How to Seduce a Texan

Chapter 2

Just follow him, that’s what Cal had told Nikki. But where the hell was he taking her? She was starting to get a little nervous. Really, what did she know about this guy, except what she’d researched? Not a whole hell of a lot. He could be a serial killer or something.

She could see the headlines now: THE DUDE RANCH MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN!

Now she was being ridiculous. She had a good instinct when it came to people. Not one alarm had gone off when she met Cal earlier today. Nor when he’d joined her at the ranch. Nikki thought she’d caught a subtle difference, not quite as friendly, but shrugged off the feeling. It had been a long drive and she was tired.

She hit a pothole that almost swallowed her car, effectively drawing her back to the present. That would teach her to pay attention to where she was going and not where she’d been.

The road they were on was worse than the dirt road she’d traveled to get to the ranch. This wasn’t much more than a path. Her car would definitely need an alignment job when she returned to the city, and detailed from end to end. It looked more gray than black. And it was starting to smell like the country. Her nose wrinkled. And country air was a little too aromatic for her.

Cal rounded a corner and pulled in front of a dilapidated shack straight out of Deliverance. All it needed to complete the picture was a couple of men on the porch playing banjos and a floppy-eared hound dog dozing between them. Her brain began sending warning signals. This wasn’t good, not good at all.

She stopped behind Cal and cut the engine before getting out. Dread filled her.

“Why did we stop here?” she asked.

“This is the old homestead,” he proudly proclaimed as he walked toward the porch.

“And your point is?” She eyed the shack with more than a little trepidation. The exterior needed painting-or maybe glue would be better, because it looked as though there wasn’t much holding it together. She had a bad feeling about why he’d stopped in front of it.

“You said you liked it rough.” He smiled at her, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Boy, did they have their wires crossed. “You expect me to stay here?” No story was worth living in this run-down hovel. She wanted a resort, massages, pedicures-hot oil sliding over her, a man’s hands massaging it into her body.

“It’s the only thing available.”

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt. This was it-the only thing they had vacant?

She glanced around. Her opinion of the place didn’t get any better. There was a small barn and pen just off to the right that looked as though it was in better shape than the cabin, a few trees, and that was it. She’d be stuck out here by herself-at least a half mile from the main ranch. Hell, it could’ve been ten miles and it wouldn’t have made a difference. If she screamed, no one would hear her. A cold chill of foreboding ran down her spine.

This was so wrong. Visions of how she would kill Marge filled her thoughts. If she got an all-city jury, she’d get off, hands down.

She hugged her middle. “I’m surprised anyone would stay here.”

He shrugged. “This was my grandparents’ first home. They seemed to manage okay. Some people like returning to the old ways. Did you know there’s a pueblo in Taos, New Mexico, and some of the buildings are over a thousand years old? No utilities, none of the luxuries we take for granted, but there’s a tribe of Indians who live there because they respect the ways of their ancestors.”

Well, it wasn’t her style. And she wasn’t about to…

“But then, some people don’t have what it takes.” He casually leaned against the post that held up a slightly warped roof.

One eyebrow shot upward. Was that a challenge? It had sounded like one. At the very least, he questioned if she could stand up to the rigors of a life without amenities. She’d faced Fort Worth’s mean streets. Even covered a gang war once. She could certainly handle staying in a place that had seen better days and having…what? No microwave?

“Of course I’m staying. This is exactly what I was looking for. I just questioned whether the cabin would hold up if a strong wind should blow through. I’d hate for it to fall down around me.”

He studied her. Was that a smidgin of respect she noted in his eyes? If it was, it was gone in the next second.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he told her. “Because this is about as rough as it gets.”

His gaze lingered long enough for her to start feeling a buzz of anticipation. The cabin had thrown her for a loop, but as her body came to life under his mesmerizing eyes, she thought about the fantastic benefits that went along with this assignment.

“You did say you liked it rough.” His gaze caressed her, sending a flash of heat coursing through her body.

She nodded, afraid that speaking would be too difficult. Her mouth had gone completely dry as images of entwined naked limbs flashed across her mind. She inhaled a ragged breath. She really needed to get laid more often.

When he turned and started up the two lopsided steps, the spell was broken. Oh, yeah, he’d definitely earned his reputation as a lady’s man. Her panties had come close to the melting point.

He nodded toward a triangle of rusted metal that hung from the porch. “If you do get in a bind, just ring that. But don’t forget about the boy who cried wolf. It’s only for emergencies.”

“I have a cell phone.” She made her way up the steps.

“It doesn’t always work at the cabin. Unless you want to crawl up on the roof. You might get better reception there, but I don’t suggest it. I’d hate for you to fall off and break something.”

Okay, what was going on? Her gut told her something had changed since their first meeting. When he’d ridden up on his horse to get the cow back on the other side of the fence, Cal had flirted with her-hadn’t he? He was still flirting with her, and the look in his eyes when he glanced her way was more than heated. Hell, it scorched her skin.

But he also acted as though he expected her to run screaming back to her car. It was almost as though he hoped she would run screaming back to her car. The mixed messages didn’t make sense.

Maybe the sun pounding down on her during the drive here had fuddled her brain. Right now, Cal acted as if he was happy she’d picked up the gauntlet-but not in a good way.

Nonsense of course. She was overly tired. She’d been putting in long hours at work. When was the last time she’d even taken a vacation?

Her parents had once told her to put in the hours while she was young. There would be time to enjoy the fruits of her labor once she’d established herself. Except for the occasional long weekend, she didn’t take vacations. It was probably time she did.

She pushed her hair behind her ear. No, she was only imagining his changed attitude toward her. There was no way Cal could know the real reason she was here. Marge was too crafty to let the cat out of the bag, and as far as anyone at the office knew, she was on vacation-completely plausible.

The drive to the Texas hill country had taken her longer than she’d expected because she’d gotten lost-twice. She was tired. Nothing was going on. When she returned home, she was getting a GPS.

Cal stepped inside the cabin, then held the door open for her.

She brought her attention back to the present and walked past him. The interior was even worse. A layer of grime and dust covered the probably once white sheets that draped over the furniture. She was so going to kill Marge for this.

“The maid’s day off?”

“Most people who stay here want to do everything-including cleaning the place.” He let his gaze slowly roam over her. “You don’t look the type. I wouldn’t blame you if you left.”

She waltzed past him. “I don’t mind a little hardship if I get what I’m after.”

He crossed his arms in front of him. “And what are you after?”

You. A juicy story.

No, better not mention that. She didn’t want to scare him off. She had a tendency to be a little too blunt at times. Most men were intimidated by her aggressiveness. She glanced over her shoulder and eyed the football player turned cowboy. He didn’t look like the type who would easily scare.

“I’m researching a book.” She shrugged. “I’m writing about how the early settlers lived.” That sounded good, but did he buy her lie? She didn’t even blink as his gaze met hers. “The best way to write about it is to live it.” She held her breath to see if he’d buy her story.

“You’ll certainly be able to do that here,” he finally said before looking away.

Hook, line, and sinker. She was so good that sometimes she amazed herself. But that’s why they called her the barracuda. Oh, yeah, she knew the tag they’d given her and she was damned proud of it.

She glanced inside the bedroom. A sheet covered the mattress on the black iron bed to protect it from the dust. Her gaze quickly scanned the room. One window. No curtain.

Lovely.

She backed out of the bedroom and went into the kitchen. A mammoth black stove graced one wall. She’d been afraid of this: no microwave.

Near the stove was a sink with a pump. How archaic. At least she wouldn’t need to haul water. A scarred wooden table sat in the center of the room along with two rope-bottomed, ladder-back chairs.

Home sweet home. She checked her shudder of revulsion and smiled at him. “This will do just fine.”

“Then you’re staying?”

“Of course. I’m a little surprised it’s this rustic, but I’ll manage. I’m tougher than I look.” That should make him think twice about what she was made of. Ha! Nothing scared her, especially living conditions that weren’t up to her standards.

She sauntered over and opened one of the cabinets. Black, beady eyes stared back at her. She couldn’t move. Her heart thumped loudly inside her chest, and blood drummed inside her ears.

Except for wild animals. Wild animals scared the hell out of her.

Run! her brain screamed as the fight-or-flight response triggered. The electrical warning charges zipped across her brain, quickly catching up with her nonmoving limbs. She slammed the cabinet closed and whirled around, throwing herself at Cal.

He wrapped his arms around her. “Easy now.”

“Easy?” she squeaked. “There’s a wild animal in the cabinet.” She clung to him.

After a few seconds, she realized how nice it felt to be this close, especially when she inhaled his spicy aftershave. Not bad, not bad at all. At least, until his chest rumbled. She moved away and glared up at him. He dared to laugh? No one had ever laughed at her.

“There’s a wild animal in the cabinet,” she repeated. How could he be so unconcerned? She wasn’t good around animals. Hell, she’d never even been to the zoo.

“That’s just Bandit,” he said.

His attempt to keep a straight face wasn’t working. It wasn’t funny! She planted her hands on her hips. “What the hell is Bandit?”

He put his hands on her arms, but before she could savor his touch, he set her to the side and ambled over to the cabinet.

She took a step back. “You aren’t going to open the door, are you? Shouldn’t you call an exterminator or something?”

“No need.”

When he opened the cabinet door, she saw that the animal was a fat raccoon, complete with black mask, just like in the pictures she’d seen. Pictures were fine, but up close she could do without a wild animal-or any animal, for that matter.

“This is Bandit.”

“Well, make him go away.”

“How’d you get inside?” Cal asked as the animal waddled backward out of the cabinet, landing with a thump on the counter.

“Is it tame?” She wasn’t taking any chances and kept her distance.

He shrugged. “As tame as any wild animal can get. I was staying at the cabin when a pack of wild dogs killed Bandit’s mother and her other babies. I rescued Bandit and he sort of hung around.” He went to the screen door and opened it. Bandit waddled out quite unconcerned he’d nearly scared the living daylights out of her.

Nikki hugged her middle. “But he doesn’t actually live here. I mean, in the cabin. Right?”

His grin was slow, warming her blood. “Why? He doesn’t eat much.”

Okay, this story didn’t look quite so easy. People, she could handle, but she knew nothing about animals. She’d never even had a dog or cat when she was growing up. Her parents had said they didn’t have the time to devote to a house pet, and they couldn’t very well ask the maid to clean up after one. They were right, of course.

“Bandit usually hangs around the barn. I’ll find out how he got inside and make sure he doesn’t bother you again.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Of course, there’s one houseguest I can’t get rid of.”

Great. If there was a pet snake or mouse, that was it. Marge could get her own story.

“What?” She warily eyed the corners of the kitchen.

“The ghost.”

She laughed.

He didn’t join in.

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. No pun intended.”

She smiled. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Maybe this was part of staying here. Ghost enthusiasts would love this place. She had never believed in anything she couldn’t see, taste, or touch.

Ghost stories never terrified her when she was growing up. Her parents always explained how the special effects created the ghostly images in the movies. “I’m not afraid of things that go bump in the night.”

“Good, then you won’t mind the one here.” He tugged his hat down a little farther on his forehead. “I’ll just go see if I can find where Bandit got in while you look around.”

There was one pressing matter she needed to take care of, and it couldn’t wait. “Where exactly is the bathroom.” She hadn’t seen a door that might lead to it.

He gave her a look that said he’d thought she’d never ask. “Out back.”

She raised her eyebrows in question. What did he mean, “out back”? The bathroom wasn’t attached to the cabin? Now that would be damned inconvenient.

He motioned toward the back door. She hesitantly walked to the screen and glanced out. Oh, good Lord. “That’s an outhouse.”

“A two-holer. State of the art. Complete with a Sears catalog.” He looked at her, his expression serious. “I might be able to scare up a JCPenney if you’d prefer.”

He was trying his hand at being funny, and he seemed to relish the discomforts she would be going through. His fiancée must’ve really done a number on him because he seemed to have decided to take his angst out on Nikki.

She’d read that Cynthia Cole was an only child of business tycoon Milburn Cole. Her investigation before she’d left Fort Worth had given her enough information that told her Milburn Cole didn’t do anything illegal, but he was so close to committing a crime that you could almost see the prison stripes on his Armani suit.

On the other hand, his daughter was the darling of society. Elite boarding schools, a private college, the best sorority-and lots of wild parties. She made Paris Hilton look like a choir girl. Cynthia had been in rehab so many times that they’d dedicated a wing to her.

So, was Cal pining for his love and decided to take his frustrations out on Nikki? Which one had broken the relationship off? Cynthia? Or him?

A week. That’s all it would take before she had her answers. She’d bet her next paycheck on it.

But for now, she had to deal with the outhouse. How hard could it be?

She smiled up at Cal. “No problem.” She opened the door and stepped out, then cautiously looked around. The raccoon wasn’t anywhere that she could see, thank goodness.

She followed the well-worn path to the little wooden structure. Packed earth from years of use made it a little easier to walk in her heels.

She kept her eyes focused on the small building. It looked rather quaint.

Whatever she had to tell herself, right?

Just before she opened the rickety door, she looked over her shoulder. Cal watched her. Did he think she wouldn’t go inside?

She’d show him, although the prospect of stepping inside the building held no appeal whatsoever. But she really had to go bad, and if she stood outside much longer, she’d be squirming and that wouldn’t look at all good.

She kicked the door a couple of times, to scare any creepy-crawly bugs or spiders out of the way; opened the door; and stepped inside.

The door bumped closed behind her.

Her eyes began to burn. She stumbled back against the door, her arms waving in front of her as she fought for air that wasn’t rancid from years of waste products. Oh, God, this must be what hell was like. No wonder someone had invented the toilet!

Her mind screamed hurry as she tried to focus in the dim light that came from the half-moon cutout. Thankfully, not enough that she could fully appreciate her surroundings. She saw the two holes. Where were the toilet seats? There were no toilet seats!

Don’t panic. She took a deep, calming breath…and gagged. Just do it. Yeah, right. Try filming a commercial in here, Nike!

She jerked her skirt up and her panty hose down. Had no one ever heard of air freshener? Stickups? Candles? Okay, maybe lighting a flame wouldn’t be good unless it was someone’s intention to blow the place up. Which right now sounded like a good idea to her.

She finished in record time. He’d lied; there was toilet paper. She jerked her panty hose up only to snag them on a sliver of wood that was sticking out, sending a three-inch run from thigh to ankle.

At this point in time, she didn’t care that she’d paid twenty frigging dollars for the hose. Marge would replace them. Boy, would she replace them.

She yanked the panty hose off and tossed them in the hole before pulling her skirt down, then opened the door. Blessed fresh air from a welcome breeze hit her in the face when she stepped out. She let the door slam behind her. As she walked up the path, her legs wobbled and she was light-headed from holding her breath.

How the hell was she going to manage to stay here until she got her stupid story? The homestead was deplorable. She couldn’t live here under these conditions. No one would expect her to.

Was she throwing in the towel?

No, damn it!

At least she’d been saved from Cal laughing at her. He wasn’t at the back door. He hadn’t seen her humiliation, and she’d make sure he never did. If she had to face outhouses and raccoons every day until she got her story, she would. Giving up was not an option.

A shadow moved across one window. He’d said the homestead was haunted. A cold chill of foreboding swept over her.

Of course the place wasn’t haunted! Now she was being utterly ridiculous and she knew better than this. Her parents hadn’t raised a fool.

Now, the stupid raccoon was a different matter. She could see it, touch it, and had even smelled it-which hadn’t been pleasant. The raccoon made her nervous and she was never, well, hardly ever, nervous.

She would not let a dumb animal defeat her, nor an imaginary ghost or even a smelly outhouse. She was Nikki Scott and no one got the best of her.