Taming Blackhawk. Barbara McCauley

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      Rand needs a woman like you.

      That comment from Mary had to be the most perplexing of all. Though there was no question there was chemistry between herself and Rand, Mary certainly hadn’t been speaking of need in a physical nature. She’d been speaking of something else, something on a deeper, more meaningful level. Grace couldn’t imagine what Mary meant, but it really didn’t matter at this point.

      Grace couldn’t put it off any longer. It was almost nine and she needed to leave in a few minutes. It was a long drive back to San Antonio. She’d need to find a place to stay for the night, then catch the first flight back to Dallas tomorrow.

      She knew she was leaving her last hope behind her, but she refused to think about that right now. Grace knew that she was still foolish enough to believe in miracles, and she also knew that it would take one now to save those mustangs.

      Three

      When Rand first stepped out onto the porch, he thought that Grace had fallen asleep on his mother’s swing. With her eyes closed and her hands resting lightly on her knees, she looked completely at peace.

      He told himself to go back into the house, to leave her alone and let her enjoy the quiet. But he quite simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.

      Long strands of soft, auburn hair tumbled around her serene face. Dark, thick eyelashes rested against pale, delicate skin. There was a regal quality to her straight, sculpted nose, angular eyebrows and bow-shaped mouth. He could picture this woman in a past century, smiling and waving to her loyal subjects as the royal carriage carried her through the cobblestoned streets of her dominion.

      It amazed him that after a day of airplanes and cars and the hot San Antonio desert, she stilled looked so fresh and neat. Her white suit had no smudges or wrinkles. Even those low heels of hers appeared as if she’d just taken them out of the box.

      He had a strong, sudden desire to put his hands on her and muss her up.

      She opened her eyes, smiled at him as she stretched, and he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than simply muss her up.

      Desire slammed through his body. Pure, primal passion. He struggled to get a grip on it, to wrestle the beast down. But even when he did, he felt it pulsing, breathing inside him. Waiting for him to let down his guard even the tiniest fraction.

      “I brought you some cake.” He clenched his jaw when she stretched again, wished to God he’d stayed in the house.

      “Thank you.” Her voice had a low, throaty quality to it. “But it wasn’t necessary. I was going to come inside in a minute.”

      When he moved in front of her, Grace’s eyes widened at the huge slice of cake he handed her.

      “Good grief,” she gasped. “I can’t possibly eat all that. I already had to loosen the button on my skirt after that meal your mother served.”

      The thought jumped into his head that he’d like to loosen more than a button, then slide that skirt down those long legs of hers. Or better yet, shove the skirt upward and save time.

      He felt the beast jump inside him again, and he fought it down. “Well, if you don’t want it…”

      Her hand snaked out and snatched the plate. “Mister, men have died for lesser evils than depriving a woman of chocolate.”

      She took a bite, closed her eyes and groaned deeply. The pleasure on her face bordered on sexual. Rand groaned silently.

      Damn this woman.

      “Will you sit with me for a minute?” she asked when she opened her eyes again.

      Bad idea, Rand, he thought.

      But he sat, anyway.

      “I like your family,” she said. “They’re…”

      “Obnoxious?” he supplied when she hesitated.

      She shook her head and smiled. “Bigger than life.”

      “That’s a new one.” Rand settled back on the swing, watched Grace slice another piece of cake onto her fork. He followed that neat little bite all the way to her mouth and instantly went hard.

      He dragged his gaze away, forced himself to stare into the darkness. It had been a long time since he’d sat out here on this swing, the first time he’d ever sat here with a woman other than his mother. He caught the faint scent of Grace’s perfume, something light and exotic, then cursed himself when he dragged the fragrance deep into his lungs.

      Annoyed with his wandering thoughts and overactive libido, Rand turned his attention to the sounds coming from inside the house. His brothers arguing over who got the bigger piece of cake and his mother reprimanding both of them. Just like the old days, he thought with a smile, only better.

      Much better, now that Edward Sloan was six feet under.

      His smile faded as he thought about the letter he’d tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He’d been carrying the letter since he’d opened it this morning. He hadn’t read it again, he’d just wanted it close….

      …Seth Ezekiel Blackhawk and Elizabeth Marie Blackhawk…were not killed in the car crash that claimed the lives of their parents

      …not killed…not killed…

      He heard the sound of Grace’s voice, but it took a moment for her words to register. She’d asked about the television set.

      “It was Sam’s idea,” Rand said absently. “We all figured it was about time she had one. When my brothers and I were little, we’d go into Maiman’s Department Store and we’d see her staring at all the televisions on display, watching whichever show happened to be on. She always had a look of such longing on her face.”

      “You mean she’s never had a television before now?”

      “Not for twenty-nine years.” Rand rocked the swing into motion with the heels of his boots. “To quote Edward Sloan, ‘They weaken a man’s mind and spew propaganda.”’

      “So your father—”

      “Not my father,” he said sharply. “Edward and Mary adopted me when I was nine, after my real parents were killed in a car accident, but he was never my father.”

      The tone of Rand’s voice alone spoke volumes, Grace thought. Mary had said there was no love lost between Rand and Edward. Grace was beginning to see more than a glimpse of that.

      “Sam and Matt,” she said carefully. “Were they adopted, too?”

      Rand shook his head. “Sam came along a year after they adopted me, Matt a year after that. Quite the joke, isn’t it?” he said dryly. “The doctors told Mary she could never have children, so she and Edward adopted me, then right away she has two kids of СКАЧАТЬ