My Dearest Cal (18 page)

Why wonder, he thought disgustedly, he knew exactly how she was going to react. Even as furious as she was with him, he could have staked money that she’d be thrilled by this outcome. When it came to family, she was entirely predictable.

“Why aren’t you in there with your grandmother?” she demanded when he ventured into the cozy kitchen that was filled with the scent of apple pie and cinnamon. She and Elena were sitting at the table contentedly sipping tea and eating thick, fudgy brownies.

“I can see that you were in a real rush to get back to us,” he observed, pouring himself a cup of tea and grabbing one of the brownies.

“The
señorita
and I, we agree you need time to get reacquainted,” Elena said.

“Believe me, we already know everything we need
to know about each other,” he said. “She’s an aggressive, manipulative, calculating woman.”

Marilou shook her head. “Interesting how you choose to use those words to denigrate her, when you’d find them essential in a business opponent.”

“I came here looking for a grandmother, not a tycoon.”

“Sounds sexist to me,” Marilou said.

“Okay, okay, we’re all agreed that this is going to be a fair fight among equals. Notice,” he said, dropping an impulsive kiss on her cheek, “that I included you among the combatants.”

“Not me. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

“Not anymore. If I’m moving in here, you’re coming along, which puts you smack in the middle of the fray.”

Marilou nearly choked at that. “We’re moving here?”

“Under this very roof, though with a very discreet distance from your bedroom to mine.”

He watched for some sign of disappointment but she simply stilled, and that flash of pain he’d put in her eyes last night returned to haunt him. He glanced sideways at Elena, who had busied herself at the stove, then finally shrugged. This was not the time to have a discussion about last night.

“I think maybe this is a bad idea,” Marilou said finally.

He stared at her. “What are you talking about? I thought this was exactly what you wanted.”

“For you and your grandmother, yes. I don’t belong here now. I should go back to Atlanta.”

“Absolutely not,” he said, immediately resorting to blackmail to get her to stay. “If you go, I go.”

“Cal,” she protested.

“No. That’s it. We stay together or we go together. I’m only doing this for you.”

“Dammit, Cal, I don’t want you to do this for me. This is your life, your family.”

“Right now, you are a part of that life.”

“Right now,” she repeated wistfully, staring determinedly into her cup. He wondered if she was aware of the salty tears that splashed into the tea.

Damn, why couldn’t he give her more than that? She was a woman who deserved happily-ever-afters, if anyone did. He should let her go so that she could find them. Instead, though, he knew that he’d never make it through the next couple of days without her there to badger him on.

“Please stay,” he said finally.

She gazed up at him then, her expression as close to helpless as he was ever likely to see it. It wrenched his heart to see her torn in two like that and to know that he was responsible. “I’ll stay,” she said finally.

In that instant Cal realized that he was, in fact, every bit as manipulative as his grandmother. Of all the damned things to inherit.

Chapter Twelve

S
ettling into the McDonald ranch life was a mixed blessing for Marilou. Though she loved watching the nonstop sparring between Cal and his grandmother, for the most part she had absolutely nothing to do. Though Cal invited her along when he toured the place with the old woman, Marilou always made her excuses and declined. She was determined that the two of them get to know each other without her around as the buffer Cal intended her to be. She offered to help Elena, but the energetic housekeeper flatly refused.

“You are a houseguest,
señorita
. It would not be right,” Elena said. “There are books in the library, if you wish to read. Or you could ride. One of the men would be glad to saddle a horse for you.”

“Maybe I’ll just go for a walk,” she said finally, grabbing a bright red jacket to ward off the bone-chilling wind that felt very little like spring.

Despite the brisk breeze, the sky was clear, and wildflowers were beginning to bloom. In no time at all, her lonely, depressed mood began to lift. After more than an hour of wandering, she came to an old tree that had apparently been toppled by lightning and never cleared. Drawing her jacket more snugly around her, she climbed onto the weathered tree trunk and stared at the sparse, magnificent scenery, thinking about how much had happened to her in the month since she had made the impulsive decision to go after Cal.

She’d been to places she’d only dreamed about, experienced things she’d only read about and, most amazing of all, she had fallen deeply, irrevocably, head over heels in love. Unfortunately the man happened to be a pigheaded idiot who was clinging to his self-imposed emotional isolation with the tenacity of a pit bull. Sooner or later she was going to have to accept the fact that while Cal might come to love her, he might very well never trust her…or any woman, for that matter.

As if she’d conjured him, he suddenly slid his arms around her waist from behind. He smelled of wood smoke and fresh air with the faintest hint of the after-shave he’d used hours earlier. He nuzzled the back of her neck, sending warmth catapulting through her.

“You look far too serious for such a beautiful
day,” he accused gently. “What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, cabbages and kings.”

“Hmm, must have been me.”

She turned and grinned at him, rubbing her hand against his cheek. “Which are you, a cabbage or a king?”

“That’s probably a matter of opinion. Want to come for a ride with me? It’ll dust the cobwebs from your mind.”

She shook her head.

“How come?”

“I don’t ride,” she admitted reluctantly.

Cal stared at her, clearly astonished. “But you spent all that time around the horses in Florida.”

“Around them, not on them. Do you think Chaney was about to let me on one of your precious Thoroughbreds?”

“We have stable ponies, too. All you had to do was ask.”

“I guess the right time just never presented itself.” He reached for her hand. “Then that’s about to change. Let’s go, sweetheart.”

“Cal,” she protested weakly, though her pulse had already kicked in with excitement at the prospect of one more adventure. Life with Cal would always…

Life with Cal couldn’t be, she reminded herself sternly. There was only now, these next few days, and the adventure would be over for her. Maybe, though, when she got home and she would get out her camera equipment again. Maybe she would try to pick up
where she had left off. The prospect gave her something to look forward to besides the loneliness.

“Let’s go,” she said, jumping to the ground. “I’ll race you back to the barn.”

She took off at a run, knowing she would be beat, laughing anyway at the sheer exhilaration of the race, delighted when Cal passed her, then turned and caught her in an exuberant embrace. His lips on hers were cold as ice, but they held the power of fire. His hands slid inside her jacket and found her breasts, the nipples already tightened into hard buds from the brisk air and already sensitive in anticipation of his touch.

“Have you forgiven me?” he said, his eyes riveted to hers.

“For what?”

“For hurting you the other night?”

“You were honest with me, Cal. It’s always better to know the truth, even if you don’t like it.”

“I wish…”

Her heart in her throat and tears threatening, she pressed a finger against his lips. “Shh. No matter what happens, I will always remember this time in my life. You’ve made these weeks special for me.”

“You are an incredible woman, Marilou Stockton.”

She wasn’t sure she could bear to hear another word. “And you are a man who promised to teach me to ride. Are you welshing on that promise?”

“Never.”

“Then show me how to get on one of these beasts.
Who knows, maybe I’ll decide I want to become a jockey.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I adore your cute little figure, as perfect as I think you are, you are about five inches too tall and ten pounds too heavy to be a jockey.”

She frowned. “That is a problem. I could probably lose the weight, but there’s not much I can do about the height. I guess I’ll just have to settle for riding the range or something.”

“First, let’s just see how you do riding around this paddock.”

“Is that a note of skepticism I hear?”

He laughed. “You won’t catch me with that. No comment.”

“Wise man.”

Though it would have taken torture to pry the admission out of her, Marilou had to concede that Cal had been fairly close to the mark in analyzing her skill. She hurt in places that no lady ever discussed. For once, since the visit to Mrs. McDonald began, she was very glad that she and Cal had been banished to separate bedrooms. She would have hated like crazy to moan with pain the minute he tried to touch her. Not that he remained entirely aloof, but fortunately her lips seemed to be one of the few places not battered and bruised by this latest adventure. And Cal was a very inventive kisser.

* * *

The days took on an easy rhythm. The three of them had breakfast together, then Cal and his grandmother
huddled together to discuss the ranch. Occasionally Marilou sat in on the conversations, liking them best when they veered into family history. Though listening at times emphasized her place as an outsider, she was still delighted that Cal was slowly beginning to acknowledge his place as a McDonald heir.

“Your books are a shambles,” he announced late one morning, rubbing his temples after hours of staring at page after page of figures written in his grandmother’s cramped handwriting. Marilou had long since given up trying to decipher it and sat sipping yet another cup of English breakfast tea. She was becoming addicted to the stuff. Cal’s grandmother provided a different variety of tea for practically every hour of the day.

“You need to get a computer,” Cal said, not for the first time. To Marilou it was beginning to be like background music. Her thoughts wandered, then refocused as he added, “Or at the very least an accountant.”

“I’m too old to learn all that technical nonsense,” his grandmother insisted predictably, glowering at him. “And if I’ve learned one thing about money, it’s that no one will watch over it as well as you do it yourself.”

“If that isn’t the most old-fashioned, set-in-your-ways thinking I’ve ever heard,” he grumbled. “I could never run a business, if I didn’t share some of the responsibilities.”

“I have men to run the cattle,” his grandmother offered.

“I’m surprised,” he retorted.

Marilou chuckled. She’d been listening to Cal and his grandmother bickering like this since breakfast. They’d had the exact same argument the past three mornings. As far as she was concerned, it was heavenly. Only strangers maintained a polite facade. Families fought and nagged and loved in equal measures. Apparently Elena agreed. She’d stopped hovering over Mrs. McDonald and now bustled around with an approving smile on her face, content that the uproar in the house was a happy one.

“Why should I hire an accountant when I have you to figure it out for me?” his grandmother finally said slyly.

Cal threw down his pencil. “Because I won’t be around.”

“Hmph!”

“Grandmother, I have told you repeatedly that I have to go back to Florida by the beginning of the week. I have my own business to run and I’ve been away too long already.”

“Race horses,” she said with a derisive sniff. “Cattle, that’s the thing. Been good enough for the Whitfields for all these generations. Don’t see why it’s not good enough for you.”

“I’m only one-quarter Whitfield.”

“Must be the stubborn quarter,” Marilou offered.

Two pairs of blue eyes glowered at her. She grinned happily. “I don’t suppose I could talk the two
of you into going for a drive instead of sitting around sniping at each other. It’s a lovely day. The air is balmy at last. Elena said she’d pack us a picnic—fried chicken, deviled eggs, the works.”

A spark of longing flared in Mrs. McDonald’s eyes, then she shook her head. “The ground’s too cold for these old bones, but you two run along.”

“We’ll take a blanket,” Marilou promised. “You’ll be fine.”

A smile played about the old lady’s lips, and for an instant she seemed lost in reminiscence. “It would be pleasant, I suppose. Your grandfather and I…” She sighed. “Well, that was a long time ago.”

“Please come,” Marilou begged. “You can tell us more about the family.”

She knew that was a surefire lure. Mrs. McDonald had been using every opportunity to seduce Cal with those fascinating tales of his ancestors, men who’d pioneered in the West, surviving droughts and natural disasters, forging what had become something of a cattle empire. Apparently she hoped to convince him that he would be abandoning his heritage if he didn’t stay and claim the ranch as his own. Periodically Marilou had dared to add her own subtle hints along the same lines.

“If you two are planning to gang up on me again, I’ll pass and stay here,” he said now, but Marilou caught the tolerant amusement in his eyes. He was beginning to care for the old woman. She could hear the tenderness in his voice more and more frequently.

“You aren’t afraid of a couple of women, are you?” she inquired innocently.

“Damned right I am. When it comes to the two of you, any man would be a fool if he didn’t watch his backside all the time. Last night some crumbling old diary turned up under my pillow. I don’t suppose either of you knows how it got there.”

“Not me,” Marilou said cheerfully. “I’ve been banned from that end of the hall.”

“And you?” he inquired, directing his gaze at his grandmother.

“I might have mentioned something to Elena…”

“Lord, you mean she’s in on it, too? I haven’t got a prayer.”

“I like a man who recognizes a worthy opponent,” Mrs. McDonald said approvingly. “Now stop dillydallying, boy. If we’re going, let’s go. Elena will be furious if we ruin her lunch.”