How to Seduce a Texan

Chapter 3

Cal moved from the bedroom window just in case Nikki decided to look his way. She didn’t seem quite as confident as she had right before she went inside the outhouse.

Big city had just met country and it hadn’t been pretty.

Not that he could blame her for looking a little shaken. You couldn’t pay him to go inside an outhouse. In fact, he didn’t know why anyone, other than Nikki, would want to stay at the old homestead, but there were actually people who did. If they felt that compelled to know how it was done in the early days, they could read a book.

But Cal knew her reason, and he had her number. She hated it here. He grinned. That was pretty much a gimme and had been from the moment she’d laid eyes on the place. This wasn’t part of whatever bargain she’d cut with her editor. He expected Nikki to walk straight through the house, out to her car, and never look back.

Good-bye reporter.

Damned shame, though. If the circumstances were different, he’d have liked to get to know her better. She was a looker, with her short, dark hair and those pouty lips that were made for kissing.

If that wasn’t enough, her breasts were full. The kind that were made for cupping, massaging. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined how they would feel.

And she had great legs. Long and sexy. He bit back a groan as he imagined them wrapping around him and pulling him in closer, deeper. Images filled his mind. Her naked. Him naked. Together. On the bed.

He could barely draw in a steady breath when he heard the back door slam. Man, if his fantasies about her were this good, what would the real thing be like? Not that he’d ever find out. The outhouse was enough to scare anyone away.

He waited for the front door to slam.

It didn’t.

He frowned.

Why wasn’t she leaving? Any normal woman would’ve already run screaming from the cabin. But then, Jeff had told him they called her the barracuda.

Maybe she was. The cabin hadn’t scared her off. Bandit was an unplanned bonus. The raccoon should’ve had her running out the front door, but she’d only made it as far as his arms. Damn, she’d felt nice pressed against him, her body trembling. And she’d smelled nice, like exotic flowers.

But he hadn’t been able to contain his laughter. Barracuda? Nah, she’d been more like a little harmless goldfish. Well, at least until she’d realized he thought the situation was funny. She hadn’t liked that very much. Her eyes had flashed their annoyance.

He kind of liked her annoyed. Sexy as hell. He wouldn’t mind spending time getting to know her a little better. Except for the fact she still wanted to fry his ass and he wasn’t about to let that happen. So maybe it was time to bring out the big guns, or in this case the broom. Cynthia had turned up her nose at doing any kind of manual labor. Heaven forbid she break a fingernail.

What would Nikki’s reaction be?

He went into the living room. He could hear her mumbling to herself in the kitchen. He couldn’t make out the words, though. On the other hand, he might not want to know.

“Having trouble?” he asked.

She jumped and whirled around. “This thing is out of water.” She waved her hand at the pump.

“Did you lift the handle up, then push it down?”

She squared her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her. “Yes, but it didn’t do anything.”

Cal had to at least give her credit for sticking around this long-reporter or not. He’d give her until the end of the day. By the time he finished with her, she’d be glad to give up trying to get a story and run back to the city.

He raised the handle and pushed it down several times before water began to flow. Without so much as a thank-you, she washed her hands, then shook them dry.

He should’ve known she wouldn’t lower herself to his level. Jeff had said her parents were lawyers. That meant money. Maybe not as rich as Cynthia, but he’d bet his last dollar she’d never had to suffer any kind of hardship.

Man, he needed to get away to clear his head. “I’m going back to the ranch to get something to cover the hole where Bandit got inside the house,” he said. “There’s a broom and a mop on the back porch. You might want to get started on the cleaning before it gets dark.

“Cleaning?”

“That’s part of the experience of staying in the old homestead.” He smiled and tugged on the brim of his hat before turning to leave.

“Uh…”

He looked back. Her expression showed uncertainty. He almost felt sorry for her. Until he remembered why she was there. She wanted to use him just like Cynthia had tried to use him, just like all the reporters who hounded him for a picture or a story. His heart quickly hardened. At least it was his heart this time and not another part of his anatomy.

“You wanted something else?” he asked.

“There isn’t really a ghost, is there?”

Not exactly what he thought she was going to ask. Maybe he could cut her a little slack. “I’ve never seen one, but my little brother swears the cabin is haunted. My grandmother once told me a young woman died here. That’s how my grandmother’s parents were able to buy this property so cheap. People were scared to live here.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “But no one has ever been hurt or anything?”

He could lie, tell her the ghost was evil, when in truth he thought his brother had made the whole thing up. That would have her running to her car.

The last few weeks had been boring as hell, though. Nikki was damned easy on the eyes. He didn’t like reporters and he damned sure didn’t like manipulating females. It was time he got a little back. If nothing else, for the entertainment factor. He had a feeling Nikki would be very entertaining.

“No one has ever been hurt.” He turned and went to the door. Her heels clicked right behind him. When he stepped outside, he started having second thoughts. She was a city girl. What if she hurt herself-even though she was trying to hurt him?

“You don’t have to stay here, you know. There’d be no shame in changing your mind.” He removed his worn Stetson, scraped his fingers through his hair before replacing his hat.

She jutted her chin out. “Do you think I can’t? That I’m too soft?”

His gaze roamed over her. Oh, yeah, she looked as though she’d be real soft. “Sometimes it’s better to cut your losses than get in way over your head and take a chance of getting hurt.”

“And will I get hurt?”

For a moment, he found himself lost in her eyes. Right now, the way the light and shadows played with them, they reminded him of the color of maple syrup: a soft golden brown.

He cleared his throat. Yeah, she was real good. “You might if you stay. The country can hold all kinds of dangers you’d never even think about.”

She stepped closer. Close enough he smelled her fragrance again, like a whispered caress.

“And what about you?” she said in that throaty voice again. “Are you dangerous?”

For a moment he couldn’t move, could only stare at her as she sucked him in. She brought her hand up and brushed her dark hair behind her ear. The only thing going through his mind was that he’d like to kiss her neck, nibble on her earlobe.

Now he knew why they called her The Barracuda. It wouldn’t take much for him to tell her everything she wanted to know. It was a good thing Jeff had warned him.

He leaned his hand against the wall above her head and moved in a little closer. Close enough that he saw her pupils dilate, saw the gold flecks in her eyes. “I’m only dangerous when someone crosses me,” he drawled.

She visibly swallowed.

“But then, you don’t have to worry about that,” he continued. “You’re only here to do a little research for your book.”

Nikki wet her lips. A hell of a turn-on. It was all Cal could do to push away from the wall, away from the heat emanating from her body, when all he wanted to do was press closer and feel her breasts pushing against his chest. But he managed to move away-just barely.

He walked down the steps to his pickup feeling as though he’d escaped with his life-at least the parts he wanted to keep private.

As he drove off, he glanced toward the cabin. She was going back inside. It was a damned shame he was about to make her regret ever thinking he was an easy target. Hell, he ate reporters for breakfast every morning, then spit them out.

Nikki turned back and glanced out the screen as Cal drove off. What had just happened? She’d used the ghost as an excuse to get him to linger-and it had worked. But not the way she’d planned. One minute she’d been the seducer, and in the next, Cal was making her forget the reason she was out here. She shook her head to clear it. Then she looked around the front room.

She was alone, and she hated this place. It was all she could do to keep from running back to the porch and out to her car. In a few hours, she could be in Fort Worth soaking in a hot tub in her apartment. All this would be a distant nightmare.

No, not all of it was a nightmare. Cal Braxton was a walking, talking, breathing fantasy come true.

She raised her chin. And he apparently thought she’d run at the first sign of trouble; she’d seen it in his eyes.

Okay, so maybe she had tried to run when she’d opened the cabinet and Bandit had stared back at her. Anyone would’ve done the same thing, so that didn’t really count.

But there was more to it. He didn’t seem to buy her act that she wanted to stay at the cabin. What was up with his attitude? It was almost as if he knew the real reason she was here.

She reached in her pocket and brought out her cell phone, but when she flipped it open, she read “no service.”

This wouldn’t do. Not at all. She didn’t like being disconnected from the outside world. Peace and quiet drove her insane. It was the hustle and bustle of the city all the way for her.

She stepped to the front porch and held the phone up. Still nothing. She went through the house to the back. The phone never wavered from its “no service” message. She stepped off the porch. The message blinked. She walked farther away from the house.

Service! Ha! She had service.

Her nose wrinkled. Ugh! She was standing beside the outhouse. She grimaced. This was not funny.

Thank God for speed dial. She held the phone to her ear after she punched in the number two and tried not to think how appropriate it was. Marge answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“He knows.”

“Nikki? You made it to the ranch okay. Good. I was starting to worry.”

“He knows I’m a reporter.”

“Did he tell you he knows?”

She frowned. “No, but he’s too happy I’ve chosen to stay in the cabin away from everyone else.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a sexy woman. Maybe he thinks he’ll get lucky.”

“But you should see this place.” A shiver ran down her spine. “It’s so isolated.”

“I’m confused. Won’t that make it easier to get the scoop on him? You won’t have a lot of pesky vacationers hanging about.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The cabin is a relic from the distant past,” she said between gritted teeth. “The toilet facilities consist of an outhouse, complete with a half-moon cutout, and I don’t even want to talk about how the odor could be used in bioterrorism. The only water is from a pump in the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have hot water. There’s not one microwave in sight, either.”

“So why did you choose to stay in the cabin? It sounds dreadful.”

Nikki drew in a deep breath. Ugh! Her eyes began to water. She rapidly blinked. She had a feeling her phone calls would be a lot shorter from now on.

“The cabin was the only thing available.”

“Well, you can’t stay there. I wouldn’t expect any of my reporters to live in those conditions, let alone a female.”

Her back stiffened. “What do you mean by that? I’ve worked the streets, stayed in some real dumps to get the story, and did a damned good job reporting the truth, too.”

“But you haven’t had to work the rough parts of the city in a long time. You’re out of practice, and really, what do you know about the country?”

“Damn it, Marge, you know I can do this. I won’t let a silly fluff story beat me.”

“If you think you can, then, by all means, stay. And Cal Braxton doesn’t know you’re a reporter. How could he? I haven’t told anyone-have you?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Of course I haven’t.”

“Then he doesn’t know. I have to rush out, Nikki. I have an important meeting I can’t miss. If it gets too awful, just turn around and come right back to the city. I won’t think badly of you for giving up.”

There was a distinctive click.

Give up? Give up! She didn’t think so. She never gave up.

She snapped her phone closed before it dawned on her that she’d been played. Marge had known she would never walk away from a challenge.

Great, just great. She looked up in time to see Bandit waddle out of the barn and toward a tree.

Maybe Marge had played her. It didn’t matter. She still wasn’t going to quit. She stomped back to the cabin.

Marge was right about one thing: Cal couldn’t possibly know she was a reporter. He wasn’t on the rebound, either, or he’d be flirting outrageously with her. There had been subtle nuances but nothing blatant. That Cynthia chick must’ve really done a number on him. At the moment, Cal didn’t seem too pleased with the female population. Damn, there went her wild nights of hot sex.

She paused halfway up the path from the outhouse. Was she giving up on the sex?

Cal was a hottie with all those bulging muscles. When she’d lunged herself at him after going eyeball to eyeball with the raccoon, she’d had the chance to get up close and personal with all those muscles, and they’d felt as good as they’d looked.

And damned if he hadn’t caused her pulse to race when he’d leaned close to her right before he’d walked to his pickup and left.

Had he been flirting then? She wasn’t sure. Her hormones had been raging so hot they’d fogged her brain. Whatever he’d been doing, it had been nice.

No, she wasn’t giving up on sex, either-only regrouping. Cynthia might have done a number on his head, and possibly his heart, but Nikki was there to kiss and make it all better, and she’d get her story, too.

The Barracuda never lost.

She grabbed the broom off the hook before she went back inside. He didn’t think she’d last.

“Cal hasn’t seen nothin’ yet. I might not be country, but that doesn’t mean I’m soft. I’ll show him just what this city girl is made of.”

A cloud drifted in front of the sun and the room darkened. Cold washed over her as though…as though what? A ghost had reached out and touched her?

Okay, the room was just a little too dark and dismal. She really hated the dark. And that’s all this was. Some illumination and she’d be fine.

She reached toward where a light switch should be. It wasn’t there. Nor was there one in any of the other rooms. Well, crap. She should’ve guessed there wasn’t any electricity, either.

This wasn’t at all funny.

She began to furiously sweep the wooden floor. Cal Braxton would not run her off, even if he was doing it because Cynthia had jilted him!

Nope, she was here to stay. She chuckled. He’d be in for a big surprise if he knew how she really felt about the cabin. But he didn’t, and she wouldn’t let him find out, either.

By the time she’d swept the last of the dirt out of the house, Cal was pulling up in front of the cabin.

She stepped to the front porch and leaned the broom against the side of the house. She pushed her hair out of her face as she watched him get out of his pickup, a hammer and tacks in one hand and a square sheet of shiny metal in the other.

“There’s no electricity,” she told him.

His grin sent tingles down her spine, and for a moment she could only stare, lost in a fantasy of them naked and in bed having hot, wild sex.

“And your point is?”

What was her point? Hell, she’d forgotten what she’d just said. Oh, yeah, electricity. Now he was smirking. She jutted her chin, refusing to back down.

“I’ll need a flashlight or kerosene lamp before it gets dark. That’s my point.” Wasn’t that what they were called? Kerosene lamps? The thought of having something so flammable in a weathered and worn cabin did not appeal to her. But she would have it, if it provided light, and even if it killed her.

Oh, not a good thought.

He looked surprised. “You’re staying then?”

“Why wouldn’t I? This is exactly what I was looking for. Rustic, just like the early days.”

“There’s a kerosene lamp in the kitchen and I have a flashlight in my pickup I’ll loan you.”

Her stomach growled, which reminded her of something else. “I’ll need food and somewhere to store it. Unless it’s delivered.” She tried to keep the hopeful note out of her voice. Meals brought to her door would be nice, and it would make it a lot easier to stay in this dump.

He laughed. “Now that wouldn’t be roughing it, would it? You’d only be defeating the purpose, and we want you to experience the country to its fullest.”

Don’t do me any favors. What she wouldn’t give for a big, juicy fast-food burger and an order of fries right now.

“I brought some things from the ranch that I thought you might need.”

She glanced past him and could see the boxes in the back of his pickup. Not one McDonald’s bag poked above the rest. She’d been afraid of that. So what did pioneer women eat? She had a feeling she would be expected to cook. Not good, since she always managed to burn toast.

He went inside and into the bedroom. It took him only a few seconds to tack the metal over the hole where Bandit had gotten inside.

When he stood, she noticed just how tall he was. She was five seven and a half, yet he towered over her. He had to be at least six four or five.

“Come on. I’ll help you carry your stuff inside.” He didn’t wait for her to respond but headed out the door, going straight to his pickup and hefting a box out of the back.

“Don’t do me any favors,” she mumbled but made sure she hadn’t spoken loud enough for him to hear. She didn’t relish this much physical labor. An air-conditioned gym was one thing; actually carrying in boxes was another.

She liked the way he hefted, though, but Nikki didn’t think he would let her get away with standing on the front porch and ogling his muscles as he carried in the boxes. She was, after all, roughing it.

Whoopie.

“This should give you plenty of research for your book,” he said as he paused with his foot on the bottom step.

They were almost eye to eye. He really was very delicious looking.

“You did say you were writing a book, right?”

She stepped around him and down the steps. “Research. Yes, a book. I’m a writer.” When she thought about it, she hadn’t really lied. Except about it being a book rather than an article. She had a feeling if she was here very long, she could write volumes about Cal.

“Then I’ll have to make sure you don’t go away empty-handed.”

She reached over the side of his pickup and grabbed a box. She could’ve told him that she was certain she would leave with plenty of information.

But she didn’t.