by Sandra Brown
She took only one step before drawing up short.
He was loitering against the ivy-covered wall, partially hidden in the shadow thrown by a potted evergreen. There was, however, enough light spilling through the windows for Sage to see him well. Too well.
He was tall and lanky, even thinner than her brother Lucky. Although much of his hair was hidden beneath a damp, black felt cowboy hat pulled low over his brows, Sage could see that the hair above his ears was dark blond, shot through with streaks of pale ivory. Long exposure to the outdoors had left him with a deeply baked-on tan and sunbursts radiating from the outer corners of electric blue eyes, which were regarding her with unconcealed amusement.
He had a firm, square jaw that suggested he wasn't to be messed with, and a lean, wiry musculature that justified the arrogant tilt of his head and his insolent stance.
He was wearing a pale blue western shirt, with round, pearl snap buttons. His jeans had a ragged hem. The faded, stringy fringe curled over the instep of his scuffed boots, the toes of which were wet and muddy. His only concession to the chilly evening was a quilted, black vest. It was spread open over his shirt because he had the thumbs of both hands hooked into the hip pockets of his jeans.
He was about six feet four inches of broad-shouldered, long-legged, slim-hipped Texan. Bad-boy Texan. Sage despised him on sight, particularly because he seemed on the verge of a burst of laughter at her expense. He didn't laugh, but what he said communicated the same thing.
"Ho-ho-ho. Merry Christmas."
* * *
Chapter 2
In an attempt to hide her mortification, Sage angrily demanded, "Who the hell are you?"
"Santy Claus. I sent out my red suit to be dry cleaned."
She didn't find that at all amusing. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," he replied with a grin of the Cheshire cat variety.
"You were eavesdropping."
"Couldn't help it. It would have been rude to bust up such a tender scene."
Her spine stiffened and she gave him an intentionally condescending once-over. "Are you a guest?"
He finally released the laugh that had been threatening. "Are you serious?"
"Then are you part of that?" She indicated the sight-seeing traffic. "Did your car break down or something?"
While shaking his head no, he sized her up and down. "Is that guy queer or what?"
Sage wouldn't deign to retort.
The stranger smacked his lips, making a regretful sound. "The thing is, it'd be a damn shame if you ever got rid of those leather britches, the way they fit you and all."
"How dare—"
"And if you'd squirmed against me the way you were squirming against him, I would have given you the sexiest kiss on record, and to hell with whoever might be looking."
No one, not even her most ardent admirers, had ever had the gall to speak to her like that. If she hadn't shot them herself, her brothers would have. Cheeks flaming, eyes flashing, she told him, "I'm calling the police."
"Now why would you want to go and do that, Miss Sage?" His usage of her name stopped her before she could take more than two steps toward the door. "That's right," he said, reading her mind, "I know your name."
"That's easily explainable," she said with more equanimity than she felt. "While rudely eavesdropping on a conversation that obviously went way over your head, you heard Travis call me by name."
"Oh, I understood everything that was said, all right. Y'all were speaking English. Mama's Boy dumped you, plain and simple. I thought I'd politely wait until he finished before delivering my message to you."
She glared at him with smoldering anger and keen suspicion. "You're here to see me?"
"Now you're catching on."
"What for?"
"I was sent to fetch you."
"To fetch me?"
"Fetch you home."
"To Milton Point?"
"That's home, isn't it?" he asked, flashing her a white smile. "Your brother sent me."
"Which one?"
"Lucky."
"Why?"
"Because your sister-in-law, Chase's wife, went into labor this afternoon."
Up to that point, she'd been playing along with him. She didn't believe a word he said, but she was curious to learn just how creative a criminal mind like his could get. To her surprise, he was privy to family insider information.
"She's in labor?"
"As of two o'clock this afternoon."
"She's not due until after the first of the year."
"The baby made other plans. Didn't want to miss Christmas, I guess. She might have had it by now, but she hadn't when I left."
Her wariness remained intact. "Why would Lucky send you after me? Why didn't he just call?"
"He tried. One of your roommates in Austin told him you'd already left for Houston with Loverboy." He nodded toward the windows behind which the guests were being ushered into the dining room. "All things considered," he continued, "Lucky reckoned it would take me less time if I just scooted down here to pick you up." He pushed himself away from the wall, gave the dripping skies a disparaging glance and asked, "You ready?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you," she exclaimed, scornful of his assumption that she would. "I've been driving to and from Milton Point since I was eighteen. If I'm needed at home, my family will contact me and—"
"He said you'd probably be a pain in the butt about this." Muttering and shaking his head with aggravation, he fished into the breast pocket of his shirt and came up with a slip of paper. He handed it to her. "Lucky wrote that for me to give you in case you gave me any guff."
She unfolded the piece of paper and scanned the lines that had obviously been written in a hurry. She could barely read the handwriting, but then no one could read Lucky's handwriting. Lucky had identified the man as Tyler Drilling's new employee, Harlan Boyd.
"Mr. Boyd?"
One corner of his lips tilted up. "After all we've been through together, you can call me Harlan."
"I'm not going to call you anything," she snapped.
His grin only deepened.
Her brother had instructed her to accompany this man back to Milton Point without any arguments. The last two words had been underlined … for all the good that would do.
"You could have forged this," she said accusingly.
"Why would I do that?" he asked, giving her that taunting grin again.
"To kidnap me."
"What for?"
"Ransom."
"That wouldn't be too smart. You're family's broke."
That much was true. Tyler Drilling Company was barely making expenses and then only because Marcie Johns had made Sage's older brother Chase a loan when they got married. Because of the sagging oil industry, drilling contracts were few and far between. Presently, the Tylers were among the genteel impoverished. These days that was almost like wearing a badge of honor.
It stung her pride, however, that this reprobate knew about her family's financial difficulties. Her light brown eyes narrowed. "If the company is in such bad financial shape, why did Chase and Lucky put you on the payroll?"
"They didn't. I'm working strictly on commission. Occasionally I get a bonus. Like tonight. Lucky offered me fifty bucks to come fetch you."
"Fifty dollars?" she exclaimed.
He tipped back his cowboy hat. "You sound surprised. Do you figure that's too much or too little?"
"All I know is that I'm not going anywhere with you. I'll drive myself to Milton Point."
"You can't, remember? You left your car in Austin and drove down here with Hot Lips." The lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. "I guess you could ask him to take you home. Although his mama would probably have a conniption fit if her little boy wasn't home at Christmastime. But you're not going to ask him, are you, Miss Sage?"
He knew the answer to that before he asked it, and she hated him for it.
While a group of carolers strolled down the s
idewalk, harmonizing about peace on earth, Sage stewed. She weighed her options and considered the advisability of leaving the relative security of the Belchers' veranda with a man who looked as though committing felonies was his favorite pastime.
On the other hand, her family was the most important thing in the world to her. If she was wanted at home… The note from Lucky looked authentic, but if a crook were clever enough to track her to her fiancé's house…
"What time did you say Sarah went into labor?"
His slow, easy grin could have basted the Christmas turkey better than melting butter. "This is one of those trick questions, right? To see if I'm legit."
Unruffled, she folded her arms across her middle and stared back at him as though waiting.
"Okay, I'll play," he said. "Chase's wife's name isn't Sarah, it's Marcie. Maiden name, Johns. She's a realtor and, every once in a while, Chase affectionately calls her Goosey, his nickname for her when they were in school."
Throwing his body weight slightly off-center and relaxing one knee, he assumed a stance that was both arrogant and pugnacious. His thumbs found a resting place in his hip pockets once again. "Now, Miss Sage, are you coming peaceably, or are you going to make me work for my fifty dollars?"
She gnawed on her lip. He was correct on several points, chiefly that she was stranded at Travis Belcher's house. She wasn't about to throw herself upon Travis's mercy. Even though Harlan Boyd was a lowlife and her brothers had consigned her to spend time with him—something she intended to take up with them at her earliest possible opportunity—her pride wouldn't allow her to turn to a single soul in that house.
"I guess you don't leave me much choice, do you, Mr. Boyd?"
"I don't leave you any choice. Let's go."
"I've got to get my things."
She tried to go around him, but he sidestepped and blocked her path. Tilting back her head, she glared up at him. It was a long way up. She had inherited the Tyler height from her daddy, just like her brothers. There were few men she could really look up to. It was disquieting. So was the heat radiating from his eyes. So was his voice, which was soft, yet tinged with masculine roughness and grit.
"Given the chance you gave Loverboy, I'd've lapped you up like a tomcat with a bowl of fresh, sweet cream."
She swallowed with difficulty, telling herself it was because her head was tilted back so far. "My sister-in-law once had a phone freak who called her and talked dirty. Now I know just how disgusted she must have felt."
"You're not disgusted. You're scared."
"Scared?"
"Scared that you'd like it if I kissed you."
She scoffed. "I'd like to see you try."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
Her face was still taut with the dire warning she had issued when he cupped the back of her head and drew her up to his mouth for a searing kiss. In less time than it took for her brain to register what was happening, his tongue was inside her mouth, exploring inquisitively.
Bug-eyed with astonishment, she could see beyond his shoulder through the window into the formal dining room. The waiters were moving around the long, elegantly set table, serving Rock Cornish game hens and candied yams to the Belchers' guests while their former future daughter-in-law's mouth was being scandalously ravaged out on the veranda by a man with a larcenous grin and muddy boots.
If she hadn't been frozen with shock, she would have been laughing hysterically.
Within seconds, however, she regained her senses. Giving his chest a push with all her strength behind it, she shoved him away. Breathing didn't come easily. She gulped oxygen and swallowed air several times before wheezing, "You try another trick like that and you'll wish you hadn't."
"I seriously doubt that, Miss Sage. And so do you." He gave the skies another worried glance. "Before the weather gets any worse, we'd better skeedaddle. Go get your stuff. I'll be waiting for you right here when you come back."
Too infuriated to speak, she marched off.
* * *
"This is the lowest, sneakiest trick you've ever played on me," Sage said into the telephone receiver. It stank of tobacco breath and was sticky with God-only-knew-what.
"Sage, is that you? Devon's got her tongue in my ear. You'll have to speak up."
"I know you can hear me, Lucky," she shouted. "I also know my sister-in-law wouldn't neck with you in a hospital corridor. By the way, has the baby come yet?"
"No. Can't be long now though. Better not be. Chase is driving us all crazy."
While her brother apprised her of Marcie's condition and Chase's expectant-father antics, something dark and furry scuttled among the packing crates only a few yards away from the pay telephone. Sage shivered and would have raised her feet off the concrete floor, but there was nowhere to go.
This had to be the worst night of her life. First her fiancé had dumped her, then she was "fetched" home by a smart aleck whose manners were intolerable.
The Belchers' maid had accompanied her up the back staircase to the guest room, where she had helped to pack Sage's belongings. As he had said, Harlan Boyd was waiting for her when she returned. He had placed her in the passenger seat of a car that was surprisingly clean and reasonably new.
However, no sooner had she become resigned to making the long car trip with him, than he took an exit off the interstate highway and turned onto a narrow road that was virtually unmarked and totally unlighted.
"Where are we going?"
She wouldn't panic, she had told herself. These people could sometimes be talked out of their misdeeds if only the victim kept cool. She promised herself she wouldn't reach for the door handle, open it, and hurl herself into the gloomy night until she was certain that his plan was to demand from her family a high ransom in exchange for the whereabouts of her brutally beaten body.
Sounding far more sane than her own thoughts, he replied, "This is the road to the airstrip."
"Airstrip?"
"Where I landed the plane."
"Plane?"
"Are you hard of hearing or what? Stop repeating me."
"You mean we're flying home?"
"Sure. What'd you think? That we were going to drive?"
"Exactly."
"Just goes to show how wrong a person can be. Kinda the way you were about Casanova back there."
She had let that remark pass without further comment and lapsed into hostile silence for the remainder of the trip. It was quite a comedown from the earlier part of the evening when she'd been rubbing elbows with the upper crust of Houston society.
Now she found herself standing in a drafty, damp, rodent-infested airplane hangar, waiting for a man who kissed like he made his living from it and who teased and insulted her every chance he got. He was currently outside, putting the aircraft through a pre-flight check.
She took out her frustration on her brother, whom she had had paged at the hospital in Milton Point. "Lucky, what were you thinking of to send this … this person…"
"Are y'all about to leave?"
"Yes, we're about to leave, but I'm furious with you. How could you send a person like him after me?"
"What's wrong with Harlan?"
"What's wrong with Harlan?" She was repeating herself again. "This is a long distance call," she said, trying to massage the headache out of her temples, "and it would take too long to enumerate his bad qualities. Why did you send him? Why didn't you just call the Belchers' house and tell me to come home?"
"'Cause I knew you'd taken Travis's car to Houston and left yours in Austin. Your roommate told me. You had said that Travis's folks weren't too pleased that y'all were coming up here early Christmas morning, so I knew they wouldn't want him to bring you two days early and miss Christmas Eve at home, too. So—"
"Okay, okay, but you could have warned me that I was going to have an escort."
"I'm sorry, Sage, but there hasn't been time. Chase is tearing his hair out and gnashing his teeth. He's worried because Marcie's thirty-six and this is her firs
t baby."
"She's all right, isn't she?" Sage asked, instantly concerned for the woman she admired.
"Basically, yeah. But she's not having an easy time of it. It's all Mother can do to keep Chase civilized, much less calm. You know what this baby means to him. Lauren's fussy because she's cutting a tooth."
"Oh! Her first?"
"Right. Smart little dickens can already bite with it, too. Anyway, Devon's got her hands full with our baby, so it's been kinda wild and hairy."
Sage could imagine the scene at the hospital. Nobody could keep the Tylers away when one of their own was in need. She recalled the night Devon had given birth to Lauren. It had been chaotic. Of course, there had been extenuating circumstances. That night, one of Marcie's clients had assaulted her. Sage had arrived after Marcie had been rescued and hospitalized, but she had empathized with Marcie's terror. It was crises like that that bonded families.
A lump formed in her throat. For all the pandemonium, she longed to be there with them now. "I could have rented a car," Sage said sulkily.
"We didn't want you to. The cold front hasn't reached Houston yet, but it blew through here around noon and it's cold. Wet, too. We didn't want you driving in the bad weather and knew you'd argue about it. So we decided not to give you the opportunity and sent Harlan after you."
"I'd be safer with the weather than with Harlan."
"What was that? I didn't hear it. A cart was wheeled by."
"Never mind." She didn't want to malign Harlan to her brother, who obviously trusted him. It would serve no purpose now but to worry everybody until she arrived safely in Milton Point. Once there, however, she intended to give them a full account of his outrageous behavior. "I'll see you when I get there. Give everyone my love. Especially Marcie."
"Will do. See ya, brat."
Wistfully she replaced the receiver. She was trying to wipe the yuck off her hand when Harlan sauntered up. "Has the baby come yet?"
"Not yet. Soon, Lucky said."
"Plane's ready whenever you are."
"Is there a place I could wash my hands first?"
"This way. Better take care of any other necessities before we leave, too. This is a nonstop flight."