Reckless Promise (16 page)

Poppy's face flamed, and she knew she'd gone
six shades redder than her hair. Moses's blunt honesty made her
feel like a genuine home wrecker. She had to remind herself that
she hadn't done anything shameful. "It's hard to judge a situation
from the outside," she said neutrally.

"Reckon that's right," Moses grunted. "But
you. Well, I never could see why—"

"Moses, honey, you come help me." Chickie put
her hand on his arm and tugged. "Poppy needs to rest today." She
towed him away.

Thank you, Chickie
. Poppy relaxed, and
watched them. Every time she'd seen them together, Chickie had been
tugging on the massive Moses, yapping out orders. The Chihuahua and
the Great Dane.

Even her smile hurt, so she lay back and
tried to remember the last time she'd had such a lazy day. Nothing
to do except enjoy the quiet warmth and wait for her battered body
to heal. And wonder how Chickie had seen through her act. And wait
for Mac to return. Poppy closed her eyes and let pleasant dreams of
him fill her mind.

She felt someone staring at her and looked up
to see the letch from the first night at the foot of her lounger,
staring at her violence-stained skin.

Oh great. She so didn't want to hear his
comments.

Before he spoke, his wife joined him. "Oh,
you poor dear."

"Wait a few days. I'll be purple and
green."

"Don't make a joke out of it. Mac told us all
about how brave and wonderful you were."

Poppy looked over her head and saw Mac. "He
did?"

He joined them, taking his place at the end
of her lounger with a proprietary air. "You did save my sister's
life."

So she'd gone from bimbo to hero. "It's not
like I wasn't involved. I didn't rush into a burning building to
save helpless orphans."

She looked up at the sound of a car engine
and watched the Suburban ease across the cattle guard and up to the
house as gingerly as if it held raw eggs. Tom scurried around from
the driver's side to help Alice out. She waved, looking pale and
shaky, but her smile lit the whole day. Her husband put his arm
around her and she leaned against him. Over her head he caught
Poppy's eye and gave her a quick thumbs-up.

Good. All seemed serene on the marital front,
just as she'd hoped, leaving her free to deal with her own life.
Let the vacation fling begin. Finally. She looked up to find Mac
watching her, promise in his eyes.

Her breath quickened. She flicked her tongue
across her lower lip. His eyes flared with something hot and
demanding and she shivered in anticipation.

Tom and Alice back together.

Mac interested.

What could go wrong?

Chapter 9

At dinner, Alice and Tom rivaled the
honeymoon couple in loving attention. Poppy glanced across the
table at Mac and found his gaze on her, steady and unfathomable
until he smiled. The slow, lazy curve of his mouth set her insides
trembling.

She stared back, aware only of the desire
that simmered underneath every moment, a searing, bubbling passion
that scared her half senseless even while it called her with an
irresistible siren's voice.

Down the length of table, Alice and Tom sat
close together, whispering to each other. Poppy definitely
sympathized when Alice wriggled her shoulders uncomfortably and she
watched with pleasure as Tom put down his fork to give her a gentle
shoulder massage. Alice's face went slack with pleasure. Poppy's
eyes closed as she fantasized the warmth and comfort of Mac's touch
on her own aching muscles.

After dinner, Mac reached her side before she
got to the door. "I'll give you a massage tonight," he promised.
"You'll be ready to ride tomorrow."

Right. She didn't believe it for a minute,
but she wouldn't turn down the bone-melting comfort his hands could
offer. "Just a massage?"

"Just a massage. I have plans for you, honey,
but like I told you, not until you're ready."

"But—"

He put an arm across her shoulders and pulled
her close to his side. The sore muscles in her neck protested the
pull. She choked back a whimper, but Mac heard and removed his arm.
"See? I rest my case."

Disappointment, as sharp as the muscle
twinge, shot through her. Hurt that he could find it so easy to
leave her came next, but his crooked smile said he didn't find it
all that easy. Mollified, she led the way into her cabin.

"Take a hot shower and I'll give you a back
rub." He turned her toward the bedroom with a light slap on the
rear.

"Just as though I were a stubborn mare," she
grumped, but gathered up her modest calf-length sleep tee and
stalked to the shower. The beat of the hot water soothed but
couldn't live up to the expectation of Mac's touch.

When she came out, warm and flushed, he had
turned back the covers and stood by the bed holding a bottle.
"Liniment," he said. "Chickie brought it down earlier for you.
Doesn't smell as good as that almond oil, but you'll feel a lot
better tomorrow. In you go. On your stomach."

Just like last night. But maybe this time...
She climbed into the bed. He pulled the covers up to her waist and
then inched her shirt up over her head, so careful to not expose
her body that embarrassment swept through her. For heaven's sake,
he was being more circumspect than the masseur at her gym. "I'm not
going to leap up and attack you," she muttered into her pillow.
"Stop worrying."

"That's good. If you spilled this stuff, we'd
never get the smell out of the rug."

She heard him remove the bottle's stopper,
and a sharp, medicinal odor stung her nose. "Good grief. What's
that?"

"Old Reliable Liniment." He pushed the bottle
to the edge of the nightstand where she could see it. A clear
bottle half full of something green-black in color. A label with
straining draft horses pulling something she couldn't make out.

"Good grief," she said again, and closed her
eyes. Elizabeth Arden this was not.

The first touch converted her. If Ms. Arden
had anything half this comforting, she'd own the world. Mac had
warmed the stuff and smoothed it over her back and shoulders with a
gentle touch. He began to knead her muscles, working out the knots
and leaving her in a haze of limp satisfaction.

"Better than sex," she murmured into the
pillow.

"Don't you believe it, honey." His fervent
voice startled her. She hadn't realized she'd said that out
loud.

"I'm a scientist," she said through the fog
of liniment and relaxation. "I don't believe, I experiment and
test."

Just as she drifted over the edge of sleep
she heard him say, "You can believe that I'm going to make love to
you, and you're not going to be thinking 'experiment' when I
do."

She believed him.

* * *

"Morning." Mac watched Poppy come up the
steps onto the veranda of the lodge. With some bounce back in her
step and the sparkle back in her eyes, she looked better than he’d
expected.

"Mmm. I had to shower for about an hour to
get rid of the liniment smell, but it was worth it. I feel
great."

She looked considerably better than great.
Just like every man's fantasy of what he'd like for breakfast, in
fact. "I hate to be the one to tell you, but you didn't get rid of
it. You're going to smell more like Old Reliable than White
Diamonds for some time to come."

"Oh. Well. Surely it will fade by the time I
leave." She tilted her head and gave him an impish glance. "The
important thing is that I'm scarcely sore at all, even though I
still look like I've been run through a meat grinder. The bruises
remain."

"Want another massage?" He got hot just
thinking about it. He'd spent all night remembering how she'd felt,
all warm and relaxed and sleepy under his hands. He'd be happy to
put his hands on her any time she asked.

"Maybe." She smiled, an impish, teasing grin
that spiked his circulation.

Even if she hadn't been teasing, he couldn't
take advantage of her. Not yet. "We'd better go in to
breakfast."

She nodded, and led the way down the hall
toward the dining room. He watched her walk and wished he could get
her alone.

Alice came out of the kitchen. "Oh. Poppy.
You're looking good. Chickie's liniment is a miracle, isn't
it?"

"Oh. Yes, it is." Poppy stammered,
disconcerted by the warm, welcoming smile and words.

"Go on in. I'll be along in a minute," Alice
said, her voice the next thing to singing. Only the sling and
bandaged arm reminded of the accident.

"From the looks of it, she got more than a
back rub with her liniment," Poppy blurted. She looked up at Mac
and blushed. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Jealous?"

"No."

He hid a smile.

"I can ask for what I want. If I had wanted
anything else, I'd have asked."

He fought to keep from grinning. "You
did."

She scowled, and he swallowed a smile,
enjoying the business of watching her twist a little, keeping her
off balance.

"Actually, I'm very shy."

She looked him straight in the eye when she
said it, and he believed her. Just one more item to file under
'mysteries about Poppy', but he couldn’t resist a little more
teasing. "Oh, yeah. I could tell right off that you're just a
timid, bashful little thing."

All the soft flirtiness froze. "That's very
condescending. I'm not a 'little thing'."

She hadn't been all that bashful, either, but
he'd better not remind her. "Sorry." Every time he thought he had
her figured out, a new facet emerged.

She'd bombed into the middle of their lives,
luring Tom into a flirtation, almost as though she wanted to make
Alice jealous, yet she had a magic touch with the other guests.

She'd acted like a bimbo and made Alice cry,
but Chickie liked her, and she'd saved two lives in one day.

She had more secrets than the CIA, but he'd
never enjoyed just talking to a woman so much.

Maybe the time had come to put his hormones
on hold and start unraveling some of her mysteries. Maybe, just for
the heck of it, he'd tell his secretary to have the detective firm
that checked references for them run a make on her.

She stepped around him and marched into
breakfast, radiating equal parts indignation, Old Reliable
liniment, and come hither. He followed slowly. He'd have to keep a
close eye on her, and the idea pleased him way much.

Judging by his reaction to watching her march
down the hall, putting his hormones on hold might be an impossible
task.

* * *

Poppy spent another lazy morning by the pool,
and decided to nap in lieu of lunch. Mac caught her heading toward
her cabin.

"Hey, what's this? It's lunch time. You can't
leave."

"I'm under arrest?" She suppressed the spark
of redheaded temper. "I can so too leave. I'm tired. I want a
shower. And a nap. Tonight's the chuck wagon cookout,
remember?"

His eyes held mischief and anticipation.
"Nap?"

"I didn't—"

He all but dragged her into the dining room
and seated her next to Tom instead of her usual place. She tried to
concentrate on eating, but the current of suppressed excitement
filled the room and distracted her. Every time she looked up, she
caught someone staring at her with what looked like anticipation. A
nervous twitch rippled down her back. Something was up, and
everyone knew about it except her.

When it dessert time arrived, Tom stood and
waited for everyone to fall silent. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like
to take this opportunity to thank our resident hero, Boston's
finest, Poppy Grayson. She not only saved one of our horses and its
rider with a demonstration of superior horsemanship, but on the
same day exhibited excellent driving skills, saving Alice and the
ranch Suburban. I know you all would miss having Alice looking
after you, but if that vehicle had gone off the cliff, you'd all be
stranded here." The look he gave Alice belied the flippant humor of
his words.

Poppy looked around the table at the laughing
guests. The crowd didn't include Brandi.

"Okay, Chickie," Tom called, and she carried
in a large cake and set it in front of Poppy. A red-headed frosting
Amazon subdued a runaway horse with one hand, and lifted a
candy-trimmed frosting car onto a licorice road with the other.

"You're an official hero now, Poppy," Tom
announced.

Alice applauded, and everyone around the
table joined her.

Hero? No, she'd been scared. Scared of seeing
Brandi and her horse fall in a broken, bloody heap, scared of going
off the edge of a cliff in the SUV. No hero stuff here.

She looked around at the smiling faces, all
the happy people waiting for her to speak. "Thank you," she said.
"You're really too kind. I don't believe I did anything each and
every one of you wouldn't have done in the same circumstances. So I
don't deserve all this fuss, but—" She grinned. "Any excuse for a
party, right? Let's celebrate having our hostess back in one
piece."

Everyone laughed and applauded and Tom kissed
Alice's cheek.

Poppy cut the cake and passed plates.
Yesterday she'd been a home-wrecking bimbo, today a hero. If she
had to choose, she'd take semi-earned adulation instead of unearned
censure, but they still didn't see the real Poppy.

Finally everyone finished cake and coffee and
compliments, and she escaped to a quiet corner of the porch. She
slumped against the railing and blinked against the hot sting that
said tears were on the way.

Mac followed her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. But just for once I'd like someone
to see me for what I am. I'm not a hero, and I'm not a home
wrecker. I'm just—me." She choked and fled to her cabin.

Chapter
10

Mac leaned against a tree and surveyed the
crowd milling around the old chuck wagon now permanently parked in
a little meadow a couple of miles from the main house. The sun
neared the horizon. The air held the sharp tang of approaching
evening and smoke from the barbeque tantalized his appetite. One
more day almost over, which reminded him he'd never had that talk
with Tom.