Trouble in High Heels (11 page)

Maria sighed and shook her head. She muttered in Spanish for several moments as she chopped a whole chicken into pieces. Although he didn’t understand the words, her tone was unmistakable.

“Pardon me, but if you’re going to insult me, would you please do so in a language I can understand so I can at least defend myself?”

She chopped off a chicken leg and met his gaze. “I was talking to myself, but if you must know, I was saying it was stupid to pretend that you would actually help me in the kitchen.”

“Why is that stupid?”

“You know how to cook?”

He knew how to use a microwave, a toaster, and a teapot. “I’ve spent some time in the kitchen. Why don’t you give me a try?”

She gave him a considering glance. “Okay.” She went to the cupboard, pulled out two large onions, and gave him a knife. “I need these diced.”

Geoffrey shrugged. “Right-o. Where’s the food processor?”

Maria smiled. “
You
are the food processor.”

Geoffrey faced the task like a man-more importantly, an Englishman. Englishmen didn’t cry, and he was bloody well determined not to cry.

After he finished the first onion, his nose started to run, so he began to breathe through his mouth. As he completed the last of his slicing and dicing, he triumphantly offered Maria the spoils of his victory. A pile of diced onion.

She lifted a dark eyebrow.
“Bueno,”
she said. “I’m surprised.”

“No need to be,” he said. “I told you I’m quite handy in the kitchen.”

Maria pulled two more huge onions from the cupboard. “Then you won’t mind dicing a couple more.”

With the stiff upper lip bred into him, Geoffrey sliced and diced the second two onions. This time, however, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity to indulge his curiosity about Maria.

“You’re not married, are you?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

“Do you have a lover or a boyfriend?” he asked. “Or several?”

She frowned at him. “That’s none of your business.”

“That must mean you have a dozen lovers but you don’t like to show off.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes widened in surprise. “I do
not-”

“Aha,” he said, continuing to chop and dice. “But you could have.”

“Not around here,” she said. “There aren’t a lot of men around.” She shrugged as she placed chicken parts into a casserole dish. “It’s probably for the best. Men aren’t dependable.”

He blinked. “That’s a bit of a global generalization, wouldn’t you say? Surely some men are dependable.”

“Very few,” she said.

“That you’ve met,” he corrected. “Have you always lived in Texas?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you like it here?”

She shrugged again. “I know nothing else. I know I like Virginia ’s ranch much better than my father’s house.”

Geoffrey studied her expression and felt an uneasiness about the way her voice lowered when she mentioned her father’s house.

He paused for a long moment. “He was abusive to you,” he said.

She didn’t look up at him. “Yes. He gave me the scar.”

He looked at the jagged scar that ran from her cheek nearly to her jaw. “This may sound crazy, but I don’t notice the scar unless you mention it.”

That must have gotten her attention, because she glanced up to meet his gaze. “How can you not notice it?”

His lips twitched. “You have so many other things to look at.”

She gave him a hard look, then glanced away. “You lie.”

“I do not,” he said, unable to keep indignation from his voice.

She met his gaze again. “It’s impossible not to notice my scar. It covers half my face.”

“It depends what you’re focusing on,” he said, setting down his knife. “Take your hair, for example.”

“What about my hair?”

“It’s long and beautiful, wavy. I wonder how it would feel in my hands. I wonder how it smells.”

She gave him a half glance of flashing eyes before looking away. “It smells like onions and chicken.”

He chuckled. “Then there are your eyes, so dark, full of secrets. You have many other very watchable-” He cleared his throat as his gaze wandered to her breasts and hips. “Attributes.”

She met his eyes, and her lips tilted in a reluctant smile. “You are a strange man. Are you finished with the onions?”

“Two more minutes,” he said and quickly finished the task. He offered her the pile. “Don’t tell me you have more for me to do.”

“No,” she said. “Four is enough.”

“That was a stinky job,” he told her.

“Yes.”

Something about this woman made him feel reckless. Just looking at her made his adrenaline hum. “I believe it made my lips go numb.”

She wrinkled her eyebrow as she studied his mouth. “They went numb? Are you allergic to onion? Ay caramba, you should have told me,” she said as she drew closer to him.

“Actually, you can fix them if you wouldn’t mind.”

“How?”

“I believe you just need to press your mouth against mine, and then they would be better.”

She blinked in surprise, then shook her head at him. “You are either very brave or very stupid to ask me to kiss you when I have a knife in my hand.”

“Agreed,” he said, throwing a wary glance at the knife out of the corner of his eye. “I’m hoping such bravery and the dicing of four onions will be rewarded.”

For three seconds, she considered it. He saw the temptation in her eyes and got a rush from it. One second later, she tossed her head and turned away. “You are
loco.”

As his gaze refused to budge from her gorgeous backside, he couldn’t agree more. He was definitely
loco.

J
ackson stayed away from the barn for the next two nights. The situation with Lori was getting too screwy. Her fear of horses was none of his business, but he wanted to help her. She got under his skin and into his head way too easily. He didn’t just want to help her. He wanted to help himself to her. And she wasn’t exactly kicking him away.

By the third night, though, he was restless and decided he should check on her. She was, after all, the reason he was here.

He went to the barn and saw that the duke hadn’t joined her. He found that curious. If Geoffrey were smart, he would be spending every spare minute with Lori.

She stood at the far end of the barn, crooning to Rowdy. Straining against the door, she stroked the horse’s neck. He felt a rush of pleasure that she had made such progress. For a woman who pretended to be a blonde airhead, she possessed a lot of courage.

He watched, unable to breathe, as she pulled open the door and stepped inside Rowdy’s stall. Swallowing an oath, he wondered if this was her first time. He hoped Rowdy wouldn’t frighten her or, worse, hurt her.

That last thought twisted his stomach, and he rushed to the stall. Inside, she stood next to the large horse, petting him and talking to him. Rowdy nodded in approval. Jackson stood staring as if his shoes were nailed to the barn floor. The image before him snapped inside his brain like a photo of Lori, small, vulnerable, but determined, and the horse responding to her.

He finally exhaled and Rowdy pricked up his ears and looked at him. Lori’s gaze followed. Surprise widened her eyes, and then she turned back to Rowdy, stroked him once more, and moved toward the stall door. Rowdy followed.

She opened the door and slid through the small opening. “I didn’t expect you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your rendezvous,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her.

“It’s okay. He let me in his stall with him last night,” she said and smiled. “He’s like a little kid. Really sweet.”

He nodded, feeling his heart tugged by the expression on her face. “Are you ready for the next step?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready for that.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

“Baby steps,” she said. “And he’s a good guy. Maria has made sure of that.”

“She isn’t as generous in her comments about you,” he said.

“She’s in a different position, and she doesn’t know me,” Lori said, then laughed. “Not like those who love me know me.”

“So, if I grabbed a bridle and invited you to go for a ride tonight, how would you respond?” he asked on a very rare impulse.

She shrugged. “I’m safe because it’s all supposition.”

He nodded and rubbed his chin. “Okay. Hold that thought.” He walked to the tack room, grabbed a bridle, and returned. “Hey, Rowdy,” he said in a low voice to the gelding. “Wanna go for a little ride?”

Rowdy immediately moved to his stall door and pricked up his ears. Jackson chuckled. He put the bridle on the horse, led him outside the stall, and mounted him bareback. He looked at Lori. “We’re past supposition now. What are you going to do?”

Backing away, Lori inhaled and glanced at the horse. Nerves danced in her stomach.

Then she looked at Jackson. Strong and in control, he hugged Rowdy with his thighs and held the reins not too tight and not too slack. He could take care of her, she thought. In the next moment, with sickening clarity, she remembered that accidents could happen.

Her palms clammy with fear, and her throat tight with apprehension, she stood there frozen. She felt him study her and hoped she didn’t look as terrified as she felt.

“Hey, if you’re not ready,” he began.

Despite her crippling fear, or perhaps because of it, Lori felt something inside her rip. She was tired of being afraid. Sick of it. She lifted her head. “I’m not, but it’s time,” she said and forced her feet to move toward him and Rowdy.

“You sure?”

“Not at all,” she said, lifting her hands for him to help her. “But I don’t want to overthink this. I just want to do it.”

He bent over and wrapped his hand around hers. “Give me your best jump,” he said.

She leapt, and a second later she sprawled onto Rowdy’s back. She clung to Jackson, wrapping her hands around his taut torso. As if Rowdy sensed this was a momentous occasion, the horse danced and snorted.

“Hold tight,” Jackson said and brushed one of his hands over hers. He swore under his breath. “Your hands are like ice. Are you sure-”

“Don’t ask, just ride,” she interrupted him.

“Okay,” he said and nudged Rowdy slowly forward. They took a couple slow walks around the barn. Lori figured he wanted her to get used to being on a horse again. The rocking motion felt alternately foreign and familiar. By the fourth time around, Lori was ready for more.

“Step it up,” she said.

“No need to rush.”

“I’m already here,” she said. “You may as well give me a real ride, Jackson.”

The urgency in her words made every muscle in Jackson ’s body tighten in attention. He felt a surge of pride that he’d been the one to get her to ride again, that he’d tapped a little of the passion she’d shut down for years. He couldn’t help being curious about all that banked passion and how many different ways she would release it. The strange intimacy between them wrapped around him like a spell of the night, making him aware of every breath she took, every exhale against the back of his neck, the sensation of her breasts crushed against his back, her thighs open and hugging him.

“Okay,” he muttered and nudged Rowdy into a slow trot and away from the safe circle of the corral.

Lori’s heart beat in her throat, making it difficult to breathe, and when she did, she caught a draft of Jackson ’s clean male scent. She felt the remnants of terror, but exhilaration was taking over. Holding tightly to Jackson, she relished the wind in her hair and even the bumpiness of Rowdy’s trot. Her bottom might be a little sore tomorrow, but she didn’t care. The night was clear, and the stars sparkled brightly against the black sky.

She sensed the horse’s desire to go faster, to break free of his in-between pace. She felt the same itch. “Let him run,” she said.

“Hold on,” Jackson said, and seconds later, Rowdy began to run.

The speed gave her a thrill she hadn’t experienced since the last time she’d ridden a horse. Another shot of exhilaration bolted through, and she laughed.

“You okay?” Jackson asked.

“No,” she said, clinging to him. “I’m wonderful.”

She didn’t know how long the ride lasted, but she felt as excited as a kid when the barn came in sight and he slowed to a walk. Lori inhaled and blew out a long breath, dipping her head against Jackson ’s broad, strong back. “Oh, that was great.”

A half beat of silence followed, and then he gave a low chuckle. “I’m glad it was good for you.”

Giddy, she laughed with him. He led Rowdy on a cooldown walk and stopped just outside the barn. “Scoot back a little,” he told her and swung his leg over to get off the horse. He lifted his hands to her. “Your turn.”

She looked into his eyes for a moment, feeling something monumental shift inside her. He had taken care of her. She could trust him. She couldn’t remember feeling that way about another man. Jackson wiggled his hands, prompting her to move. Stretching out her arms, she slid downward. Jackson caught her against him, her head above his.

Lori saw a flicker of powerful emotions shoot across his gaze
-
awareness, passion, and something else she couldn’t name. He paused and allowed her to slide down his body, making her intimately aware of his strength and her own desire. It was all she could do not to kiss him. Blindsided by a blast of need, she could barely breathe. She felt a sudden snap of clarity.

“Let’s get married,” she said breathlessly.

He stared at her in disbelief. “What?”

She took another quick breath. “Let’s get married.”

Jackson blinked, then swore under his breath. “Have you lost all your marbles?”

“No,” she said, trying not to feel disappointed by his response.

Staring at her as if she’d sprouted a third eye, he released her and backed away. He shook his head and opened his mouth.

“Hear me out,” she interjected, talking before he could turn her down flat. “It actually makes a lot of sense. You’re a very practical man. You know why I want to get married. I trust you. And you would get a very nice salary to put up with me. You’re ambitious, and you like to be in control. The money you make from marrying me could give you the ability to do a lot of things on your own. You wouldn’t be held back by the limitations at the accounting firm. In a way,” she added, “it would provide you with more freedom than you’ve ever had.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then scrubbed his face with his hand. “By tying myself to you,” he added.

“For six years,” she said. “And I haven’t gotten the impression you’ve been spending your spare time looking for love or romance.” Maybe sex, she thought, but not the former two she’d mentioned.

“I’m not like your British duke,” he said. “I know too much about you.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, offended.

“I know that when you walk through the door, trouble’s coming right with you.”

Emotionally smashed, she bit her lip. “I assume that means your answer is no. You have no interest in taking on the horrendous job of being my husband for a limited time even though you would earn a nice check from it. Because I’m obviously more frightening and dangerous than dancing in a rodeo clown suit in front of an angry bull. Heaven knows, I never dreamed I could scare the mighty Jackson -”

“Okay, okay,” he interjected. “You’ve made your point.” He rested one hand on his hip and studied her with a level gaze. “You took me by surprise,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll think about it.”

I’ll think about it. Insulted, she swallowed a dozen pithy retorts. She nearly bit her tongue in half not to say them aloud. Instead she took a deep breath and smiled. “You do that,” she said and stepped closer to him. She lifted her head, moving her lips in a moue and making a soft kissing sound. “Thanks for the ride. It was the best.” Stepping back, she saw a flash of heat cross his eyes. “Sweet dreams,” she said and walked away. Cursing his name with every other step she took.

Jackson stared after Lori, feeling as if he’d been hit with a tire iron. What made it worse was that he had a hard-on that felt like iron, too. He swore under his breath. What the hell was she thinking telling him they should get married? What had inspired that insane idea in her head?

Hearing a snort from Rowdy, Jackson glanced behind him and looked at the horse. The light dawned. It was the ride, he realized. The ride on the horse had done it. He twisted his lips. Who would have thought the way to Lori’s pocketbook would have been through a ride on a horse?

His mind raced with possibilities as he led Rowdy to his stall and settled the horse down for the night. She was offering a lot of money in exchange for being her husband. He could use that money as his stake for the real-estate venture he wanted to start. That kind of money could change a man’s life. He could move his mother and brother to a better place. His mom wouldn’t have to work so hard.

But how would a sane man survive being married to Lori? She was a combination of crazy and irresistible. Would she ever learn to control her spending? Would he be able to stand by and watch her go through her daddy’s money like toilet paper? Even for good causes?

What about sex? He would have to be committed to an asylum to agree to a marriage with no sex. Being around her every day, he would have to take her. And he suspected he would need to do so repeatedly. The strength of his sexual desire for her caught him off guard.

He swore under his breath again and shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about this anymore tonight. He still had her perfume on him from the way she’d clung to him during the ride. He still remembered how her breasts and inner thighs had felt against him. He remembered the thrill he’d felt that she’d not only been willing to go with him, but also how she’d urged him to go faster.

The scent of her alone was enough to mess up his head this late at night. No. He would put her and her crazy offer out of his mind until he could think straight. He just hoped that would happen in this century.

Bored out of his mind and unable to sleep, Geoffrey roamed the house and made his way to the only place he’d ever really felt at home, in front of a keyboard. Closing the door to the room at the end of a vacant hall, he sighed with relief. Since a tuner had come to repair the old piano, he’d been playing it every chance he got during the last couple of days.

His stepmother had called his cell phone approximately eleven times during the last twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t picked up. She wanted a progress report, and Geoffrey knew, even though he’d proposed to Lori, that the situation was moving at glacial speed.

His stepmother would harp and pressure him, and he bloody well didn’t want to hear it. He was supposed to be wooing Lori, but God help him, he was totally fascinated by Maria. She was female fire personified. It was as if her very presence caused an internal combustion inside him, and she barely gave him the time of day.

He slid his hands over the keys, listening for pitch problems. Nothing so far, he thought, concentrating. A melody tugged at him, slipping through that part of his mind that he’d never understood but found magically seductive. He played the first notes, added a chord, another measure.

He felt a flicker of excitement and tried to commit the notes to memory. More of the melody slipped through his mind, and he chased after it the same way a child would chase a butterfly. Struggling with a chord, he heard the rusty sound of the door opening. He immediately stopped. “Sorry if I woke you,” he said to whoever had come into the room. “I thought I was far enough away not to interrupt anyone’s sleep.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Maria in the doorway.