Karen Kelley - How to Seduce a Texan

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!