Читать онлайн книгу «One Night With The Texan» автора Lauren Canan

One Night With The Texan
Lauren Canan
From one-night fling…to the real thing? For wealthy real estate CEO Cole Masters, a weekend in New Orleans means meeting a beautiful woman and blowing off steam. No names, no strings. So months later when the same woman shows up on his doorstep, it's a shocker. Even worse, she's an archaeologist with a court order to access his property—and mess up his business plan. And yet he's still wild about her.For Tallie Finley, this mission is both professional and personal, and Cole could prove too tempting a distraction. Will her efforts to uncover her family legacy be derailed…especially when she discovers she's expecting?


From one-night fling...to the real thing?
For wealthy real estate CEO Cole Masters, a weekend in New Orleans means meeting a beautiful woman and blowing off steam. No names, no strings. So months later when the same woman shows up on his doorstep, it’s a shocker. Even worse, she’s an archaeologist with a court order to access his property—and mess up his business plan. And yet he’s still wild about her.
For Tallie Finley, this mission is both professional and personal, and Cole could prove too tempting a distraction. Will her efforts to uncover her family legacy be derailed...especially when she discovers she’s expecting?
“Could we start again, Tallie?”
He lowered his head, his lips almost touching hers. Then he was kissing her again. This time she felt his hunger and it drew her to him. His tongue moistened her lips before plunging deep inside the cavern of her mouth. She felt his hand at the back of her head, holding her to him as he continued to blow her mind. She heard him groan, then he was backing away, making the heat of the day drop to below freezing.
She wanted his arms around her. She wanted him to kiss her some more, make love to her. She was putty in his arms, encircled by the scent and strength and touch of him. But he was Cole Masters. The Cole Masters. Playboy of the western world. He knew what he was doing. He knew a woman’s body as well as his own, so under the circumstances she couldn’t agree. Eventually he would feel her enlarging belly and he would know. Then his professed interest would change into loathing because he would think she’d set him up; that she had gotten pregnant on purpose.
“I suppose we could talk.”
* * *
One Night with the Texan is part of Lauren Canan’s the Masters of Texas series.
One Night with the Texan
Lauren Canan


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LAUREN CANAN has always been in love with love. When she began writing, stories of romance and unbridled passion flowed through her fingers onto the page. Today she is a multi-award-winning author, including the prestigious Romance Writers of America Golden Heart® Award. She lives in Texas with her own real-life hero, four dogs and a mouthy parrot named Bird.
She loves to hear from readers. Find her on Facebook or visit her website, www.laurencanan.com (http://www.laurencanan.com).
Contents
Cover (#u1d10bace-4b91-514e-9671-321afbe49276)
Back Cover Text (#u0ad9834c-c795-5008-9401-7c382d16b390)
Introduction (#u0180e769-b2cc-5f35-9cbc-c57f4501761c)
Title Page (#u453896f2-1457-58e5-b8a1-4fd8a0a95433)
About the Author (#ud7e67951-8d9e-57c5-bc12-0dbd35c21a56)
One (#ulink_8286cf36-3eb7-5836-a6fb-731c75cf4972)
Two (#ulink_1bf9e5ef-966f-52bc-b091-ebca5a1895cf)
Three (#ulink_d803ad93-f0dc-5781-93c6-76c12125f1d6)
Four (#ulink_0d46ccb0-e3f7-5638-9eec-f90ce85eb2de)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_40a44e2f-7bde-576d-8d6f-7cf88c1210a9)
Cole Masters descended the steps of the hotel after his business meeting, bodyguards in tow, and walked toward the waiting limo that would take him to the airport and back to Dallas. The deal he was here to finalize had gone without a hitch. He’d actually been hoping the other party would voice some objections, stir things up a bit. But it had gone down as just another dull and boring merger.
Cole stopped and looked around him. The late-afternoon sun felt good on his face. New Orleans. The Big Easy. It had been years since he’d ventured into the French Quarter with all its laughter and music, but he remembered it fondly. Suddenly something snapped inside and he walked to the waiting car.
“Find out where there’s a thrift store. Something like Goodwill.”
“Sir?”
“Just do it, please.”
The driver disappeared inside the car and returned minutes later with an address.
“Excellent. Can you take me there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gene, you and Marco are dismissed,” he said to the security detail. “The plane is waiting in Concourse D. Use it and fly home.”
“Mr. Masters, I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine. Have the pilot back here by tomorrow afternoon.”
Cole got into the limo. “Let’s go shopping,” he told the driver and they were off, leaving the two bodyguards standing at the edge of the street staring after him as though he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had. He wanted to be wild, live in the moment, free of obligations to anyone or anything. Blend in with the other pedestrians and enjoy the few hours he’d allotted himself.
He was tired. Tired of the yes-men who would agree with anything he said. Tired of people using him. Tired of the same corporate demands, the same schemes. He’d grown weary of knowing what questions would be asked and knowing the answers before words ever left the person’s mouth. He was especially tired of being hostage to the family’s business negotiations. The image he was required to maintain had come to feel like a chain around his neck. He couldn’t free himself from it. He couldn’t get a reprieve. Consequently he knew he had become hard and bitter. He heard words come from his mouth he didn’t recognize as his own. People were starting to distance themselves from him and he didn’t blame them. Cynical, suspicious, contemptuous; he sometimes saw himself through others’ eyes and didn’t like what he’d become. As the CFO of a successful 8.2 billion-dollar family conglomerate, he took no pride in his accomplishments.
After purchasing jeans, T-shirt, jacket and a pair of scuffed shoes, he dismissed the driver, changed his clothes and hit the streets where hopefully no one would recognize him and subsequently no one would ask anything of him. He would let his soul get lost in the music and the ambience that is only New Orleans.
* * *
The man looked every bit as daunting up close as he had from a block away. The hard features of his wickedly handsome face bore the stamp of experience: a complete awareness of the world around him and those in it. Even in the increasing darkness, illuminated only by small twinkle lights strung over the outside tables at the bistro, that much was obvious. The dark, chocolate-brown hair with lighter highlights seemed to accent the golden brown of his eyes. Eyes that tempted her to look closer. To come closer without any rational thought of the consequences.
His lips were full, sensuous, made for seduction. She couldn’t stop herself from imagining what it would be like to feel them moving over her own; feel his hands caress her body as the heat between them intensified. His skills in bed would be amazing. How she knew, she couldn’t answer. But she knew.
Tallie Finley sensed he would be a formidable opponent. He was tall, powerfully built, dressed in a pair of jeans that had seen better days, a black T-shirt with some faded design on the front and a black jacket that appeared too large—an amazing feat when one considered the breadth of his shoulders. He impressed her as a man who had at one time owned the world and lost it. But not without a fight.
“What’s next?” Kate “Mac” McAdams asked, polishing off the last of her glass of wine.
“Beads. We cannot go home without earning our beads,” Ginger Barnes stated.
Leaving the stranger behind—again, because it seemed that everywhere she went tonight, he was there—Tallie followed her two friends out to Bourbon Street to experience the “Beads for Boobs” tradition, knowing it was one she would pass up.
Once they’d climbed the stairs to their second-story hotel room, Tallie made her way out to the balcony railing and looked down into the crowds below. The people in the adjacent apartment were already vying for their beads. Guys on the street held up ropes of the shiny multicolored necklaces for display, tempting the girls on the balcony to remove their tops and show all.
Street musicians vied with the jazz and R & B pouring out the open doors of bar-and-grills in a manner you’d think would clash. But not here. Not in this amazing city. The air was full of laughter, drunken wolf whistles, woots and cheers, the flamboyant colors of the clothes and the scent of spices and food cooking over open grills. It was a world like none other and Tallie was front and center. She would miss it when it was time to leave and begin her new research appointment in Texas.
“Don’t just stand there,” called Ginger, her closest friend and roommate for the past six years during college and grad school. “You’ve got ’em, girl. Use ’em!”
“Right on,” Mac encouraged. She made up the third of the trio. She’d flown to the Big Easy just to celebrate with her best friends.
“I don’t think so,” Tallie refused. “But don’t let me stop you.”
“Oh, you won’t,” Mac answered with a wink. “If you’re chicken, I’ll go first. I’ve got to get some of those beads.”
“You do know you can buy them in the local stores?”
“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?”
With her hips gyrating to the heavy beat reverberating off the walls, the blonde teasingly danced her way out to the balcony edge and began to unfasten her shirt, button by button. The crowd below began to clap and yell even louder.
If you blinked, you missed it. But apparently it was enough because men quickly threw strings of various colored beads up to her. Tallie watched in disbelief as Ginger did the same thing. Then both her friends looked at her.
Tallie shook her head. “I’m gonna pass. This just isn’t my thing. And frankly, I’m surprised at the two of you doing something this...bizarre.”
“Do you mean to tell me you’re going out in the world—about to start your new career with a Ph.D. in your pocket—and you’re going to let this amazing memory slip by?” Ginger had to yell to be heard over the crowd and the music. She giggled and downed the rest of her drink.
Tipsy. They were both tipsy and headed to full blown smashed.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she laughed. No way would she ever be so intoxicated she would shake her boobs in front of a hundred people from a second-story balcony. What had gotten into her studious, straight-laced friends? She could understand blowing off steam after all the hard work they’d done to get their degrees, but still. “Come on. There has to be someplace we haven’t been yet.” She led the others down the stairs back to the street. “I feel like dancing.”
“I could do some dancing,” Ginger agreed. “Give me a sultry, sexy tune anytime. Here—” Ginger looped several strands of beads over Tallie’s head “—you gotta have some finery if you want to be asked to dance.”
“She’s right,” Mac added as she draped more strands of beads around Tallie’s neck. “Now it looks like we’re all daring and ready to get down.”
Get down? Tallie could only imagine.
“Anybody have a suggestion? I’m guessing this being a Friday night, the better pubs and lounges are full,” Ginger sighed.
“I saw lines of people waiting to get in a couple of places on our way back here,” Mac added. “But there has to be someplace we can go.”
“Wait, wait. I heard some people talking at the bistro about a place on the outskirts of the Quarter they thought was good. The Gator Trap Bar and Grill. It’s on Bourbon Street down toward St. Ann. I want to try a drink they mentioned called the Horny Crock.” Ginger giggled. “Or the Swamp Itch.”
“That sounds bad,” the other two chimed in.
“I didn’t name them. But I could sure drink one. Or two!”
After agreeing on the next destination, they refreshed their drinks at a street vendor and headed down Bourbon.
If there was a bar in New Orleans moodier and more atmospheric than the Gator Trap, Tallie couldn’t imagine what it must be like. The place was dark. There were candles on each table and lights heralding the yuletide season that had ended five months ago still hung over the large mirror behind the bar. They provided the only light. The soulful sax, trumpet, piano and bass coming from the quartet in the back of the room pulled you in.
While Ginger and Mac headed for the ladies’ room Tallie slipped onto a seat at the bar.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asked as he removed two dirty glasses from in front of her and wiped the countertop. Tallie gave her order.
“Make that two,” said a man to her right as he tossed some bills on the counter. “I couldn’t say I’ve experienced New Orleans without sampling a Swamp Itch.”
Laughing, Tallie swung around, her eyes growing wide as she recognized the mysterious man she’d been seeing at various places most of the evening. His golden eyes were gleaming with humor as he acknowledged her. “We seem to have a lot in common.”
“You mean like the aquarium?” The first time she’d seen him was as she was leaving the aquarium.
“And the artists on Jackson Square.”
“Yes. Some were brilliant, didn’t you think? We didn’t make it to the paddle boats or the zoo,” she said. “Did we?” She wondered if he had gone there.
“No, we didn’t. We’ll have to save those for next time.”
His voice was deep and crusty and well over the line to absolutely sexy. As their drinks were placed before them, he offered a toast. “Here’s to new experiences.”
“To new experiences.” Tallie grinned. This entire evening had definitely been that and more. She’d gone to school here but had never let herself get drawn into the nightlife. Money was tight and she’d taken her studies seriously. Archeology wasn’t just a degree for her. It was a passion.
Ginger had been right in her speculation that the drinks would be good here. Between the warm, humid air filling the room and the man’s close presence, Tallie all but guzzled the entire glass.
“Two more,” the man said, holding up some money. He laid it on the counter and looked back at Tallie. “Dance with me.”
It wasn’t a question. But when he took her hand in his much larger one she didn’t protest. He led her to the small dance floor, placed her hands on his shoulders and held her close with both arms around her. As expected, he was all hard muscle and iron strength. She was five seven, but the top of her head barely reached his collarbone. Rather than talk, he seemed content to hold her close and move to the soulful music. It worked for her.
She caught a glimpse of Ginger and Mac as they passed by. Both grinned and winked, giving her a thumbs-up. After three songs her mystery man led her back to the bar where their freshened drinks awaited. Like before, she wasted no time emptying her glass.
When the bartender approached, the man ordered for both of them. In French. “You’ll like this drink. It’s a specialty of the house.”
And it was delicious.
“So, do you live here?” she asked, mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple moved when he swallowed his drink. Was there anything not sexy about this guy?
“No. I live...in various places. No one place I’d call home.”
“Oh,” she replied. “That’s sad.”
“Sad? You think it’s sad to live all over the world?”
“I think its fine to travel on occasion, but you need a home base. At least, I would. A special place you long to return to. Somewhere you can kick off your shoes, turn off the phone, sleep in your own bed and know you’re...well...home.” Tallie patted his arm. “But don’t worry. You’ll get through the hard times and find a home. I guarantee it.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” He pursed his lips as though he found her remark funny.
She finished her drink and he ordered two more. “Where is it you call home?”
“Texas. Far northeast. That’s where I grew up, where my family lives. I’ve been going to school at Tulane. In the morning I head home.”
The band kicked off another song just as the bartender set the two new beverages on the counter. The sexy stranger watched in obvious amusement while she took a sip. “This is really, really good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said, standing. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
The tune was slow, moody and the perfect tempo. He once again enclosed her in his powerful arms and she rested her head against his shoulder and swayed to the music. She could smell his essence, feel the heat of his body. His hands moved up and down her back, easing her still closer. Then he cupped her face, brushing her hair back over her shoulders. She couldn’t see much in the dim light, but what she saw was mesmerizing. His amber eyes seemed to glow, but it was his lips that beckoned her. What must it be like to kiss him?
Before the thought could leave her mind he lowered his head and his lips covered hers, warm, gentle, enticing.
Tallie was struck by the soft pliability of his mouth, which was a complete contrast to the hard-muscled body that pressed against her. But the kiss was so brief she wondered if she’d imagined it. He watched her as though looking for any sign she didn’t want to be kissed. She smiled, conveying a silent approval. Apparently satisfied, he again bent his head toward her. “You are so beautiful.” His breath was warm against her ear, sending shivers racing across her skin. He returned to her mouth and drew his tongue across her lips, enticing them to open. Without conscious thought, she complied. His tongue swept inside her mouth, deep and decisive. He tasted of a dark spice, with a hint of the drink they’d been enjoying, along with his own unique all-male flavor, and she couldn’t get enough.
She gently suckled his tongue and he moaned, filling her mouth, going deep, as though he needed to taste all she had to offer. Tallie had never been kissed like this, with such expertise, such blatant sexuality. It was so far removed from the stilted good-night kisses she’d experienced in the past, and she knew now that she’d never really been kissed. Too soon, his lips left hers as he licked and kissed across her jaw to her earlobe. Then, as if he had no choice, his mouth returned to hers and she was once again sinking in a dizzying storm of emotions as his lips, his scent, the feel of his skin and the power of his body, consumed all rational thought.
He made a slight adjustment and she felt his desire press against her belly. Her body’s natural instinct was to push against him. In response, he moaned, low and deep. His lips again covered hers in another deep, drugging kiss laced with pure fire.
The way he held her and kissed her was so primal, so captivating. She could sense his strength even though he held it at bay. He gave her no time to think as he returned to her lips, both hands cupping her face as he pushed any other thought from her mind. Then one hand came around her waist, holding her close while the other entangled in her hair, drawing her head back as the kiss deepened, intensified. She gripped the front of his open jacket and held on as the feel of hot lava ran through her veins, pooling below her belly.
It was amazing how their bodies fit together so perfectly. Her breasts pressed against his broad chest. His muscular thighs and his erection pushed hard against her. A cloud of heat surrounded her and sexual instincts overtook logic as she moved against him. Had they stopped dancing? Were they still on the dance floor?
Tallie didn’t want to open her eyes for fear it might break the spell.
Two (#ulink_8811c348-345a-5c16-bcd1-e68b67f75544)
The world around them disappeared. Tallie knew only the warmth and taste of this stranger’s lips and tongue and the incredible way he made her feel. His scent was pure male. His actions screamed experience. Lots of it. And she never wanted this to end. There was something in his voice, in his body language, that drew her to him. Maybe it was a rush of pheromones? Whatever the cause, it was definitely past time to take some risks in her admittedly sheltered life. This man looked like he’d seen both the worst life had to offer and the best. What tremendous hardships had he weathered? No home. Old clothes that didn’t fit. Every time she’d seen him over the course of the evening he’d been alone. She didn’t want him to be alone.
Slowly their lips parted and his strong arms surrounded her, holding her close.
“The music stopped,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. “I could use some fresh air. How about you?”
When she nodded her agreement he took her by the hand and headed for the door. Outside he continued to lead her down the worn sidewalk, where they were surrounded by revelers who didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
Tallie hated for the evening to end. This was one night she would never forget. “Thanks for dancing with me. I love to dance and don’t get to do it very often.”
“It was my pleasure. Let me walk you back to your hotel.”
“Thank you. It’s this way.” She pointed then frowned. “Oh. No, it’s that way.” She looked back at him and detected humor in his eyes. “I can’t remember how I got here. But I’ll figure it out. You don’t have to stay out here because of me.”
“What’s the name of your hotel?”
Surely she could remember. But she finally had to admit she didn’t have a clue. “It’s something in French.” She absently chewed her bottom lip, shook her head and once again looked around where they stood.
“How about coming to my place? We can have a bite to eat, make some tea and I’m sure your memory will come back.”
The delicious drinks were clouding her mind. Even outside in the evening air, her head was still spinning.
“You know you really are a very nice man.”
“Don’t think I’m too nice,” he said, taking her hand and leading her down the darkened street. “Not when I have a beautiful woman in my arms.”
Since she had never been considered beautiful in her life, his words struck her as funny. Tallie couldn’t stop the giggle from leaving her throat.
She felt light on her feet, as though she was floating on air. Then she realized that he’d picked her up and was carrying her in his arms. After that, everything was a blur. A bell dinged and doors opened in front of them. She rested her head on his shoulder thinking what an incredible night it had been.
She caught a glimpse of his face through the darkening shadows. So very male. The deep indentions on both sides of his mouth seemed to make him that much more delicious. But it was those golden eyes that consumed her.
She had a vague realization that they were in a private apartment, although there was no light in the room. He set her on her feet.
“I’ll put that tea on,” he said and stepped back from her.
Tallie stepped forward, her hands running down the front of his shirt. Standing on her tiptoes, she placed her lips on his. The passion between them surged.
He pulled back. “Be very careful of what you ask for, darlin’. You’re playing with fire and you’re likely to get burned. I don’t do relationships.”
“What do you do?” Tallie was acting out of character, but it felt good. For the first time in her life she was actually flirting with a man.
“I think I’d better make the tea.”
“Do you really want tea?”
He stared at her in silence. She had her answer and suddenly she felt foolish. She could feel the blush crawl up her neck and cover her face. “I’m not looking for a relationship, either,” she said, turning away and picking up her purse. “And I know when I’m not wanted. Thanks again for the dance. Good night.”
Tallie walked toward the door.
Before she could open it he was in front of her, ensuring the door remained closed.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my hotel. I’m just having a little trouble remembering where it is.” The humiliation burned inside like acid, acting as anti-venom for the passion she’d felt only moments ago. It stopped her from doing anything else stupid but couldn’t reverse the damage already done. She should never have accepted his offer to dance. “I’ll get a taxi.”
“And tell them to go where?”
He took her purse from her hand and tossed it behind them on the sofa. Then he picked her up again and carried her to a bedroom, setting her down gently next to the bed. His lips found hers again in a smoldering kiss. She was dimly aware he was unbuttoning her blouse. She sensed coolness against her back and a freedom from any restrictions and hazily realized he had removed her blouse and her bra. She ran her arms across the cool, silken sheets. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air around them. With one fluid movement his jacket and T-shirt hit the floor and she heard the zipper on his jeans.
His body was magnificent and Tallie knew they were about to cross a line, one that seemed to be growing blurrier by the second. If she didn’t say no immediately, he was going to make love to her.
As if sensing her apprehension, he raised his head, watching her through the dim glow of the subdued lighting, his eyes almost black with desire.
Her gaze moved over his face, finally coming to rest on his mouth.
“Are...are you married?” she whispered, running one finger across his bottom lip.
“No.” He lightly bit the tip of her finger before sucking it gently into his mouth and then releasing it. A shot of pure heat speared through her. “I’m going to make love to you. But I need to know you’re okay with this.”
“Yes,” she said. More than he might ever know. Any other time her timidity would step in and she wouldn’t think of admitting such a thing. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol she’d consumed or the man.
“I was hoping you would say that.”
Bracing his weight on both his arms and one knee, he hovered over her, kissing her cheek and trailing his teeth across her jawline, causing a surge of heat to flood her lower regions.
Oh, yes. She was very sure she wanted this. To hell with caution and rational thinking. She reached out to touch his face and felt the coarse five-o’clock shadow. In his arms she ached, overwhelmed with the feeling she was incomplete, needing him to make her whole. He kissed the palm of her hand then proceeded to suckle her fingers one finger at a time. His heavy body settled over hers. She felt his erection, hard and unyielding against her core, and heard him emit a deep growl. Pure liquid heat ran through her veins and Tallie was lost. Her head fell back on the pillow as the world spun. She pressed against him out of pure instinct, needing more, her body demanding it.
This incredible man was about to make love to her. And she was going to let him. A complete stranger. She’d gone around the bend to insanity. She inhaled a deep breath, the need for him destroying the last of her common sense. Her body was on fire. Was she dreaming? Or was this her prince charming in disguise? In this moment it didn’t matter. She was his. And she really couldn’t imagine anything better.
He stripped her of her jeans and panties in short order. She heard his own jeans hit the floor and then he was back. The strands of gold, blue and red beads fell around her breasts. They felt cold compared to the heat that was raging through her. His hand slid down over her stomach and farther, testing to ensure she was ready for him. He adjusted his body over hers. She knew a moment of panic as she noted the immense size of him. She wouldn’t be able to compete with his overpowering strength. She suddenly felt small and helpless as she realized she would have no control.
“This is your last chance to say no,” he told her, as if reading her mind, his voice both deep and hoarse with emotion. His breathing was shallow. She felt the blunt end of his sex positioned at her core. “Once I’m inside you, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to stop.”
All Tallie could do was nod her head and hope her instincts about this man were right. She wanted this. Just once in her life she wanted to be with a man who could give her the experience she’d previously only heard about. Just once.
In what seemed to be slow motion, his lips again descended, finding and suckling her breast. His large hand kneaded the other, gently pinching her swollen nipple, making her arch her back as she swelled under his touch. Then he cupped her head in his hands, as though holding her where she needed to be. She inhaled the raw scent of him, lost in the heady potency that surrounded him. She felt her body relax, her mind clear of all thought, accepting what was to come without any thought of denying him what she knew he was about to take. The breath left her lungs on a sigh as the world grew dark and he was all that existed.
He pushed inside and the last remnant of her mind disappeared. Even though he went slowly, careful not to hurt her, she’d never been filled to such a degree. She hadn’t realized how muscular he was; how much bigger his body felt against hers. She inhaled a shuddering breath. As if understanding, he stopped.
“Take it easy, hon,” he whispered against her ear. “Just let yourself relax.”
Seconds passed and the pressure turned to incessant need. When she pushed against him, he began to move. Deeper. Harder. It sent her spiraling and, almost instantaneously, with a cry, she exploded. He held her close, encouraging, speaking words that made her climax go on and on.
She heard the foil packet being ripped open and seconds later he returned to her. He raised her hands above her head and kissed her neck and breasts as he entered her and once again began to move. This time more forcefully, almost urgently, his strength obvious in the way he held her; the way he took her. He pounded into her until it was both too much and yet not enough, bringing her to the edge then backing off, over and over until she wanted to scream.
She whimpered her frustration.
“What is it you want, sweetheart?”
“Please,” she whispered, straining against him. “It’s so hot.”
The excessive heat between her legs burned and there was only one person who could give her relief.
He began to move again and this time it was with one intention. She became separated from reality, her body one with his. She couldn’t open to him enough as he fulfilled her every need, bringing her to orgasm then joining her. The groan he made as he found his release was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.
He fell to her side and pulled her next to him, her head on his shoulder. She experienced the feeling of a warm, cozy cocoon, his heavy arms around her, holding her close. Later in the night she was awakened and, once again, knew mindless passion. Then, once again, she slept.
* * *
“Tallie!” a woman’s voice called out, followed by a knock on the door. “Tallie, where are you?”
She opened her eyes and looked around the room at the strange surroundings. “I’m in here,” she responded in a sleepy voice. The door opened and Ginger and Mac sailed into the room.
“When you never came back to the hotel, we got pretty worried,” Mac said, walking around the room. The soft morning sunlight attempted to enter through the edges of the lush, thick draperies. “Then early this morning some man called from your phone and left a message saying you were okay and where we could find you. He must have seen our panicky texts.”
Tallie sat up, immediately realizing she had on no clothes. Covering herself with the sheet, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Almost eight, you wicked, lucky girl.” Ginger smiled and winked at Tallie. “Who would have ever thought that, of the three of us, Miss Quiet Mouse would be the one to get lucky?”
“Eight...in the morning?”
“Yep. We need to get back to the hotel and pack. Our flight is at noon,” Mac reminded her. “And you will have two hours to tell us every naughty luscious tidbit of last night’s little escapade.” She tossed Tallie her clothes. “And this is one you’re not getting out of.”
“Are you going to see him again?” Ginger asked. “I couldn’t see him very well in the bar. Is he cute?”
Tallie didn’t know what to say. Cute was not an adjective she would use to describe him. Sixteen-year-old boys were cute. This was a man in every sense of the word. As far as his looks, she hadn’t gotten a very good look at him—everywhere they met, it had been dark. Would she recognize him again? Possibly. Possibly not. “I would have to say he was handsome,” she told Ginger. “And definitely sexy.”
“Yeah, we kinda got that.”
“He had a sexy voice when he called,” Mac added.
As Tallie moved to get out of bed she felt sore in places she never knew she had. She smiled to herself. He had been an exceedingly patient and proficient lover. Amazing. Just as she put her feet on the plush carpet a sight caught her eye. A folded store receipt. On the back was written “You are the best. Thanks, C—”
“What is that?” Ginger asked.
“Did he write you a note?” Mac asked, walking toward the bed. “I hope you got his phone number!”
Still staring at the receipt in her hand she slowly shook her head, still stunned that she’d lost all control last night.
“I don’t even know his name.”
Three (#ulink_95a039f2-f505-52ae-b956-75ca6c9acf0f)
Three months later
Tallie looked around her at the open farmland extending as far as her eyes could see. A river snaked through the golden, knee-high wheat, feeding huge trees that grew sporadically in giant clumps near its edge. An old trapper’s shack that a sneeze could probably blow down sat under the branches of a giant, towering oak. To the east were cliffs, their dark red composite a vivid contrast to the white-gold of the wheat. Dark impressions on the face of the cliffs gave indication of caves, which could have at one time been home to ancient people.
It had taken her an enormous effort to get the huge bulldozers and other machinery to shut down on this site. But she’d finally ascertained which man was the head of this operation and waved the court document under his nose. Now, with the motors of the huge machines turned off, only the sound of the wind blowing through the wheat and the occasional call of a bird remained.
Somehow in this mass of timber, cliffs and cultivated soil that went on for miles she was supposed to find confirmation that an ancient people had, at one time, existed. A tribe of Native Americans never referenced in any record book in history. Never mentioned by scholars or spoken of in the homes of the people. Except one: her paternal grandmother’s. The day before she’d died.
When a person so dear to her heart asked Tallie to find her people and, with trembling hands, opened her palm and dropped a tiny token into hers, Tallie had no other option but to promise she would do as asked. A sense of calm had overtaken her ipokini and, with a smile, she’d handed Tallie one other item: a doeskin about two feet square, rolled and tied with a braid of leather.
On the inside of the doeskin was a crude, hand-drawn map. One large area, marked in faded red powder, must relate to what her grandmother had asked her to find. It encompassed an area from a river on the west where the water washed the roots of a massive oak tree to just beyond cliffs to the east. At various points inside the red circle were rudimentary images similar to those found in caves. A horse. A deer. A warrior with a lance. A teepee village. At the top, a cryptic design indicated mountains. Across the bottom the word Oshahunntee. The tribe of no existence. Like many of the words taught by her grandmother, it was also unknown to all but a few.
Her ipokini was not a wealthy woman. Her gold was encased in a heart as big as Texas and spread among all the people she’d helped for almost one hundred years. For her to give Tallie something that must have been so special to her was a great honor. Tallie had promised her then—and in her heart now—that she wouldn’t let her down.
She had been surprised when her boss, the chief curator at the museum where she’d worked the past three months, not only okayed her request to do this search but had, in fact, become quite excited when she’d showed him the map. Instead of making her take a leave, Dr. Sterling had endorsed it as an approved dig for the museum, though Tallie would have to cover her own personal expenses. Dr. Sterling had even been able to point her to the part of Texas the map seemed to describe. Now, with the court’s backing to explore the site, only one thing might stand between her and discovery. She was pregnant.
Dr. Sterling had voiced his concern about her condition and made her promise to check in regularly. He couldn’t spare another associate to send with her and had made it clear she would be on her own. She’d convinced him she was fine. And she was. Or soon would be. Beginning her third month of pregnancy, she was almost over the morning sickness. At least, she hoped so.
Discovering she was pregnant from her night in New Orleans had been a life-changing moment. Her memories of the encounter were so hazy, it was almost as if she’d been in a blackout. But she was left with a very real reminder of what had happened. She had no hope of finding the father, and initially, her dreams of the future had gone out the window. She couldn’t imagine traveling the world on archeological expeditions with a baby. Yet as the idea of having one settled into her mind and filled her heart, she made peace with it. Other single mothers worked and raised their children. She could, too. Admittedly, she would have to halt travel to remote sites until the baby was old enough, but just because she didn’t have a regular nine-to-five didn’t mean she’d have to throw away years of study just to be a mother.
But right now she would concentrate on the present and take the future one step at a time. She was healthy and happy and determined to find the proof of the lost tribe as she’d promised her grandmother she would. At least, she had to try.
A chill went down her spine at the thought that the lost tribe might actually prove to have existed. But why had her grandmother waited until she was dying to tell her? And where had the map been all these years? She’d spent a lot of time at her ipokini’s house as a child and had never seen it or anything like it. Tallie could only suppose her grandmother had her reasons and all she could do now was accept that some things would never be explained.
Clutching the court-issued injunction in her hand, she took another look around. The paperwork required the owner of the property to halt all operations for ninety days so that she could search for relics. She would concentrate on the present and take the future one step at a time.
Suddenly the wind kicked up, blowing her long hair in every direction. She fought to catch it at the back of her head and then pulled a band from the pocket of her jeans and secured it in a rough knot on her crown. The sound of a helicopter in the distance shattered the silence. It was coming toward her and not wasting any time, soon landing a safe distance from where she stood between the old trapper’s hut and the river. She didn’t have to be told who it was. Cole Masters, billionaire eight-times-over and owner of this land, had arrived. Dr. Sterling had mentioned she might receive some resistance from this man, whose reputation for doing things his way preceded him.
The man who emerged from the chopper was big. Broad shoulders, his biceps bulging beneath the rolled-up sleeves of the white-silk dress shirt. A blue tie had been loosened at the neck to accommodate the unbuttoned top of his shirt. Honey-brown eyes were emphasized by dark lashes. His short, dark brown hair and his thick beard gave him the look of a warrior. His chiseled jaw was set for a fight. His full lips were drawn into a line of disapproval and those eyes were fixed on her as he marched to where she stood. So this was the great Cole Masters. Alive and in person.
In spite of her professional approach to matters such as these, the closer he came, the more she felt her years of study and experience fading to nothing. On that realization, she took a deep breath and concentrated on why she was here. This dig was a one-shot attempt to prove something incredible. She wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed by his sex appeal or intimidated by his rumored bitterness and arrogance. She’d somehow maintain the professional attitude the situation called for.
“Cole Masters,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.
“Dr. Tallie Finley, archaeologist with the North Texas Natural History Museum,” she said as she accepted his hand. It was twice the size of hers and exceedingly warm. A slight electric current tingled between their grips, traveling some distance up her arm. She could tell by his frown he’d felt it, too. She quickly withdrew her hand.
“It’s you.” His brows raised in surprise and his demeanor became less in your face.
“Ah...yes. I’m me and I’m guessing this is what you want to see.” Something about him seemed vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite place him.
She handed him the court document. “It allows an intrusive and extensive survey of the area indicated on the map as presented to the court.”
“You are Dr. Finley?”
Something had suddenly removed the harsh tone from Mr. Masters’s voice and replaced it with a slight hint of congeniality. Because she didn’t know what had caused the change, she was more off kilter than when she’d initially faced his hostility. Good grief. Had she failed to button her blouse? Was she wearing the oatmeal she’d had for breakfast?
“I am.”
“Dr. Finley...” he said again, and handed the paper back to her. He cleared his throat. “Do you see that heavy equipment over there?” He swung around and nodded at the bulldozers, cement trucks and other pieces of large equipment she couldn’t name. “We are in the middle of a project. The planning alone has taken years. These guys are here today to pour the foundations, all twenty-five of them. As you can see, the roughed-in plumbing is already installed. How are we supposed to do our work if you’re in the same area looking for whatever you think might be there?”
Her eyes were drawn to his lips. So full. So enticing. She swallowed hard. She again had that vague feeling of having met this man before but the only face that came to mind was the mysterious stranger who had seduced her. No way could the two men be the same.
“I understand this might be an inconvenience for you, Mr. Masters. But the reason I’m here is equally important. Possibly more so.” He drew back, shaking his head. “What I’m seeking could potentially be under the spot where you plan to pour concrete, which would be a problem. If there are artifacts there, they could be damaged by your construction. If you’ll tell your workers to move their equipment out of my work area, I’ll conduct my research as expeditiously as I can to get out of your way.”
“That’s it?” His eyes locked with hers and she felt a tingle run down her spine. Where had she seen those eyes before? Suddenly a feeling of deja vu ran rampant. “We halt our operation and get out of your way? On my land.” His frustration was coming back. She could see the muscles in his jaw working overtime. Something about his voice touched a nerve. She’d swear she’d heard it before, which was ridiculous. She didn’t run in the same circles as billionaires.
“I would assume the judge knew who owned this land when he signed the order. I would have to say he’s probably not going to change his mind. If you should decide to take your case before a higher court, it would take longer than I’ll be here.” Unless she found proof an ancient civilization existed, which would make the ninety-day limit moot, but she would be throwing gas on the fire to bring that up now.
“Yeah. He knows me. And I know that judge. My attorneys will handle this.”
“Of course. That’s entirely your right.” The man sure didn’t mind throwing his weight around. She’d never seen a court-ordered, ninety-day search permit overturned. But to smile, as she wanted to do, might provoke him further. She fought the urge. Neither of them needed that. Just the fact that he was here and causing a delay was bad enough.
He called out to one of his men. “Harvey, this is Dr. Finley.” His eyes flashed to hers then back to his foreman. “She has a map detailing an area in which she needs to work and has been given the authority to do so by the court. Temporarily. I want the area flagged. Call Michaels at the land surveyor’s office, if need be.”
Harvey didn’t look at all convinced he could do as asked, but he wasn’t going to tell his boss that. “Yes, sir.”
“And you’ll have to move the equipment. Find a rise, in case we get a storm, and make sure it’s all outside of her...work area. The concrete trucks need to go back to Latham’s Equipment.” He received another nod from his foreman. “Just what is it, exactly, you’re looking for, Doctor?” His hands rose to his hips. “Some kind of Indian relics?”
“Something like that.” It was a heck of a lot more than that. But because of his in-your-face attitude, she was hesitant to enlighten him further. He wouldn’t care and it was her experience the more a land owner knew, the worse they could make it for the archaeology team. “Actually, I’m looking for artifacts establishing my own family line. The recovery of such relics will be of great scientific value to the Native American Historical Society as well as to the National Historical Association. Do you keep cattle here? I need to know so I can take precautions if the answer is yes,” she continued.
“No,” he replied. “No cows or any other livestock allowed on this part of the property.”
* * *
He stared at her. His eyes narrowed as he looked, really looked, at her face. He couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming from her eyes and lips down her body, all the way to her toes. He ran one hand over his lower face as her identity confirmed in his mind. It hit him like a blow to his solar plexus. His expression changed to a smile he tried to hold in check.
Tallie Finley was the beautiful woman he’d spent the night with in New Orleans. No doubt.
Apparently she hadn’t recognized him. Yet. He currently wore a beard and was dressed in a suit and tie. He was certain she had a completely different perspective of him now than she had then. But he knew her. He would never forget those beautiful, voluptuous curves, that stunning face, the long, silky, ebony hair and that deep Southern drawl.
She was the vision he’d dreamed about and thought about for almost three months. While striking, in the darkness her eyes hadn’t been such a vivid green. Now they blazed emerald fire.
“Your eyes are so green.” It just came out. And right now they were spitting green daggers.
She stared like he’d gone daft then turned away, suddenly angry. “Is the color of my eyes of great importance?”
“No. No. I just...it surprised me, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, a lot of things surprise me.”
Yeah, Cole thought. And she was going to face a whopper of a surprise just around the corner. He would wait to see how long it took her to figure it out.
She reached up and pulled the band from her hair. With a quick shake and a finger-comb it was floating on the breeze like a dark, wispy cloud.
Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Tall and slender. Still a head shorter than his six foot four, she appeared both fragile and resilient. He had firsthand, intimate knowledge she possessed both those qualities. Her eyes demanded respect. Her hair was long, past her waist, and so black it looked blue under the direct sunlight. He could see the determination in her stance; in the way she carried herself. High cheekbones and those brilliant green eyes stood out in her slightly bronzed face. A man could get lost in those eyes. Easily. But he saw the determination in them. She wasn’t here on a fool’s mission. She would fight for the right to work on this dig and uncover evidence of her Native American ancestors’ lost tribe. How did a man compete with something like that? If she was legit. If she was really here to find artifacts.
“Is there anything more I can do for you, Mr. Masters?”
He stepped toward her until less than a foot separated them. “That is the question.”
He was close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body.
She stepped back. “If not, I need to get busy.”
He’d never thought he would see her again, although he’d hoped to. He’d kicked himself a hundred times for not getting her name and contact information before he’d left that Saturday morning. He began to relax. With her hair piled up on top of her head at first and the green coveralls that hid every luscious curve, he was surprised he’d recognized her. But he had and she was here. His project was going to be delayed for a while but now it had a silver lining.
He could only stare as she began to work her locks into a long, silken braid. Suddenly it felt as though they were the only two people on earth. In this setting it wasn’t hard to imagine. The sight caused every cell in his body to spring to readiness. A liquid heat ran rampant through him, pooling in his groin. It was New Orleans on steroids. And he wanted her until it hurt.
Images raced through his mind; images of her in bed, sheets tangled from their hot, sensual lovemaking. On her face were satisfaction and the need for more of him, which he gladly gave. Her ebony hair draped over his chest as he held her hot, damp body in his arms, fighting to slow his breathing. Tallie left the rest of the women he’d known in the dirt. How long until he could hold her in his arms again? There was no thought of never.
Cole took a deep breath and blew it out. He needed to push his wayward thoughts to the back of his mind and get away from this woman with all possible speed. Making a concentrated effort, he snapped himself out of the daydream. Get a grip.
“I—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to your work.” He nodded, turned and walked back toward the chopper, his clarity of mind shot to hell.
He hadn’t gone ten feet before he stopped and turned to face her. “Have you ever been to New Orleans, Dr. Finley?”
She squinted her eyes and tilted her head, no doubt finding the question odd.
“It’s where I went to school. So, yes. I spent six years there. Why?”
He shrugged. “You just look like someone I knew once who lived there.” He planted the seed. Now to see how long it would take her to come to figure things out.
A long moment passed between them before he turned toward the helicopter, boarded, started the massive engine, lifted off and flew away.
* * *
“Thanks for welcoming me to the neighborhood,” she muttered to herself as she turned toward her old, battered Ford. What an odd man.
And she couldn’t get over the fact that her mind was screaming, You know him! It was an absurdity. He traveled the world, was worth billions with a capital B, while she worked in the dirt and had barely a thousand bucks in the bank. Still...she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling they had met before. And what was with that question about New Orleans? She’d gone to school there but she surely would remember if she had ever met him. She never ventured far from campus and knew very few that weren’t associated with the college.
In fact, the only real outing she’d had was when she, Mac and Ginger had gotten together after graduation. She’d met a handsome stranger that night. But no way could that man have been Cole Masters. The stranger was nice and showed no arrogance at all. If the stranger had even one penny for every hundred thousand Masters had, he would be doing all right. He could even buy himself some new clothes. They were almost the same size. No doubt that’s what kept bugging her. Pushing the thoughts from her mind she began to unpack the old Ford wagon. Maybe it would come to her eventually.
It took her a while to unpack. Most of her things could be stored inside the trapper’s cabin. It was on the land covered by the court order, so she had no qualms using it. If Cole Masters didn’t like it, she could always set up her tent. A closer inspection confirmed the one-room shack was sturdier than she’d originally thought. It contained an old wood-burning stove and a twin-size bed. The mattress, once white, was now the color of the dirt outside and so old it had been stuffed with peanut shells and cotton. There were holes in the roof and floor and the only window didn’t have any panes. She had camped in worse. She just couldn’t remember when. Her sleeping bag would provide some insulation and the rusty legs of the bed would keep her off the floor, so there was that at least.
She was used to roughing it, but her pregnancy added an extra wrinkle to the situation. Before she’d come here, her doctor had given her the green light—she was in excellent health and should be fine to do her job. But he’d warned her to take care of herself. The cabin would do for now, but she was going to have to keep a close eye on how she was feeling and make sure she didn’t overdo it.
By the time she had unpacked most of her things, the bulldozers had been moved and an area had been marked off by little red flags. It was actually a larger area than she’d first imagined. She would have to thank Mr. Masters for that the next time he came snooping, which, if he was like other land owners, should be in about three days.
Tallie eyed the area to determine the best place to start. Over toward the cliffs, she decided. She would map out a grid and go from there.
She returned to her car for the last of the gear. Her old tent was on the bottom of a pile of equipment. She probably should drag it out and spend some time patching the rips and holes. She hadn’t taken time to patch it after the last dig when the wind had blown it into a huge cactus patch. But she was anxious to start the dig. She would leave it for now and just use the old trapper’s cabin. It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission anyway. If Mr. Masters wanted her out of the ramshackle building, all he had to do was tell her.
She picked up the bolt of orange string, a handful of wooden stakes and a hammer, and chose a spot most favorable. She wouldn’t finish before the sun set, but every step she could complete today would be one step closer to finding the proof of the lost tribe for her grandmother and the faster she could get back to the museum.
She wasn’t used to working alone, but the silence was nice. She just hoped Masters found other things to occupy his time than coming out to bother her. She didn’t need the veiled threats—or the sexual magnetism that made her heart speed up and her rational thinking, for which she was known, take a high dive off the nearest cliff.
With a sigh she hammered the first stake into the ground. Then another. By sunset she’d marked off an area of about one hundred and twenty square feet, and divided it into smaller sections. She’d been able to examine the first four grids. Tomorrow she would set up the sifting box and, with shovel in hand, she would be on her way to discovery. She hoped.
Grabbing her tools, she returned to the trapper’s cabin, dropped the hammer and remaining stakes on the floor just inside the door and stared at the bed, such that it was. It was going to be a long night.
* * *
Cole walked from the helipad toward the house, still in disbelief, livid that Tallie Finley’s dig was allowed to supersede his project and slow things to a crawl. It was ironic that on the day...the day...they were to pour the foundation she had received her permit from Judge Mitchell and shut Cole down. Unbelievable. Even more incredible was that he’d checked with his lawyers eight ways from Sunday and there was nothing he could do about the court order. The only silver lining was that he would have the opportunity to get to know this irresistible woman much better.
Since the day he’d left college his efforts had focused on company business, improving and doing his part to make Masters Corporation, LLC, one of the leading real-estate companies in Texas if not the entire United States. Days turned into nights that turned back into days as he’d worked. He’d flown countless miles, attended innumerable meetings. But it had always been for the family business; he’d never ventured out on his own. This project to build a world-class corporate retreat where Fortune 500 companies could send their executives for training and relaxation was special in that it was his. It was his chance to accomplish something important without company backing. He would prove his worth to his brothers and, more importantly, to himself. At the age of thirty-four he would finally be able to say, I did that. It wasn’t about the money or acclaim. It was the sense of accomplishment and the pride.
The planning had taken years but the end was in sight. The announcement and a brochure detailing the project had gone out to the business leaders and entrepreneurs on almost every continent in the world. An invitation to tour the site had been sent to several prominent CEOs in the U.S. with the hope they would invest in the project. How uncharacteristically naive of him to think at this stage nothing would go wrong.
He’d never seen it coming. Just like before, when he’d found out about his ex-wife’s cheating, he’d once again been caught with his pants down. If anyone had told him a month ago that a one-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound woman could shut down a multimillion-dollar project with a piece of paper and some orange string, he would have laughed in their face. He wasn’t laughing now. He had to wonder if she was a part of a bigger plan by one of his corporate enemies to sabotage his project. If not, he had to be open to the possibility that she was working on her own in an attempt to gain some of his wealth. Did she know who he was and was she only acting a part? He’d learned three years ago just how deceptive a woman could be.
Even after the sheer hell he’d been through with his ex-wife, until today he thought he’d heard and seen it all. False pregnancy claims, varying attempts at blackmail. But claiming to look for some relic on the same spot as his future lodge was a new one. This must have taken some planning. How much was she being paid to sabotage his project and who was paying her to do it? What was the full game plan? Was she planning to fake an injury, as well? Had she set him up in New Orleans? Or was she legit?
As soon as he stepped into the house at the Circle M Ranch, he grabbed his cell and called the head of the security division at the home office in Dallas.
“Jonas? Yeah. I want someone checked out. I want to know when she lost her first baby tooth, the names of her friends in second grade, who she dated in college... I want you to turn over every rock no matter how small. Her name is Dr. Tallie Finley. She’s supposedly an archeologist with the North Texas Natural History Museum. That’s all I have.”
“That should be plenty. I’ll get right on it,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “When I finish, I’ll notify you by email?”
“Call me as soon as you have the full report. You can reach me at this number.”
“Consider it done.”
Cole hung up and slid his phone into his pocket. There had to be more to this than just a search for artifacts. No, she had to be after something more than a relic. It would be interesting to see what it was and how she went about trying to attain it.
For the first time in years, he thought of Gina. When they were newly married, he had trusted her, and she’d had his father’s blessing. But less than a year into the marriage the warning signs had begun to appear. Lying. Disappearing for an afternoon or evening, money in her private account—tens of millions of dollars—vanishing at an alarming rate. His father’s odd advice to not worry about it had sent Cole scurrying to the company’s head of security, who’d provided a report that told it all. She was involved with another man. And she was pregnant. The father of the baby remained a mystery. Cole had had reason to doubt it was his.
But then tragedy had struck and that unborn baby had never gotten to see the world. Because he’d died with Gina the fateful night she’d spun out of control on a rain-soaked road, her car going over a steep embankment and exploding in flames at the bottom of a deep ravine. The night Cole had told her to get out.
There was just something about all the coincidences surrounding Dr. Finley’s arrival that reminded him of his late wife’s deception. Was Dr. Finley trying to play him, too? He damn sure didn’t want to believe something bad about his new mystery woman, but neither did he intend to sit back and watch her destroy his plans.
Four (#ulink_2234c99a-7edc-5ee2-82ca-ba94305858ba)
Three days after meeting her face to face, Cole still couldn’t get over how Dr. Finley had taken over his land. He knew she’d settled into the trapper’s cabin, and he was fine with that. The rough conditions in there would probably hasten her departure. He’d sent ranch hands out to spy on her at varying times. The reports were all the same. During the day, she worked. At night, she soaked in the river then disappeared into the little shack. They had to be missing something. Maybe she was sneaking around at night, looking for who knew what. He decided he would go out to assess the situation for himself.
Frustrated, Cole watched her through the lenses of his binoculars and confirmed what the ranch hands had reported. She worked from sunup to sundown, went for a dip in the cool waters of the river—he had trouble taking his eyes off her voluptuous curves—and finally trudged back to the old trapper’s cabin where she presumably slept through the night. She was a damned hard worker, he’d give her that. But after three days of this nonsense, it appeared as though she’d found nothing, at least nothing she cared to share with him, and his heavy equipment still sat idle.
The next day his head of security called with the findings about Dr. Finley. Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing he could use to get rid of her. There was not one single thing she’d ever done that was suspicious. No black mark against her. Not even a gray one. She’d worked to put herself through school. Her grades had been top-notch. She’d made the dean’s list in her junior and senior years of college before going for her master’s degree then her doctorate at Tulane University. Her mother’s family was Irish. Her father was Choctaw. Her mother taught seventh and eighth grade. Her dad had been an archeologist before he was killed on a dig in Brazil four years ago. Dr. Finley had broken up with her boyfriend, an English literature professor, a year before.
But how could anyone in this day and age be that squeaky clean? How was it possible?
He zeroed in on how she’d gone to Tulane. New Orleans was a city Cole loved. In fact, the night he’d spent there was the first time in years he’d taken the opportunity to enjoy the city. Then, out of all the people who swarmed into the French Quarter on that particular Friday night, he had ended up spending it with the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on. That was one night, one memory, he would not soon forget. He would have never believed the next time he saw the woman she would be on his property, calling a halt to his pet construction project. It was uncanny. The chances were a billion to one. But as delighted as he was to see her again and this time to learn her name, he still would not wait ninety days to get his project back on track. Something had to give and it wouldn’t be him.
Maybe if he talked to her, reined in his temper and kept it unemotional, just business, he could make her understand how many problems she was causing. And there was no time like the present. He jumped into a pickup and headed back to the site. He easily spotted her and walked to within a couple of feet of where she worked, moving the soil with a little brush. She glanced at him briefly in acknowledgment and continued to work, all but ignoring him. She was working about halfway through the grid, slowly, methodically, gently raking the dirt then brushing over anything that might be promising.
On hands and knees, she was leaning forward over her digging spot, her butt in the air. He wouldn’t be a man if he didn’t take another long look. She had a damn fine backside. Her hair was pulled up into a messy knot that made her look sexy as hell. Her face was smudged with dirt. He didn’t know many women who would still look attractive in such a state. But it showed the commitment on Dr. Finley’s part, which was something he had to admire.
“Dr. Finley, how are you doing today?”
“Just fine,” she said, eying him suspiciously.
He cleared his throat. “I understand your dig, your search, is important to you.” Admittedly he wasn’t used to talking to someone’s backside. “But the fact is, while you are out here playing with your rake in the dirt, I’m losing thousands of dollars a day.”
“I’m sorry. That’s too bad.”
She didn’t sound sorry. “Well, the thing is, I need to finish what I’ve started.”
“If postponing your project is costing that much money, perhaps you should move it to another location,” she suggested matter-of-factly, never taking her eyes off the section of ground she was working on.
“Impossible,” he snorted. “I already have the plumbing roughed in. The forms are set. Other aspects of my project feed off of this location. It isn’t that easy to just pick up and move.”
“And if I find evidence next to one of your twenty foundations, that foundation will have to be torn out. You only have to stand down twelve weeks, maybe less.” She looked up and caught his gaze. “Surely your business dealings have taught you that sometimes you don’t get your way.”
Cole could feel the anger rising in his chest. Even more frustrating, he couldn’t escape the sheer physical pull of attraction he had for this woman.
“We have every reason to believe there may be remnants of an ancient civilization here,” she continued. “I wasn’t around several thousand years ago to warn them that in the twenty-first century someone would want to build...whatever you’re building here.”
She picked up a soft-bristle brush and began fanning over a small area.
“Dr. Finley,” he mumbled. “There are museums full of paintings and crafts of all kinds. Why is this any different? What’s so damned important that it’s costing me a ninety-day delay? If what you’re looking for is thousands of years old, what’s another three months until you find them? It. Whatever you’re searching for. Or is there something you’re not telling me?”
Suddenly she dropped the little brush and stood. Pulling off her gloves, she slapped them against her jeans-covered leg. “I’ve already told you why you need to stop construction. Twice, if I recall. Why would you think I’m hiding something? What? Do you think I’m digging for gold? Some hidden Spanish treasure? A cache stashed by Jesse James?”
Now she was being snide.
“I assure you I’m not. Any of those things would be turned over to you immediately to do with as you pleased. Well, you and the IRS. And the longer you stand here harassing me, the longer I remain idle, causing further delays. Believe me when I say it’s irritating for both of us.”
“Fine.” He glared at her. “Have it your way. But don’t expect any help from me or my employees.” With that said, he turned and walked back to his truck.
* * *
A cool breeze came in through the broken window. She hoped it continued through the night. But as she got into the tiny bed she heard a scurrying of animal feet underneath it. Either rats or gophers. Maybe a raccoon. She quickly stepped to the opposite side of the cabin. “Go on. Shoo!” She beat against the rusted bed legs with a stick she’d found in the corner. Two skunks made their escape through the open cabin door, thankfully without releasing their odor. Bending over, she checked under the bed for any more night visitors. All clear.
With a shiver and a sigh, she went out to her Ford wagon in the hope she could find something to prop against the cabin door to keep it closed. She’d gone only a few steps when her foot got caught in a small indention in the ground, causing her to lose balance. She groped for anything that would keep her from falling and grabbed onto a low-hanging tree limb. But she immediately realized she’d become ensnared in a spider’s web. The idea that the inhabitant might be looking for a new home somewhere inside her clothes slammed her panic button. As she frantically brushed at her clothing and hair, she heard a rustling of the underbrush a few feet away. It was then that she felt something crawling on her back. Under her shirt.
She screamed. There wasn’t a lot in life that bothered her, but she’d been afraid of spiders since she was a kid. In complete panic, she tore off her shirt and began to brush at her back. Then something moved just under the waistband of her jeans, heading south. Another scream pierced the air as she frantically unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down her legs. About the time they cleared her behind, she lost balance, falling into a thick layer of last year’s autumn leaves. Rolling onto her back, she continued to kick and fight off the jeans that had bunched around her ankles.
She’d just freed her feet when Cole appeared next to her, coming down on one knee, a gun held with both hands as he scanned the immediate area. “What is it? What the hell is going on?”
“It’s a...a spider.”
“What?”
“A sss-spider,” she sobbed, becoming aware that she was sitting on the ground, almost naked, her T-shirt hanging from a tree limb and her pants flung to the side. She wasn’t immediately sure what had happened to her shoes.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/lauren-canan/one-night-with-the-texan/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.