Page 13 of Too Hot To Handle

„I’m not going to – “ he began tightly.

„I’m not asking you to,“ Tory shot back. „And I’m not going to ask you. But if you pat me on the head again, I swear I’ll bite you.“

„I bite back, honey. And you know it, don’t you? You like the idea.“ Abruptly Reever made a disgusted sound. „Hell, here we go again, teasing and baiting and throwing kerosene on the fire. I should know better, even if you don’t. Did you ever ask yourself why I keep harping on how damned young you are?“

Eyes wide, the edge of her teeth buried firmly in her lower lip to hold back a hot rush of words, Tory shook her head. Silently Reever pushed back his chair and stood up, no longer trying to conceal what she did to him. Her eyes widened even more as she saw the blunt length of his arousal beneath his jeans. She might be inexperienced, but she was neither blind nor stupid. She knew exactly what that hard bulge of flesh meant.

„My conscience keeps telling me that I shouldn’t take you,“ Reever said flatly. „I don’t want to hear a young girl who doesn’t know better whispering undying love in my ear. But I want you, honey. I want you like hell on fire. Now do you know what I mean when I tell you not to push me?“

Mutely Tory nodded, trying not to stare at the potent evidence of Reever’s masculinity. It was impossible. The thought that she could affect him to that extent made her melt and run like hot, sweet honey.

Reever had expected Tory to be frightened or repelled by his body’s frank hunger. He had not expected her to make a swift, soft sound that was halfway between a whimper and a moan, and to look at him as though he were a hidden spring and she was shaking with thirst.

„Sweet God,“ he said hoarsely. „How the hell did you stay a virgin this long?“

Tory closed her eyes. „It was easy. I hadn’t met you.“ She laughed almost helplessly, and then the laughter faded. She opened her eyes and looked straight into Reever’s. „I have too much self-respect to chase a man who wants nothing from me but a roll in the hay. So relax, cowboy. I wouldn’t rip your clothes off you, even – “ she eyed her trussed palms wryly „ – even if my soft little city hands were up to it.“

„You’re just naturally sassy, aren’t you?“ Reever asked, smiling against his will.

She laughed slightly, then with genuine humor. „Yeah, I guess so. It’s how I stayed sane when the coaches yelled at me. I’d smile and tell them how wonderful they were. Some of them believed me.“

Reever laughed out loud, shaking his head. „Coaches, huh? What are you, some kind of tennis baby?“

„Nope. Some kind of water baby. That’s how I met your cousin. He’s one of the swim club’s biggest supporters. He finds jobs for – “ Tory bit off the rush of words as she heard Reever’s name being called from the yard between the house and the barn.

„In here, Jed,“ called Tory.

The back door to the kitchen opened, and a man’s disgusted voice said, „That lazy son of a bitch Cookie is off on another goddamned toot. If you ask me, when we find him, we ought to string him up by his useless, pea-sized – “

There was an instant of shocked silence as Jed spotted Tory. „Er, sorry, miss. I didn’t know anyone but the boss was in here.“

„No problem,“ Tory said, smiling at the lean, blond cowhand who looked barely as old as she was. „Where I come from, cussing is one of the favorite outdoor sports.“

Jed slanted her a sideways smile. „Yeah? Where you from, pretty lady?“

„Sin City,“ she said in a husky, theatrical voice, winking at Jed, falling quickly into the kind of kidding that had been a way of life at the swim club.

With narrowed eyes Reever watched the instant, easy camaraderie between Tory and the young cowhand as they introduced themselves. Reever knew that he should be relieved to have those wide green eyes looking anywhere else but at him. He also knew that he wanted to pick up the handsome young Jed by the scruff of his neck and heave him out the back door.

You bring the cards? asked Reever curtly.

The buried anger in Reever’s voice gave it a crackle that made Jed’s head snap around instantly. „No, sir.“

„Get a pack while I unsaddle Blackjack and round up the rest of the boys. We’ll draw to see who replaces Cookie and who drives him into town.“

„Town?“

„Town,“ Reever said flatly. „This is Cookie’s last toot on my ranch. We’ll cook for ourselves until I find someone else.“

„The boys won’t be happy.“

Reever grunted.

Tory saw both the distaste and the acceptance in Jed’s face. Apparently none of the cowboys liked to cook. Her conclusion was underlined by the banging of the screen door behind Reever on his way out and by the outraged howls of various men as Reever gave them the news.

She hesitated, then turned away from the back door and began rummaging in the kitchen. It was obvious that if she were going to eat anytime soon, she’d have to fix something herself. Humming quietly, she began piling ingredients on the counter by the stove. She looked up from time to time as heated outbursts from the men outside told her that the draw had either been inconclusive or was being hotly contested.

By the time Reever stalked back into the kitchen with the men at his heels, savory aromas were arising from the meat and onions browning in a huge pan on the stove. Tory was working at the counter grating cheese, pausing only long enough to stir the meat from time to time. In a second frying pan, thumbnail-sized chunks of bread were cooking in garlic butter. As Reever walked up behind her, she stretched over the big old stove and shook the pan, making the cubes of bread dance.