Adam
Page 3
Tate was astonished by the jolt she received simply from the clasp of Adam’s hand. She looked up into his blue eyes and saw a flash of desire quickly banked. She jerked her hand away, said, “I’m sure we’re both going to enjoy this relationship,” then flushed at the more intimate interpretation that could be put on her words.
Adam’s lips curled in a cynical smile. She was a lamb, all right, and a wily old wolf like himself would be smart to keep his distance. He didn’t intend to tell her brothers where she was. But he was betting that sooner or later word of her presence on the Lazy S would leak out, and they would find her. When they did, all hell was going to break loose.
Adam shook his head when he thought of what he was getting himself into. Tate Whitelaw was Trouble with a capital T.
“Where do I bunk in?” Tate asked.
Adam dragged his Stetson off and ruffled his blond hair where the sweat had matted it down. He hadn’t thought about where he would put her. His previous foreman had occupied a separate room at one end of the bunkhouse. That obviously wouldn’t do for Tate.
“I suppose you’ll have to stay here in the house,” he said. “There’s a guest bedroom in the other wing. Come along and I’ll show you where it is.”
He walked her back through the house, describing the layout of things as they went along. “My bedroom is next to the office. The living room, family room and kitchen are in the center of the house. The last bedroom down the hall on this other wing was set up for medical emergencies, and I haven’t had time to refurnish it. The first bedroom on this wing will be your room.”
Adam opened the door to a room that had a distinctively southwestern flavor. The furniture was antique Americana, with woven rugs on the floor, a rocker, a dry sink, a wardrobe and a large maple four-poster covered with a brightly patterned quilt. The room felt light and airy. That image was helped by the large sliding glass door that opened onto the courtyard.
Tate sat down on the bed and bounced a couple of times. “Feels plenty comfortable.” She turned and smiled her thanks up at Adam.
The smile froze on her face.
His look was avid, his nostrils flared. She was suddenly aware of the softness of the bed. The fact that they were alone. And that she didn’t know Adam Philips…from Adam.
However, the part of Tate that was alive to the danger of the situation was squelched by the part of her that was exhilarated to discover she could have such a profound effect on this man. Adam was quite unlike the men her brothers had so peremptorily ejected from Hawk’s Way. In some way she could not explain, he was different. She knew instinctively that his kiss, his touch, would be unlike anything she had ever experienced.
Nor did she feel the same person when she was near him. With this man, she was different. She was no longer her brothers’ little sister. She was a woman, with a woman’s need to be loved by one special man.
Instead of scooting quickly off the bed, she stayed right where she was. She tried her feminine wings just a bit by languidly turning on her side and propping her head up with her hand. She pulled one leg up slightly, mimicking the sexy poses she had seen in some of her brothers’ magazines—the ones they thought she knew nothing about.
Adam’s reaction was everything she could have wished for. His whole body tautened. A vein in his temple throbbed. The muscles in his throat worked spasmodically. And something else happened. Something which, considering the level she was lying at, she couldn’t help observing.
It was fascinating. She had never actually watched it happen to a man before. Mostly, the men she had dated were already in that condition before she had an opportunity to notice. The changing shape of Adam’s Levi’s left no doubt that he was becoming undeniably, indisputably, absolutely, completely aroused.
She gasped, and her eyes sought out his face to see what he intended to do about it.
Nothing! Adam thought. He was going to do absolutely nothing about the fact this hoyden in blue jeans had him harder than a rock in ten seconds flat!
“If you’re done testing your feminine wiles, I’d like to finish showing you the house,” Adam said.
Humiliated by the sarcasm in his voice, Tate quickly scooted off the bed. She had no trouble recognizing his feelings now. Irritation. Frustration. She felt the same things herself. She had never imagined how powerful desire could be. It was a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
She stood before him, chin high, unwilling to admit blame or shame or regret for what she had done. “I’m ready.”
Then strip down and get into that bed.
Adam clenched his teeth to keep from saying what he was thinking. He didn’t know when he had felt such unbridled lust for a woman. It wasn’t decent. But he damn sure wasn’t going to do anything about it!
“Come on,” he growled. “Follow me.”
Tate followed Adam back through the house to the kitchen, where they found a short, rotund Mexican woman with snapping black eyes and round, rosy cheeks. She was chopping onions at the counter. Tate was treated to a smile that revealed two rows of brilliant white teeth.
“Who have you brought to meet me, Señor Adam?” the woman asked.
“Maria, this is Tate Whitelaw. She’s going to be my new bookkeeper. Tate will be staying in the guest bedroom. Tate, I’d like you to meet my housekeeper, Maria Fuentes.”
“Buenos días, Maria,” Tate said.
“¡Habla usted español?” Maria asked.
“You’ve already heard all I know,” Tate said with a self-deprecating grin.
Maria turned to Adam and said in Spanish, “She is very pretty, this one. And very young. Perhaps you would wish me to be her dueña.”
Adam flushed and answered in Spanish, “I’m well aware of her age, Maria. She doesn’t need a chaperon around me.”
The Mexican woman arched a disbelieving brow. Again in Spanish she said, “You are a man, Señor Adam. And her eyes, they smile at you. It would be hard for any man to refuse such an invitation. No?”
“No!” Adam retorted. Then added in Spanish, “I mean, no I wouldn’t take advantage of her. She has no idea what she’s saying with her eyes.”
Maria’s disbelieving brow arched higher. “If you say so, Señor Adam.”
Tate had been trying to follow the Spanish conversation, but the only words she recognized were “Maria,” “chaperon,” “Señor Adam” and “No.” The look on Maria’s face made it clear she disapproved of the fact Tate would be living in the house alone with Adam. Well, she didn’t need a chaperon any more than she needed a keeper. She could take care of herself.
Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary for her to interrupt the conversation. A knock at the kitchen door did it for her. The door opened before anyone could answer it, and a young cowhand stuck his head inside. He had brown eyes and auburn hair and a face so tanned it looked like rawhide.
“Adam? You’re needed in the barn to take a look at that mare, Break of Day. She’s having some trouble foaling.”
“Sure. I’ll be there in a minute, Buck.”
Instead of leaving, the cowhand stood where he was, his eyes glued on the vision in a peasant blouse and skin-tight jeans standing in Adam’s kitchen. He stepped inside the door, slipped his hat off his head, and said, “Name’s Buck, ma’am.”
Tate smiled and held out her hand. “Tate Wh—atly.”
The cowboy shook her hand and then stood there foolishly grinning at her.
Adam groaned inwardly. This was a complication he should have foreseen, but hadn’t. Tate was bound to charm every cowhand on the place. He quickly crossed past her and put a hand on Buck’s shoulder to urge him out the door. “Let’s go.”
“Can I come with you?” Tate asked.
Before Adam could say no, Buck spoke up.
“Why sure, ma’am,” the cowboy said. “Be glad to have you along.”
There wasn’t much Adam could say except, “You can come. But stay out of the way.”
“What kind of trouble is the mare having?” Adam as
ked as they crossed the short distance to the barn, Tate following on their heels.
“She’s down and her breathing’s labored,” Buck said.
Tate saw as soon as they entered the stall that the mare was indeed in trouble. Her features were grim as she settled onto the straw beside the mare’s head. “There now, pretty lady. I know it’s hard. Just relax, you pretty lady, and everything will be all right.”
Adam and Buck exchanged a look of surprise and approval at the calm, matter-of-fact way Tate had insinuated herself with the mare. The mare lifted her head and whickered in response to the sound of Tate’s voice. Then she lay back down and a long, low groan escaped her.
Tate held the mare’s head while Adam examined her. “It’s twins.”
“Why that’s wonderful!” Tate exclaimed.
“One of them’s turned wrong, blocking the birth canal.” In fact, there was one hoof from each of the twins showing.
“Surely your vet can deliver them!”
Adam’s features were somber as he answered, “He’s out of town at his daughter’s wedding.” Adam couldn’t imagine a way to save either foal, entangled as they were.
Tate’s excitement vanished to be replaced with foreboding. She had encountered this problem once before, and the result had come close to being disastrous. Garth had managed to save the mare and both foals, but it had been a very near thing.
“I’ll have to take one foal to save the other,” Adam said in a flat voice.
“You mean, destroy it?” Tate asked. She couldn’t bring herself to say “dismember it” though that was what Adam was suggesting.
“There’s nothing else I can do.” Adam turned to the cowboy and said, “Buck, see if you can find me some rope.”
Tate stroked the mare’s neck, trying to keep the animal calm. She looked up and saw the dread in Adam’s eyes. It was never easy to make such decisions, yet they were a constant part of ranch life.
She was hesitant to interfere, but there was the tiniest chance the second foal could be saved. “My brother Garth went through this not too long ago. He was able to save both foals by—”
Buck arrived and interrupted with, “Here’s the rope, Adam. Do you need my help?”
“I’m not sure. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay.”
Buck propped a foot on the edge of the stall and leaned his arms across the top rail to watch as Adam knelt beside the mare and began to fashion a noose with the rope.
Adam paused and glanced over at Tate. She was gnawing on her lower lip again while she smoothed her hand over the mare’s sleek neck.
Adam found himself saying, “If you know something that can be done to save both foals, I’m willing to give it a try.”
He watched Tate’s whole face light up.
“Yes! Yes, I do.” She quickly explained how Garth had repositioned the foals.
“I’m not sure I—”
“You can do it!” Tate encouraged. “I know you can!”
Her glowing look made him think he might be able to move mountains. As for saving two spindly foals…It was at least worth a try.
A half hour later, sweat had made damp patches under the arms and down the back of Adam’s chambray shirt. He had paused in what he was doing long enough to tie a navy blue bandanna around his forehead to keep the salty wetness out of his eyes. He worked quietly, efficiently, aware of the life-and-death nature of his task.
Adam knew a moment of hope when he finished. But now that the foals had been rearranged, the mare seemed too exhausted to push. He looked across the mare to Tate, feeling his failure in every inch of his body. “I’m sorry.”
Tate didn’t hear his apology. She took the mare’s head onto her lap and began chanting and cooing to the exhausted animal—witchcraft for sure, Adam thought—until the mare amazingly, miraculously birthed the first of the foals.
Adam knew his grin had to be as silly as the one on Tate’s face, but he didn’t care. Buck took care of cleaning up the first foal while Tate continued her incantations until the mare had delivered the second. Buck again took over drying off the foal while Tate remained at the mare’s head, and Adam made sure the afterbirths were taken care of.
When Adam was finished, he crossed to a sink at one end of the barn and scrubbed himself clean. He dried his hands with a towel before rolling his sleeves down from above the elbow to the middle of his forearms.
Adam watched in admiration as Tate coaxed the mare onto her feet and introduced her to her offspring. The mare took a tentative lick of one, and then the other. In a matter of minutes both foals were nudging under her belly to find mother’s milk.
Tate’s eyes met Adam’s across the stall. He opened his arms and she walked right into them. Her arms circled his waist, and she held him tightly as she gave vent to the tears she hadn’t shed during the awful ordeal.
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Thanks to you, everything’s just fine,” Adam said, stroking her short, silky hair. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You did just fine.”
Adam wasn’t sure how long they stood there. When he looked up to tell Buck he could go, he discovered the cowboy was already gone. Tate’s sobs had subsided and he became aware for the first time of the lithe figure that was pressed so intimately against him.
Tate Whitelaw might be young, but she had the body of a woman. He could feel the soft roundness of her breasts against his chest, and her feminine hips were fitted tight against his masculinity. His growing masculinity.
He tried shifting himself away, but her nose buried itself more deeply at his shoulder and she snuggled closer.
“Tate.” He didn’t recognize the voice as his own. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Tate.”
“Hmm?”
If she didn’t recognize the potential danger of the situation was he honor bound to point it out to her? She felt so good in his arms!
Before he could stop himself, his hands had tangled in her hair. He tugged and her head fell back. Her eyes were limpid pools of gold and green. Her face was flushed from crying. She had been gnawing on that lip again and it was swollen. He could see it needed soothing.
He lowered his head and caught her lower lip between his teeth, letting his tongue ride the length of it, testing the fullness of it.
Tate moaned and he was lost.
His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her, seeking solace for a desolation of spirit he had never admitted even to himself. Her whole body melted against him, and he was aware of an excruciatingly pleasurable heat in his groin where their bodies were fitted together. He spread his legs slightly and pulled her hard against him, then rubbed them together, creating a friction that turned molten coals to fire.
Tate was only aware of sensations. The softness of his lips. The slickness of his tongue. The heat and hardness of his body pressed tightly against hers. The surge of pleasure as his maleness sought out her femaleness. The urgency of his mouth as it found the smooth column of her neck and teased its way up to her ear, where his breath, hot and moist, made her shiver.
“Please, Adam,” she gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”
Adam’s head jerked up, and he stared at the woman in his arms. Good Lord in Heaven! What was he doing?
Adam had to reach behind him to free Tate’s arms. He held her at arm’s length, his hands gripping hers so tightly he saw her wince. He loosened his hold slightly, but didn’t let go. If he did, he was liable to pull her back into his arms and finish what he had started.
Her eyes were lambent, her face rosy with the heat of passion. Her body was languid, boneless with desire, and it wouldn’t take much to have her flat on her back beneath him.
Are you out of your mind? What’s gotten into you? You’re supposed to be protecting her from lechers, not seducing her yourself!
Tate could see Adam was distraught, but she hadn’t the least notion why. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Her voice was still breathless and sounded sexy as hell! His body throbbed with need.
“Could have fooled me!” Tate shot back.
Adam realized he was still holding her hands—was in fact rubbing his thumbs along her palms—and dropped them like hot potatoes. “You stay away from me, little girl. You’re here for one reason, and one reason only—keeping books. You got that?”
“I got it, big boy!”
Adam started to reach for her but caught himself. He stalked over and let himself out of the stall. A moment later he was gone from the barn.
Tate curled her arms protectively around herself. What had happened to change things so quickly? One minute Adam had been making sweet, sweet love to her. The next he had become a raving lunatic. Oh, how it had stung when he called her little girl! She might be small in stature, but she was all grown up in every way that mattered.
Except for being a virgin.
Tate had to admit she was a babe in the woods when it came to sexual experience. But she recognized that what had just happened between her and Adam was something special. He had wanted her as much as she had wanted him. She couldn’t be mistaken about that. But their attraction had been more than sexual. It was as though when she walked into his arms she had found a missing part of herself. And though Adam might discount what had happened because she was so young, she wasn’t going to let him get away with denying what had happened between them—to her or to himself.
She wasn’t some little girl he could dismiss with a wave of his hand. Powerful forces were at work between them. Tate had to find a way to make Adam see her as a woman worthy of his love. But how best to accomplish that goal?
Because the physical attraction between them was so powerful, Tate decided she would start with that. She would put temptation in Adam’s path and just see what happened.
CHAPTER 4
ADAM WATCHED TATE SMILING up at the cowboys who surrounded her at the corral while she regaled them with another of her outrageous stories about life at Hawk’s Way, as she had often done over the past three weeks. As usual, she was dressed in jeans, boots and a T-shirt with some equally outrageous slogan written on it.