The Baddest Virgin in Texas Page 5

  He didn't move. Couldn't move, even when he tried to tell himself he should. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, and the heat he saw in those big pools of melted chocolate seared him right to his toes. "You … uh … okay?"

  "Fine," she said in a deep, sultry whisper. "Maybe even better than fine. How about you?"

  "Um … yeah, I'm okay, too."

  She shifted her hips a little, then blinked up at him. "So, are you carrying a pistol, Lash, or are you just glad to see me?"

  He closed his eyes and grimaced, embarrassed to the roots of his hair. "You're a mouthy little thing, you know that?"

  She only smiled—a slow, sexy smile that made him want to groan aloud. "Yeah, I've been told that before." She held his gaze. He couldn't look away. "So, Lash, what's it gonna be? You gonna get off me, or kiss me?"

  He looked down into her eyes, and it hit him that she wanted him to kiss her. Dammit, wasn't it bad enough that he was having these bouts of lust for her? Did she have to go and start having them for him, as well?

  He pushed himself up with his hands. "Chicken," she said.

  "Cut it out, Jessi." He got to his feet, with some effort, and reached a hand down to help her up, as well. She took it and got up, but he thought she looked a little hurt, or disappointed, or something. He shook his head and heaved a sigh. "Look, just so you know, you don't have to go trying to convince me you're all grown up, okay? I got the message."

  "You think that's what I was doing?"

  He turned away and began moving boxes aside to clear a path out of the garage. "I know damned well that's what you were doing. And you can save it. I'm convinced already. So you can quit with the nonsense."

  He moved one last box and stepped out into the sunlight again.

  She stayed where she was. "And what if it wasn't nonsense?"

  He went still, feeling a shiver race right up his spine. "That's all it can be, Jessi. I'm leaving here as soon as Garrett and I put a stop to this rustling. Besides that, I'm old enough to be your—"

  "My lover?"

  He spun around. She shrugged innocently. "Well, you couldn't say 'father,' 'cause it would be bull. And I already have plenty of brothers. Sure don't need another one of those. So what's left?"

  "Friend," he said.

  "Oh."

  He didn't like the look in her eyes, so he averted his own, glancing at the battered old pickup instead of at her face. "How about if I drive this clunker back to the ranch, and you take Garrett's truck?"

  "Why?"

  She still hadn't moved, and she was still looking at him like a panther looks at an unsuspecting rabbit.

  "Well, because I can tell by driving it what kind of work it might need."

  "And what makes you think I can't?" she asked him.

  He bit his lip. Damn. He supposed he'd underestimated her … again. "Fine, you drive it. I'll follow, in case it breaks down."

  "Well, now, isn't that just friendly of you." She finally clambered out from between the piles of junk and made her way to the old red pickup truck. She opened the door and climbed behind the wheel. "It's going to run just fine," she told him, inserting the key.

  "How can you be so sure?"

  She smiled at him. "I want it to. And you know me, right, friend? I'm that spoiled little princess, the darling baby sister of the Brand brothers. I always get what I want."

  As Lash stood there with his throat going just as dry as the desert sand, Jessi turned the key, and the pickup roared to life like an angry bull. She slipped it into gear and drove it slowly out of the garage, then past him, onto the road heading back toward the ranch.

  Lash closed and locked the garage, then returned to Garrett's pickup to follow her. He felt a little sick to his stomach. But he wasn't sure why.

  He wants me!

  Jessi couldn't stop smiling as she ground the ancient pickup truck into a higher gear and bounced down the road. The thing steered like a tank, and she was leaving a smoke trail behind her that would have choked a horse. But none of that dampened her mood. Lash Monroe had given himself away today. He could deny it till hell froze over, but he couldn't convince her that she'd imagined what had happened between them back there. No way. He'd been turned on. Aroused. Attracted.

  She smiled even more. Hard.

  Yup, he wanted her, all right. But him wanting her was only half the battle. He was going to have to love her. And soon, before he and Garrett solved this rustling thing and he got it into his head to go running away from her again. It had to be before that happened.

  She settled deeper in her seat and glanced at her own determined eyes in the rearview mirror. "I'm gonna make that man my very own, if it's the last thing I do."

  The voice sounded certain, but a hint of doubt crept into her reflection's gaze. Jessi bit her lip as a slight bout of worry assailed her. What if she couldn't do it? What if all Lash felt for her was a physical longing, and nothing more? What if he was too hell-bent on retaining his precious freedom to let himself feel anything else?

  Just how in hell did a woman go about making a man fall in love with her? How did she make a confirmed bachelor change his ways? How did she make a drifter decide to settle down?

  Lord, she needed a plan. And she needed it quick. Before those damned rustlers were caught and tossed behind bars and Lash flitted off like a goose in winter.

  The truck bounded into the driveway and under the arches of the Texas Brand, and Jessi brought it to a whining stop and killed the engine. It died slow, as if it didn't quite want to let go just yet. It coughed, gasped, backfired once, and then finally gave up the ghost. She glanced up to see Garrett on the front porch, shaking his head and waving one hand as if to clear the smoke away, though it was nowhere near him. Chelsea sat on the porch swing beside him, and she gave him a nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

  As Jessi got out of the pickup, Garrett rose and came to meet her. "How'd it go?"

  "Went fine," she said. "It's gonna be a lot of work, Garrett, but I can do it." She lifted her chin a little as she said it, certain he was going to disagree.

  "I know you can."

  Jessi blinked. "You do?"

  "Hell, you're a Brand, aren't you?"

  For now, she thought, and she glanced over her shoulder in time to see Lash behind the wheel of Garrett's pickup, backing the load of grain up to the barn door. Above him, the sky was darkening with ominous-looking clouds. It had been hot and dry for a while now, and she knew too well how dangerous a sudden cloudburst could be. What they needed was a slow, steady rain. The ground-soaking kind. Not a downpour.

  "Look, Jess," Garrett said, interrupting her inspection of the horizon, and of the man out near the barn. "I'm sorry if we've given you the feeling that we're not behind you. It's just that … well, you're our baby sister, you know?"

  She dragged her attention from the dark clouds and battled the worry skittering up her spine. "How could I not know?"

  Garrett smiled a bit sheepishly. "If you're determined to do this, let us help you."

  She faced him again, squaring her shoulders. "I don't think so. Look, don't get all offended, big brother, but I want to do this on my own. I don't want anyone thinking I couldn't have made it work without my brothers' help. And besides, you guys have your hands full as it is."

  "But, Jessi—"

  Chelsea cleared her throat from the porch, and Garrett cut off his protest.

  "Okay, Jess. If that's the way you want it. Just know we're here for you, okay? And don't think that asking for advice is a sign of weakness. That's what family's for, you know."

  "I know," she told him. Then he hugged her hard, and she hugged him back.

  When he released her, he stared down at her, searching her face. "Now, about Lash…"

  Jessi frowned. "What about Lash?"

  Garrett shifted his stance a bit. "I, uh … that is, Wes seems to think there might be … er…"

  "Might be … what?"

  "Look, Jess, he's a drifter. He's told us all f
lat out that he's leaving here soon. And besides all that, he's ten years older than you, and—"

  "Eleven, Garrett. He's eleven years older than me."

  Garrett just bunched up his eyebrows and tilted his head.

  "So, Jessi," Chelsea said loudly, shouldering her way between brother and sister to drape an arm around Jessi's shoulders and begin leading her into the house. "Tell me all about your plans for the clinic. And don't leave anything out."

  Jessi let Chelsea draw her away, but she glanced back over her shoulder at Garrett. "I'm a grown woman now," she said. "I can take care of myself."

  "I just don't want to see you get hurt," he said.

  She sighed hard and shook her head. Damn. Things around here would never change.

  Upstairs in her room, Jessi spent some time at her computer, making detailed plans for her clinic. She kept the radio playing, hoping for a weather report, but only half listening. And pretty soon it didn't matter, because she heard the thunder in the distance and saw those clouds rolling in thicker all the time. They were in for a whopper of a storm, and damned if the ground wasn't too parched to absorb it. Could be a mess.

  But if there was, they'd deal with it. They always had.

  She put the possible repercussions of a storm out of her mind and worked on her plans. She'd added up all the cash she'd inherited and started formulating a budget. She knew more about the costs of equipment for the clinic than she did about the price of construction for the garage, so that was where she began, thumbing through her countless veterinary-supply catalogs and making lists of what she'd need, then subtracting the cost from the available funds. She'd have to earmark most of the rest for the remodeling, she had little doubt of that. There would be none left over for a better vehicle, and she'd need a good pickup truck for this venture.

  Well, she'd have to make do. Maybe she could get some work done on the truck she had. It sounded to her as if it could use a new muffler, and probably plugs and points. A little tune-up, an oil change, new filters and belts—heck, she could probably make it run like new again.

  Right.

  Sighing, she got to her feet and wandered to the window to part the curtains and look outside.

  Then she caught her breath and gnawed her lower lip.

  Lash was out there by the barn now. He'd stripped off his shirt in deference to the moisture-laden heat, and he was unloading the heavy bags of grain and handing them off to Wes. Wes then carried them a few yards and handed them off to someone else, inside the barn. Elliot or Ben or Garrett. Didn't matter. And it didn't matter that Wes was shirtless as well, or that his rugged Comanche build usually made other men pale in comparison. It was Lash who'd captured her attention. God, but he was a beautiful man. Lean and firm and strong. Not bulging with muscle, but rippling instead. Subtle power slid under his skin, and she sucked a breath through her teeth when she saw the thin sheen of sweat coating his chest. It was dark outside, and the air was heavy and sizzling hot, the approaching storm acting like a woolen blanket, holding the heat beneath it.

  "Damn," she muttered.

  "Damn, what?" Chelsea asked, popping into the room and coming up to the window beside her. She followed Jessi's gaze and said, "Oh."

  "So, what do you think?" Jessi asked.

  Chelsea shrugged and leaned against the window. "Not bad. Not bad at all." She looked at Jessi and winked. "So how did the trip into town go?"

  "You mean with the lawyer?" Jessi asked innocently.

  "You know perfectly well what I mean. Tell me everything."

  Jessi grinned. "I thought you'd never ask," she said. "But I'm gonna have to save it for later. I mean, I really oughtta go out there and help my poor brothers unload that heavy grain, don't you think?"

  "Not in that outfit, you're not. Talk fast, while you change. Then you can take those poor, hot, sweaty-looking fellas out something cold to drink."

  Lash glanced up to see Jessi, back in her usual jeans and a ribbed tank top, making her way across the yard toward the barns with a six-pack of dewy bottles in one hand. He licked his lips, unsure if it was the thought of that icy-cold soda that made him do it, or the way she looked. Lean and curvy and fresh. She didn't look the same way she'd looked before, but suddenly he was seeing her so differently.

  She came right up to him, leaned one hip on the pickup's lowered tailgate and freed one of the bottles of soda from the pack. "You're looking…" Her mischievous brown eyes slid all the way down his sweaty chest, pausing on the snap of his jeans and moving slowly back up again. "Hot," she finished.

  His throat went three times drier than it had been. "Yeah, it's a scorcher today. Muggy."

  "Mmm … I think we're in for a storm." She twisted the cap off the bottle. "You want a drink?"

  "Sure, if it's good an' cold." A slow rumble of thunder rolled over them and then faded.

  She smiled and held the bottle out. He reached for it, and she moved it quickly past his hand, pressing its chilly glass against his belly. He yelped and jumped back.

  "Cold enough?" Damn, she was sparkling like a gemstone today.

  "Plenty," he told her, and he couldn't help smiling at her. She wanted to play. He could see that. If her brothers wouldn't take offense, he might just oblige her. Sling her right over his shoulder and haul her butt to the pond to toss her in. Oh, yeah, he could play.

  But then she'd stand up, and that little tank shirt she wore would be transparent, it would be so wet. And that cold water would do things to her body. Make him notice it even more than he was already noticing it, and dammit, he was already noticing it way more than he should. And … ah, hell, maybe the pond wasn't such a good idea.

  "What's the matter, Lash?"

  "Huh?" He met her eyes.

  "You were staring at my chest. Just wondering if I had something on me, or—"

  He shook his head and averted his eyes, searching for a change of subject and latching on to the first one that came to him. "Garrett's worried about flash flooding. Said it's been known to happen when a big storm rolls in after such a long dry spell."

  "Yeah, it has been. But Garrett tends to worry too much." She glanced inside the dim, fragrant barn. "Where is he, anyway?"

  Lash sighed. Stupid way to change the subject. Now he had to inform her that they were alone in this big old barn together. Maybe he should just lie.

  She held his gaze and drew the truth out of him like mud will draw the stinger out of a bee sting. "He had to go inside to take a phone call. Didn't you hear Chelsea holler for him?"

  She shook her head. "No. I was distracted. So, what about the others?"

  He licked his lips. "They headed down to that lower pasture that runs alongside the creek. Garrett said he wanted them to move the heifers to higher ground, just in case."

  "Like I said, he worries too much." Her eyes scanned the barn's dark interior, as if to confirm that her brothers were gone.

  Lash tried distracting her with a new subject again. "That cat … Pedro … he's in the truck. Best get him out, before he gets too warm in there."

  "Okay." She turned and walked away from him. He reached into the truck to haul out the last bag of grain. He hoped Garrett's phone call was a brief one. He was alone out here with Jessi, and he didn't like it.

  Or maybe he did. And maybe he shouldn't.

  She opened the pickup door, and Pedro shot out so fast he appeared no more than a black-and-white streak. He ran between Lash's feet, shot into the barn and scrambled up through the opening, into the hayloft.

  "Damn," Jessi said, slamming the truck's door. She started right through that barn, and stopped at the ladder. "Well, c'mon, Lash," she called. "I'll never catch him by myself. Give me a hand, will you?"

  Lash looked at her. Then he looked at the darkness above her, beyond the opening in the ceiling. Darkness and soft, fragrant hay. Silence and solitude. Hot, sultry, sticky air, smelling of fresh hay and Jessi Brand. Oh, man.

  She put her foot on the lowest rung of the ladder. Lash set the bag o
f feed down, and moved as if he had no control over his body. As if he were operating on autopilot or something. His brain was telling him to stay where he was, but his brain was no longer running this show. His libido was, and that part of him wanted nothing more than to follow Jessi Brand up into that hayloft. Hell, that part of him wanted to follow her to the ends of the earth, and all she'd have to do would be to crook her little finger.

  Lord, but he was in over his head here. And he was beginning to wonder if there was one damn thing he could do about it.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Lash got to the ladder just as Jessi started climbing. Her shapely, denim-encased backside moved higher, right past his face, and then disappeared into the darkness above. And he heard her feet moving in the hay, and he heard her calling, "Here, kitty-kitty. Come on, Pedro."

  He sighed softly, gripped the ladder and clambered up it after her.

  It was dim, but not pitch-dark. The place smelled so strongly of hay that the air felt thick with it. In fact, it probably was slightly thick with it, judging by the dust floating into his lungs. And it was hotter up here than it was below. Hotter than the hellfire he was gonna burn in if he didn't watch himself. Hotter than the combined tempers of the Brand brothers. And dark. Damn, but it was dark. Like dusk, instead of a summer afternoon.

  "There he is," Jessi said, and he squinted until he could see where she was pointing, then followed her finger. The cat was perched on the top of a stack of hay. He couldn't have seen the beast well at all, if not for the white spots. And Jessi headed over to climb up after him.

  Lash was right behind her. "Hold on, now, you'll pull that whole stack down on top of you."

  "Not if I go up on this side. It's solid here."

  He examined the stack of bales she proposed to climb, then gave a tug on them to assure himself of their stability. "It's also straight up and down, Jess. There's nothing to climb on here."