The Countess and the Cowboy

by Linda Wisdom

  "Men say that because they know that they'd never last through the morning sickness stage. And as for labor..." Letitia rolled her eyes in dramatic fashion. " ... they'd probably ask for the painkillers the minute the first real contraction hit."

  Tyler grasped her arm with a none too gentle grip.

  "All right, enough," he said quietly, hustling her out of the store with quick dispatch. "We've done a lot of business with Ezra over the years and I don't want to ruin that relationship now."

  "Cowboys are chauvinists," she accused.

  "Yeah, well, that's what makes us happy." He unlocked the truck door and pushed her inside. "You stay here. I'll be out in a few minutes."

  She was indignant. "I'm supposed to give the orders here."

  "Not right now."

  Letitia swiveled around in the seat and watched Tyler use an economy of motions in loading up the truck with supplies. Another box labeled U. S. Mail was set next to the groceries.

  He can lift all that and not even breathe hard, she thought, enjoying the view with frank female appreciation. With that thought came another more tantalizing reflection. Could he make love with the same energy and still breathe easily? It was a tempting thought. One she knew she'd have to keep to herself before she made the kind of mistake she couldn't correct.

  Chapter Six

  Couldn't that woman remain quiet for more than five seconds or wasn't it in her nature to just sit there with that sweet little mouth firmly shut?

  If she wasn't chattering to him or to anyone in general, she was humming. And if she wasn't humming, she was looking as if she was bursting to release some important secret to the world. Hell, even her thoughts came out loud and clear!

  Tyler hadn't missed her watching him while he loaded up the truck. She studied him as if he was some kind of bug under a microscope, for God's sake! He swerved to miss a pothole. His action threw Letitia hard against his shoulder.

  "Sorry," she murmured, immediately straightening up. Before she could take a breath, she was thrown in the other direction. She uttered a curse under her breath when her shoulder painfully collided with the door handle.

  "Sorry." This time it was Tyler's turn to apologize, although his tone was more terse than polite.

  Letitia gave up trying to sit straight and settled for leaning against the door. "Are you angry with me for something in particular or just because I happen to be here?"

  He could feel his jaw tighten. What did the lady expect? That he'd welcome her with open arms after her taking away his best hope of getting a place of his own? "Which answer would you prefer to hear?"

  "Neither." She slipped her sunglasses down her nose and watched him over the rims. A tiny smile teased her lips. "But you could tell me how well I'm doing after only two days and how you just know I'll fit in around here in no time."

  "Yeah, well, that might be tough." He spared her a brief glance. "I always believe in telling the truth, no matter how much it hurts."

  Unperturbed, she shrugged his statement off. Deep down, she knew he wasn't insulting her, merely stating a fact. "I'll be the first to admit a person can't learn all about ranching in two days, but it's not as if I already didn't know the difference between a horse and a cow. And that the men are called hands, not just employees. Although I will have to reconsider calling that overgrown canine of yours a dog."

  "He's half wolf."

  Her eyes widened. "Wolf? Which half?" Horrifying images of her beloved Le Chat chewed to bloody bits danced before her eyes.

  "The front half. You know, the half with the teeth."

  "That isn't what I meant and you know it," she huffed, leaning forward far enough to punch him in the arm as hard as she could. She only wished she could inflict more damage.

  "Owl! Hey, watch those nails, countess." He flexed his injured arm, lifting and raising it as if to make sure it was still in good working order.

  "And stop calling me countess." Letitia's temper was up just enough to put her in fighting mode.

  "Sorry, but I can't see myself calling you Mrs. DeMarco."

  "Then try Letitia," she snapped. "It's not that difficult a name."

  Tyler frowned. "One thing I can't understand is why your mother would slap an old-fashioned name like that on you. What was it? Family obligation?"

  The last thing she wanted to discuss was her name.

  "Nothing of the sort. It was to make up for a very boring last name."

  He frowned as he recalled her mentioning her brother. "Montgomery is a boring name?"

  Letitia shook her head. "I explained to you before that Jack and I had different fathers. My father's last name was Jones."

  Tyler barked with laughter. "Jones? Letitia Jones?"

  "There is nothing wrong with Jones," she retorted.

  "No, I guess not since probably one fourth of the population has that name." Tyler shook his head. "No wonder you didn't want to take back your maiden name. No one would believe the name went with the face."

  Letitia narrowed her eyes. She easily recognized his compliment on one hand and the insult on the other. "Normally, I have unlimited patience, but you are sorely trying the little I have left."

  Tyler was tempted to tell her that she tried a hell of a lot more than his patience. Her light touch on his arm seemed to burn through the heavy fabric of his shirt.

  "All I want to do is learn about ranching," she said softly. "Is that so wrong?"

  "Damn!" Tyler roared, slapping the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. "Do you have to ask with your eyes all wide open like that? And that little tremble to your mouth?"

  Letitia lightly patted her face with her fingertips, lingering around her mouth and eyes.

  "Wouldn't a mirror be easier?" He couldn't help but be amused by her gestures,

  "I never carry one."

  "Then how do you get your lipstick on straight and all that makeup you socialites wear?" he teased.

  Letitia stuck her nose up in the air. "Any proper lady can apply lipstick without a mirror and I'm never worried about anything else."

  Tyler shook his head. True, why gild the lily? Was it instinct that allowed her to so effortlessly charm him when he didn't want to be charmed? He had to admit there wasn't a manipulative bone in her body. He'd met enough of that type of woman during his years traveling around before settling down at Running Springs. No, Letitia had a way that had to be categorized all her very own. A way that was turning out to be extremely dangerous to his mental health!

  "I used to have a nice quiet sane life," he murmured.

  Letitia grinned. My, my, she was getting to the man!

  "The loss of that nice quiet sane life couldn't have something to do with my arrival, could it?"

  "Countess, it all has something to do with you." She leaned over. She decided the least she could do was give him something to think about.

  "Well then, cowboy, you should be very glad I brought some excitement into your life," she breathed against his cheek.

  He could swear his skin tightened in reaction. When she pulled back; she left a soft cloud of perfume and the heated memory of the touch of her hand against his neck. Tyler wasn't sure which was worse. It didn't matter. He wouldn't have done without either one.

  His fingers tightened on the curve of the steering wheel as he forced air in and out of his lungs in a normal manner. If only he could calm the raging inferno in his jeans just as easily. He felt he was having a good chance of doing just that when a faint musical sound reached his ears. She was humming again! By now, Tyler's fingers felt permanently welded to the steering wheel 'as he concentrated on the road ahead of him. He thought about hitting a few more potholes to catch her attention but discarded the idea. If he brought Myrna's groceries in all jumbled up he'd be eating burned steak for the next six months. A strange haze developed before his eyes. A burning sensation began at his toes and worked its way up his body. What was she doing to him? Hell, if he didn't know better he'd swear she was weaving some kind of magic spell
.

  Tyler's patience ran out. He jerked the steering wheel to the right so sharply, Letitia almost fell off the seat.

  "What's wrong? Did we hit something? Blowout a tire?" She grabbed hold of the back of the seat to keep her balance.

  Tyler stopped the truck on the side of the road and tugged the parking brake up with an iron grip. He half turned and grabbed hold of Letitia's arms. Her eyes widened as he pulled her across the seat toward him.

  “You are the kind of woman who could turn a man into a raving maniac," he gritted, bringing her face close to his. "You just can't leave anything alone, can you? You have to poke and prod and hum and ... and..." He ran out of words to describe what was going on in the boiling turmoil that doubled as his brain. Uttering a curse, he brought her even closer and mashed his mouth against hers in a kiss that a saner Tyler would have been ashamed to admit he'd committed. It took him a minute to realize that the lady's words weren't soft moans of compliance but curses. This time in English.

  "You baboon! You masculine piece of horse manure! You arrogant slime! Who do you think you are?" Her small fists rained on his head with surprising strength.

  "Dammit, Letitia!" He arched backwards to keep her at a safe distance. In the small confines of the truck cab, there wasn't very far to go. "What are you doing? Watch it that hurts! "

  Letitia's face was bright red with indignation. "What am I doing? What about you! You can't tell me that you don't know how to kiss a woman properly," she raged, pounding her fist downward.

  Tyler winced when her fist just missed the rapidly declining bulge in his jeans. "No offense, but if you continue doing that my hope one day of having children could turn into a dream," he yelped, still stunned by her fury.

  "Considering your technique, that might not be so bad," she snapped.

  Letitia leaned forward until her nose bumped his. Her narrowed eyes sent aquamarine lasers through his head. "Now, cowboy, let me show you how it should be done." She placed her hands on either side of his head in such a tight grip he couldn't have moved it if he wanted to.

  Letitia's breath was soft on his face as she brushed her lips against his. "Softly. See, just a teasing touch," she murmured. Her tongue darted out for a quick taste.

  Tyler's head was spinning. Her perfume wove silvery webs around his senses as her kisses wove another kind of web, equally as strong, around another part of him that was more than willing to give in to her.

  Letitia wasn't exactly sure when the tables turned. Only that they did with astonishing ease. Tyler's mouth was suddenly the one in charge of this kiss and the man positively knew what he was doing! Her eyes popped open, and found his watching her. She lurched drunkenly when his hand found its way under her blouse to the lace edge of her bra, and arched forward for more of his touch.

  He pulled back. "Is that what you were talking about, countess?" he asked in a raspy voice that couldn't hide his arousal. Of course, if she doubted it, all she had to do was look at his lap!

  Letitia opened her mouth and just as suddenly closed it again. For once in her life, she didn't know what to say.

  "I-" She coughed to clear her throat but her voice still came out higher pitched than usual. "I don't think that was such a good idea."

  Tyler stared at her long and hard. Hectic color now dotted her cheeks, her lips were free of lipstick but tinted a bright pink and swollen from their kiss, and her eyes were huge in her face. His thoughts could be considered chauvinistic of the first order, but right now he didn't care. If she responded so wholeheartedly to a kiss, what would have happened if they had gone further? The idea was mind-boggling! He tried to remind himself that the lady he was kissing was the enemy. And as the enemy, he should be fighting her, not trying to wrestle her onto the truck seat. Obviously, she agreed with him.

  "Why?" His voice was husky, raw with memories.

  "Why what?"

  "Why wasn't it such a good idea?" His question was loaded with meaning. Since she started it, she could finish it.

  She licked her lips as she racked her brain for a suitable answer. "Because we have to deal with each other on a day-to-day basis and this kind of incident could make it difficult," she said slowly.

  Tyler felt the fury surround him. He should have known better! He stretched his arm across the back of the seat and leaned toward her. "Excuse this poor cowpoke for not knowing his place, countess," he drawled mockingly. "Working for royalty is new to me. I'll try and do better." His gaze sent the temperature plummeting to below freezing.

  For the first time in her life, Letitia thought very seriously about murder. Not in the teasing way, either. She forced her gaze to meet his without wavering. Besides, if she looked lower she would see a broad bare chest that displayed a mat of sun-tipped brown hair. When had she unbuttoned his shirt? She'd kissed her share of men in her life, some more sophisticated in the art than others. Yet none of them had ever left her feeling as if she existed in another world the way Tyler did. And none of them left her feeling as if she wouldn't mind seeing them tom up into little pieces just as quickly. Not even Giancarlo and Stephano had evoked these strong emotions.

  "You are the most..."

  "Remember what happened the last time you began your little tirade?" His quietly spoken threat hit the appropriate nerve.

  She hissed a curse in Italian. He was glad he didn't understand the word even if he understood the meaning. If the lady had a gun she would have shot him down.

  When he put the truck in gear, the tension hovered over them like a thick fog.

  By THE TIME Tyler stopped the truck by the ranch-house back door, he felt as if he'd survived several wars. Surprisingly, Letitia hadn't let out a peep for the past twenty minutes. He'd been waiting for her next outburst with baited breath. Instead, she sat back in the seat looking out the window as if she was on a pleasure drive. While Tyler ran ideas through his mind in hope of finding a reasonable way of getting her permanently off the ranch. She didn't belong here and he intended to prove it. Having his own piece of property had been a dream for more than fifteen years now. He wasn't about to let some flighty socialite take it "way from him when he'd been so close to obtaining it. Now all he had to do was convince her she was better off out of here. And that no one better deserved owning Running Springs than he did.

  Sure, he knew it would be difficult. Especially since his financial picture wasn't any more solid than hers. But he did have something she didn't: the knowledge.

  He just wished he had an idea what his next move should be.

  As he slowed the truck he looked out the windshield with disbelief at what he saw. "What the hell?" he muttered, grabbing the door handle and climbing outside. "What's going on here?" he roared to no one in general.

  Letitia scrambled out of the truck and hurried around the front. The scene in front of her dissolved any anger she'd felt earlier.

  "This is too much," she bubbled.

  "Too much? This is ridiculous! Duffy, what's your problem?" Tyler strode across the yard toward the large dog who was sitting under a tree with a preening Le Chat positioned between his paws. "You're a dog! You should have whipped that cat's ass that first time!"

  The dog looked up and whined at the sound of his master's furious voice.

  "I'd say he's trying to tell you it's better to be friends than enemies," Letitia commented from behind. "You know, make love, not war."

  "That's not exactly the way I'd put it." He glared at his dog who ducked his head in guilt. "This is all your fault!" He directed his outrage toward Letitia and Le Chat. The cat looked Tyler up and down with his usual disdain. His mistress's expression was close enough to be a mirror image.

  "Then how would you put it?"

  Tyler spun on his heel and started to open his mouth. He held his forefinger up in the air as if making an important point. Then, as if thinking better of it, he snapped his mouth shut and stalked off. His fists opened and clenched at his sides. He clearly wanted to throttle something and he thought better of stayi
ng around Letitia for much longer.

  "You seem to like to throw out challenging statements and then refuse to back them up!" Letitia shouted after him.

  "Considering the man's mood the milk is probably curdled," she announced to a surprised Myrna as she breezed through the kitchen.

  "I'm going to kill her," Tyler muttered, striding past J.T. who was walking up from the barn to see what all the commotion was about. "I'm going to tear her into little pieces and bury her in a field along with that damn fur ball she calls a cat."

  "Before or after you make love to her?" the older man joked.

  He glared at the man as if he would join Letitia.

  "Both."

  DINNER WAS FILLED with silent speculation as both combatants were conspicuously absent.

  "Tyler said he has a date," J.T. told Myrna.

  "Madame filled a plate with cheese and crackers and said something about going over the paperwork," she replied.

  "Never knew the boss could get so het up," Ben commented, immediately reaching for a large bowl of fluffy mashed potatoes. "Lots of things happen and he's never lost his temper like he does with her."

  Myrna rapped his knuckles with a serving spoon.

  "Are you men already talking about them?"

  The young man looked up and realized the mistake he'd made could cost him second helpings. "Not really," he stammered. "I mean, she's only been here a couple days and..." He shrugged helplessly.

  The older woman stood at the head of the table with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She slowly scanned each face. "We all expected changes around here with the new owner. I'm one of the most obstinate people the good Lord put on this earth. If I'm willing to give her a chance, you should too."

  "Why should you want to give her a chance? You don't really know her," one of the hands commented.

  "She didn't complain about having to clean house without any help." She clearly felt that said it all.

  LETITIA SAT CROSS-LEGGED in the middle of the bed with various sheets of paper surrounding her. She'd begun the tedious task of sorting out papers into additional piles from the piles she'd already begun. Le Chat lay curled up in the rocking chair, which now sported a clean blue floral cushion that Letitia suspected Myrna had put there. She shifted her position each time her stomach rumbled.