The Rancher and the Runaway Bride and The Bluest Eyes in Texas Part 20

At his look of confusion, she set her bare foot up on the counter beside him and showed him the blister on her heel.

"See?"

Whoever would have thought an ankle could be such a source of erotic stimulation? Burr stared at her foot until his eyes glazed, then forced his attention back to the potatoes he was frying on the stove. "Don't have a Band-Aid. I'll get one tomorrow when I go into town."

"Guess I'll have to go barefoot until then." She put her foot back on the floor and wiggled her toes. "It feels kind of nice," she admitted. "I can't remember the last time I walked around barefoot. Oh, yes, I do," she said.

To Burr's relief, she wandered to the kitchen table and sat down. He bent over and checked the steaks in the oven broiler to hide his state of arousal.

"I was six, and my mother and father took me to Padre Island, to the beach. My mother was pregnant with Carl-he's my younger brother-and I got to race up and down the beach barefoot. I loved it."

"That was a long time ago," Burr said.

"Yes, it was. Those were some of the last carefree days my family had. Father entered politics that year. I didn't see as much of him after that. He was always on the road campaigning, first for state representative, then for congressman, and finally for governor."

Talk about Lindsey's father reminded Burr of who she was, and why he had to keep his distance. If he was lucky, he would get out of this situation with no more than a reprimand. If he let his libido get out of hand, there was no telling what the consequences would be. Only, it was d.a.m.ned hard to remember who she was when she was slouched back comfortably in the kitchen chair with her fingers meshed behind her head, raising the tips of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the T-s.h.i.+rt. Her right ankle was crossed over the opposite knee, in a naturally s.e.xy pose.

He checked the steaks again. "These are about ready. How do you like yours?"

"Pink."

The word brought to mind all kinds of things Lieutenant Burr Covington would rather not think about. Lips. Blus.h.i.+ng cheeks. Nipples. d.a.m.n it, Covington, get your mind off the woman! She's out of bounds. Got it?

"Do you have any wine?" she asked.

Burr stared at her in confusion.

"To go with the steak," she explained. "I love a dry red wine with steak."

Burr snorted. "I've got some beer."

"Lite?"

He snorted again, only this time it turned into a rumbly sort of laugh. "h.e.l.l, Blue Eyes, how about a diet cola?"

Her eyes reflected her disappointment, but she said, "I'll take it." And then, to explain herself, added, "I never learned to like beer, but the lite beers don't seem to taste as bad."

"You wouldn't have lasted long in my neighborhood," Burr muttered.

"What neighborhood is that?" Lindsey inquired.

"The wrong side of the tracks in Houston."

"Is that where you got the tattoo?"

Burr held his arm up and looked at it as though the tattoo had suddenly appeared there. "Yeah."

"May I look at it?"

He held his arm toward her. To his chagrin, she got up from the table and came over to him. He held his breath as she traced the shape of the coiled, hooded cobra with her fingertips.

Then she looked up at him, catching him like a deer in a set of headlights with those blue eyes of hers. "Does the snake mean something special?"

"It was an initiation rite of the gang I was in as a kid." He rubbed his skin, which was suddenly covered with goose b.u.mps, brus.h.i.+ng her hand away in the process.

"You were in a street gang in Houston?" Her eyes went wide with astonishment.

"Yeah."

"What? I mean...how..."

"The steaks are done," Burr said. "Sit down and I'll serve up supper."

Burr knew she was curious about his past, but she could just stay that way. He had decided talking to her wasn't such a good idea after all. He managed to think of grisly things all through supper, which kept his mind off the woman across the table from him. Or mostly kept his mind off her. She ate like she was starving, not at all like a dainty debutante. She cleaned her plate with a gusto that made him wonder if she did everything-and his mind was picturing all sorts of indiscreet activities-with that sort of relish.

"That was delicious," Lindsey said when she finished.

She made no offer to wash the dishes, not that Burr had thought she would. He didn't suppose a governor's daughter got KP duty too often. He thought about just taking care of them himself, but d.a.m.n it, he was tired. And he had done the cooking.

"You'll find the dish soap under the sink."

Lindsey stared at him blankly for a moment, until she realized what he was implying. "Oh."

In case she wasn't perfectly clear on what he meant, Burr said, "I cooked, you clean."

"I suppose that's fair." She rose and began clearing the table.

Burr was impressed by her willingness to do her share. Unfortunately, he was unable to sit and be waited on. His mother hadn't allowed it when he was growing up, and he couldn't make himself do it now just to spite a woman who couldn't help the fact she had been raised with a silver spoon in her mouth.

"I'll sc.r.a.pe the dishes," he said. "You wash and I'll dry."

"All right."

She was so careful with the dishes, he knew the job wasn't one she was familiar with. "I don't expect you have to wash dishes in the mansion too often."

"No," she said with a quick grin. "I hadn't realized how much fun it is."

"Fun?" He felt his body draw up tight as he watched the way she caressed a plate with a cloth hidden by a mound of white soapy bubbles. Then she rubbed the cloth around and around inside a coffee cup. Burr felt his cheeks heat. He had never realized was.h.i.+ng dishes could be such a sensuous experience. He threw his towel on the counter and headed for the living room. "We can let the rest dry in the drainer. I'll light a fire. It's getting cool outside."

He knelt down in front of the stone fireplace and dropped his forehead to his knee. In twenty hours he would be free of her. He just had to hold on until then. He busied himself building a fire and soon had it crackling. When he turned around, he found Lindsey sitting cross-legged on the couch behind him.

"This is nice," she said.

Too nice, Burr thought. The fire lit up her eyes and made her skin glow with warmth. He had liked it better when she was fighting him. At least then he was being constantly reminded why getting personally involved with the governor's daughter-an ice princess and a spoiled brat, not to mention the girl with "the bluest eyes in Texas"-was a bad idea.

He sat down where he was and crossed his legs, keeping the distance of the room between them. It wasn't enough, of course. But it would have to do.

"What's it like to live in the spotlight?" he asked.

"You wouldn't like it," she replied.

He raised a brow. "Why not?"

"People who don't know a thing about you are always making judgments about you."

"No, I wouldn't like that. I suppose you believe you've been judged unfairly."

"I'm not what the newspapers say I am," she said.

"And what is that?"

"I'm not arrogant, for one thing. Or coldhearted."

Burr c.o.c.ked a disbelieving brow but didn't say anything.

"It's just that I don't suffer fools gladly."

"I see."

"I don't think you do," she said in a voice that dripped ice. "There is another side of me, a private side, that no one ever sees."

His lips curled in a mocking smile, which suggested that if she believed what she was saying-about not being arrogant or coldhearted-she didn't see herself very clearly. "I guess I haven't met that other woman yet."

"Nor will you," she said in her haughtiest voice. She rose imperiously. "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now." Then she turned her back on him and stalked to the bedroom, her f.a.n.n.y gloriously displayed in the skintight jeans.

Burr gritted his teeth. Eighteen hours. She would be gone then, and he would never have to lay eyes on her again. He stayed where he was until he was sure she had the bedroom door closed. Then he rose and settled himself on the couch, using a pillow and the afghan to make himself a bed. He lay staring at the fire for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Lindsey was finding it impossible to relax. She didn't want to turn off the lamp, but it had a high-wattage bulb that flooded the room with light. When she tried the dark, it was too frightening. Memories of her kidnapping returned, of waking up in the hotel room, and the deaths of the two villains Burr had been forced to kill. She wanted to go home, to return to the somewhat normal life she had led before all this had happened.

She kept remembering Burr's accusations about her character. If she had been disdainful of the men she met, it was because they treated her like some stone G.o.ddess, not a flesh-and-blood woman. Or they were so puffed up with their own consequence they expected her to fall gratefully at their feet. Or they were more interested in her father's political power than in her.

Burr fit none of those neat categories. He wasn't intimidated by her position, and in his arms she was anything but a woman of stone. Her father's power had failed to influence him. She found it amazing and utterly frustrating that a man she found so intriguing seemed to be doing his level best to ignore her!

Her attraction to Burr surprised her more than a little. After all, he was a gang member from Houston who had somehow become a Texas Ranger. And he certainly looked the part.

Appearances.

Lindsey, who had spent her life being judged by her looks, was appalled to realize she had been equally judgmental of Burr's outward trappings. There must be more to him than what showed on the surface. Otherwise, why had she been so drawn to him?

Maybe she found Burr so fascinating because he was different, because he came from the wrong side of the tracks, because he was dangerous. Burr possessed a different kind of power than her father wielded, but there was no doubt Burr Covington was a powerful man. And one who was far more likely to get himself shot than any politician or businessman or financier she could have chosen to fall in love with. And yet, she had been willing to give in to the powerful attraction she felt toward him.

He had made it clear he wasn't interested.

That was another totally new experience for Lindsey Major, debutante and governor's daughter. Normally, men fawned on her and begged for her favor. She refused them; they didn't refuse her. She felt humbled, humiliated, and hurt by the Ranger's rejection of her.

Those feelings lasted about as long as it took Lindsey to acknowledge them. They were replaced almost instantaneously by annoyance and determination. She had spent a lifetime using her famous eyes to cajole, entreat and demand what she wanted and rarely failed to get her own way. She didn't want Burr Covington, but she did want a little revenge to a.s.suage her ego. It would be a simple matter to get him to admit he wanted her and then refuse his advances.

Lindsey figured she had about seventeen hours to bring Burr Covington to his knees.

Chapter 4.

LINDSEY WOKE TO A STEADY thudding sound, which she finally recognized as an ax striking wood. She got out of bed, crossed to the curtainless window and looked out onto the backyard of the cabin.

Burr was dressed in nothing but a pair of worn jeans, and goose b.u.mps rose on her arms at the sight of him. He had shaved, and she was surprised to see that he looked almost handsome. The broken nose gave his face character, she decided. His hair, free of the ponytail, was plastered to his forehead by sweat and hung in damp curls on his bare shoulders.

He had been working hard enough splitting logs that his muscular torso glistened. Her gaze was drawn to a crystal drop of liquid as it rolled downward across a washboard belly toward his navel. She noticed the scabbed-over cut near his ribs where Epifanio had slashed him with his knife. It wasn't the only mark on his body. There was also a scar near his collarbone that looked suspiciously like a healed bullet wound. She wondered whether he had gotten it as a kid in a Houston gang, or during his duties as a Texas Ranger.

As she watched, he paused and wiped his forehead with a bandanna he pulled from a rear pocket of his jeans.

And noticed her staring at him from the window.

She leapt back out of sight, then realized that was foolish, since he had already seen her. She took a deep breath, shoved the window open and leaned out, unaware that the V-necked T-s.h.i.+rt she was wearing gave Burr a revealing glimpse of female pulchritude. "Good morning," she called.

"There's coffee and cereal in the kitchen," Burr replied curtly. He began swinging the ax again.

She had been dismissed.

Whatever second thoughts Lindsey might have harbored about her plan to bring Burr Covington to his knees flew out the window along with a fly that had been buzzing by her ear. So he thought he could ignore her, did he?

You're being childish about this, Lindsey.

Am I?

The man is only trying to do his job.

That Ranger has insulted me for the last time.

He doesn't strike me as the kind of man who'd ever kowtow to a woman.

Just wait. I haven't been labeled the girl with the bluest eyes in Texas for the past seven years without learning a few things about how to manipulate the male of the species.

Lindsey stripped off the overlarge T-s.h.i.+rt she had slept in and took a quick shower. Then she put on the T-s.h.i.+rt, jeans and tennis shoes Burr had bought for her in town, using some tissues to cus.h.i.+on the blister on her heel.

She didn't normally have more than toast and coffee for breakfast, but the colorful box of sugar-coated kids' cereal on the table looked tempting. She poured herself a bowl, doused it with milk, then surprised herself by eating ravenously. Maybe being kidnapped had given her an appet.i.te. As she munched the last few bites of cereal, Lindsey pondered how she could best seduce the Ranger.

Now you're going to seduce him?

How else am I going to lay him low?

How about an intellectual argument?