”

  “That’s right,” he answered.

  “And Grady O’Connor. You’re the town sheriff and a rancher. What was the name of your place?”

  “Miller’s Mound. The land was in my late wife’s family.”

  “So you’re a widower? A bachelor. Any kids?”

  “I’ve got twin girls, nine years old,” the lawman said. “Someday the ranch will be theirs.”

  Taylor smiled at his obvious discomfort with the attention. For all their good looks and joking, none of these guys seemed especially at ease in the limelight.

  The reporter turned away and said to her photographer, “I think I’ve got what I need. How about you?”

  He nodded. “We have to go through downtown Destiny to get to the interstate. I’ll shoot a few there.”

  Ann nodded. “Taylor, Mitch, guys,” she said looking at each one. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  Mitch shook her hand. “Thanks, Annie. I owe you one.”

  The reporter shook her head. “That exclusive interview you gave me after your injury was the break, pardon the pun, my career needed. Now we’re even.”

  “Okay. You take care. And thanks. You, too, Walt,” he said, shaking hands with the photographer.

  After the news media left, Taylor glanced at Dev, Grady and Mitch. Two out of three were grinning at her like indulgent big brothers. But Mitch looked like a tornado about to touch down.

  He shuffled his boots in the dirt, then rested his hands on his hips as he stared down at her. “You know, Taylor, when her piece comes out, you could be busier than you expect.”

  “I’m not worried. I’ve got lots of help on the ranch—Jim, the hired hands and the teenagers will be coming and going all the time.”

  “Hiring the teens is a good thing,” Mitch commented. “Keeps them busy and out of trouble.”

  “You should know,” Grady said, grinning good-naturedly.

  “Do you hear me arguing?” Mitch glanced at his friend then met her gaze again. “But you need to make sure you’re not in over your head, as far as hired help goes.”

  “Are you hinting that she should hire you, Rafferty?” Grady snapped his fingers. “I know, Taylor. Mitch could be your bodyguard.”

  She chuckled, hoping he was joking. Hoping more that they wouldn’t pick up on the fact that her smile was phony baloney. The mere idea of Mitch guarding her body sent shivers of anticipation coursing through her.

  “What makes you think he’s not already doing the job?” Dev said.

  Mitch glared at the two of them. “Don’t you guys take anything seriously? Especially you, Grady. You’re the law in these parts.”

  “I have a sense of humor,” the sheriff said, shaking his head. “And I know how to use it. A good cop knows when to be serious and when to lighten up.”

  “Seems sensible,” Taylor said.

  Mitch glared at them. “Why don’t you two wait for me at the house. If you think your swelled heads will fit through the door.”

  “Okay.” Grady lifted his hat and settled it more firmly on his head.

  “Can we help ourselves to the sweet tea?” Dev asked.

  Taylor nodded. “What kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t let you make yourselves at home?”

  The two men sauntered in the direction of the house and she was alone with Mitch.

  “Taylor, I’m serious. It never occurred to me until Annie started talking about guests. Are you really prepared?”

  “I think so, but I won’t know until the chute opens, will I?” she asked, speaking in language she knew he would understand.

  “I don’t know—”

  “Don’t worry.” She put her hand on his arm and the warmth of his skin seeped through her palm, then raced through her body, heating her everywhere. “I’ll be fine. I’ve given it a lot of thought, planning and preparation. This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. I’m looking forward to meeting people. It’s business, but also a social outlet I think I’ve needed.”

  “By social, do you mean men?” Intensity jumped into his blue eyes.

  Taylor backed up a step. “What if I do?”

  “Do I have to tell you you’re playing with fire?”

  “I know how to play. I survived you, didn’t I?”

  “Never mind me. The point is that—”

  “The point is nothing.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that the wind blew across her face. “You’re not my bodyguard. You’re not my big brother. We have no connection and you have no responsibility toward me at all.”

  And none of her words washed away her wish that it was different.

  “Taylor, listen to me—”

  She shook her head. “You’re leaving, Mitch. When the championships are finished you’re out of here. Why should I listen to you? I appreciate the fact that you’re concerned about me. Really I do. But after you’re gone, what difference does it make? You’ll do whatever it is you do and I’ll take care of my life, my ranch. My roots.”

  “Just because I’m not here, doesn’t mean I won’t care about you. And worry about you.”

  “It’s not necessary.” She shrugged and hoped it was casual, that he couldn’t hear her heart thumping in her chest. But she couldn’t help smiling. “If you’d been this nice ten years ago, Destiny would have had to put out a Help Wanted sign for a new local bad boy.”

  He stared at her for several moments, then started to laugh. He shook his head. “You’re a pistol, Taylor Stevens.”

  “Takes one to know one, Mitch Rafferty.”

&nbs
p; “You never really knew me, Taylor,” he said. He started to walk toward the house.

  “Mitch?” She waited until he stopped, then glanced at her over his shoulder. “I knew you then. I know you now. You’re not riffraff. You’re a nice man, a good man, and it’s about time you stopped trying to hide the fact.”

  “A vicious lie and I will deny it to anyone who asks.”

  The sight of his broad back built a sigh up inside her but she managed to hold it back until there was no way he could hear.

  “I am in so much trouble,” she said to herself.

  Chapter Eight

  Mitch drove up the long ranch road, then pulled his truck to a stop in front of Taylor’s house. He leaned his head back and drew in a big breath. The championships were a week away. He’d been working long hours on and off the ranch to make sure the event happened. When he wasn’t busy with that, he’d been tied up with a development deal not far from Destiny. The planning meeting he’d just left had ended after eight and they were picking up again early in the morning. He was tired to the bone and all he could think about was seeing Taylor. Busy as he was, nothing had kept him from thinking about her, worrying about her when he wasn’t around.

  It had been three weeks since the reporter had interviewed her. Three weeks since the night he’d kissed her and she’d pulled back. They’d shared a lot of meals since then, and idle chitchat, but nothing more intimate. The kiss had done something to her, and not in a good way. She’d been polite, friendly, but distant. And she’d moved her things to the room downstairs off the kitchen.

  He should have been grateful. She was a woman who knew what family was all about and he was a mutt no one had wanted. They were oil and water. She would be better off with Dev Hart or Grady O’Connor. Anyone but him.

  If only he could get that message from his head to his heart.

  Now that she was no longer in the bedroom across from his, he found he’d missed her—and not just her fragrance and froufrou body stuff in the bathroom. He missed really talking to her. Mini conversations about the weather just weren’t up to his usual standards and expectations from Miss Taylor Stevens. Suddenly he couldn’t wait any longer to just see her. He opened the truck door and stepped out.