Carol Finch - Fit To Be Tied - Fit To Be Tied / The Lyon's Den

That was the thing about being a twin, Dev reminded himself. You had to check with your look-alike before showing any interest whatsoever in a female. That kind of sibling rivalry could get real tricky. Thus far, Devlin and Derrick had avoided potentially uncomfortable situations, but they had worked at it. Of course, that wasn’t counting that first-and-only fistfight over a cute little babe with pigtails when they were in the fifth grade.

With ingredients in hand, Devlin strode to the counter, then rummaged to find a skillet. Yeah, at this moment he could be sprawled in a padded booth, being fussed over by a wonderful cook and restaurant owner. But for some reason Devlin found himself more interested in the zookeeper who had come up lame herself.

That feisty blonde stirred something in Devlin that he couldn’t name. Although she was tough, prickly and defensive at times, he admired and respected independence in a woman. Heaven knew he’d been chased by enough clingy types to realize they couldn’t hold his interest.

Now that Devlin could step back and review his first two confrontations with Jessica, he could chuckle about the incidents where zinging insults flew like bullets. They set off fiery reactions in each other from the get-go. If that kiss was any indication, they could ignite explosive sparks of an entirely different nature—if they could put the bitterness from past relationships gone sour behind them.

Humming a country and western song, Devlin set to work on supper. The electricity flickered momentarily, but he managed to cook the eggs and toast before the storm came crashing down like gangbusters.

“Dinner is served,” he called as he carried two plates into the living room. When he saw Jessica stir beneath the quilt, her hair a mass of curlicues, his heart fluttered oddly. “Hey, sleepyhead, if I’m gonna wait on you foot and hand the least you can do is wake up and appreciate my efforts.”

Jessica blinked like a subterranean creature emerging from a tunnel. When she spied the food she tossed aside the quilt and reached eagerly for a plate. “You cooked?” she said drowsily. “This looks wonderful!”

Devlin inwardly groaned when the quilt fell away and he got an appetizing view of satiny cleavage exposed by that flimsy robe. The damn thing could be the death of him if he wasn’t careful where he looked.

“Lordy, real food,” she said after the first bite, then sighed in appreciation. “I haven’t had any in months.”

He hadn’t had any in months, either, but he didn’t figure Jessica was referring to the same thing.

Devlin forced himself to look the other way when Jessica propped herself on her elbow to balance the plate. The cursed robe gaped, partially exposing the creamy mounds of her breasts.

The lusty side of his nature silently begged her to lean a teensy-weensy bit to the left so he could admire all the appealing scenery.

The gentlemanly half of him strenuously objected.

Hell!

“Oh, God, this is fabulous,” Jessica complimented after taking a second bite of the omelette.

“Thanks. My brother and I alternate shifts in the kitchen. I’ve been at this cooking business for several years now. It was a real struggle after we lost our parents in a small plane crash. It’s a wonder we didn’t burn down the kitchen that first year.”

Jessica studied him pensively. “You took care of yourselves? How old were you?”

“Eighteen,” Devlin reported, then munched on his toast.

“No family or grandparents to take you in?”

Devlin shook his dark head. “There was a bachelor uncle in the armed forces who stopped in during furloughs, but Derrick and I were determined to keep the ranch going. We already had the necessary skills, but it took time to learn the financial end of the operation. We approached older, knowledgeable ranchers in the area for advice and managed to come through the crisis without losing the ranch. Then we took turns attending college every other semester so we could complete our education, just as our parents would have wanted. It took seven years, but we earned our agricultural degrees.”

He glanced quickly at Jessica, trying very hard not to dwell on the tempting swells nestled beneath that flimsy pink fabric.

Jessica shifted uneasily. She wasn’t in the habit of discussing her past with anyone, but she acknowledged that she felt more comfortable with Devlin than she had with anyone—ever. In fact, she had never confided much of anything to Rex, because the time never felt right and she never got the impression that he was all that interested in her past. Turned out his main interest in her was the money she made on her property.

“I don’t even know who my parents are,” she confessed. “I spent my childhood in one foster home or another. Then I ran away from an undesirable situation because the man who was supposed to be my substitute father began to take a slightly different interest in his role.”

Obviously, Devlin understood what she implied, because he muttered a foul oath that voiced her sentiments exactly. “If he laid a hand on you, I’ll look him up and tear the son of a bitch apart, limb from limb.”

The fact that he cared enough to defend her honor gave Jessica a warm, fuzzy feeling. “I appreciate the offer, but I saw it coming and skipped out. When I graduated high school I took a job as a waitress, then figured that if I wanted to get anywhere in this world I needed more education.”

Jessica relaxed when Devlin nodded and smiled. He wasn’t the least bit judgmental, thank goodness. Of course, she hadn’t gone into detail about living a hand-to-mouth existence, hadn’t mentioned the near misses with men who waited like vultures to take advantage of a vulnerable woman living on her own.

“Tough way to grow up, I expect,” he commented as he reached out to brush corkscrew curls behind her ear.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Any time you feel like getting it off your chest, I’m willing to listen, Jess. I want you to know that.”

Head downcast, she fiddled with her robe. “Thanks.”

Having seen Jessica’s zoo of outcasts and hearing the boiled-down version of her life story, Devlin figured she was accustomed to keeping her own counsel. He knew she felt a close attachment to the stray animals who lived on her forty acres. He also suspected that she considered herself like them.

Feelings of tenderness and compassion for this woman overcame him. He understood why she thought it was necessary to put up that tough, keep-your-distance front. No doubt, that defensive attitude was essential in getting her through the unsung ordeals in her life. She had admitted that she was unaccustomed to being cared for. He also remembered what Reed Osborn said about Jessica taking in a young woman on the run from an abusive ex-husband, about the generous donations to youth groups and charities benefiting needy children.

Yup, there was definitely more to Jessica’s story, he realized. Incidents that made deep, lasting impressions structured her life and made her wary. His protective instincts stirred. He wished he could have been there to make her life easier, though his had been no fairy tale. But a young woman alone? No doubt, there had been dozens of pitfalls awaiting her, dozens of harrowing experiences that made her mistrusting and cautious.

“Where did you collect all your animals?” he asked as he reached for his glass of iced tea.

“Some were placed by the association,” she informed him. “Some were brought to me out of desperation. You wouldn’t believe how many people purchase exotic animals, thinking they can be domesticated. The jungle cats are especially cute kittens…until they grow up. Then people find a full-size African lion on their hands and don’t know what to do with it. It takes special training to care for those animals, and without intensive seminars, the average person is totally at a loss.”