Cowboy Country. Linda Lael Miller

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ all those years away, Carolyn reflected enviously, the man’s roots went deep into the Colorado soil, curling around bedrock, no doubt. “Might settle your stomach down a little.”

      Carolyn shook her head quickly. The thought of putting food in her mouth—even soup—threatened to bring on a new spate of helpless retching.

      “I couldn’t,” she managed to croak.

      “Okay,” Brody said.

      Oddly, his unflappable solicitude made her feel even more vulnerable to him than that infamous kiss had.

      Carolyn steeled herself against what was surely a perfectly normal human need to be reassured, cared for, looked after—normal for other people, that is. Foster kids, no matter how good the homes they were placed in, had to be strong and self-reliant, tough to the core.

      Always.

      “You could leave now,” she suggested carefully.

      Brody chuckled again. Sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “I could,” he agreed, showing absolutely no signs of doing so anytime soon.

      “And as for what Kim said at supper, about my signing up for a dating service...”

      “Who said anything about that?” Brody asked, when her voice trailed off.

      “If I’d known she was going to tell everyone,” Carolyn said, “I wouldn’t have mentioned it to her in the first place.”

      “Kim didn’t mean any harm, Carolyn,” Brody offered quietly. “Anyway, you’re a grown woman, sound of mind and...body—” He paused, and once more that special something sparked in his eyes. “And if you want to date potential con artists, that’s your business.”

      On one level, Carolyn knew full well that Brody was baiting her. On another, she couldn’t resist taking the hook. “Potential con artists? Well, that’s cynical,” she accused, and never mind the fact that she’d had similar thoughts herself, right along.

      “If you’re in the market for a man, Carolyn, it’s your call how you go about roping one in. All I’m saying is that you ought to be careful. There are some real head-cases out there.”

      “In the market for a man?” She leaned forward in her chair, incensed. “Roping one in?” Being incensed felt like an improvement over being embarrassed, at least.

      “Will you stop repeating everything I say?” Brody intoned. A tiny muscle bunched in his cheek, then smoothed out again.

      “Who else would want to date me, right?” Carolyn ranted, stifling her voice so she wouldn’t yell and scare Winston. Or the neighbors. “Only a head-case loser who couldn’t get a woman the normal way?”

      Brody laughed. Laughed. He didn’t lack for nerve, that was for sure.

      Or sex appeal, damn him.

      “There you go again, putting words in my mouth,” he said, all relaxed and affable. His gaze dropped ever so briefly to her breasts and then returned to her flushed face. “Take a breath, Carolyn. If you want to sign on with Funky Faces, or whatever that outfit calls itself, go for it.”

      “Friendly Faces,” Carolyn corrected, hating that she sounded so defensive. Why couldn’t she, just once, get the upper hand in one of these sparring matches?

      “Whatever,” Brody said dismissively, pushing back his chair—at long last—and rising. “You sure you’re all right?”

      “I’m sure,” Carolyn insisted, hugging herself and not looking at him.

      Funny, though. Even with her eyes averted, the man was an onslaught to her jangled senses. She was aware of Brody Creed in every part of her; he made everything pulse.

      She felt angry triumph at the prospect of his leaving and, underlying that, a certain quiet dejection.

      Go, she thought desperately. For God’s sake, Brody, just go.

      Instead of heading straight to the door, however, Brody stepped around the table, paused behind Carolyn’s chair and then leaned down to place the lightest of kisses on the top of her head.

      “See you around,” he said gruffly.

      Carolyn clamped her molars together, so she couldn’t ask him to stay.

      To cajole her about soup and hold her.

      She’d said and done enough stupid things for one day, met and exceeded the quota.

      A few seconds later, Brody was gone.

      The apartment, once her refuge, felt hollow without him.

      She sat still in her chair, listening to the sound of his boot heels on the outside stairs, waiting for the roar of his truck engine, the sounds of driving away.

      Only then, when she was sure he wasn’t coming back, did Carolyn push her teacup aside and bend forward to thump her forehead lightly against the table in frustration.

      Once, twice, a third time.

      Winston jumped down from the windowsill and padded over to wrap himself around her ankles, purring and offering general cat-comfort.

      She bent, scooped him onto her lap and petted his silky back.

      Since there was no one but the cat around to see, Carolyn finally gave in and allowed herself to cry.

      * * *

      “OKAY, SO I WAS a buttinski,” Kim allowed, with a sheepish glance at Brody.

      The two of them were standing in the ranch-house kitchen.

      “Ya think?” Brody retorted.

      In the time he’d been out, Tricia and Conner had gone back to their place—they were probably having slow, sleepy sex at that very moment—and Davis had retreated to his saddle shop, where he was working on a custom order.

      Little Bit and Smidgeon must have gone with him, because there was no sign of them.

      Except for the lingering scent of homemade tamales, all signs of supper were gone. Dishes washed, leftovers wrapped and put away, counters clear.

      Kim Creed ran a tight ship.

      Too bad she didn’t exercise the same control over her mouth.

      “I’m sorry,” Kim said, reaching into the laundry basket on the table and pulling out a towel to fold. “I just thought you should know that Carolyn is...well...looking.”

      “Why?” Brody asked. “In what universe is that my business, Kim? Or yours, for that matter? Carolyn was nervous in the first place—my guess is, that’s why she was swilling wine like she was. And then you had to make everything worse by blurting out something she probably told you in confidence.”

      Kim stopped folding, and tears brimmed in her eyes.

      Brody ached when any woman cried, but with Kim, it was the worst. СКАЧАТЬ