Crazy for Lovin’ You (8 page)

He walked down the hall glancing into the open doorways of the three offices he passed until he saw a familiar face behind a gray metal desk.

“Grady,” he said, walking into the room. But his friend wasn't alone. A tall, green-eyed brunette stood beside him.

“Hi, Mitch,” Grady said, standing. He held out his hand. “You remember Melissa Mae Arbrook.”

Mitch shook hands, then looked at the woman, trying to recall. “Melissa Mae.”

“You don't remember me, do you?” she asked, her full mouth somewhere between a smile and a pout. “Arbrook is my married name, although I'm divorced now,” she added pointedly. “My last name used to be Allen. At least I didn't have to change the initials on my luggage,” she added with a shrug.

“It's been a long time,” he said, hazy memories surfacing. He'd had a short fling with her in high school—before Jensen. “How are you?”

“Fine. I work at the Road Kill Café.”

Something about the juxtaposition of those two comments made Mitch smile. “How's it going, Grady?”

“Can't complain.” The sheriff was tall, about the same six-foot-two-inch height as himself. But his brown hair was cut military short. Blue eyes filled with amusement gazed back at him.

“Well, he should—complain, that is,” Melissa Mae said. “I brought him a sandwich because he always misses lunch. Between sheriffing, running that big ranch of his and being daddy to the most adorable nine-year-old twin girls, the poor man runs himself ragged.”

“Sounds like you could use some help,” Mitch commented. It was obvious Melissa Mae Arbrook was trying out for the job.

“I'm doing just fine,” Grady said.

“How about you?” Melissa Mae asked, moving in close to Mitch.

Apparently she wasn't especially choosy about who she auditioned for. The scent of her perfume was strong from across the room. Up close, the fumes made him want to cough. “I can't complain.”

“Is there a Mrs. Rafferty?”

He shook his head. When her green eyes gleamed with interest, he kicked himself for being so quick to tell the truth.

“Y'all must be lonely then,” she commented. “In spite of the fact that you're staying with Taylor Stevens.”

“How did you know?”

She shrugged, drawing attention to her generous breasts beneath the logo on her white T-shirt. “It's a small town.”

The phone rang and Grady answered it instantly. “Sheriff O'Connor,” he snapped out. He listened for a moment then said, “I'll tell her.” He looked at Melissa Mae as he set down the receiver. “Bonnie says
to quit flirting with anything in pants and get your fanny back to the café pronto.”

“I swear she's a female Attila the Hun,” Melissa Mae grumbled. “I would leave her high and dry if I didn't need the job so bad—” She took Mitch's arm and smiled up at him provocatively. “I'm finished with my shift at eight.”

“Is that so?” He knew what was coming.

“Let's get together. I want to hear about everything you've been up to for the last ten years. Then maybe we can pick up where we left off in high school.”

The memory of kissing Taylor flashed through Mitch's mind. Talk about picking up where you'd left off—the sensual haze from the sparks they'd created just that afternoon closed around him again.

“My last ten years hasn't been all that interesting up until today,” he said.

Thinking he meant her, she smiled. “All that could change tonight,” she answered. “I've been told I can be pretty entertaining.”

He was debating whether to take her up on her offer when a pair of laughing brown eyes and full, smiling lips popped into his head.

“I have other plans.” Shuffling his feet, he glanced at the woman holding on to him. “But thanks for the invitation.”

“All work and no play—” she said, leaving the thought hanging. “I gotta go, but you think it over. If you change your mind, you know where I'll be. Bye, Grady. Mitch,” she said, then sashayed out the door.

Grady cleared his throat. “You'd have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to miss the fact that she wouldn't throw your boots out the front door,” he commented wryly.

“I didn't miss it,” he said. “I'm just—”

Not interested? Since when did he turn down a pretty woman with curves that made a man's mouth water? A vision of Taylor flashed into his mind—soaking wet and spitting mad. Then the image changed and he remembered sparkling eyes full of humor and fun. Not to mention her determined chin with the intriguing indentation that had beckoned to him more than once to explore. And last, but by no means least, her sexy little body with lush curves and soft skin.

If he hadn't kissed her. And held her in his arms. And talked to her… Maybe then he could have taken Melissa Mae up on her offer. Since his broken engagement, he'd perfected the technique for an uncomplicated relationship. His fling from a decade ago would be easy to walk away from. He'd already done it once. A voice in his head said he'd done the same to Taylor but that didn't change the fact that he had trouble getting her out of his mind now.

“Mitch?”

“Hmm? What?” he said, meeting Grady's gaze.

“Something tells me that woolgathering you're doing has nothing to do with Melissa Mae Arbrook and everything to do with a rancher whose name is Taylor Stevens.”

“Define ‘something.”'

“That ‘until today' remark.” Grady leaned back in his chair and rested his linked fingers over his abdomen.

He glared at his friend. “I hope you work at law enforcement with more than guesswork, because you're reaching in the dark on that one.”

“I don't think so. One simple fact can take a skilled
sleuth from point A to point B with a small margin of error.” Grady shrugged.

“What simple fact?”

“You've got the hots for Taylor.”

“That's a pretty big leap.”

“Not really. It's a fact that you're staying at her place. Like Melissa Mae said, it's all over Destiny.”

“You gotta love small towns.”

“And last I heard, there aren't too many women on the Circle S. Jen works in Dallas. By process of elimination, Taylor is there.”

“What makes you so sure I've got the hots for her?” Mitch demanded.

“You didn't deny it.”

The sheriff was right—about everything. He just didn't know about the kiss. But Mitch would rather lose the biggest development deal of his life than share that information or admit straight out that he
did
have the hots for Taylor.

And it was even more clear after seeing Melissa Mae again. Something had changed for him. No way did he want to start a fling with her or anyone else for that matter. Including Taylor—especially her. But he couldn't get her off his mind. She'd said she loved him once. Granted she was a kid at the time, but he wondered how she felt about him now.

Mitch let out a long breath as he looked at his friend. “Grady, it's my professional opinion that you've been cooped up behind that desk too long.”

“Professional what?” Grady asked, in a tone that said he didn't believe it for an instant.

“That's a good question,” Mitch admitted. “You know Dev strong-armed me into putting on the championships.”

The sheriff nodded. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

Business. Good. Something to take his mind off Taylor.

“I need to talk to you about providing security for the championships,” Mitch said.

“You didn't have to come all the way into town for that. Why didn't you pick up the phone?”

No way would he admit to the real reason. “I figured we could mix business with a chance to talk about old times.”

“I wish I could. But now's not a good time. After I wolf down this sandwich, I've got a meeting with the mayor.”

“How about tomorrow?” Mitch asked.

He looked at his desk calendar and shook his head. “Nope. The girls have a checkup. They're excited about it for the first time ever. And believe me, when they're not in favor of something, rounding the two of them up takes patience, skill and all the sweet-talking I can manage.”

“So what's different? The new sawbones in town?”

“Lady physician,” he clarified. “But I guess you know about her taking over for Doc Holloway.”

“Yeah. I met her. Dev was helpful in convincing her to fill in at the rodeo.”

“So I guess my girls aren't the only ones happy she's in town for a visit.” Grady was still looking at his calendar. “How about the day after tomorrow? I'll come out to the ranch.”

Mitch nodded. “I have a meeting with a newspaper reporter in the afternoon, but that shouldn't be a problem. I'd like Dev to be there, too, check out the facilities and see if there's anything he needs.”

“Sounds good. Like old times. All of us together.”

“Except for Jack,” Mitch said.

Grady frowned. “So you haven't heard anything from him, either?”

“Nope. But I moved around a lot at first. It would have been hard for him to track me down.”

“From what little I heard, finding you would hardly work up a sweat for Jack Riley. Rumor had it he was tagged for some elite military group after he joined the army.”

“So he's never been back to Destiny?” Mitch asked.

“Once. Briefly. When his dad died. It would be good for the four of us to reminisce about old times.” The words were right, but there was a shadow in his eyes. He hadn't forgotten that night by the lake, either.

“So we're on for day after tomorrow.”

“I'll see you then.” Grady took a big bite of his sandwich. His mouth was full, but Mitch still made out the words, “Say hi to Taylor for me.”

“Okay.”

Mitch left the office and got into his truck. Since he'd told Taylor he wouldn't be there for dinner, would she read anything into the fact that he was back so soon?

He read enough into it for the both of them.

T
aylor stepped into the bathtub for what would probably be her last upstairs soak. It was a good opportunity. Mitch was in Destiny and had said he wouldn't be back for dinner. Tomorrow she planned to move her things to her permanent room off the kitchen.

After rolling up a towel and placing it on the porcelain rim behind her head, she relaxed and closed her eyes, enjoying the scented mountain of bubbles surrounding her. At first when Mitch had said he wouldn't be there for dinner, she'd been disappointed. And she'd found his absence left a void, making her angry. He'd been there less than twenty-four hours. How could there be a hole in her life? But now, as she experienced her tension easing in the warm water, she couldn't help feeling that when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Right now, Mitch Rafferty was her lemons. If only he hadn't come back. If only he hadn't kissed her. Damn the man. What had he been thinking?

A shiver rippled through her as she remembered the feel of his lips against her own. If her bathwater hadn't already been warm, the heat from her skin would have taken the chill off. Why had she responded to his touch? She wasn't a kid anymore. She was a grown woman and she wasn't carrying a torch for Mitch Rafferty. She wasn't. Truly.

She could just hear Jen. If you have to work that hard to talk yourself out of it, there must be an element of truth.

Taylor shook her head as she gathered the bubbles close to her body and propped her feet on the side of the tub. If only she could figure out how to make lemonade from her attraction to Mitch.

“Nope. I won't care for him again. He's leaving after the championships. I won't let him make a fool of me a second time.”

“Are you talking to yourself again?”

That was Mitch! His voice was coming from the hall. She hadn't closed either door to the jack and jill bathroom. There was no way to make lemonade out of this lemon. But what she wouldn't give for the world's biggest towel.

“You're not supposed to be here,” she squeaked.

“It's a good thing I am,” he continued, his voice getting closer. “If you keep talking to yourself, people are going to start wondering about you. The loony lady who lives by herself on the big ranch. That kind of reputation could do a number on your business.” He poked his head around the corner.

“Get your mangy carcass out of here,” Taylor squealed, sliding down below the bubble line. The hand towel behind her went, too, and was now soaked. “There are laws against this sort of thing in Texas.”

“Sorry. I didn't know you were taking a bath.” But his wide grin said otherwise.

“You said you wouldn't be here.” She had nothing to cover herself with. Her tiny loofah was about as useful as two wagons in a one-horse town.

“I changed my mind.”

“Why? Nothing exciting going on in Destiny on Saturday night?”

“I wouldn't say that. Melissa Mae Arbrook let me know she's available.”

Taylor snorted. “No kidding. Available is her middle name. Ever since her divorce.” What was she thinking having a conversation while she was stark naked except for some flimsy covering that she could hear popping even as she spoke. “Get out of here, Mitch.”

“Why? It's not like I have X-ray vision to see through those damn bubbles. Besides, after that dip in the pool, I saw more through your blouse.”

She threw her loofah at him, but it missed and hit the wall when he ducked into the other room, laughing.

“You're not a Texas gentleman and it's a lie if you say you are! You're a blackhearted, transplanted-to-L.A. Texan who doesn't have the chivalry of a rattlesnake.”

“I'm a guy who wouldn't be human if he didn't do his best to get a peek at a pretty lady.”

He thought she was pretty? Taylor grinned although she would rather eat glass than let him know his sweet-talking had worked. “The least you could do is go downstairs so I can salvage my modesty and get out of the tub.”

“Go ahead. I won't look.”

“Like I believe that.”

“Scout's honor, Taylor.”

“When were you a Boy Scout?”

“I have the heart and soul of one,” he said, but there was humor in his voice.

Her mouth curved up in spite of herself. “You're incorrigible.”

“Some things never change.”

“This water is getting cold enough to freeze the horns off a steer. I'm going to have to trust you. But if I catch you looking, just remember I have a pool and I know how to use it.”

“Words to put the fear of God in a man,” he said, a truce in his voice. “I'm afraid to tangle with you. I'll meet you in the kitchen.”

Taylor listened carefully, and his heavy steps grew faint as he went downstairs. Quickly she got out of the tub and grabbed a bath sheet, pulling it around her. She let the water out, then went into her room and shut the door. After drying off, she pulled on undergarments then a peach-colored pair of knit shorts and a matching top. She brushed her straight hair into a ponytail on top of her head, letting wayward strands around her face fall wherever. Some blush and a little lipstick were the finishing touches.

When she left her room, there was a glow in her heart and a spring in her step. All because Mitch Rafferty was downstairs. There was a big void in her world when he wasn't around, but he was a big man. Flutters in her stomach kicked up like the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall. Damn it. If she knew what was good for her, she would get this ridiculous reaction to Mitch under control between here and facing him in her kitchen.

But when she padded barefoot into the room, the hitch in her chest at the sight of him told her no such
luck. He was turning a corkscrew in a wine bottle, his back to her. What an extraordinary sight. In his white shirt, with the long sleeves rolled to his elbows, he set a high standard for masculinity. His broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist where his shirttail disappeared into his jeans. Lean hips and long legs completed the picture that unsettled her susceptible heart. She should turn away now and go back up to her room. But she didn't. For two reasons. She was no coward. And she still needed his approval for her dude ranch promotion. Both good reasons.

“So, Mr. Peeping Tom,” she said.

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Lighten up, Taylor. I didn't see squat. Besides, you're always wearing work shirts and jeans. When do you get a chance to show off those beautiful shoulders? And that pretty pink toenail polish?”

“Next thing I know you'll be telling me my teeth are like stars, they come out at night and my eyes are like—”

“If the shoe fits,” he said.

“So who hit you with the poetry stick?” she asked, failing utterly at extinguishing the glow his words produced. Instead the warmth spread from her belly and radiated outward, traveling at light speed to every part of her.

“Why is it so hard to believe that you are an attractive woman?” He opened a cupboard and closed it again when he saw it contained plates.

“They're in the hutch in the dining room,” she said, turning to go get something to put the wine in.

She opened the glass door and retrieved two long-stemmed crystal glasses, then joined him in the kitchen,
keeping the bar between them. He poured the chardonnay into each one.

He met her gaze. “You didn't answer my question. Why don't you believe you're attractive?”

She didn't have any wish to deny it. “My sister was a tough act to follow. It's pretty hard to compete with perfection. And after my engagement went bust, I figured it was time to get real, to stop trying.” She shrugged. “I'm just me and that's just the way it is.”

He handed her one of the glasses. “You're not a quitter.”

“I don't believe that's quitting,” she shot back. “But for argument's sake, how would you know?”

“I just do. The girl I remember from that night ten years ago didn't give up on a jerk who lashed out and tried to push her away.”

“As I recall, I was the one doing the pushing.” She took a sip from her glass and let the smooth, cold liquid slide down her throat.

He grinned. “That's what I mean. You don't take any guff.”

“Look, Mitch. I don't want to talk about me.”

“I do.”

Taylor watched him take a drink. A lot of guys would look like a sissy holding a delicate crystal glass instead of a longneck bottle of beer. But Mitch Rafferty had more masculinity in his pinky than most guys. He oozed macho, and was so darn good-looking her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

“What about me?” she asked, hoping she wouldn't regret the question.

“You said you loved me that night.”

She wished he hadn't said that at the same time she was taking a drink. The wine went down the wrong
way and she started to cough at the burning. Mitch was around the counter in three strides and patting her on the back.

“You okay?” he asked, holding her by her shoulders.

“Fine,” she said, eyes watering. “Look, Mitch, there's nothing I'd rather do than forget about that night.”

“Me, too. But I can't. I was hoping we could get it out in the open, discuss it, then put it away for good. Did you mean what you said?”

“I was fourteen years old. Of course I meant it.” She took a deep breath. “But you were right.”

“I like that. About what?”

“I was just a kid. A skinny one at that.”

“You were right, too.”

“That's always good,” she said, flashing him a grin. “About what?”

“You said I should wait and you would show me.”

“I was angry. I didn't mean—”

He settled his knuckle under her chin and raised it, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You're beautiful. When you walk down Main Street Destiny, I bet you give guys whiplash.”

“You're exaggerating. I don't—”

“You're a woman now, Taylor. You're not a skinny little girl.” He shook his head in wonder and admiration. “Lady, you showed me big time.”

Suddenly all her self-warnings were about as substantial as dust in the Texas wind. He was so charming, so sensual, so—everything.

Her heart skipped when he cupped her jaw in his palm. The intense expression in his bad-boy blue eyes shot a shiver of desire straight into her feminine core.
When he slipped a strong arm around her waist and snuggled her against the solidness that was him, she turned into a quivering mass of jelly, and his lips hadn't even touched hers yet. Her bare legs brushed against his denim-clad ones, creating a friction that spread through her like wildfire, threatening to make her go up in flames.

Then he lowered his head and his lips met hers. The soft contact stole the breath from her lungs as he slowly and thoroughly explored her mouth. Then he branched out, kissing her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheek, her jaw. He nibbled his sexy, seductive way down her neck and stopped at a spot just behind her ear. Tingles exploded over her shoulders and arms and stole over the rest of her body.
He
stole her will to resist. But she had to find the strength to pull away. She didn't want to hurt again the way only Mitch could make her hurt.

That rational thought was like a high beam headlight through a fog bank. It gave her the split second of clarity and resolve that she needed. She took his face between her hands and tenderly kissed his cheek before slipping out of his arms. Instantly, achingly, she missed the exhilarating feeling that only being close to Mitch gave her.

“I don't know about you, big guy, but I haven't had dinner yet,” she managed to say on a shaky breath.

“Can we talk about this?”

When he reached out a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, Taylor was almost lost again. Not counting the one ten years before, that was kiss number two. She didn't want to go for three. She didn't believe in third time's the charm. Kiss of death? It would be better not to find out.

She took a step away from him and tried to smile.
“I don't think there's anything to say. Let's just forget this ever happened.”

He drew in a breath. “Okay.”

She hadn't known how much she wanted him to disagree with her until he didn't. But it was for the best. Truly.

And her sister, the lawyer, would have a field day telling her anyone who protested that much was probably guilty as sin.

 

Two days later, Taylor was still struggling to get that kiss out of her mind. Although the visit from Mitch's reporter friend helped. Now they were outside snapping pictures for the article while the woman directed as if she were a Hollywood heavy hitter.

“If I were you, Taylor, I'd hire Mitch, Dev and Grady just to hang out on the ranch. Business will boom. Women will flock to the Circle S. Guaranteed.”

Taylor glanced at Grady, Dev and Mitch—the testosterone trio beside her. There would be no living with them. Mitch's reporter friend had done it now. Ann Crandall had arrived at the ranch right about the same time Dev and Grady showed up for their meeting with Mitch about the rodeo championships.

“I could use the extra work, little T.” Dev grinned at her.

Grady laughed. “I don't think I've got the time. But maybe you could do a life-size, stand-up, cardboard representation of me. For that I'd only charge you a one-time, dirt cheap, flat fee. Should bring the ladies in.”

“Maybe Melissa Mae Arbrook.” Mitch laughed at the other man's shudder. “Don't sweat it, guys. With me here, Taylor doesn't need you.”

Texas was big, and Destiny more wide-open than some places. But Taylor had a feeling there would no longer be space wide-open enough for their egos in the Lone Star state.

“You just did the local hatmaker a favor.” Taylor smiled at the late-twentyish reporter Mitch had called in a favor from. “Their heads just grew several sizes and now custom-made Stetsons are the only way to go.”