Heat Wave (4 page)

“I didn’t agree to take the job!” Earlier, she had even thought his offer was a joke.

“I’ll make you a deal too good to turn down.”

“You might be surprised. Sometimes I do have some resistance.” But not to that charming smile, she thought.

“If’—he stressed the word heavily, pausing a moment—”you paint the house, you’ll be around all day anyway. Would you consider tutoring my nephew for an hour each afternoon? You’ll be paid for that, too.” He grinned. “It won’t be thrown in with the painting.”

“Does he live near you?”

“He’s close enough. It’ll be convenient.”

“Your sister lives on the farm too?”

“We’re just plain farm folks.”

“I have another week before school is out for the summer.”

“I can wait a week.”

She didn’t want to paint his house. He was too aggressive; she was too vulnerable. There was a current of attraction between them that was startling and compelling.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I should avoid you.”

“Oh? Am I threatening?”

“I won’t tell you. Your ego is far too large now.”

“Aw, shucks. Under this cool, assured exterior might be a timid, shy heart.”

“I’ll
believe it when I see a shred of evidence pointing that way.”

She was subjected to his engaging smile again. “If I were certain of myself, I’d take you into my arms again.” His voice was husky, teasing with a hint of laughter. “The only thing that stops me is the fear of rejection. Otherwise, I’d put my fingers on your soft throat, touch your gorgeous red hair, taste your lips …”

She wriggled in an unconscious movement that wasn’t lost on him. “Stop right now! I’m rejecting you,” she teased.

He threw up his hands while he settled back in the chair. “See, I told you. I’m very timid.”

She laughed and they were silent a moment before he returned to the earlier topic. “What about helping Henry an hour each day? Will you do it?”

She was back to the same decision. She could far more easily reject the offer to paint his house than she could reject trying to help his nephew. Every child was different, each a unique challenge.

“First, don’t you think you should confer with his mother?”

“She’d be delighted if she thought you would help. Henry was off to a bad start his first year in school. They moved constantly and he was shuffled from one school to another. What’s the going rate for tutoring?”

When she told him, he offered to double it. “Why the enormous fee?” she asked, surprised. “Your offer has overtones of calculated persuasion.”

“Might be.” His blue eyes seemed to be daring her. “You don’t paint alone, do you?”

“No, two teachers help me. We’re unemployed in the summer, you know.”

“You don’t get a salary?”

“Not all summer.”

“This should be a good job. Will you take it?”

“Don’t you want an estimate first?” She was stalling, snatching at straws, prolonging what she knew was coming, what she couldn’t resist doing. She felt as if she had tumbled into a vat of blue, deep cerulean blue as she gazed into eyes that wouldn’t release her.

“You can give me an estimate tomorrow.”

“On Sunday?”

“I’m sure we can work out the details. Will you do it?”

She thought of her two helpers who were in need of funds. It would be absurd not to accept the job, especially if she were here anyway to tutor his nephew. But to be constantly around Cole … Her pulse started climbing while little red flags of warning popped into her mind. Another heartbreak, and one had been enough. Could she avoid hurt if she stayed in daily contact with a man whose mere look set her pulses racing? While he quietly waited for her answer, she felt as if she were drowning in blue eyes and all she could think was danger, danger. “All right. I will.”

“Good. That’s settled.”

“To your satisfaction.”

He leaned forward swiftly, slipping his hand across the back of her neck to pull her closer to him. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

“You’re a delight to look
at,
to hold, to touch.”

She tried to keep control. “Cole, please don’t complicate my life. It’s very orderly and peaceful.”

“I won’t cause trouble. That isn’t my intention at all.” A lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I saw an example today of how orderly and peaceful your life is.”

“That was the fault of the balloon. Very exceptional. You can’t imagine how quiet and ordinary my life is.

““You betcha, hon. Want to walk down to the corral and see Bonny Charles?”

“Sure.” Anything to get away before he discovered how fast her heart was racing. She promised herself firmly that she would resist his charms. He rose and reached down to pull her to her feet.

She came up into his arms. Without warning, he kissed her. Her promise to resist Cole vanished. She knew her quiet life was threatened by a hurricane of passion unless she was careful, but she couldn’t worry about it anymore. He destroyed every thought but that she wanted him.

Slowly, he released her and they stood immobile, looking at each other. Cole’s arm tightened around her waist and he lowered his head to repeat the kiss.

In desperation she asked, “What about Bonny Charles or whatever his name is?”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before he smiled and stepped away. “Come along. It’ll be time to put the steaks on when we get back.”

While her pulse rate simmered, they strolled along a gravel drive past a fenced, neatly trimmed green yard, a startling contrast to the desert of wheat. Between open, weed-filled stretches of land, the drive curved away from the house to the fenced areas around the barn and sheds. As they circled the barn to a pen behind it, Marilee was totally conscious of Cole’s nearness, his long legs moving beside her, his shoulder occasionally brushing hers. She was relieved when they reached the pen and she could concentrate on the majestic black bull standing by the fence. As they approached, he blew air in a low snort.

“Bonny Charles, this is Miss Marilee O’Neil. Marilee, meet Bonny Charles of Argyle.”

She stared into the bull’s soft brown eyes. He flicked a black ear and switched his tail while she climbed up on the fence and leaned over to rub her hand down his sleek nose.

“He’s beautiful,” she said, a little awed. “Look at his brown eyes. You’re not going to eat him, are you?”

Cole laughed. “No, ma’am, I’m sure not going to eat Bonny Charles. He’s going to earn me a nice sum of money.”

She studied the ring through his nose. “Doesn’t that ring hurt him?”

“No. It keeps him docile when he’s led around.”

Slipping his arm around her waist, Cole swung her off the fence. He held her tightly against him, her toes just above the ground, her hands resting on his shoulders, and she thought again of how his hard, lean body had looked by the pool. “You’re blushing again,” he said in a low voice. “Remembering this afternoon? Our kiss by the pool?”

“I can’t forget,” she answered simply.

He groaned and started to lower his head, but she turned slightly. “Cole, alarms are going off inside my mind like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. You’re ‘danger’ in mile-high letters.”

“Why?”

She focused on the locks of brown hair that the wind was tugging off his forehead. “I told you, I have a neatly planned, orderly life. And I seem to have very bad luck when it comes to men.”

“A kiss is so dangerous?”

He asked the question lightly, but his words hung in the air, pulling tautly at her. Her soft breasts were pressed into his chest, her fingers rested at the base of his throat. Easily, she detected a pulse racing as fast as her own.

“Incredibly dangerous!” she whispered.

“When you give me an answer like that, little witch, what do you think I have to do?” he replied just before his mouth possessed hers.

The firecrackers changed to rockets. Red, blue, green, fabulous blinding colors, spinning, sizzling, exploding inside her, setting her ablaze. She longed to slide her arms across his broad shoulders, to wrap them around him and cling to him. His kiss burned through her. When she finally managed to wriggle free, she realized this kiss was far more difficult to stop than the one before, and the one before that. She stepped back with a shaky laugh. “A ring in the nose for Bonny Charles, a kiss for me—that’s all it takes to make us docile.”

“Docile?” he drawled as his gaze lowered to her breasts, which were thrusting against the green cotton, her taut peaks outlined.

“You promised dinner.” She tried to sound forceful.

“I’m hungry too, but not for steak.”

Trying to change the subject, to bank the smoldering flames in his blue eyes, she asked, “Don’t you feel a little guilty talking about steaks in front of him?”

For a moment his gaze continued to hold hers, then he smiled. “No, he didn’t bat an eye.” He took her hand and they turned back to the house.

Her nerves felt raw and she was too conscious of his nearness. In an attempt to give herself a chance to recover, she asked, “Where do you stay when you’re not here?”

“I have a home and an office in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Later, around the end of July, I’m going to Alaska. We’re drilling for oil. I’ll spend at least six weeks up there.”

Was there a woman waiting for him in Tulsa, in Alaska? That line of thought was too unsettling and she concentrated on his warm hand, lightly holding hers.

“I haven’t shown you the house,” he said. “After a while we’ll take a tour.”

“Is this where you grew up?”

“Part of the time. My parents were divorced. Sandy, my sister, and I were shuffled back and forth between them.”

He stated it flatly as if it were of little consequence to him, but she wondered if he really felt that unconcerned. She thought of her own parents who lived in Wichita about a mile away from her. “Your life must’ve been difficult.”

“It was difficult for them. Neither of our parents wanted to take us. They’re not alive anymore.”

Surprised, she tried to keep her features passive. His answer explained the defensiveness in his voice when he had talked about Jada earlier.

“How old were you when they divorced?”

“Eleven and Sandy was eight.”

“That’s tough.”

“My dad was busy with his job and my mother moved to California for an acting career. She wasn’t successful at it, but she didn’t want two kids cluttering up her life.”

As Marilee listened, she compared his background to hers. Her family enjoyed one another. She couldn’t imagine the situation he described. She glanced at his jaw clamped shut though, and knew she shouldn’t offer sympathy. Instead, she said, “You and your sister must be close.”

“We are. When I was sixteen, Dad died. I came back here to live for four years until Sandy could go to college.”

“Did you get to go?”

There was no mistaking the note of steel in his tone as he replied, “I put a mortgage on the farm and went to college at the same time. I majored in geology.”

“How did you get into the drilling business?”

“After graduation I started working for an oil company. I found an area where I felt certain we’d hit oil, but no one was interested. I’d already learned how to borrow money when I went to college. I rounded up some investors, borrowed more, drilled, and was lucky.”

“Lucky? You mean you were right.”

They walked in silence a moment before he said gruffly, “I’m not the marrying kind.”

His unexpected statement pierced like a dagger and anger flooded through her. He was the one who had made the passes, not she. She stopped in her tracks to face him. “Why not?”

He was startled and emotions flickered over his features. The shuttered look vanished, dissolving into surprise. His narrowed brows flew upward, his eyes widened, then a twinkle appeared.

He laughed. “That’s the first time anyone has asked in quite so direct a manner.”

The first time! “I rather resent your announcement! You come on to me with the persistence of a flock of starving vultures and then have the gall to inform me that it won’t ever mean anything to you if I succumb!” She tapped his chest with her forefinger, and his eyes danced with glee. “What you’re actually saying is you don’t want commitment in a relationship! Well, we don’t have a relationship and we’re not going to have one!”

He chuckled. “Just wanted you to know …”

“So I wouldn’t get my hopes up! Pzzz! What an ego!” She poked his chest again, ignoring his grin. “Let me tell you. Cole Chandler, I don’t take relationships lightly! Be ye warned, too, my friend!”

His hearty laughter floated over the field. He reached out, wrapping her in his embrace, pulling her to him for a hug. When he released her, he looked down at her. The impact of those blue eyes jarred her more than she cared to admit. One corner of his mouth tugged upward in another lopsided grin. “Also, that’s the first time my technique has been likened to starving vultures! I may be losing my touch.”

She pushed away, but he caught her around the waist. “Come on, witch. I’ll feed you and see if I can’t soften you up.” His fingers trailed over the curve of her derriére. “But then, you’re pretty soft as it is …”

“Cole!” She wiggled impatiently, shaking off his hand. “See what I mean about starving vultures?”

He laughed, then his amusement vanished. “I can’t resist. There’s an attraction that makes me want to grab you and hold
you …”
He sounded puzzled.

Everything—heart, brain, breath—seemed to stop. With enormous effort, she turned away. “We better find something safer to do. How about dinner?”

“If you say so.” He replaced his arm around her waist until they entered the enclosed patio and she sat down to watch while he put thick, red steaks on the smoking grill. As he stood over the cooker, she gazed at his tanned arms with their sprinkling of short dark hair and thought about the past few minutes. Why the curt announcement? She hadn’t made a claim on him; she barely knew him. With a shock she realized it felt as if she had known Cole forever. The attraction between them was so right, so compelling, it seemed more than momentary. It was monumental.

Whatever his reason, the statement was a clear warning. And not just about marriage. It included commitment, any lasting hold. It was an announcement that part of him was private and wouldn’t be shared. She crossed her slender legs, watching him move, his long frame so masculine, so appealing, so capable of wounding her if she let him. He looked up and his blue eyes met hers with the impact of gale winds. She felt buffeted, absorbed by a bit of blue. He winked and she smiled, forgetting her warning to herself.

They ate companionably, relishing the juicy steaks. Afterward they carried the dishes to the kitchen, then Cole took her on a tour of the house.

Down the long hall they entered the dining room with a massive mahogany table and carved chairs. Masculine, elegant, the furnishings suited his personality. Next they went into the living room, filled with more dark furniture. One entire wall was covered with weapons.

Marilee halted and gazed at the guns, knives, and miscellaneous objects of mayhem. “You must like violence.”

“No, I find weapons interesting, so I collect them. I don’t use them,” he added dryly.

She moved closer. “I don’t like guns. If they’d never been invented, think what the world might’ve been.”

He chuckled. “Probably uninhabited, undefended, men would’ve killed each other off with stones and rocks.”

“You have a bee de corbin, and a jousting helmet … I can’t imagine people actually using such things.” She glanced at him to find him staring at her intently.

“How do you know a bee de corbin?”

“My father’s a gun collector. I’ve read about these in his books.”

“And he’s a violent man?”

“I deserved that one.” She laughed. “Somehow it seems different with you. He doesn’t have all the other weapons.”

Cole reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, letting his finger trail down her cheek. His touch was lighter than a summer breeze, yet it made her tingle. His fingertips made her aware of the silence around them, the intimacy of their closeness in the empty house. She sidled a few feet away to view more of the collection. “You have two powder horns decorated with maps! My dad has tried to find one. He has two Kentucky rifles he values. One’s a Jacob Dickert.”

“I’d like to see your father’s collection.”

“He’d love to show it to you. He spends hours over it.” She shivered. “I don’t like guns.”

He stood on his toes and removed a large pistol from a high shelf. “This one’s loaded.”

Horror-struck, she gazed at the weapon in his hand. “You keep a loaded gun here?”

“This is for emergencies. It’s too high for kids to reach. It’s no use to have one that isn’t loaded. Look here.” He broke it open, removing the cartridges. Snapping it closed, he released the safety. “All you do is pull the hammer to cock it and squeeze the trigger.”

His blunt, tanned finger squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked and he held it out to her. “Try it.”

Chilled, she rubbed her arms. Cole looked perfectly natural handling the gun, but she didn’t want any part of it. “No, thanks. I don’t need a gun in my line of work.”

He reloaded and replaced the weapon, his shirt stretching tautly over his arm and back while he reached upward. Turning back to her with a smile, he said, “Let’s go sit on the patio.”

She chose the chair she’d sat in earlier. He pulled his beside hers and propped his booted feet up on the edge of another chair.

Night had come with a full moon. It was a cool summer evening filled with the lingering smell of woodsmoke from the smoldering grill. Overhead stars twinkled brilliantly, hundreds more visible in the clear country air than in town. It was beautiful, but filled with danger. Marilee knew now was the time to ask Cole to take her home, to walk out of his life and see him only for professional reasons when she came to paint and tutor. Instead she sat in silence, every nerve alive to the slightest movement, the simplest touch of the man beside her. Only several kisses had passed between them, nothing more. She could easily forget them she told herself, ignoring a jeering little voice in her mind that laughed contemptuously.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

If he only knew! “It’s nice here.”

“I know.” His voice was a deep rumble in the dark. He reached over to take her hand, his warm fingers closing around hers. “I like it here. This is the only place that’s really home to me.”

“When you were growing up, did you spend much time here?”

“About half my life. Especially the early years. When my parents fought, I could get away from them and not hear the angry words.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That was long ago. I seldom even give it thought anymore. It doesn’t seem very real to me now. I used to sleep outside when I was a kid. The patio wasn’t fenced and you could watch the sun come up. Dawn is beautiful in summertime.”