The Tycoon and the Texan (8 page)

“Why does
everything
have to be a competition with you?” McCall asked for the umpteenth time. Not expecting an answer, she closed her eyes. She had asked for his honesty, but now she was the one not willing to share?

“You were the one that made it that way. I discovered that when you put your hands around me and damn near fondled me,” Nick said.

She stiffened and exhaled deeply in exasperation. “Fondled you? You must be kidding. Believe me, you'd know if I fondled you!”

Nick tightened his mouth and a muscle in his jaw quivered. He studied the setting sun over the Pacific off to the west, trying to take in her words and not show his frustration. Why couldn't she just tell him the truth? If she wouldn't, he'd confront the issue head-on.

“Call it what you may, but you were way too obvious that you wanted me to make a pass at you, so you could slap my chops, or maybe kickbox my family jewels into the next millennium. Then our deal would be off. Right?” Although he tried to soften his words, he hadn't. Nick had seen his woolliest steelworkers flinch when he spoke to them in the tone he'd just used with McCall.

“Nicodemus Dartmouth, you're just trying my patience.” She pulled away, stalked to the fire, and added a log, which quickly caught fire and turned the campfire into an inferno. She rubbed her hands together over the crackling embers. “I just—”

“Just what?” He watched her body straighten with indignity. “Just enjoyed yourself and now don't know what to do about it?”

“Okay. It started out as a plan, but got out of control because of”—she turned to face him, leveling a steely stare—“you!”

“Me? Oh yeah.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“It was you. You were just supposed to, uh, well . . . kiss me. You're the man. You should have never let it go that far. You enjoyed it way too much.”

“Hell, Mac, it's the twenty-first century. Women take responsibility for their own actions.” He exhaled. “Okay, so if I take the blame, where do we go from here?”

“Home! Since I'm supposed to be more of a thoroughly modern Millie and make my own decisions.” She kicked at sand near the fire. “Let's get out of here before I really
modernize
myself and become a woman's libber, and . . . and, oh hell.” Another dust devil of sand hit the campfire, sending flames high in the sky.

McCall walked over to a blanket, slid down, and pulled it around her. She closed her eyes.

Taking in what she had said, Nick turned his head east toward the shoreline and watched as the
Porte Bella Princess
moved off in the distance.

True to his word, Stanley had taken Nick's instructions to heart. With the sun quickly setting and the flaming campfire, his valet had given the orders to the captain to move back to port until morning. But it sure as hell wasn't a good time to bring the boat's departure to McCall's attention. He had little choice.

“One small problem, Carrie Nation.” Nick motioned toward his boat, which appeared about the size of a small yacht. “I think you've got one hell of a swim ahead of you.”

Sure enough once she caught sight of the
Porte Bella Princess
, McCall didn't handle being stranded with Nick for the night very well and threw out accusations at the speed of Nick's best pitcher.

Nick hunkered down and stirred the campfire and thought back to her words.

She had not only questioned but flat out made unflattering accusations about his heritage, as well as his legitimacy. Now the quilt-cocooned angelic hellion pretended to sleep like a baby only a few feet away.

A sooted log fell. Gilded, pumpkin-tinged flames shot skyward. He ran his hands up his arms and chased away some of the chill. The breeze off the ocean wasn't all that cold, but compared to the balmy afternoon, the night had become as icy as the tongue-lashing that had belted from the woman nestled in the sand like a clam.

As certain as the tide going back out to sea, he felt the hoodwinking woman's stare on his backside. He'd be damned if he'd give her the privilege of letting her know she bothered him. The safest approach—ignore her. Pretend she didn't exist. As if he could do that.

If it hadn't been enough for them to lock horns like two bulls earlier over the boat leaving them behind, it'd be nothing compared to what was certain to happen once he told her that he planned to exercise his option for an extended date. After all, he'd paid twenty-one thousand dollars over and above his donation.

But why had he decided to make her spend the full week with him that he'd paid for? Maybe it was because she'd proven such a worthy opponent. Or maybe it was because he wanted to see where their relationship might go. At the least, and probably the worst reason he could think of, he had time off and could use the company.

Hell, the real reason might be payback for the torture she'd put him through over the last twenty-four hours. She owed him that much. Didn't she?

Once again his mind dwelled on their argument over being stranded.

Even after producing the envelope from Stanley, she continued to refuse blame, inferring Nick had created the situation by sending the boat back to harbor and planning to trap them on the island all along. She refused to accept any part by stoking the fire time and time again. He even read the note out loud, stating that if the captain saw a roaring fire at sundown that he would return to the harbor.

McCall had continued holding Nick responsible, threatening to swim ashore. Out of sheer stubbornness, she probably would have succeeded.

Nick ambled over to the tree line and found a settling place against an enormous palm. He threw one towel across his thighs, another around his shoulders, and rested his head against the rough bark. He was tired of thinking. Tired of being frustrated with the pretty woman, and tired of wanting something he couldn't have.

A rippled ribbon of moonlight gleamed over the ocean. He stared at the sky, thinking about grabbing a handful of stars, tossing them in a jar like lightning bugs on a summer's night. A peace offering to McCall. His gaze wandered back to the woman lying so near, yet so far away. A longing shot through him worse than a hungry campfire.

Oh hell! What was happening to him? One minute, he wanted to make love to her, and the next, his thoughts turned to giving her a jar of insects! Maybe he was right last night. They were both lost in a rugged sea of loneliness. How could
he
be lonesome? He had everything he wanted, except for one thing . . . someone to truly love. Nick folded his arms across his chest and mumbled under his breath. “A commitment? Right.”

A complication was more like it and something he could do without. He grunted and tossed aside the towel from his lap.

The sexy lady with the eyes of an angel had done him in!

They still needed to talk. Or at least he needed to tell her how he felt. No doubt the spitfire with horns beneath her halo had deep-seated feelings. They had to be intense for her to show such emotion and desire. But he needed to get the hellion to quit thinking everything he did was part of a bigger plan to uproot her emotionally.

Finding mutual ground boiled down to principles. He had paid twenty-one thousand dollars for an extended date. By George, he wouldn't allow her to welsh on the deal! Tomorrow he'd tell her just that. Or maybe he needed to extend an olive branch. After all, he hadn't been completely honest. How could he tell her that he lied about planning to bid on a bachelorette? Let her believe he'd bought her by accident, when he truly wanted to protect her?

 

McCall lay motionless and took shallow breaths. She kept her eyes peeled on Nick, watching him roam around the campsite, stirring the ashes, restless. She never figured him for the fidgeting type. He seemed to know what he wanted and how to get it, although sometimes resorting to unorthodox methods to achieve his goal.

Suddenly, she realized deep inside he might not be as cool and confident as he appeared on the surface. He had insecurities like anyone else. Like her. Nick just knew how to handle things better. After all, he had been trained in the ways of the bluebloods. He knew how to control his emotions. But then, she had forced him into a prickly position. A situation that needed correcting. Trying to conceal her desires and insecurities by pushing him away wasn't the answer. She must put a stop to the charade. Now!

“Hey, Slugger. Wanna spend the night with me?” She folded back the quilt.

At the sound of McCall's voice, Nick whipped his head up. “I thought you were asleep.” He rubbed his neck.

“No. Just thinking. You must be cold.”

“Did you forget I spent a frigid night on your porch?”

“It wasn't frigid and wasn't the whole night. It was only a few minutes. I promise I'll be good. I don't like to see you uncomfortable. I'm willing to share the blanket.”

“No thanks. It's a bad idea.”

“I see.”

“That's the problem, Angel Eyes, you don't see. If you did, you'd realize that men and women are different—”

“I'm not a child. I know—”

“You might know about boys, but you certainly don't have a lot of experience with men.”

“Then go ahead and fill me in, Mr. Studly.”

“We aren't like running tap water, where you can adjust the hot and cold until we're the perfect temperature.” His expression stilled and grew serious. “Men are more like drawing water direct from the hot water tank. We come out hot, steamy, and dangerous with no in-between. You can't adjust us to your liking. Can't just turn us off and on to your liking.”

“Thanks for the maturation lesson, but this has nothing to do with the difference between men and women. It's to punish me for how I acted earlier. You'd rather punish me and freeze than share a blanket?”

“I'm not interested in punishing you or anybody, but I can't lie next to you and not want you like any man wants a woman. I have needs. Even a pigheaded jerkass has his limits. And Angel Eyes, you pressed me way beyond mine tonight. I can't do it again.”

“I'm really sorry. I just never thought, well, I'm kinda, uh—”

“A virgin?”

“No. Not exactly.” She pulled the blanket up to her chin.

“Either you are or you're not, and if you don't know the difference, then you've got real problems.” The gold in his eyes flickered with interest.

“I know the difference.” She lowered her eyes, trying to avoid letting Nick see the shame in them. “Nick, I've had sex, but I've never had a man make—”

“Make love to you?” He kept his eyes locked on hers.

Was he testing the waters? She wasn't sure.

He hesitated before saying, “I see . . .”

“No, you don't.” It took all of her courage to tell him the truth. “I've had a man rut around on me like it was his God-given duty to mate.”

Nick closed his eyes for a couple seconds, but said nothing.

McCall took a deep breath and continued. “You're the only man I've ever danced with who didn't stay up-close-and-personal with my boobs, slobbering all over them.” She pushed aside the quilt and sat up to face him. “Daddy worked at the refinery with rough, tough, hard-working, drinking men. You have no idea what it was like growing up, maturing early, and—”

“I know the kind of man you're talking about. Had plenty working for me over the years.”

“Nick, you've known what it's like to have someone besides your family love you, care about you. I never have.”

“How do you know so much about my love life? From Josie?”

“No! Nick, I worked with you at the construction business, remember? I saw it. Heard it, and dreamed about it. I mean, I wished—”

“That it was you with me?” His mouth curved into a smile.

“Yeah, but not particularly because it was you—”

“Thanks loads. You know how to deflate a man's ego—”

“I meant . . . I just wanted someone to look at me like I've seen you do with other women. Then one day I saw you watching me in the same way—”

“And I promptly transferred you to the Foundation?” Nick tilted back his head and lifted his eyes to meet hers. A sad expression crept across his face as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

“Yeah. And it hurt. I did a good job for you. But I also realized no matter what I did I'd never be good enough for you. Certainly I'm not socially adept or beautiful, but I still liked the way you looked at me. We had something special, a friendship—”

“I've always valued your friendship, and you know it,” he said in almost a whisper.

“I know, and our relationship got back on track when we didn't have to work so close together. Then the gala came along, and your mother made me into one of those women you used to look at. I suddenly saw myself differently. One I liked. All decked out in ivory and beads, with your grandmother's gorgeous necklace around my neck. I thought I just might be pretty enough for you.” She found herself studying his profile, searching for the answer. “And then Nick, you know what happened?”

Slowly he shook his head and looked squarely in her eyes.

“You looked at me like I've seen you look at those gorgeous, sexy women . . . like I was one of them.”

“Do you know the reason I transferred you?”

“I tried to figure it out for a long time, but finally stopped. I had my answer.” McCall shrugged.

“You don't know why. Nobody does. But I'll tell you now. It was because I couldn't work with you day in and day out without touching you . . . because I started seeing you like those other women. And McCall, you deserved better than a man who thinks if he asks a woman out twice she'll want a change of address form from the post office. You didn't deserve that kind of treatment. You're better than that, and I knew it.”

“So you didn't transfer me to get rid of me?” She looked up more confused than ever.

“Hell no!” Nick said firmly. “You distracted me. I found myself crawling up twenty stories of red iron, thinking about you. You were as dangerous as going around without my hard hat or safety harness on. You made me lose control, and I began to use poor judgment on the jobs. You were a distraction that I couldn't afford. I did it to save you . . . from me.”