the basic food groups to provide a well-rounded, nutritious supper. Immensely pleased with herself, she sauntered into the living room, toying with the devilish urge to dump the food on Wade’s head rather than politely placing the tray on his lap. To her disappointment he stared distastefully at his plate.
“What the hell is this?” he asked incredulously.
“Well, duh, it’s supper. What does it look like?” Laura mentally patted herself on the back for her sassy rejoinder. Already, she’d learned to counter Wade’s intimidation with lightning-quick sarcasm. After a few weeks of dealing with him she was positively certain she could hold her own with any man. She might have been a little timid and unsure of herself in the past, since her brothers tried to map out her life and speak in her behalf, but she was learning fast.
Wade glanced up from the tray and said, “Do you have the slightest idea where you are, Seymour?”
Puzzled, she replied, “On an Oklahoma ranch?”
“Well, if you figured that out all by yourself, did you also notice this is cattle country?”
She had no idea where he was going with this line of questioning. “Yes, I do believe I saw a herd of cattle grazing the pastures.”
“Good, it’s a relief to know you’re not blind, just dense.”
She could feel her temper simmering, but she valiantly suppressed her mounting irritation. “And your point, provided there is one, would be?”
He made a stabbing gesture toward the stuffed poultry and dressing, smothered in gravy, on his plate. “I raise cattle, therefore I support the beef industry, not poultry. You don’t feed a cattleman a damn chicken. Jeez, Seymour, are they giving away teaching certificates to the highest bidder these days?”
“Jeez, Ryder, if you don’t eat chicken, then what are all those frozen breasts doing in your freezing unit?”
A wave of heat flooded through her when his gaze focused deliberately on her bosom. He delighted in rattling her—that conversation they’d shared in the kitchen about the depersonalization of sex indicated as much. She should be highly offended by his telling glance. Indeed if another man stared so blatantly, unblinkingly, at her chest she would have been outraged and insulted.
For some unexplainable reason the red-hot, seductive glimmer in Wade’s green eyes sent her senses reeling and heightened her awareness of him. Which she didn’t need, thank you so much. She was aware of him—to the extreme. His deep, smoky voice sent hot chills down her spine. His muscular physique kept drawing her unwilling attention and feminine speculation. He was distractingly handsome with that thatch of raven hair, those hypnotic eyes, those deeply tanned and chiseled features, those broad shoulders and horseman’s thighs. He looked solid and unyielding and he exuded some mystical aura that fascinated her on an elemental level.
She tried to tell herself that she was intrigued because she wasn’t accustomed to hanging out with cowboys. Teachers, yes. Businessmen, you bet. But not rugged, macho hunks like Wade Ryder.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Wade taunted.
Color splashed across her cheeks in such a rush that Laura feared the sudden pressure would blow off the top of her head. He’d caught her ogling him. Worse, she was probably drooling. Enough of this nonsense! She wasn’t going to let herself become the least bit interested in this woman-hating cowboy and his hang-ups. He was a waste of time and effort.
“Earth to Seymour,” he prompted again.
“What?” she mumbled.
“I said…” he drawled very deliberately, “I like plump, juicy breasts occasionally, but not on a regular basis. Beef is my mainstay, so don’t forget it when you’re puttering around the kitchen, throwing together some slop to feed me.”
Puttering? Throwing together slop? She’d slaved over this meal, damn it. She glared at him, then noticed he was trying to get a reaction from her. He was waiting for her to pop her cork so he could toss out another insult that would infuriate her to the point of quitting. Well, it wasn’t happening, she vowed fiercely. She would not be provoked!
Before she could respond he thrust both empty glasses at her. “Make yourself useful and fill ’em up, will ya?”
She snatched up the glasses, careful to avoid contact with his long, lean fingers. “With poison? Gladly. I’ll be back in a flash with a deadly dose.”
Wade watched her stalk off, her hips swishing like an angry cat’s tail, and he sighed gratefully. Thank you, God! He needed a quick time-out. Staring at her well-proportioned chest and watching her blush got his male body all riled up. That he didn’t need—not in his condition. When she’d given him that thorough once-over he’d been positively certain that not all his body parts were nonfunctional. If not for the supper tray on his lap, Laura would’ve noticed his aroused condition and likely razzed him unmercifully about it.
Damn it, he didn’t like the way Laura made him feel, the way he reacted to her, the way his thoughts detoured down lusty avenues when she got within five feet of him.
On the spur of the moment he decided that he wasn’t going to repay his cousins by killing them swiftly and mercifully for dumping Laura on his doorstep. No, he’d roast them over an open fire…or drag them behind a galloping horse around the perimeters of the ranch…or stake them over a den of fire ants, that sort of thing.
Wade pretended a fascinated interest in the television when he heard Laura stamping back into the room. When she slammed down the glasses of whiskey on his tray, he said, “Took you long enough.”
“I had to scrounge around the cabinets to locate the hemlock and arsenic,” she muttered spitefully. “Here, pick your poison. Anything else, Your Grumpiness?”
He flicked his wrist, dismissing her. “That’ll do it.”
“It’d better.” She performed a quick about-face toward the kitchen. “Otherwise I’ll have to restock the poisons because we’re fresh out. Just my luck that I got stuck with a man who’s just too darn mean to roll over and die after a couple of lethal doses.”
3
WHEN LAURA STORMED OFF, Wade broke into a reluctant smile. Who would have thought the timid schoolmarm he’d met only a few hours ago possessed quicksilver sass and lively spirit. Of course, it made getting rid of her more difficult, but it was an entertaining challenge.
Wade recalled that if he dared to use that snotty tone on Bobbie Lynn, she simpered and mewled until her thick mascara bled like hot tar down her makeup-coated cheeks. However, Laura Seymour didn’t bleed mascara because she didn’t coat her face with war paint. She had the kind of natural beauty and flawless skin that Bobbie Lynn tried to acquire artificially.
Gawd, why he’d married that woman he couldn’t recall. She’d whined incessantly about the isolation of ranch life. She’d demanded favors for passion and dangled sex in front of him like a carrot before a mule. Fool that he’d been, he’d tried to make her happy, had given into her to make their marriage work because Ryders were supposed to wed forever. At least his parents had. Same went for Vance’s parents, Quint’s parents and Gage’s parents. The four older-generation Ryder brothers had discovered everlasting love and produced four Ryder cousins who’d never found their soul mates.
Maybe
