“I Am Choosing This Of My Free Will, Father,”

Caitlyn told the priest.

“As am I,” Grant said so convincingly that Caitlyn found herself wishing he really meant it. That her husband truly wanted her to be his wife in every respect, and not just the “bonus” her father had promised his foreman.

Her husband!

As much as she would have liked to indulge such fantasies, Caitlyn refused to delude herself. Love played no part in this travesty of a vow. Why, her father might just as well have sold her off to the highest bidder!

Father O’Reilly beamed at Grant. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Grant placed a light kiss upon her lips. Considering the circumstances, his tenderness was so unexpected, it made her knees buckle. Her heart gave a hopeful leap. Perhaps this marriage would continue to surprise her happily….

Dear Reader,

Please join us in celebrating Silhouette’s 20th anniversary in 2000! We promise to deliver—all year—passionate, powerful, provocative love stories from your favorite Desire authors!

This January, look for bestselling author Leanne Banks’s first MAN OF THE MONTH with Her Forever Man. Watch sparks fly when irresistibly rugged ranch owner Brock Logan comes face-to-face with his new partner, the fiery Felicity Chambeau, in the first book of Leanne’s brand-new miniseries LONE STAR FAMILIES: THE LOGANS.

Desire is pleased to continue the Silhouette cross-line continuity ROYALLY WED with The Pregnant Princess by favorite author Anne Marie Winston. After a night of torrid passion with a stranger, a beautiful princess ends up pregnant…and seeks out the father of her child.

Elizabeth Bevarly returns to Desire with her immensely popular miniseries FROM HERE TO MATERNITY with Dr. Mommy, about a couple reunited by a baby left on a doorstep. Hard Lovin’ Man, another of Peggy Moreland’s TEXAS BRIDES, captures the intensity of falling in love when a cowgirl gives her heart to a sweet-talkin’, hard-lovin’ hunk. Cathleen Galitz delivers a compelling marriage-of-convenience tale in The Cowboy Takes a Bride, in the series THE BRIDAL BID. And Sheri WhiteFeather offers another provocative Native American hero in Skyler Hawk: Lone Brave.

Help us celebrate 20 years of great romantic fiction from Silhouette by indulging yourself with all six delectably sensual Desire titles each and every month during this special year!

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

The Cowboy Takes a Bride
Cathleen Galitz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my loving father, Cecil Connors,

whose livelihood depended on the oil field for

many years. Thank you for acting as my trusted

adviser on this book—and in my life.

CATHLEEN GALITZ,

a Wyoming native, teaches English to seventh to twelfth graders in a rural school that houses kindergartners and seniors in the same building. She lives in a small Wyoming town with her husband and two children. When she’s not busy writing, teaching or working with her Cub Scout den, she can most often be found hiking or snowmobiling in the Wind River Mountains.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

One

“Now what?” Grant asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

Behind him, Copper Mountain rose from the plains like a great dark whale breaching against a cerulean sky. Before him, the sage-covered desert stretched into the distance where a trail of dust heralded the arrival of an unannounced visitor to the oil rig. It was not a welcome sight.

The day was ungodly hot, he was already tired and out of sorts, and the last thing he needed right about now was another interruption. Earlier in the day he’d discovered the drilling line was as frayed and worn as the shoestring on which they were operating, and he’d had to re-spool a new one. On an already tight schedule, the process cost time he could ill afford. To top it all off, an hour ago the driller had stumbled out of the bunkhouse reeking of alcohol. The owner offered to take over the key position himself, but at fifty-eight Paddy Flynn was no longer a young man, and both the rigors of the oil field and the unreasonable demands he’d made upon his body left him in no shape to perform such strenuous duties.

Unwilling to put his employees’ lives and limbs in the irresponsible hands of a drunken driller, Grant had no other choice but to fire the man on the spot and assume the job himself. A troubleshooter, he rotated between all of L.L. Drilling’s operations. Mentally Grant corrected himself. What was left of L.L. Drilling’s operations.

Everyone knew that this rig was the company’s last hope for staying solvent. To put it in Paddy’s own words, if they didn’t hit a deep pocket soon, they’d all be plumb bust.

The 1990s hadn’t been kind to the oil industry. Just to keep afloat, they’d been forced to sell off all but two of their big rigs and had kept only a handful of work-overs for service jobs. With each sale, Grant saw his dream of someday buying a ranch slipping away. He already had the place picked out. It was a prime piece of unspoiled Wyoming wilderness, tucked away on the side of a mountain. If he closed his eyes he could almost see it, could almost hear the trill of the river that threaded its way snakelike through a meadow big enough to hold and capture a man’s heart.

At the sound of the vehicle coming to a stop below, Grant forced his eyes open. Trouble never bothered sneaking up on him. He groaned at the sight of the passenger who climbed out from behind the steering wheel in the dirt parking lot below. The absolute last thing he needed right about now was for some hot little number in tight jeans and a T-shirt to step out of her brand-new four-wheel drive and distract an already unruly crew. From their reaction to the news that good old Harry had just been run off, Grant knew they were disappointed to hear that their drinking buddy had just been replaced by the company hard-ass. Even under the best of circumstances it was bound to take a couple of shifts with no complications just to get his men in synch.

“Hey babe—y!” someone hollered down as the woman opened the door and took her first step into the blinding sunlight.

The vehicle shook slightly as she slammed the door shut behind her. A fine layer of dust sifted to the ground like a sprinkling of brown sugar. The hint of shiny, fire-engine red paint peeking out from beneath the remaining layers of grime indicated to Grant that the woman must be a greenhorn. It was unlikely a Wyoming native would take a new vehicle on the kind of back roads that led to this rig. The driver had to either be lost, crazy, or so filthy rich that she didn’t have to worry about scraping together money for costly repairs. None of the possibilities endeared her any to Grant.

Even from a distance he could see that she was striking. The sun glinted off a mass of glossy, dark mahogany hair that hung below her shoulders. Always a sucker for a pretty brunette, Grant felt something inside him stir at the sight of her squinting up in the general vicinity from which a low wolfish whistle emanated.

Jamming his hard hat back on his head, he swore softly. Though he didn’t condone such chauvinistic behavior, he hoped the men’s catcalls might just scare the lost little lamb off before she stepped into the midst of this pack of wolves. What with the overtime they’d been putting in, most of the crew hadn’t even seen a woman for better than a month, let alone one who looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of some slick movie magazine. Maybe that actually was where he’d seen her before. For some reason she looked familiar.

Grant knew that coming between a crew of horny men and the sexiest thing they were likely to see in another month of long Sundays wasn’t going to improve his popularity any. It was just lucky for her that popularity wasn’t a prerequisite for being a decent man.

Over the years Grant had earned more than his fair share of battle scars protecting a lady’s honor. To be honest some were no more than pathetic barflies, but at least he usually had the privilege of getting to know them prior to scuffling over their questionable virtue.

Unfortunately rather than doing the smart thing and hightailing it back to the safety of her vehicle, the woman started toward the stairs leading to the drilling floor with all the self-assurance of some royal personage whose arrival is expected. Her walk was as classy as the way she tipped her chin elegantly up in the air and ignored the men’s whistles and jibes. Grant figured she was either very brave or very stupid.

He was betting on the latter.

Dropping what he was doing, he started toward the stairs with every intention of heading her off.

“Show’s over,” he called out to the men who had stopped laboring to ogle their visitor. “Get back to work!”

Caitlin’s daddy always said they grew ’em big in Wyoming. Big and hearty. If the man blocking her way was typical, she’d have to get used to craning her neck just to look them in the eye. This particular one appeared none too friendly as he met her halfway up the stairs and positioned himself directly in her way. Clearly there was no going around this giant.

“You lost?”

It sounded more like a statement of fact than a question.

“Not at all. I know exactly where I am.”

It was disturbing to hear the soft Southern drawl which attached itself to her words. Her professors had worked hard to school the “hick” out of her, but that accent still crept into her voice whenever Caitlin was feeling particularly nervous. She made a conscious effort to eradicate it as she offered the man further explanation.

“I’m the new geologist.”

How wonderful it felt to say the words aloud since they not only validated her presence here but also affirmed the dream she had set her heart upon since childhood. Everyone from her mother to her high school advisor had discouraged her from pursuing such a “manly” degree. Laura Leigh had wanted her daughter to attend the same small, private institution from which she had been graduated. Caitlin had flatly refused. A college founded on the principle that young ladies needed to be culturally “finished” was definitely not for her. Only recently had her mother’s alma mater allowed men on campus for anything more than uneventful mixers. Not that dating had been uppermost in Caitlin’s mind. Unlike so many of the girls she had grown up around, the degree she was looking for was not her MRS.

“I said I’m the new geologist,” she repeated, hoping it would lessen the tension that settled into the pit of her stomach like a bad meal.

Nothing in her college classes had prepared her for feeling so hopelessly out of place. So utterly vulnerable.

A smile played around the edges of the man’s mouth as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. Caitlin could almost hear the soft rasping sound the whiskers of his five o’clock shadow made against his fingertips. A telltale tremor rippled through her body. Though she didn’t expect all rig workers to be as clean-shaven as the preppy college boys she had left behind, neither was she prepared to be screened on-site by a man who looked like he would be just as at home piloting a Viking ship as driving heavy equipment. What a Hollywood producer could do with a hunk like that!

The subordinate position she held on the steps placed Caitlin at a decided disadvantage. She hoped he would attribute the flush of color in her cheeks to the summer heat—not to her discomfort at being eye level with the snap of his jeans. Her old roommate took perverse pleasure in kidding her about her sexual inexperience. Roxy said those furious blushes may as well have been a scarlet sign marking Caitlin as the oldest collegiate virgin in America.

Forcing her eyes away from the worn fly on the man’s stonewashed jeans, she scanned the tight white T-shirt that emphasized both the broad plane of his chest and the breadth of his muscled forearms. Sweat stains left no doubt that these muscles had been earned the old-fashioned way, not in some posh gym with tanning beds and a personal trainer.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to insert a note of authority into her voice. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get to work.”

The man refused to budge. Leaning insolently against the metal railing, he leveled a pair of electric blue eyes at her and asked, “And just who exactly hired you, Miss Scarlett?”

The smile that curled his lips made Caitlin as defensive as the derisive Southern moniker he’d tossed at her. Just because she wasn’t a local didn’t automatically mean she was stupid, any more than being carded at bars by doormen who claimed she looked younger than her age didn’t mean she hadn’t earned the college degree that gave her every right to be here. After enduring four years in traditionally male-dominated classes and having to fight for every ounce of respect owed her, Caitlin wasn’t easily intimidated.

“I was hired by the owner, Rhett, and I’m certainly not going to show you my diploma to get by,” she snapped impatiently.

Caitlin’s ire only deepened the dimples on either side of the man’s arrogant smile. Hoisting a huge steel-toed boot on the top of the railing, the Viking positioned his leg across the stairs like a gate. Had he actually snorted in mirth at her reference to her college diploma? She wasn’t sure which bothered her more—the sense of danger that the leering men had instilled in her with their sexist hootings or the feeling that this virile bouncer was laughing at her.

There was no hint of patience in his voice when he spoke again. “Sorry, lady. Whoever led you to believe that you had a job here has played a real mean practical joke on you. We’re not hiring at the moment so the best advice I can offer you, besides dropping the snotty college attitude, is to turn that fancy rig of yours around and head back the same way you came. You’ll find a public phone and directions at Lysite. You can’t miss it. It’s the nearest town in any direction.”

Town? Surely he wasn’t referring to that wide spot in the road she’d passed where a handful of buildings, most notably a couple of bars, sprouted up like loosely rooted tumbleweeds. Why, with a huff and a puff a good wind could blow the place away.

Setting her jaw in determination, Caitlin forced the words through clenched teeth. “If you don’t move out of the way, mister, I’ll be forced to go over your head. I’d hate to have you fired,” she lied. In fact nothing would give her more pleasure than to terminate this sexist clod’s position.

At that, the man threw his head back and howled with laughter. “If only you could, honey, you’d probably be doing me the biggest favor of my life. But since that’s not the case, I’m going to do you a favor. I’ll personally escort you back to your Jeep and point you in the opposite direction of trouble. Someday maybe you’ll appreciate the fact that somebody was concerned enough to send you on your way with your virtue intact.”

It was Caitlin’s turn to snort. Drawing herself up to her full five foot six, she braced her shoulders as if preparing to run the man over like a tackling dummy. Good breeding was all that kept her from uttering the oath bubbling on the tip of her tongue.

“With a head as thick as yours,” she said, spitting her words out like slick watermelon seeds, “that hard hat you’re wearing must be strictly for decoration.”

All pretense of gallantry vanished from the man’s eyes with the swiftness of a summer storm. Jerking himself into a rigid upright position, he swept the hat in question from his head and glared at her. The fact that his thick dark hair was tousled and wet with sweat made him look no less sexy, no less imposing than a bodyguard. He typified the expression “glowering good looks.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’re a geologist or the Pope’s own emissary, a drilling rig is no place for a lady—even if I do use the term loosely,” he barked, crowding down onto the step beside her.

Caitlin had to turn sideways to avoid backing down. The step was so narrow that she was sure the man could feel her heart thumping wildly inside of her chest as it brushed against his. At the contact, she felt a jolt of pure sexual energy race though her, short-circuiting the electrodes that connected her brain to her body. Frozen in place, she gaped at him as if seeing Frankenstein’s monster come to life.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” he said. “If you don’t turn around right now and clear out on your own, I’ll be forced to bodily remove you from the premises.”

It took every bit of Caitlin’s self-restraint to keep from slapping the smirk right off that handsome face. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he meant what he said. An image of herself slung over this barbarian’s shoulder like so much chattel to the crew’s gleeful delight made her shudder. She had worked too hard and come too far to be dismissed in such a comic, brutal manner.

This wasn’t at all how she had envisioned her first day on the job.

One of the men gathered about the drilling floor hollered out, “Betcha Harry wouldn’t be so quick to run off such a fine-looking geologist.”

“Don’t mind him, sweetheart. Come on up,” entreated another. “You can check out my rocks anytime!”

Grant whipped his head around like a rattlesnake ready to strike. Just what he didn’t need—an audience to observe some saucy college girl bent on undermining his authority. The fact that the crew was enjoying the show only served to strengthen his resolve to get her out of here before all hell broke loose. That and the fact that she was trying to blink back the moisture in her eyes.

Damn it all to hell! The one thing in the world Grant couldn’t handle was a woman’s tears. A moment ago he was contemplating whether to hoist her over his shoulder. Now suddenly he found himself wanting to enfold the poor little thing in his arms and protect her from the crudity of men who saw but one thing in a woman. Looking at the youthful hope, the unquenchable resolve burning in this girl’s eyes, he realized such chivalry would be as useless as trying to stop a moth from immolating itself on a bare lightbulb.

“I thought I told you to get back to work!” Grant called out over his shoulder.

If he were ever able to pinpoint who’d uttered that crude piece of innuendo that had this pretty little thing blushing six unbecoming shades of red, he intended to personally throttle him.

Pace yourself, he reminded himself. After all, he could only be expected to deal with one emergency at a time.

“Last chance, lady,” Grant growled, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You can do this with or without dignity, but one thing’s for certain—you’re not staying here. It’s not safe or smart.”

Caitlin flinched as if she had been branded by his touch. Ignited by womanly indignation, fire snapped in eyes the color of precious emeralds.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” She punctuated the question by thumping a finger against the middle of his chest.

Dark clouds turned his blue eyes as gray as gunmetal. Caitlin suspected that had she been a man, he would have snapped her index finger off at the joint.

“Do you?” he snarled in reply.

“What’s all the trouble about up there?” bellowed a familiar voice.

Grant looked down to see Paddy stumbling out of the trailer below. Looking as grumpy as a grizzly awakened from a sound sleep, the older man provided a welcome diversion from the trouble at hand.

His voice heavy with irony, Grant hollered to his partner over the side of the rig. “You’re just in time. Maybe you can use some of that famous Irish charm to explain to this doll that an oil rig is no place for a woman.”

Much to Grant’s surprise, Paddy’s mere presence was able to accomplish what all of his stern directives had not. It got the woman moving. In fact she took off down the stairs two at a time, her speed giving her the uncanny appearance of actually flying.

Her voice rose over the hum of the machinery as she cried out in unrestrained joy, “Daddy!”

Two

A moment later Grant watched dumbfounded as the woman who claimed to be their new geologist launched herself into Paddy’s outstretched arms. This time he didn’t bother swearing under his breath. His eloquence colored the air around him blue.

No wonder she had looked so familiar. Paddy had been sticking cherished photographs of his darling baby girl under Grant’s nose for the better part of a decade. Long ago he had tired of hearing how wonderful the “little princess” was. Paddy’s pride and joy, Caitlin occupied much of her daddy’s thoughts. When Paddy had a couple of beers in him, she dominated most of the conversation as well.

Grant didn’t have to personally know Caitlin Flynn to dislike her. To hear Paddy talk, she was the toast of Texas, a regular debutante just like her mother—that coldhearted witch who had left him because he lacked “culture” and had spine enough to resist her efforts to turn him into something he could never be. Of course, Grant didn’t claim to know the whole story. Even after ten years, Paddy’s wounds were still so raw he seldom spoke of the woman who had broken his heart. The woman after whom he had named his company. Most people were under the impression that L.L. Drilling stood for Lucky Lady, but once over a six-pack of beer Paddy had shared with Grant the little-known fact that it was actually Laura Leigh who had inspired the name.

The only thing women had ever inspired in Grant’s life was grief.

Perhaps that was why it was so hard for him to understand Paddy’s preoccupation with turning out a daughter in the exact same mold as her mother. It was his understanding that nothing Paddy did was ever good enough for the fragile, city-bred bride who found the open spaces of Wyoming as terrifying as marriage to a man with oil under his fingernails. Grant never put much stock into that old axiom about opposites attracting. Personally he wasn’t sold on the tired, overrated institution of marriage, but as far as he was concerned, the more similar one’s background and interests, the better the chance a relationship had of surviving.

There was no denying that he had always been fascinated by those photos of Paddy’s dark-haired, green-eyed angel, but the truth of the matter was, even in photos, Caitlin struck him as being a snob. Maybe it was all those little white matching gloves and anklets in her childhood pictures or perhaps the one of her sitting sidesaddle in an English riding competition in her adolescence that gave him the impression early on that this girl was too darned smug for her own good.

It galled him to think of all the privileges she took for granted.

For what Paddy had spent on his daughter’s Ivy League college degree Grant could have easily paid his way to a state university many times over. Fate hadn’t been so kind to him as it had been to fresh-faced Little Miss Texas. His chances of ever going to college had gone up in smoke with the explosion that had killed his father. When all was said and done, Grant supposed that he was probably a better man for not having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Still, it was hard sometimes not to be bitter, but he reminded himself again how useless it was belaboring the past.

As far as he could tell psychiatrists were the only ones to benefit from such counterproductive thinking, and they had to be paid exorbitant fees to listen to people whine about things that couldn’t be changed. What with his father’s premature death, his mother’s suicide, and his Aunt Edna’s treachery, Grant was sure the modern school of psychology would have a field day with him. He figured he’d warrant an entire chapter entitled, “Real Men with Honorary Degrees from the School of Hard Knocks.” He wanted no more part of such psychological pity patter than he did the kind of superficial chatter he supposed Caitlin had perfected at sorority parties.

Despite the blood tie connecting Paddy to his daughter, Grant couldn’t bring himself to believe his friend would circumvent his authority by hiring Caitlin without so much as asking him first. Even as softhearted as he was, surely Paddy had sense enough to know that a drilling rig was no place for the daughter he was certain was as pure as virgin falling snow. A likely story, in Grant’s opinion, only if she went to college at a convent. The probability of any woman who looked like that remaining chaste into her twenties was even slimmer than his chance of hitting that deep pocket of oil and salvaging this godforsaken company any time soon.

Grant wiped the back of his neck with a red bandanna and considered the scene playing on the ground below him. It appeared his hellish day was about to get even hotter. From Caitlin’s animated gesticulations, he imagined she was at this very moment describing to her father just how “beastly” his hired hand had treated her. A smile played upon Grant’s lips. He wondered how she would react to the news that he was more than just some menial hireling. If it weren’t for the fact that her certain histrionics might well drive a wedge between him and the man he had come to think of as a father, Grant would have looked forward to the performance. The Blue Blood and the Redneck.

No doubt it had a certain Hollywood ring to it.

Stuffing his bandanna back into his hip pocket, he decided it was pointless postponing the inevitable. As hesitant as he was about breaking up this touching family reunion, it was time to officially make the formal acquaintance of Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Petulance.

Caitlin was so moved by the sight of her father that she momentarily forgot all about those odious men and their Viking leader, Redneck the Terrible. Safe in her daddy’s arms, her only thought was of how glad she was to be with him again. For so many years, distance and her mother’s judgment had kept them apart. Now at last a college graduate, Caitlin was free to do with her life as she wished—and what she wanted more than anything else in the world was to make up for lost time with the father she adored.

Oh, she had taken Psych 101 and knew that most girls idolized their daddies. She also knew that eventually the harsh light of reality shattered their childish beliefs that their fathers were invincible. But what she could never get her professor to understand was that her father really was that which John Wayne personified in all those wonderful old movies: the most honorable, kindhearted, heroic man who ever lived.

Tears filled her eyes as she pressed her ear against his heart and took comfort in its steady beat. She felt all of ten years old again in her father’s arms. Safe, secure, and happy. Caitlin was determined not to let anything pull her from the refuge of those arms ever again.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this touching moment, we really do have work to do around here.”

Grant’s voice sounded like the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he approached. He moved slowly, hoping to give them enough time to disengage from the tearful embrace that twisted his guts into a tight, tangled knot.

God above, what he would give to hug his own father one more time!

Taking the pained look on his face for disapproval, Caitlin gave him a disdainful once-over. Her voice was laced with righteous indignation when she turned back to her father. “Daddy, I’d appreciate it if you would tell this, this…two-bit tool pusher just who is in charge around here.”

The self-satisfied smirk she tossed Grant’s direction indicated a little groveling to keep his job was in order.

“Yeah, Daddy,” Grant mimicked, disregarding her haughtiness with a sarcastic grin that deepened the dimple in his chin. Crossing his muscled arms across his chest, he continued as if she weren’t there at all. “Since your daughter isn’t inclined to listen to me, would you mind telling her exactly who is responsible for the hiring and firing of personnel in this company?”

Paddy was grinning as he shook his head. “If you two kids would stop fighting long enough, I’d like to introduce you to one another. Maybe then we can go about getting things squared up to everybody’s satisfaction.”

Though that seemed highly unlikely, both Caitlin and Grant felt duly chastised by Paddy’s use of the word kids. Instead of grown-up men and women, independent and capable in their own right, they may as well have been errant siblings squabbling in the back of the family vehicle on one of those interminable vacations that tests a parent’s sanity.

Eager to be the first to appear reasonable and adult, Caitlin patted her father’s arm soothingly. “You’re right, of course. And if somebody would just calm down for a minute, I’m sure you can straighten him out in no time flat.”

Ignoring Grant’s pointed glare, Caitlin focused her attention upon her father’s pallor. He looked older than she remembered. It was no secret that Paddy scorned diets devoid of meat and potatoes, and according to him, exercise was just for people who didn’t have real jobs that demanded physical exertion. Winding her arm through his, Caitlin scrutinized his features more closely. The broken blood vessels in his nose and the sweat on his brow made her nervous. Excessive heat and stress was a bad combination for a man of his age and temperament.

“Are you trying to give my father a heart attack with all your theatrics?” she hissed at Grant.

“Me?” he gasped in disbelief. “You come flouncing onto this rig like the Queen of the Nile, prancing around in front of the crew in those tight jeans acting like you own the place, and I’m the one who’s upset your father?”

Caitlin’s mouth flew open. “Flounced!” she repeated, taking obvious exception to his choice of words. “Pranced!”

Grant cupped a hand to his ear. “Do I hear an echo?”

“Now, now, children…” Paddy’s sigh bespoke a weariness that was bone deep. “It wouldn’t do to have us airing out our family laundry in front of the crew, now would it? I suggest we take our differences inside the trailer away from prying eyes, and sift this all out over a nice, cold beer.”

Caitlin pressed her lips together in a disapproving line. “You know what the doctor said about your triglycerides.”

“You’re not about to start that nonsense again, are you?” Paddy asked. He glanced toward Grant and explained in a note of exasperation. “She likes to nag me about my diet. Says my cholesterol, triglycerides, and conglomerates are all too high.”

The misapplication of his words brought a smile to Caitlin’s face. Despite his grumbling, she knew that her father loved the way she fussed over him.

“You know it’s for your own good,” she persisted.

“Piss-h, posh.” Paddy quickly amended the intended oath and shot Grant a warning glance. Clearly he didn’t want his lily-white princess discovering her daddy had the vernacular of a seasoned drill sergeant.

Grant rolled his eyes. As far as he could tell, this little gal’s power was nothing short of amazing. In less than fifteen minutes, she had his crew acting like wild, hormone-imbalanced adolescents and Paddy like a sainted father straight off some serial from the early days of television. It was sickening to watch and reason enough to reinforce Grant’s resolve to harden his heart against all women. Those like Paddy’s Laura Leigh and his own mother only desert you when times get tough. Those like Aunt Edna use trickery and guile to get what they want. Suspecting that Caitlin straddled both categories, Grant wanted nothing more from her than distance.

He certainly did not want to be trapped in close quarters with her. Those cat-green eyes studying him as if he were her next meal made him way too nervous. Grant suspected that if she were to ever train those phenomenal eyes on him the way she did her father, as if he were the best thing God ever created, he would crumble into pieces like the proverbial Gingerbread Man. And like that desperate little cookie in his favorite children’s story, Grant was determined to run, run as fast he could from this cunning little fox.

“Your daughter’s not the only one worried about your health,” he said slowly as if measuring his words into a beaker. “I don’t think you need a beer either, and considering the fact that Harry just got canned for drinking on the job, I can hardly show up on the drilling floor with beer on my breath.”

Much to Grant’s surprise, Paddy conceded with an affable nod of his head.

“Good point. You and Caitlin can have sodas instead.” Without waiting to hear any argument, he put an arm affectionately around his daughter’s shoulders and directed her toward the trailer. To the delight of the crew, he called out over his shoulder, “Take a break, boys!”

Trailing miserably behind them, Grant couldn’t help recalling that old adage about blood being thicker than water. It fit like a fist in his throat.

He tried not to focus on the tight fit of those designer jeans across her trim backside as she sashayed through the sagebrush in front of him. Grant knew he shouldn’t resent Paddy focusing all his attention on the daughter he’d seen so infrequently over the years, but knowing and feeling were two completely different things. Jealousy reared its ugly head. With the return of the prodigal child, Grant expected Paddy to ask him to kill the fatted calf any minute now.

“Don’t worry,” he heard Caitlin reassure Paddy. “Before you know it, my cooking will replace that petroleum in your veins with healthy red and white blood cells.”

“More’n likely you mean blue blood,” Grant mumbled stepping around them to open the door. Despite his personal feelings toward this hellcat, he was bound to give courtesy its due.

“Such a gentleman,” Caitlin quipped with a deprecating little moue.

Certain that one good kiss would be all it would take to wipe that smirk off those pouty lips, Grant imagined bending her swanlike neck back, pressing his lips against hers, and taming that fiery temper with a single mind-numbing kiss. A mere taste of his potency was sure to leave this pretty little princess limp and willing in his arms. After hanging around with college boys, Grant very much doubted whether Caitlin could handle a real man.

As if trying to shut out such disturbing thoughts, Grant slammed the door behind him. He blamed lack of sleep for the wayward turn his thoughts had taken. Lack of sleep and a decided lack of female companionship. The next time he got to town, Grant vowed to remedy that situation. Even if he liked Caitlin Flynn, which he decidedly did not, he valued his relationship with Paddy far too much to screw things up by even thinking of becoming involved with his precious daughter. Not that Caitlin would risk a nosebleed to look down from her pedestal upon mere oil field trash such as himself.

Stepping in from the intense sunlight outside, Caitlin needed a moment to adjust to the relative dimness of the trailer. Dust motes danced before her eyes. She was surprised to see that the trailer was relatively tidy, though hardly luxurious. Dishes were washed and drying in the wire rack over the sink, clothes were picked up, magazines were stacked neatly beside a sturdy couch of blotchy tweed blends, and an afghan she had lovingly made for her father for Christmas several years ago was draped neatly over the back of a black vinyl recliner. Considering the gritty conditions of the location, Caitlin was impressed. Her father had never struck her as being a particularly fastidious housekeeper.

“Have a seat, darlin’,” Paddy said, pointing to a small kitchenette table and two chairs.

Caitlin obliged, and Grant took an extra folding chair from the closet and set it up directly across the table from her. They exchanged cold glances while Paddy drew an old metal tray of ice cubes from the refrigerator and unceremoniously cracked it on the counter. A minute later he set two glasses of pop and a bottle of ice-cold beer on a table so flimsy that it wobbled beneath the elbows he propped there an instant later.

“There now,” he exclaimed, joining them. “Isn’t this cozy?”

Too cozy, Caitlin thought, drawing herself up primly in her chair so that her knees wouldn’t brush against Grant’s. Those long legs of his could no more be contained beneath the tiny circumference of that table than his ego could be contained within the band of the hard hat he placed between them like some symbolic barrier.

Paddy raised his beer in a salute and took a deep, satisfying draught.

“What’dya say we start over? Caitlin, I’d like you to meet Grant Davis.”

Davis. Davis. Davis… The name sounded oddly familiar. Caitlin searched her memory but couldn’t place it. She seriously doubted whether he was related to any of the San Antonio Davises that her mother set such store by.

“And, Grant, this is my daughter, Caitlin.”

When this introduction was met with nothing but loud, hostile silence, Paddy’s good humor exploded. “Just what exactly is the problem here? I can’t imagine why a friendly visit from my favorite daughter would inspire such animosity in you, Grant, or how—”

Grant turned to Caitlin in disbelief. “Then this is just a social visit? You led me to believe that… Well, in that case, I’m sorry that I acted like such a—”

Interrupting his apology with an angry wave of her hand, Caitlin focused her response upon her father. “No, it isn’t just a visit. I’m here to go to work for you, Dad. I hope you didn’t spend a fortune to send me off to college just to pat me on the head and send me off like some cute little puppy. You didn’t, did you?”

“Of course not,” Paddy sputtered. “It’s just that I don’t think we’re looking for a geologist, honey.”

“We’re not,” Grant confirmed tersely.

“Yes, you are,” Caitlin countered. Eyeing her father’s beer disapprovingly, she crossed her fingers behind her back and blurted out a plausible, abbreviated version of the truth. “I ran into your old one down the road a ways. He said to tell you that his services had suddenly become indispensable to another company that was paying better. I took the liberty of telling him that you already had a replacement—me!”

“What?” bellowed Grant, jumping to his feet.

He had been wondering where Doug was. The fellow prided himself on his punctuality, if not actual ability. Finding it hard to believe that a rival company had poached him, Grant’s eyes narrowed. There really was no polite way of suggesting that Paddy’s daughter was a liar.

Shaking his head solemnly, Paddy scolded, “You really shouldn’t have done that, honey.”

“Yes, I should’ve.” Caitlin placed her elbows on the table, cupped her chin in her hands, and leaned forward intently. She looked her father square in the eye. “Look, there’s no reason for you to pay somebody to do what I’m willing to do for free. It’s the least I can do for all you’ve done for me. Besides, I want to. Badly. Not to mention that I have a vested interest in our business myself. And it is the perfect opportunity for us to spend some time together.”

“Caitlin, darlin’,” Paddy replied with a note of pleading in his voice. “A rig’s no place for a beautiful girl such as yourself. I wanted you to go to college so you’d never have to do hard physical labor like me. Like your grandmother, God rest her soul, a poor charwoman working her fingers to the bone, saving all her hard-earned pennies to send her sons to America for a better life. That’s what I sent you to college for, a better life.”

Taking her manicured hands into his own, he cradled them gently. “Hands such as these are meant for a laboratory, for diamond rings, for holding my grandbabies some day. Not for grubbing in the dirt with a bunch of lewd men out in the middle of nowhere.”

The tenderness her father’s words inspired disappeared at the implication that she couldn’t take care of herself. It seemed to Caitlin that she had spent her entire life trying to convince others just how capable she was. Foolishly she had hoped a degree would eliminate the need for this very conversation. However, she understood that lashing out at her father in feminist rage would get her nowhere fast. Instead she took an altogether different route to getting her way.

“I appreciate your concern, but what I really need is a job, not kid-glove protection. The market isn’t exactly booming for inexperienced college graduates. What with downsizing, companies are hiring experienced geologists for about the same pay as entry-level workers. If I ever hope to get a better job than flipping burgers at some fast-food chain, I’ll have to get some experience first. The way I figure it, the best way for me to get experience is to work with the best. And that’s why I came to you.”

Grant saw something soften in Paddy’s eyes. He had to hand it to her. Caitlin had a real knack for winding her old man as tightly around her little finger as the chain around the rig’s rotary table.

Paddy ran his hand through his still thick shock of graying hair. “Well, since you put it that way…”

“Don’t forget about the financial benefit to the company. They don’t come any cheaper than me.” The smile Caitlin flashed her father was warm enough to completely melt the last of the ice in Grant’s soda. He knew he had to intervene fast.

“And don’t you forget,” he interrupted in a burst of disgust, “that I’m the one who does the hiring around here. And at the present time I’m not inclined to hire a slip of a girl for any position.”

“Now, now,” Paddy said, taking another draught of his beer. “Let’s not be so hasty, son.”

Son!

The word ricocheted through Caitlin’s brain like a sniper’s bullet. How dare her father use that word with this arrogant jerk! Deep down she suspected that Paddy secretly had always wanted a son. A son to work with side by side. A son to turn the business over to when it became too much for him. A son he could be proud of. All her life Caitlin had tried to make up for her sex by being the best she could at everything she undertook. She couldn’t help wondering whether Paddy would have been so willing to grant full custody to her mother had she been a son instead of a daughter. “How dare you try to tell my father how to run his business?” she snapped at Grant. “If I were him, I’d run you off on the spot for such impudence.”

Still standing, Grant leaned his considerable height over her and answered in a laconic tone, “I dare because I’m not just some lackey you can push around at will. Like it or not, I’m your daddy’s right-hand man, and I have as much at stake here as he does.”

Three

Determined to look Grant eye to eye when she confronted him, Caitlin leapt to her feet. Her chair clattered to the floor behind her.

“Is right-hand man your official title, or is that just a fancy way of saying you’ve wormed your way into a heart too kind for its own good?” She attempted to lessen the difference in their heights by standing on tiptoe and anchoring her hands to her hips for ballast. “Do you expect me to believe that my father simply turned the running of his business over to you because you graciously volunteered to be the son he never had? Let me assure you, mister. I’m not about to stand by and watch you destroy what it’s taken my father an entire lifetime to build.”

“Caitlin, stop it!” Paddy’s voice cut through the air like the crack of a bullwhip. “Stop it right now before you make a bigger fool out of yourself than you already have.”

Tears stung her eyes. Caitlin could count on one hand the times that her father had raised his voice to her. To be thus admonished in front of this outsider was almost more than she could bear.

Accusation laced her voice as she demanded an answer. “How can you just sit there and let your employee treat me with such contempt? The next thing I know he’ll be telling me that you want to make him a full-fledged partner.”

Paddy flinched from the betrayal glistening in his daughter’s eyes.

Grant railed against it.

Was it so unimaginable that he could have procured his boss’s high regard by any but underhanded means? Paddy had promised the entire crew a bonus if they could make this hole pay out before the deadline. He had, in fact, intimated that there would be an extra special something awaiting the man who worked the hardest to prove himself as he went through the ranks. Though no one knew exactly what the prize was, Grant hoped it involved enough money to secure that ranch that he’d been dreaming of for so very long.

Caitlin’s overly emotional reaction to the idea that her father might share the burdens of the business by offering his second in command a chance at a partnership only served to underscore Grant’s opinion of women. Any man unfortunate enough to ever forget that the “fairer” sex was only out for personal gain was destined to be very sorry indeed. All that hype about Caitlin’s coming here just to be close to her daddy was nothing more than a convenient cover to check up on her assets.

The inheritance factor was just one more thing for Grant to hold against her. But then, what could he expect a little princess from the suburbs to understand of earning one’s keep by the sweat of your brow? Of the pride that comes of making something of yourself out of the ashes of defeat? Of loving a man like Paddy Flynn not for the width of the financial security net he could weave beneath you, but instead for his honesty and decency?

“I thought they were supposed to teach you in college to find out the facts before jumping to conclusions,” Grant commented dryly.

A muscle along his jawline throbbed out his frustration as he took full measure of the pretty little thing who’d just called him a con man. Any man with the audacity to make such an accusation would have found himself cheek to cheek with the nearest wall.

Arms up in the air, Paddy jumped into the middle of the fracas. His complexion was even ruddier than usual as he attempted arbitration. “Caitlin, surely you remember my speaking of Keith Davis, my partner from years ago. Grant’s his son.”

A frown creased Caitlin’s brow. Recognition glimmered beneath the surface of her memory like a dark fish rising from the depths.

“Keith Davis… Wasn’t he the man who…”

“The man,” Grant supplied, “who was killed in the explosion that nearly bankrupted this company years ago. The explosion that left second-degree burns over fifty percent of your father’s body.”

Caitlin turned her attention upon her father. “The one that caused you and Mother to—”

Words failed her as she searched Paddy’s stricken eyes for an answer to the question that had obsessed her for years. Growing up, the subject of her parents’ separation had been expressly taboo. When she was younger, Caitlin had found a photograph in her mother’s album of a strange mummy-like creature staring back at her from a hospital bed. Laura Leigh had curtly explained that it was Paddy, shortly before she made up her mind to leave him.

When with typical adolescent candor Caitlin expressed the opinion that it was unbelievably cold of her mother to abandon her father in such a state, Laura Leigh had replied cryptically, “We were both burned in that fire, Caitlin. Someday when you’re older, maybe I’ll try explaining it to you.”

For some reason that day never came. Caitlin hoped that with the passage of time, the truth would finally come out. Unfortunately, Paddy had no more intention of pillaging the past than her mother.

“Let’s leave old times well enough alone except to say that Grant’s father was the best friend I ever had. In fact I never met a better man—until the day his son showed up at one of my rigs. Despite the fact he held me personally responsible for his father’s death, he said he was willing to learn the business from the bottom up. The only thing he asked of me was a paycheck. Promised to earn his keep, and, by God, girl, he has more than done that.”

It was impossible to miss the effect these words had upon Grant. He stood perceptibly taller, and the moisture clouding his eyes was clearly an embarrassment to him.

Coming from a man not easily given to compliments, Caitlin was aware how rare such praise was. What she would have given to hear her father speak so highly of her! Unbidden, a seed of jealousy sprouted in her heart for the man who had somehow managed to usurp her hitherto unshakable position as the apple of her father’s eye.

“Am I to take it then that you somehow feel duty bound to Keith’s son?” Caitlin asked. Unloosed from a throat tight with emotion, her voice sounded high and strained.

“Contractually I’m not obligated to anyone. But when you consider that Grant came here on his own to bust his butt for a company on the brink of bankruptcy, yes, I think it’s fair to say that I feel an obligation to him,” Paddy responded shortly.

Caitlin flinched against the reproof in her father’s voice. Then hardened herself against it. However nicely Paddy gilded it, something didn’t sound quite right in his abbreviated explanation. Until proven otherwise, Grant would remain suspect in her mind. The thought intensified her desire to stick around and see what exactly this man was up to.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, gesturing toward her father with graceful, long fingers. “You blame yourself for an act of God, then spend time teaching this bleeding heart everything he wants to know about the oil business out of sheer pity, and you can’t so much as give your own daughter a solitary chance to earn her keep around here?”

Paddy was not a man accustomed to having his judgment questioned. “It wasn’t pity,” he snapped. “Grant’s proven himself many times over.”

Despite the anger Caitlin’s question aroused in him, Grant nonetheless considered it fair. In fact looking back on it, he couldn’t think of anyone presenting a more pitiful image than he had that day he’d arrived with his hat in hand, humbly asking to be taught the tools of the very trade that had claimed his father’s life. Having targeted Paddy in his mind for years as the cause of that fatal accident, it had been all he could do to keep from throttling his father’s partner. The last thing he’d expected was to ever like the old codger who managed somehow to take him in without compromising his dignity by offering him not a hand out, but a hand up.

Grateful that Paddy had glossed over years of heartache with one broad, sweeping stroke, Grant nevertheless could not forget that there was far more to the story of how their partnership came about than Paddy was telling. It was just like Paddy to leave the telling of that to him when and if he ever decided to share it.

“If you’re trying to put a price tag on what was owed me,” Grant growled, “you’ll have to tell me the going rate to replace a father.”

Caitlin drew her breath in sharply as her heart cried out the answer to Grant’s inquiry. No amount of money in the world! As difficult as it had been growing up in a broken home, Caitlin loved both her parents dearly and couldn’t imagine life without either one.

For the first time since meeting this man, she felt an inkling of sympathy for him. He may look as impervious as a Roman gladiator now, but she mentally calculated his age and figured that he must have still been in high school when tragedy befell his family. Her throat closed around the image of a beautiful, dark-haired teenager acting as his father’s pallbearer. And of a tearful, bereft mother leaning on him for support. It was Caitlin’s understanding that the mere thought of losing Paddy in such a hellish manner had been enough to compel her mother to abandon the one true love of her life. Maintaining that she was too young to be a widow, like poor Cissy Davis, Laura Leigh had shortly thereafter packed her bags and headed back to the security of her parents’ home in San Antonio.

Caitlin bit the inside of her mouth in a nervous habit that survived her childhood. “I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It’s just that I feel obligated to look after my father’s interests. It is awfully strange that he hasn’t mentioned you to me before.”

“As much as I appreciate your concern,” Paddy interjected with a crooked smile. “I’m a grown man accustomed to making my own decisions. Maybe I didn’t feel the need to explain myself to you. Then—or now.”

With that, he ran his hands through his silver hair. “This conversation is over. The only thing left to decide is what to do with you, young lady.”

Fighting the tears that welled up in her eyes, Caitlin set her jaw in the same determined way that her father had of leading with his chin whenever things looked their bleakest. She was not about to come all this way just to be brushed off. There was far more at stake here than just a job.

Her self-worth was quivering on the line.

“I’ll tell you what you can do with me,” she countered, each word an articulated bullet. “You can back off and let me do my job!”

Grant had to admire the lady’s grit. Having expected her to employ the age-old female tools of alternately crying and pouting, he was struck by Caitlin’s fortitude in standing up to Paddy Flynn, the terror of drillers and corporate giants alike. It aroused in him a grudging respect.

Suppressing a smile, he imagined her reaction to the strictly male observation that she was indeed very beautiful when she was mad. He was mesmerized by the attention she paid the gold locket nestled in the hollow of her throat. The way she was stroking it so lovingly made Grant wonder if it was some kind of a magic talisman. Maybe a religious medal. Perhaps a lucky charm to protect her from catastrophes, assorted imaginary ills, and hard-hatted villains.

Neither Caitlin’s voice nor her resolve quavered as she continued the fight to get her way. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll offer my services totally free of charge for one month. If I can’t prove my worth to you in that time, I’ll accept your decision to replace me. No questions asked. No hard feelings.”

“No way!” Grant exploded. Alarm bells were sounding in his head. One only had to watch the way Paddy was thoughtfully scratching his chin to see all hope of banishing this woman from the premises go up in a magician’s poof of smoke. “I don’t have time to be baby-sitting some college kid whose knowledge of an oil field is limited to what some dried-up old professor asked on a midterm.”

No matter how pretty she is! he added silently to himself.

“No one asked you to,” she countered, twisting her necklace around her index finger and wishing it was the man’s thick neck instead. “Besides, I don’t see that you have much choice in the matter. Whether you like it or not, you need a geologist. It’s going to take some time to line another one up. Why not at least let me fill in during the interim? What have you got to lose?” she asked, her eyes flashing him a challenge in emeralds.

Besides my sanity and the friendship with your father that I value above everything else in the world?

“Just my time, this oil rig, the entire business, and my physical well-being when the crew decides you might make an interesting diversion some lonely night,” Grant snorted with an angry wave of his hand.

A shiver raced through Caitlin at the thought. “I can take care of myself,” she retorted, not bothering to explain about the defense class she had taken in college for physical education credit. If the need were ever to arise, she knew how to fell a man like a tree.

Grant rolled his eyes at this assurance. “I’m sure you can—at a sorority party or a poetry reading. But we’re not talking about the latest trends in social awareness here. This is an oil rig, not a library or an office. You can’t protect yourself here with a thick book and that withering look you’ve perfected.”

A degree in geology hadn’t prepared her for dealing with such hardheadedness. “Maybe I should have majored in archeology,” Caitlin murmured sweetly.

Grant’s eyebrows arched into question marks.

“That way I would have been better prepared to deal with such an archaic male attitude. I don’t know why you have a chip on your shoulder the size of the state of Wyoming, but it seems like you’re just afraid that I might be good at what I do.”

“What I’m afraid of,” Grant clarified with an angry jab at the air, “is that your father won’t be able to let his own daughter go when the time comes.”

Paddy started to point out that he was in the room and capable of speaking for himself, but Caitlin cut him off before the first syllable was out of his mouth.

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you are the one in charge of hiring and firing. If in a month’s time you haven’t changed your mind about me, I’ll abide by your decision. Daddy won’t have anything to say about it.”

“Sounds more than fair to me.” There was a hint of admiration in Paddy’s voice.

Grant’s groan was of theatric proportions. “I don’t like it.”

“What you mean is that you don’t like me,” Caitlin observed. “You don’t have to. You just have to work with me.”

She stuck out her hand and forced a decision, one way or the other. “Do we have a deal?”

Thinking he’d rather kiss a rattlesnake than shake her hand, Grant’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Like I have a choice.”

He looked to Paddy for support but instead found a happy smile of anticipation plastered on his old friend’s face. This little vixen had indeed positioned him upon the horns of a dilemma. Either way he jumped, he could expect to be gored. Grant considered the small, manicured hand dangling in the air in front of him. He shook his head in disgust. As Paddy had pointed out earlier, such hands were not intended for the kind of hard work to which this woman was so blithely pledging herself. Grant hoped she understood that on this rig she would be asked to pitch in and do more than what might fall into the scope of a written job description. Real life wasn’t as orderly as college professors were apt to lead one to believe.

Damned if he didn’t feel the strongest urge to bend his lips to those clean, polished fingertips and kiss them. He shook his head at the medieval image that evoked. Both Paddy and Caitlin were looking at him, waiting for his response.

Reluctantly he took Caitlin’s hand in his.

He was not prepared for the impact her touch had on him. A thousand volts of electricity surged between them. Grant knew that Caitlin felt it too by the way her eyes grew wide, exposing her shock for the length of two full seconds.

Sheer willpower alone gave him the strength to pull his hand away from hers.

A telltale blush stained Caitlin’s cheeks as she looked straight into his eyes and told the most prodigious lie he’d ever heard. “You won’t be sorry.”

Four

“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,” Caitlin insisted. “Really.”

Grant tried not to gag as he watched her work her father over. The little lady had perfected the art of female persuasion with an adoring look that had Paddy doing back flips to accommodate her. It didn’t take an enormous stretch of the imagination to envision a horde of pimple-faced, preppy schoolboys falling all over themselves for a chance to carry the Princeton Princess’s books across campus. The poor suckers.

Grant’s observation that their small trailer was going to be mighty cramped, considering the fact that there were only two bedrooms available didn’t seem to faze Caitlin in the least.

“I’ll just have to sleep on the couch then,” she responded with the kind of magnanimous sincerity Grant considered worthy of Hollywood’s recognition.

“Fine with me,” he grumbled. He saw no reason to give up his bed for this spoiled college brat. The least a man should expect after putting in long, demanding hours of physical labor was a firm mattress. The very least.

His words were drowned out by Paddy’s firm protest.

“Absolutely not,” he declared. “If anyone’s going to sleep on the couch, darlin’, it’s going to be me.”

Grant groaned. Paddy had no more intention of sleeping on that couch than he did of using a rock for a pillow. Greatly amused by the older man’s grandstanding, he watched him forage helplessly in the closet for bedding, one hand pressed dramatically to the small of his back. Grant was tempted to applaud the performance.

“Don’t even think of it, Dad!” Caitlin exclaimed, successfully wrestling him away from the closet and into the easy chair.

“I won’t have you sleeping on the couch and that’s all there is to that,” her father puffed chivalrously. “It wouldn’t be right for a beautiful young lady to be without her privacy.”

Had Paddy’s pallor not been of such real concern to him, Grant might have enjoyed the show a good while longer. As it was, he was too fond of the older man to ever actually allow him to jeopardize his health by sleeping on a sagging sofa. It would not, however, have bothered him in the least to save the privilege for Caitlin. As far as he was concerned, a bed of nails would be good enough for her Royal Eminence.

In the midst of their argument, Grant slipped away unnoticed. When he returned a few minutes later carrying enough heavy suitcases to tax his considerable muscles, father and daughter were still engaged in a rousing game of martyrdom.

“Enough already,” Grant groused on his way through to deposit Caitlin’s luggage in his room. “Think you packed enough for what promises to be a short stay?”

Caitlin refused to dignify his sarcasm with a response. Instead she merely stepped out of his way, “I had every intention of doing that myself, and I hope you know it wasn’t my idea to put you out of your room.”

“Save it for the Academy Awards,” he grumbled, not even bothering to slow down.

Caitlin hated letting such an odious man do her any favors. Having fought hard for the right to be treated as an equal, she preferred carrying her own baggage around—so to speak. She did not want to begin this particular job in debt to Grant Davis for anything as chivalrous as opening a door or carrying in her belongings. She was keenly aware that he wasn’t doing this out of fondness for her but rather out of respect for her father. Antipathy emanated from every pore in his body. Since he’d made it abundantly clear that he took affront to her college degree, Caitlin made a mental note to downplay her education in his presence. Seeing how they were going to be roommates after all, she saw no sense in borrowing trouble.

“He’s a good man,” her father assured her.

Caitlin remained unconvinced as the sound of suitcases being dumped onto the floor resonated through thin walls.

She smiled weakly. “A regular knight in shining armor.”

A minute later he was back, crossing the room in a few long strides. “I’ve got to get back to work,” he said, pointedly checking his watch.

Opening the trailer door, Grant let in the light and the heat from outside. Caitlin was struck by the way the sunshine glowed about his body, giving the momentary illusion that she was in the presence of an angel. Not some cute little Cupid, but rather an angel warrior. Rugged St. Michael entering a fray without benefit of sword or shield.

The image disappeared with the slam of a door.

“It would mean a lot to me if you two could find a way to get along,” Paddy said to his daughter. It was miserably hot inside the trailer. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

Caitlin reached over and wiped it away with a lacy handkerchief her mother had sent with her. A misty look came into Paddy’s eyes as he recognized Laura Leigh’s signature scent. The fragrance lingered between the two of them, an invisible reminder of the happy home they had once shared. As loudly as Paddy and Caitlin had both disavowed Laura Leigh’s penchant for feminine frills and fancies, the memory that scent evoked was a rich contrast to the austerity of a small, tidy trailer sitting in the middle of the sagebrush. The sudden hint of honeysuckle bridged the gap of time, overpowering the mingled smell of dust and sweat and a river of oil rumbling silent and deep in the Earth’s belly waiting to be awakened like a slumbering lover.

“I’ll go unpack my things,” Caitlin said. With clumsy tenderness, she placed a kiss upon the very spot where that errant drop of sweat had lingered. “Thanks for letting me stay, Daddy.”

Grant’s bedroom matched the rest of the trailer’s decor. Neat and bleak. Walls, as bare as the top of the small cheap dresser that held his clothes, revealed no personal secrets. No single clue of Grant’s past or future was evident in the room. Not that Caitlin gave a darn, she reminded herself as she opened the closet door.

A half-dozen work shirts hung there, leaving plenty of room for her own clothes, which she put up in short order. Soon all that was left was to find a suitable place for what her mother referred to as her “delicates.” Caitlin hoped at least one of the dresser drawers was empty.

A funny feeling settled into the pit of her stomach as she opened the drawer which held Grant’s socks and underwear. It came as a surprise to her that such a boring stack of serviceable white briefs could make her feel like such a voyeur. She slammed the drawer shut on her shame. It was a feeling too akin to lust for Caitlin to comfortably admit.

By the time she had her things in order, it was almost time for supper. Having had nothing to eat but a fruit bar and a soda since lunch, she was ravenous. Since her father had asked her to try to make an effort at getting along with Grant, Caitlin figured she could start making amends by fixing them all a nice supper.

A quick look in the refrigerator reawakened her fears that in jockeying for control of the company, Grant was actually out to kill her father. Beer seemed to be the beverage of choice. An uncovered steak coagulated in a platter of fat, a block of cheese sported the latest in fashionable molds, and an economy-size carton of eggs nestled beside a huge slab of bacon. Ketchup was the sole condiment.

The freezer compartment was jam-packed with a variety of ice cream flavors and frozen dinners, none of which carried a healthy “lite” label upon it. Instead words like hearty and filling jumped out at Caitlin. She imagined that just reading the nutritional information panel could cause one to gain five pounds.

In the pantry she found several dusty cans of fruits and vegetables hiding behind a bag of corn chips. A sack of potatoes had sprouted roots, but Caitlin figured she could salvage some of them by knocking the eyes off those that hadn’t begun to rot. A couple of onions and a smattering of seasonings completed the meager reserves. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do until she could get to a grocery store.

Grant hadn’t taken two steps into the trailer when he was assailed by the aroma of homemade soup. Dead tired, he wanted nothing more than to take a shower, shovel one of Paddy’s tasteless frozen “big man” dinners into himself, and hit the sack—or the couch as the case may be. His previously foul mood hadn’t improved any since Caitlin had conned her way into his bed. The last thing he expected when he finished his shift was to be taken back in time by the smell of simmering vegetables and pungent spices.

Suddenly Grant found himself in his mother’s kitchen again, marveling at what she could do with some lean wild meat, a couple of carrots, potatoes, and an onion. Best of all was the way she could magically make a lump of dough rise in the pan and make it look like an elfin cottage. The redolent smell of baking bread wafting through the house always reduced him to begging for a “taster,” a crusty end piece slathered with wild honey or homemade jam or a thick slab of cheddar cheese and fresh milk. Cissy Davis’s frugal dinners were a wonderment of fragrance and taste. When his father would ask what it was that made her meals so delicious, his mother would smile and say that her secret ingredient was love. And when they kissed in front of Grant, as they always did after this exchange, it seemed to him that his life was destined to go on like this forever—happy and secure.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Caitlin said, greeting him from the kitchen and bringing him into the present with a start.

“Hungry and tired,” he admitted.

Grant couldn’t remember the last time he had sat down to a home-cooked meal. Funny how a proper table setting, no matter how simple the fare, made eating seem special.

Before taking his place at the table, he attacked his hands in the bathroom sink with a bar of abrasive soap that did little to loosen the oil and grime that, like his past, seemed an indelible part of him. Wiping his hands and face with a towel, Grant paused to look at himself in the mirror. The stubble on his chin gave him a hard look, and he wondered how someone as young and delicate-looking as Caitlin dared tangle with such a tough-looking character. He secretly admired her spunk but also worried that such bravado might well land her in serious trouble with other members of the crew. Someone less of a gentleman might mistake such moxie as a challenge—with the gravest of consequences.

“It’s not much,” Caitlin apologized as Grant took his place at the table.

Grant started to reply that everything looked just fine when Paddy demanded to know, “Where’s my steak?”

His tone was belligerent as he searched the depths of the refrigerator.

“In your soup,” Caitlin explained without pausing to digest his obvious indignation. “I’m afraid tonight we’ll just have to make do with soup and cheese. The bread I found was a lovely shade of bluish green. Fine for growing penicillin but not particularly appetizing. Once I get into town and pick up some groceries, you are going to begin eating healthy—whether you like it or not.”

Surprised that they actually agreed on something for once, Grant grinned into the depths of his bowl. For once he wished Caitlin luck. Every time he dared to bring up the subject, Paddy searched his vocabulary for the most vivid expletives to best explain his opinion of nutritional eating.

Grant took a taste of his soup and found it delicious. He was surprised to discover Caitlin could cook. He wouldn’t expect a debutante to know anything as practical as one end of a pot from the other.

“It’s good,” he said and grinned again at how warily she reacted to the compliment.

“I’m glad someone around here appreciates it,” she replied, pointedly staring at the way Paddy was swishing his spoon around in the soup, apparently searching for tasty bits of cholesterol.

“Maybe you’ll be good for something around here after all,” Grant added just to see if he could get another rise out of her.

He did. Caitlin bristled up like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

With perfect timing, Paddy interrupted. “How’s your mother?” he asked in an offhanded way that fooled no one.

“She’s fine.”

Grant felt a stab of pity for his mentor who was still so obviously interested in the woman who had packed up his heart when she rejoined the high-society crowd after her amusing little encounter with blue-collar life. Still Grant was too tired to pay much attention to the conversation and was eminently relieved when Caitlin refused his offer to help clean up. Excusing himself from the table, he stumbled toward the shower. If he was lucky, he told himself he wouldn’t fall asleep and drown on his feet.

The water pressure was too weak to give him the kind of pulsating release that his muscles needed, but the shower was nonetheless warm and soothing. Grant felt no guilt in draining the hot water tank. It wasn’t until he climbed out of the shower and was toweling himself off that he faced the quandary of his sleeping arrangements. He didn’t so much as own a pair of pajamas, and the thought of sleeping in the middle of the living room in his underwear didn’t much appeal to him. Not when Paddy and Caitlin were bound to want to stay up late and catch up on old times.

He glowered at himself through the steam on the bathroom mirror. “To heck with them both,” he grumbled, wrapping a towel around his middle and heading toward his room to change into a clean pair of briefs. Whether it inconvenienced or embarrassed anyone else or not, he was going to catch some shut-eye.

Discretion won out over comfort at the last minute as Grant reached for a clean T-shirt in its usual spot in the bottom drawer. He was taken aback by the flimsy piece of lace which he fished out of his dresser instead. Apparently even his drawers were not exempt from confiscation. He couldn’t so much as put a name to the sexy little froufrou dangling from his hand let alone understand what possible occasion Caitlin thought she would have to wear such a flimsy garment out in the middle of nowhere. The slick material of the camisole caught on the roughness of his fingers, and he felt a familiar, frightening tightening in his groin.

Grant groaned at the thought of satin and lace in his bedroom—and on his oil rig. As if life wasn’t hard enough without courting disaster. First thing in the morning, he planned on issuing Caitlin a standard pair of overalls with the intention of covering her from chin to toe. He didn’t want his crew catching so much as a peek of lace about their new geologist. Just maybe a hard hat would manage to hide that luxurious, distracting tumble of mahogany hair, he thought hopefully.

Irritated at the thought of sleeping on a raggedy old couch while Paddy’s little princess slept undisturbed in his bed, Grant was tempted to put a pea under the mattress before leaving the room.

Caitlin’s jaw went slack at the sight of Grant sauntering into the living room with his dark hair damp and glistening from the shower. Wearing nothing but a pair of worn jeans with a missing top snap, he was all sinew and muscles and mouthwatering masculinity. She had caught an eyeful earlier of his impressive forearms and biceps, but a T-shirt had covered the rest of his upper body. His pectoral muscles and rippled stomach seemed to Caitlin the single most beautiful thing she had ever encountered in her life. She disliked hairy chests and backs that made some men look more like bears than humans. Grant’s chest had just enough to make her want to run her hands over the rock-hard contours of a body honed by hard labor.

The mere thought of sleeping in his bed made her feel wobbly. The college boys she’d dated were nothing compared to the virile hunk standing so nonchalantly before her with a lazy thumb hitched into his waistband. His imposing presence and overt sexuality hit her like a ton of testosterone. Belatedly Caitlin snapped her mouth shut.

“Sorry, folks,” Grant said with an unapologetic yawn. “But if you don’t mind moving off the couch, I’d like to go to bed now.”

Although no innuendo was intended, just the word bed coming from his mouth was enough to make Caitlin redden with the weight of her inexperience. Unwilling to subject herself to the kind of teasing she had endured as a child regarding those embarrassing telltale blushes, she hopped right up.

“Of course. I’d like to get a good night’s sleep for the first day on the job myself.”

She started to make a quick getaway but turned around before she had gotten halfway out of the room and hurried back to drop a kiss upon her father’s weathered cheek. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Grant had missed a tiny spot on his back with that towel he had draped over his shoulder. It was all she could do to refrain from asking if he would like her to dry him off.

“Good night,” she chirped and as an afterthought added from her childhood memory, “Sleep tight.”

“It’s the only way I’m going to keep from falling off the sofa,” Grant grumbled as he flattened himself against the scratchy fabric of the cushions. Too tired to belabor the fact that he’d been so neatly displaced, he attempted to go to sleep with one arm securely anchored over the back of the couch.

Caitlin could no more banish her guilt at having put him out of his bed than she could dismiss the haunting image of that incredibly sexy little trickle of water on the broad expanse of his back. She took her locket off and set it carefully on top of the dresser before slipping into her pajamas, turning off the lights, and climbing into bed. Tired as she was, sleep proved nonetheless elusive. Deep cleansing breaths were of little help. The scent that was exclusively Grant Davis tickled her nose. Caitlin rubbed the edging of the cotton sheet to her face and breathed in his very essence. A miraculous blend of woods and sagebrush and pure masculinity, it made her feel far too intimate with a man whom she was certain had every intention of firing her just as soon as he could possibly get away with it.

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