Harden

“Harden,” he corrected. “I buy and sell cattle. My brothers and I own a ranch down in Jacobsville, Texas.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Three.” The question made him uncomfortable. They weren’t really his brothers, they were his half brothers, but he didn’t want to get into specifics like that. Not now. He turned his wrist and glanced at his thin gold watch. “It’s midnight. We’d better call it a day. There’s a spare bedroom through there,” he indicated with a careless hand. “And a lock on the door, if it makes you feel more secure.”

She shook her head, her gentle eyes searching his hard face. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said quietly. “You’ve been very kind. I hope that someday, someone is kind to you when you need help.”

His pale eyes narrowed, glittered. “I’m not likely to need it, and I don’t want thanks. Go to bed, Cinderella.”

She stood up, feeling lost. “Good night, then.”

He only nodded, busy crushing out his cigarette. “Oh. By the way, you left this behind.” He pulled her tiny purse from his jacket pocket and tossed it to her.

Her purse! In her desperate flight, she’d forgotten all about it. “Thank you,” she said.

“No problem. Good night.” He added that last bit very firmly and she didn’t stop to argue.

She went quickly into the bedroom—it was almost as large as the whole of the little house she lived in—and she quietly closed the door. She didn’t have anything to sleep in except her slip, but that wouldn’t matter. She was tired to death.

It wasn’t until she was almost asleep that she remembered nobody would know where she was. She hadn’t called Joan to come and get her, as she’d promised Sam she would, and she hadn’t phoned her brother to leave any message. Well, nobody would miss her for a few hours, she was sure. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep. For the first time since the accident, she slept soundly, and without nightmares.

Chapter 2

Miranda awoke slowly, the sunlight pouring in through the wispy curtains and drifting across her sleepy face. She stretched lazily and her eyes opened. She frowned. She was in a strange room. She sat up in her nylon slip and stared around her, vaguely aware of a nagging ache in her head. She put a hand to it, pushing back her disheveled dark hair as her memory began to filter through her confused thoughts.

She got up quickly and pulled her dress over her head, zipping it even as she stepped into her shoes and looked around for her purse. The clock on the bedside table said eight o’clock and she was due at work in thirty minutes. She groaned. She’d never make it. She had to get a cab and get back to her apartment, change and fix her makeup—she was going to be late!

She opened the door and exploded into the sitting room to find Harden in jeans and a yellow designer T-shirt, just lifting the lid off what smelled like bacon and eggs.

“Just in time,” he mused, glancing at her. “Sit down and have something to eat.”

“Oh, I can’t,” she wailed. “I have to be at work at eight-thirty, and I still have to get to my apartment and change, and look at me! People will stare…!”

He calmly lifted the telephone receiver and handed it to her. “Call your office and tell them you’ve got a headache and you won’t be in until noon.”

“They’ll fire me!” she wailed.

“They won’t. Dial!”

She did, automatically. He had that kind of abrasive masculinity that seemed to dominate without conscious effort, and she responded to it as she imagined most other people did. She got Dee at the office and explained the headache. Dee laughed, murmuring something about there being a lot of tardiness that morning because of the office party the night before. They’d expect her at noon, she added and hung up.

“Nobody was surprised,” she said, staring blankly at the phone.

“Office parties wreak havoc,” he agreed. “Call your brother so he won’t worry about you.”

She hesitated.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“What do I tell him?” she asked worriedly, nibbling her lower lip. “‘Hi, Sam, I’ve just spent the night with a total stranger’?”

He chuckled softly. “That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

She shook her head. “I’ll think of something as I go.” She dialed Sam’s home number and got him instead of Joan. “Sam?”

“Where the devil are you?” her brother raged.

“I’m at the Carlton Arms,” she said. “Look, I’m late for work and it’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything later, I promise…”

“You’ll damned well tell me everything now!”

Harden held out his hand and she put the phone into it, aware of the mocking, amused look on his hard face.

She moved toward the breakfast trolley, absently aware of the abrupt, quiet explanation he was giving her brother. She wondered if he was always so cool and in control, and reasoned that he probably was. She lifted the lid off one of the dishes and sniffed the delicious bacon. He’d ordered breakfast for two, and she was aware of a needling hunger.

“He wants to talk to you,” Harden said, holding out the phone.

She took it. “Sam?” she began hesitantly.

“It’s all right,” he replied, pacified. “You’re apparently in good hands. Just pure luck, of course,” he added angrily. “You can’t pull a stunt like that again. I’ll have a heart attack.”

“I won’t. I promise,” she said. “No more office parties. I’m off them for life.”

“Good. Call me tonight.”

“I will. Bye.”

She hung up and smiled at Harden. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “Sit down and eat. I’ve got a workshop at eleven for the cattlemen’s conference. I’ll drop you off at your place first.”

She vaguely remembered the sign she’d seen on the way into the hotel about a beef producers seminar. “Isn’t the conference here?” she stammered.

“Sure. But I’ll drop you off anyway.”

“I don’t know quite how to thank you,” she began, her silver eyes soft and shy.

He searched her face for a long, long moment before he was able to drag his eyes back to his plate. “I don’t care much for women, Miranda,” he said tersely. “So call this a momentary aberration. But next time, don’t put yourself in that kind of vulnerable situation. I didn’t take advantage. Most other men would have.”

She knew that already. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe, darting curious glances at him. “Why don’t you like women?”

His dark eyebrows clashed and he stared at her with hard eyes.

“It won’t do any good to glower at me,” she said gently. “I’m not intimidated. Won’t you tell me?”

He laughed without humor. “Brave this morning, aren’t we?”

“I’m sober,” she replied. “And you shouldn’t carry people home with you if you don’t want them to ask questions.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” he assured her as he lifted his fork.

“Why?” she persisted.

“I’m illegitimate.”

She didn’t flinch or look shocked. She sipped her coffee. “Your mother wasn’t married to your father.” She nodded.

He scowled. “My mother had a flaming affair and I was the result. Her husband took her back. I have three brothers who are her husband’s children. I’m not.”

“Was your stepfather cruel to you?” she asked gently.

He shifted restlessly. “No,” he said reluctantly.

“Were you treated differently from the other boys?”

“No. Look,” he said irritably, “why don’t you eat your breakfast?”

“Doesn’t your mother love you?”

“Yes, my mother loves me!”

“No need to shout, Mr. Tremayne.” She grimaced, holding one ear. “I have perfect hearing.”

“What business of yours is my life?” he demanded.

“You saved mine,” she reminded him. “Now you’re responsible for me for the rest of yours.”

“I am not,” he said icily.

She wondered at her own courage, because he looked much more intimidating in the light than he had the night before. He made her feel alive and safe and cosseted. Ordinarily she was a spirited, independent woman, but the trauma of the accident and the loss of the baby had wrung the spirit out of her. Now it was beginning to come back. All because of this tall, angry stranger who’d jerked her from what he’d thought were the waiting jaws of death. Actually jumping had been the very last thing in her mind on that bridge last night. It had been nausea that had her hanging over it, but it had passed by the time he reached her.

“Are you always so hard to get along with?” she asked pleasantly.

His pale blue eyes narrowed. Of course he was, but he didn’t like hearing it from her. She confused him. He turned back to his food. “You’d better eat.”

“The sooner I finish, the sooner I’m out of your hair?” she mused.

“Right.”

She shrugged and finished her breakfast, washing it down with the last of her coffee. She didn’t want to go. Odd, when he was so obviously impatient to be rid of her. He was like a security blanket that she’d just found, and already she was losing it. He gave her peace, made her feel whole again. The thought of being without him made her panicky.

Harden was feeling something similar. He, who’d sworn that never again would he give his heart, was experiencing a protective instinct he hadn’t been aware he had. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. He didn’t like it, either.

“If you’re finished, we’ll go,” he said tersely, rising to dig into his pocket for his car keys.

She left the last sip of coffee in the immaculate china cup and got to her feet, retrieving her small purse from the couch. She probably looked like a shipwreck survivor, she thought as she followed him to the door, and God knew what people would think when they saw her come downstairs in the clothes she’d worn the night before. How ridiculous, she chided herself. They’d think the obvious thing, of course. That she’d slept with him. She flushed as they went down in the elevator, hoping that he wouldn’t see the expression on her face.

He didn’t. He was much too busy cursing himself for being in that bar the night before. The elevator stopped and he stood aside to let her out.

It was unfortunate that his brother Evan had decided to fly up early for the workshop Harden was conducting on new beef production methods. It was even more unfortunate that Evan should be standing in front of the elevator when Harden and Miranda got off it.

“Oh, God,” Harden ground out.

Evan’s brown eyebrows went straight up and his dark eyes threatened to pop. “Harden?” he asked, leaning forward as if he wasn’t really sure that this was his half brother.

Harden’s blue eyes narrowed threateningly, and a dark flush spread over his cheekbones. Instinctively he took Miranda’s arm.

“Excuse me. We’re late,” he told Evan, his eyes threatening all kinds of retribution.

Evan grinned, white teeth in a swarthy face flashing mischievously. “You aren’t going to introduce me?” he asked.

“I’m Miranda Warren,” Miranda said gently, smiling at him over Harden’s arm.

“I’m Evan Tremayne,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

“Go home,” Harden told Evan curtly.

“I will not,” Evan said indignantly, towering over both of them. “I came to hear you tell people how to make more money raising beef.”

“You heard me at the supper table last month—just before you volunteered me for this damned workshop!” he reminded the other man. “Why did you have to come to Chicago to hear it again?”

“I like Chicago.” He pursed his lips, smiling appreciatively at Miranda. “Lots of pretty girls up here.”

“This one is off-limits, so go away,” Harden told him.

“He hates women,” Evan told Miranda. “He doesn’t even go on dates back home. What did you do, if you don’t mind saying? I mean, you didn’t drug him or hit him with some zombie spell…?”

Miranda shifted closer to Harden involuntarily and slid a shy hand into his. Evan’s knowing look made her feel self-conscious and embarrassed. “Actu-ally—” she began reluctantly.

Harden cut her off. “She had a small problem last night, and I rescued her. Now I’m taking her home,” he said, daring his brother to ask another question. “I’ll see you at the workshop.”

“You’re all right?” Evan asked Miranda, with sincere concern.

“Yes.” She forced a smile. “I’ve been a lot of trouble to Mr. Tremayne. I…really do have to go.”

Harden locked his fingers closer into hers and walked past Evan without another word.

“Your brother is very big, isn’t he?” Miranda asked, tingling all over at the delicious contact with Harden’s strong fingers. She wondered if he was even aware of holding her hand so tightly.

“Evan’s a giant,” he agreed. “The biggest of us all. Short on tact, sometimes.”

“Look who’s talking,” she couldn’t resist replying.

He glared down at her and tightened his fingers. “Watch it.”

She smiled, sighing as they reached his car in the garage. “I don’t guess I’ll see you again?” she asked.

“Not much reason to, if you don’t try jumping off bridges anymore,” he replied, putting up a cool front. Actually he didn’t like the thought of not seeing her again. But she was mourning a husband and baby and he didn’t want involvement. It would be for the best if he didn’t start anything. He was still wearing the scars from the one time he’d become totally involved.

“I had too much to drink,” she said after he’d put her in the luxury car he’d rented at the airport the day before and climbed in beside her to start the engine. “I don’t drink as a rule. That last piña colada was fatal.”

“Almost literally,” he agreed, glancing at her irritably. “Find something to occupy your mind. It will help get you through the rough times.”

“I know.” She looked down at her lap. “I guess your brother thinks I slept with you.”

“Does it matter what people think?”

She looked over at him. “Not to you, I expect. But I’m disgustingly conventional. I don’t even jaywalk.”

“I’ll square it with Evan.”

“Thank you.” She twisted her purse and stared out the window, her sad eyes shadowed.

“How long has it been?”

She sighed softly. “Almost a month. I should be used to it by now, shouldn’t I?”

“It takes a year, they say, to completely get over a loss. We all mourned my stepfather for at least that long.”

“Your name is Tremayne, like your brother’s.”

“And you wonder why? My stepfather legally adopted me. Only a very few people know about my background. It isn’t obvious until you see me next to my half brothers. They’re all dark-eyed.”

“My mother was a redhead with green eyes and my father was blond and blue-eyed,” she remarked. “I’m dark-haired and gray-eyed, and everybody thought I was adopted.”

“You aren’t?”

She smiled. “I’m the image of my mother’s mother. She was pretty, of course…”

“What do you think you are, the Witch of Endor?” he asked on a hard laugh. He glanced at her while they stopped for a traffic light. “My God, you’re devastating. Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”

“Well, no,” she stammered.

“Not even your husband?”

“He liked fair women with voluptuous figures,” she blurted out.

“Then he should have married one,” he said shortly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m flat-chested,” she said without thinking.

Which was a mistake, because he immediately glanced down at her bodice with a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. “Somebody ought to tell you that men have varied tastes in women. There are a few who prefer women without massive…bosoms,” he murmured when he saw her expression. “And you aren’t flat-chested.”

She swallowed. He made her feel naked. She folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window again.

“How long were you married?” he asked.

“Well…four months,” she confessed.

“Happily?”

“I don’t know. He seemed so different before we married. And then I got pregnant and he was furious. But I wanted a baby so badly.” She had to take a breath before she could go on. “I’m twenty-five. He was the first man who ever proposed to me.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Well, I didn’t always look like this,” she said. “I’m nearsighted. I wear contact lenses now. I took a modeling course and learned how to make the most of what I had. I guess it worked, because I met Tim at the courthouse while I was researching and he asked me out that same night. We only went together two weeks before we got married. I didn’t know him, I guess.”

“Was he your first man?”

She gasped. “You’re very blunt!”

“You know that already.” He lit a cigarette while he drove. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” she muttered, glaring at him. “But it’s none of your business.”

“Any particular reason why you waited until marriage?”

The glare got worse. “I’m old-fashioned and I go to church!”

He smiled. It was a genuine smile, for once, too. “So do I.”

“You?”

“Never judge a book by its cover,” he murmured. His pale eyes glanced sideways and he laughed.

She shook her head. “Miracles happen every day, they say.”

“Thanks a lot.” He stopped at another red light. “Which way from here?”

She gave him directions and minutes later, he pulled up in front of the small apartment house where she lived. It was in a fairly old neighborhood, but not a bad one. The house wasn’t fancy, but it was clean and the small yard had flowers.

“There are just three apartments,” she said. “One upstairs and two downstairs. I planted the flowers. This is where I lived before I married Tim. When he…died, Sam and Joan insisted that I stay with them. It’s still hard to go in there. I did a stupid thing and bought baby furniture—” She stopped, swallowing hard.

He cut off the engine and got out, opening the door. “Come on. I’ll go in with you.”

He took her arm and guided her to the door, waiting impatiently while she unlocked it. “Do you have a landlady or landlord?”

“Absentee,” she told him. “And I don’t have a morals clause,” she added, indicating her evening gown. “Good thing, I guess.”

“You aren’t a fallen woman,” he reminded her.

“I know.” She unlocked the door and let him in. The apartment was just as she’d left it, neat and clean. But there was a bassinet in one corner of the bedroom and a playpen in its box still sitting against the dividing counter between the kitchen and the dining room. She fought down a sob.

“Come here, little one,” he said gently, and pulled her into his arms.

She was rigid at first, until her body adjusted to being held, to the strength and scent of him. He was very strong. She could feel the hard press of muscle against her breasts and her long legs. He probably did a lot of physical work around his ranch, because he was certainly fit. But his strength wasn’t affecting her nearly as much as the feel of his big, lean hands against her back, and the warmth of his arms around her. He smelled of delicious masculine cologne and tobacco, and her lower body felt like molten liquid all of a sudden.

His fingers moved into the hair at her nape and their tips gently massaged her scalp. She felt his warm breath at her temple while he held her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn’t really cried since the accident. She made up for it now, pressing close to him innocently for comfort.

But the movement had an unexpected consequence, and she felt it against her belly. She stiffened and moved her hips demurely back from his with what she hoped was subtlety. All the same, her face flamed with embarrassment. Four brief months of marriage hadn’t loosened many of her inhibitions.

Harden felt equally uncomfortable. His blood had cooled somewhat with age, and he didn’t have much to do with women. His reaction to Miranda shocked and embarrassed him. Her reaction only made it worse, because when he lifted his head, he could see the scarlet blush on her face.

“Thanks again for looking after me last night,” she said to ease the painful silence. Her hands slid around to his broad chest and rested there while she looked up into pale, quiet eyes in a face like stone. “I won’t see you again?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be wise.”

“I suppose not.” She reached up hesitantly and touched his beautiful mouth, her fingertips lingering on the full, wide lower lip. “Thank you for my life,” she said softly. “I’ll take better care of it from now on.”

“See that you do.” He caught her fingers. “Don’t do that,” he said irritably, letting her hand fall to her side. He moved back, away from her. “I have to go.”

“Yes, well, I won’t keep you,” she managed, embarrassed all over again. She hadn’t meant to be so forward, but she’d never felt as secure with anyone before. It amazed her that such a sweeping emotion wouldn’t be mutual. But he didn’t look as if he even liked her, much less was affected by her. Except for that one telltale sign…

She went with him to the door and stood framed in the opening when he went out onto the porch.

He turned, his eyes narrow and angry as he gazed down at her. She looked vulnerable and sad and so alone. He let out a harsh breath.

“I’ll be all right, you know,” she said with false pride.

“Will you?” He moved closer, his stance arrogant, his eyes hot with feeling. His body throbbed as he looked at her. His gaze slid to her mouth and he couldn’t help himself. He wanted it until it was an obsession. Reluctantly he caught the back of her neck in his lean hand and tilted her face as he bent toward her.

Her heart ran wild. She’d wanted his kiss so much, and it was happening. “Harden,” she whispered helplessly.

“This is stupid,” he breathed, but his mouth was already on hers even as he said it, the words going past her parted lips along with his smoky breath.

She didn’t even hesitate. She slid her arms up around his neck and locked her hands behind his head, lifting herself closer to his hard, rough mouth. She moaned faintly, because the passion he kindled in her was something she’d never felt. Her legs trembled against his and she felt the shudder that buffeted him as his body reacted helplessly to her response.

He felt it and moved back. He dragged his mouth away from hers, breathing roughly as he looked down into her dazed eyes. “For God’s sake!” he groaned.

He pushed her back into the apartment and followed her, elbowing the door shut before he reached for her again.

He wasn’t even lucid. He knew he wasn’t. But her mouth was the sweetest honey he’d ever tasted, and he didn’t seem capable of giving it up.

She seemed equally helpless. Her body clung to his, her mouth protesting when he started to lift his. He sighed softly, giving in to her hunger, his mouth gentling as the kiss grew longer, more insistent. He toyed with her lips, teasing them into parting for him before his tongue eased gently past her teeth.

He felt her gasp even as he heard it. His hand smoothed her cheek, his thumb tenderly touching the corner of her mouth while his lips brushed it, calming her. She trembled. He persisted until she finally gave in, all at once, her soft body almost collapsing against him. His tongue pushed completely into her mouth and she shivered with passion.

The slow, rhythmic thrust of his tongue was so suggestive, so blatantly sexual, that it completely disarmed her. She hadn’t expected this from a man she’d only met the day before. She hadn’t expected her headlong reaction to him, either. She couldn’t seem to let go, to draw back, to protest this fierce intimacy.

She moaned. The sound penetrated his mind, aroused him even more. He felt her legs trembling against his blatant arousal, and he forced his mouth to lift, his hands to clasp her waist and hold her roughly away from him while he fought for control of his senses.

Her face was flushed, her eyes half closed, drowsy with pleasure. Her soft mouth was swollen, still lifted, willing, waiting.

He shook her gently. “Stop it,” he said huskily. “Or I’ll have you right here, standing up.”