The Millionaire and the Cowgirl. Lisa Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ figure out why Kate left this place to you,” she said, untying the knots that suddenly took hold of her tongue. “Grant or Rocky—”

      “I know, I know. You’ve already pointed out that nearly anyone in the family would have been a better choice.”

      She angled her chin upward and met his eyes. “I think so, yes.”

      “Even Allison?”

      Her lips twitched at the mention of Kyle’s beautiful and sophisticated cousin, Rocky’s twin, a woman who was meant for the glitter and fast pace of the city.

      “Even Kristina.”

      “Not Kris!” he teased.

      “Absolutely! Your sister might be spoiled, but at least she knows what she wants in life!” Sam had never been one to keep her opinions to herself, especially not with Kyle. “I think your grandmother was out of her mind when she left this place to you.”

      “I couldn’t have guessed.”

      Damn his sexy drawl and drop-dead grin. “You know what else?” she asked.

      “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not, so let’s hear it.” His crooked smile stretched across his jaw and she had the urge to slap him. He was goading her, whether he knew it or not. Well, he’d asked for it. She would gladly give it to him with both barrels.

      “You’re not gonna make it six months, Kyle. You’re gonna turn tail and run before your stint here is through. You’ve never suffered through a winter here, have you? Sometimes the electricity gives out, and if you can’t get the generator going you have to rely on firewood for warmth. You have to break a trail through hip-deep snow to the stables, melt water for the stock and live on oatmeal, canned beans, potatoes and apples that you’ve hopefully had the brains to keep in a fruit cellar. There’s no TV, no radio except for a transistor if your batteries aren’t low and no four-wheel drive big enough to get through to you. It’s just you and your wits, tryin’ to survive against Mother Nature, and in your case I’ll bet she’d win hands down!”

      “How much?”

      “What?”

      “How much are you willing to bet?” he asked, his eyes suddenly dangerous. He crossed the short distance between them and glared at her with an expression as stormy as a winter thundercloud. Hot breath fanned her face.

      “I don’t need to put up a wager, because you’re already gonna lose. You’re not going to inherit this place because you, Kyle Fortune, never could stick with anything long enough to see it through. That’s why Kate attached strings to her bequest, and it’s a good thing she’s dead because you would disappoint that old lady the day the going got rough and you decided to take off.” She glared up at him, challenging him, and he saw it then—a shadow crossing her eyes, a tremble in the pinched corners of her mouth, an emotion she was trying desperately to hide.

      “Is that what you came over here to tell me?”

      “I just came for my things.” She started for the den, but he grabbed her arm, his fingers tightening over the crook of her elbow.

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Let go of me, Kyle.”

      “There’s something more, Sam. Something that’s bothering you. Big-time.” No one had ever been able to get to him like Samantha Rawlings. One sultry look from her and he melted; a quick lash of her tongue and his temper rocketed into the stratosphere; pain showing in her green eyes and he wanted to kill the bastard who’d hurt her.

      One side of her full mouth lifted in a sarcastic smile. “Gee, Kyle, how perceptive of you. Could it be—let me see—the fact that you took off from here ten years ago, left me without so much as a goodbye, didn’t call or write, just sent a formal invitation to my family to your wedding?”

      His breath whistled through his teeth. “God, Sam.”

      “You asked.” She yanked her arm from his fingers and stormed through the kitchen to the hallway. He caught up to her just as she was leaving, a jacket under one arm, an address book and coffee mug in her hand.

      “I think we should talk.”

      “Too late.” But again that shadow flickered in her gaze and her steps faltered for a second.

      “It’s never too late.”

      She let out a soft grunt of defeat. “Oh, Kyle, if you only knew.”

      “Knew what?”

      Whirling to face him, she dropped her mug. It crashed to the floor and splintered into a thousand pieces. “Oh, for the love of—”

      “Forget it.” His fingers once again tightened on her arm.

      “What?”

      “I’ll sweep up the mess later.” He felt a second’s premonition, as if he were on the edge of a bottomless emotional abyss and the gravel he was standing upon was slowly crumbling beneath his boots. “You were about to confide in me.”

      She swallowed. “This—this isn’t the time. There’s a lot to say. Most of it won’t mean a thing, but…well, some things are important.”

      “What things?”

      Oh, God, could she bring herself to say it? To tell him that he was a father? Come on, Sam, now’s the time. Quit being such a coward!

      He was staring at her, waiting, icy blue eyes narrowed on her face. Her heart thundered in her ears. How many times had she envisioned just this moment, dreamed of telling him the truth, even gone so far as picking up the telephone or starting a letter, only to drop the receiver in disgust or wad the unfinished page in her trembling fingers?

      “I know I left abruptly,” he said, prodding her.

      She let out a sarcastic sound.

      “You probably thought we had a future, and we should have, but—”

      “Don’t!” She shied away from the truth again and ducked past him to the door.

      “Sam—”

      “Another time, okay? We can rehash the past some other time, but right now I don’t have a minute to spare. I’ve got to pick up Caitlyn and—and I’ll come back later to work with the horse.”

      “I met Caitlyn this morning.”

      “You what?” Whirling, she felt her face drain of all color. He’d met Caitlyn? Oh, dear God.

      “She stopped by on her way to—to…”

      “Tommy Wilkins’s house?”

      “That’s right. Seems like a nice enough kid. You did a good job with her.”

      “Oh, uh, thanks.” She could hardly speak. Licking her lips, she silently called herself a coward, but couldn’t find the nerve to tell him the truth. “Look, I’ve got to run.” She headed for the door again.

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