Page 20 of Too Hot To Handle

„What do you mean? Isn’t the ground good?“

„The ground’s fine. You’re the problem, city girl,“ he said, looking straight into Tory’s pleading green eyes. „You’re not going to be around long enough to see any of those seeds bloom, are you?“

Tory looked at the bright faces of the packets scattered across the table and knew that Reever was right. She had forgotten that the Sundance wasn’t her home and that Reever had made no secret of the fact that he wanted her out of there at the earliest possible moment.

„I guess not,“ she said sadly, blinking back tears. „So I’ll just have to enjoy as much of it as I can, won’t I?“

There was no answer but that of Reever’s hungry, steel-colored eyes watching Tory’s fingertip trace the bursting ripeness of the tomato pictured on a package of seeds.

Flexing her hands, Tory looked down at the supple yet sturdy work gloves she wore. They had appeared by her breakfast plate two weeks ago. The cowhands had all denied any knowledge of how the gloves had gotten there. When she had put the price of the gloves in cash on the dinner table the following week, the money had stayed there for three days before she gave up and put it back in her wallet.

The golden-brown, rough suede surface of the gloves was already stained by dirt from the garden and scratched here and there by angry hens, baling wire and barbwire. Tory was spending more and more time in the barn and around the corrals. Despite her rather hard initiation into riding, she found herself fascinated by the horses. Dutch and Jed swore that she had a knack for handling the big animals. The hands had taught her how to groom, bridle and saddle horses, as well as how to rake out a stall. She had gradually taken over the care of the horses that turned up lame or cut, as well as the calves that had been injured in one way or another.

If Reever objected to Tory caring for the animals, he had said nothing to her about it. That was what had given her the courage to wheedle riding lessons out of Jed. She was no longer satisfied with just being around horses. She wanted to be able to ride out over the land and feel the wind in her hair. She wanted to know again the pleasure of a horse’s easy rocking motions, a pleasure that she had tasted a few times during that long ride to the ranch with Reever. She needed to be outside, moving; she was accustomed to more strenuous exercise than being cook for the Sundance’s eight men. She was…restless.

Jed rode into the yard, spotted Tory in the garden and smiled. „Soon as you’re finished fooling around in the dirt, come to the main corral.“

„Are you sure you have time?“ asked Tory eagerly, almost afraid to hope. Every time they had planned a riding lesson, Reever had piled more work on Jed.

„I got a head start on my work today,“ Jed said, yawning. „I’ve been riding fence since first light.“

Suddenly Tory realized why the young cowhand hadn’t been at the breakfast table or in for lunch, either. „Oh, Jed, I didn’t mean for you to – “

„I’ll forgive you if you bring a sandwich with you,“ interrupted Jed. „And you might bring a carrot for Twinkletoes. That fool mare thinks she’s half rabbit.“

Tory turned and gathered her gardening tools quickly. She washed them off at the outside faucet and wiped them on her already fraying jeans. With a grimace she looked down at the thin denim. Next time she would have to buy rugged jeans rather than the fashionable imitations that fell apart under real use.

The thought of buying anything made Tory frown. Money, which she had never had trouble hanging on to before, just kept sliding through her fingers on the Sundance. She had quickly discovered that the tender new plants coming up couldn’t be cared for with a shovel or a spade so she had bought gardening tools. While there were plenty of natural fertilizers on the ranch, the gardening book she had bought – another unexpected expense – had mentioned that certain kinds of fertilizers were needed at certain times in the growing cycle. In the end she had bought some commercial fertilizer to be sure that her eager little plants didn’t go hungry.

Fertilizer in bags was very expensive. Her anti-inflam- mation medicine cost even more, but she didn’t dare go without it. The repetitious exercises that she did for an hour each night were bad enough without having to cope with a swollen knee as well.

She also needed, and hadn’t yet bought, some kind of denim jacket for the cool mornings and nights. The swim club windbreaker she had brought with her just wasn’t heavy enough. Then there were the hands’ birthdays; it seemed they all came in the summertime. Rather than risk Reev-er’s wrath by taking money out of the kitchen budget, Tory had simply bought candles and funny cards and cake decorations out of her own money. Plus, when she went into Massacre Creek with the hands on ranch business or for pleasure, she refused to let anyone buy her so much as a soda. If everyone ate lunch at the Sunup Cafe\ then so did she, although the food was both relatively expensive and decidedly ordinary.

As a result Tory’s bus ticket fund hovered at the halfway mark. No matter how many private vows she made, the fund seemed to stay there. Lately she had expected Reever to ask if she had enough for her bus ticket yet. After all, he hadn’t agreed to hire her for all the months she was taking off from diving. He had simply told her that she could cook until she earned enough to buy a bus ticket home. She would just have to pray that Reever wouldn’t lose patience with her and kick her off the ranch before she managed to plug the million leaks in her budget.

Besides, Tory didn’t really think that Reever would physically throw her off the ranch. To do that he’d have to touch her. And that was something he had not done since the day he had bathed her raw palms so gently and then with equal tenderness had brushed her breasts into aching peaks.

Don’t think about it,she told herself fiercely.You promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about it.

But how do I control the dreams that bring me awake and shivering in the darkness, aching for–Don’t think about it!

Tory put the garden tools beneath the sink and began making Jed a thick sandwich using cheese and leftover roast. She moved quickly, anxious to finally begin her riding lessons and to have something to think about besides the hot male sensuality that seethed beneath Reever’s cold exterior. She may have attracted him during the forced intimacy of the ride to the ranch, but he had made it very clear since then that he had no use for her as a woman.

City girl. Clumsy. Useless.

Too bad that she still wanted him. Too bad that every time she saw him gently handle an injured animal, or smile and tease Dutch’s grandchildren when they visited the Sundance, or drive himself long past the time when another man would have given in to exhaustion, or stand quietly in the evening and look out over the land with love on his face – it was all she could do at those moments not to plead with Reever to look at her again, to see in her the woman of his dreams.

But it hadn’t happened. It wasn’t going to, either.

Don’t think about it.

Tory slammed the screen door and ran out to the corral, clutching Jed’s sandwich in one hand and a thermos of coffee in the other. A carrot stuck up out of one hip pocket and her gloves out of the other. She squinted at the brilliant sunlight pouring over the land and wished that she could afford a hat to shield her eyes.

„Here you are, Jed. I brought you some coffee, too.“

Jed smiled down at her. „Thanks, Tory. You do spoil us, don’t you?“

„I enjoy cooking for the hands,“ she said honestly. „You’re all so appreciative.“