Rosemary Carter - A Husband Made In Texas

‘In the bar? You were with that red-haired woman. I think her name was Marietta.’

‘So you remember that.’ The eyes that held hers were unreadable.

‘Sure, why not?’ She strove to make her tone as casual and matter-of-fact as she could. Flynn did not have to know about the pain that knifed her at the very mention of the other woman’s name.

‘I think it’s interesting that you would remember Marietta in such detail.’ Still he held her gaze. ‘But I wasn’t referring to her. Kaitlin, do you remember what I said?’

‘Why don’t you jog my memory?’

‘I promised you I’d be back for the ranch five years later. Five years to the day. I kept my promise, Kaitlin. Looking at your face, I know you never thought I would.’

Kaitlin. felt the colour drain from her cheeks as she stared at the tall cowboy.

‘So that’s why you’re here,’ she said, when she could speak.

‘Right.’

‘You could have written. Or phoned.’

‘I could have, I guess, but I decided to break it to you in person.’

‘Without a thought to my feelings,’ she accused unsteadily.

Flynn didn’t answer, but there was an odd expression in the eyes that watched her.

Over the emotions that raged inside her, Kaitlin said, ‘You knew I’d be shocked, but you wanted to see my face when you told me. What are you, Flynn—some kind of sadist?’

Flynn only shrugged.

Kaitlin’s hands curled tightly against her sides. ‘Anyway, now you’ve told me, you can go.’

‘We have to talk, Kaitlin.’

‘Not today, Flynn. Definitely not today. You have to give me time to think.’

For a long moment he looked down at her. Then, to her relief, he picked up his Stetson.

At the door of the house he turned. ‘I’ll be back.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘HI, COWGIRL.’

Paintbrush in hand, the jeans-clad figure turned from the fence of the corral. ‘Hi, yourself, cowboy.’

A week had passed since the last time he had seen her. ‘You look busy, Kaitlin.’

Beneath the broad-brimmed Stetson, her eyes were intensely green, almost jade. ‘You could say that. I didn’t hear the plane this time, Flynn. Unless, of course, you reverted to your original mode of transport and arrived on horseback.’

He laughed. ‘All the way from Austin? Hardly.’ He glanced at the radio perched on a tree-stump beside the can of paint ‘Can’t say I’m surprised you didn’t hear the plane above the din.’

Kaitlin touched a dial and lowered the decibels. ‘Not surprising at all,’ she conceded as the throbbing beat of saxophone and drums faded into background music.

‘You used to be a country and western fan, Kaitlin.’

‘I still am, but there’s nothing like variety. Been here long, Flynn?’

‘A while.’

‘I believe you’ve been watching me, cowboy.’

‘You believe right.’

A few drops of white dropped from Kaitlin’s brush as she leaned it across the rim of her bucket. As she came to Flynn, he was struck anew by her extreme slenderness and the gracefulness of her movements. Tendrils of hair escaped from beneath her Stetson to curl on her forehead, giving her a waiflike appearance that tugged at his heartstrings, and made his expression darken. The last thing Flynn wanted was for Kaitlin to touch his emotions.

‘Why are you here?’ she asked.

‘To see you?’ he suggested.

‘Obviously—but not for friendly reasons. Whatever it is, it’ll concern the ranch and the mortgage.’

‘Does it have to be the reason? Men must come here all the time to woo the lovely Kaitlin Mullins.’

There was a sudden tightness around her lips. ‘I don’t have time for sarcasm, Flynn. Tell me why you’re here, let’s deal with it, whatever it is—and then I’ll ask you to leave.’

A dark eyebrow lifted. ‘Was I being sarcastic?’

‘What do you call it?’

‘I thought I was being complimentary. An invitation to one of your parties used to be quite an honour.’

A shadow seemed to pass briefly before Kaitlin’s eyes. ‘Is that what it was, Flynn?’ Tension in her tone. ‘Don’t bother answering, because I don’t want to hear it: not when what you call a compliment is really an insult.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Is that the way you feel about it? Had any parties lately?’

‘No,’ she said shortly.

‘Really? You haven’t told me about the men who visit you here.’

‘There aren’t any men.’

‘I find that very hard to believe.’

‘Believe whatever you like, Flynn.’ Kaitlin pushed a hand through her hair, the gesture heavy with weariness. ‘The truth is, I don’t have time in my life for men. Just as I don’t have time for wisecracks and insults and sarcasm.’

Flynn reached out and touched her left cheek, dabbing at it with his forefinger. As Kaitlin stepped abruptly back wards, he said mildly, ‘Just removing some paint.’

‘I’ll wash it off at the house.’

He eyed her quizzically. ‘When did you become so prickly, Kaitlin?’

‘When did you become so overbearing and arrogant?’ she countered.

For a long moment Flynn was silent, struck by the strain he saw in the delicate-featured face. Kaitlin looked ready to drop with fatigue, he thought.

Softly, he said, ‘This kind of talk isn’t really getting us anywhere, is it?’

‘No... Which is why I wish you’d leave.’

‘Not just yet,’ he said evenly. ‘For one thing, I want to know why you’re out here slaving in this devilish heat.’

‘Slaving? I’m just painting a fence, Flynn.’

‘In this scorcher? You’ll be telling me next that you enjoy working so hard when you could be somewhere cooler.’

Her lips quivered slightly. ‘I do like painting.’

‘You could be paying a man to do it for you.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Flynn, I can’t believe you’d say anything so silly this close to the end of the twentieth century! Don’t you know yet that a woman can do anything she puts her mind to?’

‘Sure I do—but at risk of being labelled a chauvinist, I don’t believe you took on this task just for the fun of it. So maybe you’d like to tell me why you’re doing it?’

‘Flynn—’

‘And why you’re working alone at it.’

Kaitlin took a shuddering breath. Hearing it, Flynn was overcome by a desire—an utterly insane desire—to rescue her from her drudgery, to protect her.

Protect her, indeed! Since when had spoiled Kaitlin Mullins—doted on by her parents, given everything she ever wanted—needed protection?

‘Last time I was here, you told me you were shorthanded. Now I want to know whether you’re trying to run the ranch on your own. The truth, Kaitlin.’

The look she threw him was part withering outrage, part assumed wide-eyed innocence. ‘On my own? Of course not! How could I possibly cope?’

‘You couldn’t,’ Flynn acknowledged abruptly.

‘There’s your answer then.’

‘No, because whatever you say, there don’t seem to be many cowboys on this ranch.’

‘Didn’t we talk about that last time? There are cowboys—not many, but enough. If you haven’t seen them ‘it’s because they’re out on the range, roping and branding. So you see, Flynn, your concerns are unwarranted.’

Kaitlin accompanied the words with a grin which, if she hadn’t looked quite so tired, might have succeeded in being provocative. As it was, it made her look more vulnerable than ever.

Flynn swallowed down hard over the unwelcome and unexpected lump in his throat. ‘All the same,’ he said after a moment, ‘I still wonder how you’re managing.’

‘Isn’t it enough that I’m doing it?’

‘How, Kaitlin?’

‘I don’t owe you any answers, Flynn.’