The Manning Sisters Page 3

  He pulled his gaze back to her mouth, experiencing a small sense of triumph at the power of his will. “Where’d you ever get a name like Taylor?”

  “It was my mother’s…maiden name.”

  Once more her voice came out sounding whispery and soft. Too soft. Too whispery for comfort.

  “My mother’s from Atlanta, and it was an old Southern tradition to give the first daughter her mother’s maiden name.” By the time she finished, her voice was a mere thread of sound.

  Neither of them spoke for the longest moment of Russ’s life. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he was about to suggest he drive her home. Instead, Russ found himself leaning toward her.

  “I’m sorry I ran out of the kitchen like that,” Mandy announced, coming back into the room.

  Russ frowned at his younger sister, irritated. The girl couldn’t have chosen a worse time to make her entrance. For her part, Taylor appeared ready to leap across the room and hug Mandy for interrupting them.

  “I was about to take Taylor back to town,” Russ announced gruffly.

  “Do you have to leave so soon?” Mandy asked. “It’s barely even dark.”

  “It’ll get dark anytime, and I still have a lot to do before school starts. Thank you so much for having me—both of you. You’re a wonderful cook…I really appreciate this.”

  “You’ll come again, won’t you?” Mandy asked.

  “If you’d like.”

  “Oh, we would, wouldn’t we, Russ?”

  He made a response that could have been taken either way.

  Mandy walked to the door and down the porch steps with them. Her arms hugged her waist against the evening chill. “You’re driving the Lincoln, aren’t you?”

  Russ gave another noncommittal reply. His truck was in the shop, having the transmission worked on, and he’d been forced to take the older one into town that morning. Mandy’s implication that he’d bring Taylor home in that dilapidated thing was an insult. The look he gave her suggested as much.

  “I was just asking,” she said with an innocent smile.

  Taylor and Mandy chatted while Russ went around to the garage and pulled out the luxury sedan. The two women hugged goodbye, and Taylor got inside the car and ran her fingertips over the leather upholstery before snapping the seat belt into place.

  “You ready?” he asked more brusquely than he intended.

  “Yes.”

  They drove a few minutes in uncomfortable silence. “How large a spread do you have here?” she eventually asked.

  “A thousand acres and about that many head of cattle.”

  “A thousand acres,” Taylor echoed.

  The awe and surprise in her voice filled him with pride. He could have gone on to tell her that the Lazy P was anything but lazy. His ranch was among the largest in the southern half of the state. He could also mention that he operated one of the most progressive ranches in the entire country, but he didn’t want to sound as if he was bragging.

  They chatted amicably about nothing important until they got to town. Russ turned off the side street to old man Halloran’s house without even having to ask where Taylor was living. If she was surprised he knew, she didn’t say.

  When he pulled in to her driveway, he cut the engine and rested his arm over the back of her seat. Part of him wanted her to invite him inside for coffee, but it wasn’t coffee that interested him. Another part of him demanded he stay away from this schoolteacher.

  “Thank you again,” she said softly, staring down at her purse, which she held tightly in her lap.

  “No problem.”

  She raised her eyes to his, and despite all his good intentions, Russ’s hungry gaze fixed on her lips. He became aware that he was going to kiss her about the same time he realized he’d die if he didn’t. He reached for her, half expecting her to protest. Instead she whimpered and wrapped her arms around him, offering him her mouth. The sense of triumph and jubilation that Russ experienced was stronger than any aphrodisiac. He wrapped her in his arms and dragged her against him, savoring the pure womanly feel of her.

  His kiss was wild. His callused hands framed the smooth skin of her face as he slanted his mouth over hers. He kissed her again and again and again.

  Her throaty plea reluctantly brought him back to reason. For an instant Russ worried that he’d frightened her, until he heard his name fall from her lips in a low, frantic whisper. It was then that he knew she’d enjoyed their kisses as much as he had.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur. He spread damp kisses down her neck and up her chin until he reached her mouth. Drawing her lower lip between his teeth, he sucked gently.

  “Please…stop,” she pleaded, yet her hands grasped his hair, holding him against her.

  But then Taylor lowered her hands to his shoulders and pulled herself away, leaving only an inch or so between them. Her shoulders heaved.

  “I can’t believe that happened,” she whispered.

  “Do you want an apology?”

  “No,” she answered starkly. Then, after a moment, she added, “I wanted it as much as you did. I can’t imagine why. We’re about as opposite as any two people can get.”

  “Maybe so, but I think we just discovered one way we’re compatible, and it beats the heck out of everything else.”

  “Oh, please, don’t even say that,” she moaned, and pushed him away. She leaned against the back of the seat and ran a hand down her face as if to wipe away all evidence of their kissing. “This was a fluke. I think it might be best to pretend it never happened.”

  Russ went still, his thoughts muddled and unclear. What she’d said was true. He had no business being attracted to her. No business kissing her. She was from the city and didn’t understand the complexities of his life. Not only that, she was the new schoolteacher, and not a woman the community would approve of him dallying with.

  That they were attracted to each other was a given. Why seemed to be a question neither of them could answer. One thing Russ knew: Taylor was right. It was best to forget this ever happened.

  For the next week Taylor did an admirable job of pushing Russ Palmer from her mind. It helped somewhat that she didn’t have any contact with either member of the Palmer family.

  Taylor didn’t question what had come over her or why she’d allowed Russ to kiss her like that. Instead she’d resolutely ignored the memory of their kiss, attributing it to a bad case of repressed hormones. That was the only thing it could’ve been, and analyzing it would accomplish nothing.

  Now that school had started, Taylor threw herself into her work with gusto, more convinced than ever that she was born to be a teacher. She was an immediate hit with her third- and fourth-grade students.

  On Wednesday afternoon at about four, an hour after her class had been dismissed, Taylor was sitting at her desk, cutting out letters for her bulletin board, when there was a polite knock at her door. Suspecting it was one of her students, she glanced up to discover Mandy standing there, her books pressed against her.

  “Mandy, hello,” Taylor said, genuinely pleased to see the girl. “Take a seat.” She waved the scissors at the chair next to her desk.

  “I’m not bothering you, am I? Russ said I wasn’t to visit you after school if you were busy. He thinks I’ll be a pest.”

  “You can come and visit me anytime you want,” Taylor said, as she continued to cut out blunt letters from the bright sheets of colored paper.

  Plopping down on the chair, Mandy crossed her legs and smiled cheerfully. “Notice anything different about me?”

  Taylor nodded. “Isn’t that war paint you’re wearing? And that sweater looks new. Very nice—that light green suits you.”

  Russ’s sister giggled shyly. “I came to thank you. I don’t know what you said to my brother, but it worked. The next morning he said he’d thought about it overnight and decided that if I was old enough to cook dinner and wear a little makeup, then I was mature enough to choose my own clothes without him ta
gging along.”

  Taylor wasn’t convinced that Russ’s change of heart had anything to do with her, but nevertheless, she was pleased. “That’s great.”

  “I heard from Cassie Jackson that you’re a really good teacher.”

  Cassie was a fourth-grader in Taylor’s class. She smiled at the compliment.

  “I hear half the boys in your class are in love with you already,” Mandy told her. “I told Russ that, and I think he’s a little jealous because he frowned and grabbed the paper and read it for ten minutes before he noticed it was one from last week.”

  The last person Taylor wanted to discuss was Russ Palmer. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me cut out letters, would you?” she asked, more to change the subject than because she needed any assistance.

  “Sure, I’d love to.” Within a half hour she and Mandy had assembled a bright brown, yellow and orange autumn leaf bulletin board festooned with the names of every child in the class.

  Once they’d finished, Taylor stepped back, threw her arm around her young friend’s shoulders and nodded happily. “We do good work.”

  Mandy grinned. “We do, don’t we?”

  Noting the time, Taylor felt guilty for having taken up so much of the girl’s afternoon. “It’s almost five. Do you need me to give you a ride home?”

  “That’s all right. Russ said he’d pick me up. He’s coming into town for grain and I’m supposed to meet him at Burn’s Feed Store. It’s only a block from here.”

  Mandy left soon afterward. Taylor gathered up the assignments she needed to grade and her purse and headed toward the school parking lot. Her blue Cabriolet was there all by itself. She was halfway to the car when a loud pickup barreled into the lot behind her. From the sick sounds the truck was making, Taylor knew it had to belong to Russ.

  He rolled to a stop, his elbow draped over the side window. “Have you seen Mandy?”

  She nodded, her eyes avoiding his. “You just missed her. She’s walking over to the feed store.”

  “Thanks.” His gears ground as he switched them, and he looked over his shoulder, about to back out, when he paused. “Is that your car?”

  “Yes.” Normally Taylor walked to and from school. It was less than a mile and she liked the exercise, but it had been raining that morning, so she’d brought her car.

  “Did you know your back tire’s flat?”

  Taylor’s eyes flew to her Cabriolet, and sure enough the rear tire on the driver’s side was completely flat. “Oh, great,” she moaned. She was tired and hungry and in no mood to deal with this problem.

  “I’ll change it for you,” Russ volunteered, immediately vaulting from his truck.

  It was kind of him, and Taylor was about to tell him so when he ruined it.

  “You independent women,” he said with a chuckle. “You claim you can take care of yourselves and you’re too damn proud to think you need a man. But every now and then we have our uses. Now admit it, Taylor. You couldn’t possibly handle this without me.” He was walking toward her trunk, as haughty as could be.

  “Hold it!” Taylor raised one hand. “I don’t need you to change my tire. I can take care of this myself.”

  Russ gave her a patronizing look and then chose to antagonize her even more. This time he laughed. “Now that’s something I’d like to see.” He leaned against her fender and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Feel free,” he said, gesturing toward the flat.

  “Don’t look so smug, Palmer. I said I could take care of it myself and I meant it.”

  “You wouldn’t know one end of the jack from the other.”

  Taylor wasn’t going to argue with him about that. “Would you like to make a small wager on my ability to deal with this?”

  Russ snickered, looking more pompous every minute. “It would be like taking candy from a baby. The problem with you is that you’re too stubborn to admit when a man’s right.”

  “I say I can deal with a flat tire any day of the week.”

  “And I say you can’t. You haven’t got enough strength to turn the tire iron. Fact is, lady, you couldn’t get to first base without a man here to help you.”

  “Oh, come off it. It’s about time you men understood that women aren’t the weaker sex.”

  “Sure,” Russ said, without disguising his amusement.

  “All right,” Taylor said slowly. She deliberately walked past him, then turned to give him a sultry smile. She narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps you don’t care to place a small wager on my ability. Having to admit you’re wrong would probably be more than a guy like you could take.”

  His dark eyes flared briefly. “I didn’t want to do this, but unfortunately you’ve asked for it. What shall we bet?”

  Now that he’d agreed, Taylor wasn’t sure. “If I win…”

  “I’d be willing to do something I consider women’s work?” he suggested.

  “Such as?”

  Russ took a moment to think it over. “I’ll cook dinner for you next Saturday night.”

  “Who’ll do the dishes?”

  Russ hesitated. “I will. You thought I’d have trouble going along with that, didn’t you? But I don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  “Dream on, Palmer. If I were you, I’d be sweating.”

  He snickered, seeming to derive a good deal of pleasure from their conversation. “Now let’s figure out what you’ll owe me when you realize how sadly mistaken you are.”

  “All right,” she said, “I’d be willing to do something you consider completely masculine.”

  “I’d rather have you grill me a steak.”

  “No way. That wouldn’t be a fair exchange. How about if I…do whatever you do around the ranch for a day?” Taylor felt perfectly safe making the proposal, just as safe as he’d felt offering to make her dinner.

  “That wouldn’t work.”

  “I’d be willing to try.”

  Russ shrugged. “If you insist.”

  “I do,” Taylor said.

  Still leaning smugly against the side of her car, Russ pointed at the trunk. “All right, Ms. Good-wrench, go to it.”

  Taylor opened her front door, placed her papers and purse inside and got out the key to her trunk.

  “You might want to roll up your sleeves,” Russ suggested. “It’d be a shame to ruin that pretty blouse with a grease stain. It’s silk, isn’t it?”

  Taylor glared at him defiantly.

  Russ chuckled and raised both arms. “Sorry. I won’t say any more.”

  Opening the trunk, Taylor systematically searched through it until she found what she was looking for.

  “A tire iron is about this size,” he said, holding his hands a couple of feet apart, mocking her.

  Carrying the spray can, Taylor walked around to the flat tire and squatted down in front of it. “I like my steak medium rare and barbecued over a hot charcoal grill. My baked potato should have sour cream and chives and the broccoli should be fresh with a touch of hollandaise sauce drizzled over the top.” Having given him those instructions, she proceeded to fill her deflated tire with the spray can.

  “What’s that?” Russ asked, his hands set challengingly on his hips.

  “You did say this Saturday, didn’t you?” she taunted.

  He scowled when she handed over the spray can for him to examine. “Fix-it Flat Tire?” he said, reading the label.

  “That’s exactly what it is,” Taylor informed him primly. “Whatever this marvelous invention is, it fills up the tire enough so I can drive it to a service station and have the attendant deal with it.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Russ muttered. “That’s cheating.”

  “I never said I’d change the tire,” Taylor reminded him. “I told you I could deal with the situation myself. And I have.”

  “But it’s a man who’ll be changing the tire.”

  “Could be a woman. In Seattle some women work for service stations.”

  “In Seattle, maybe, but not in Cougar Point.”r />
  “Come on, Russ, admit it. I outsmarted you.”

  He glared at her, and despite his irritation, or perhaps because of it, Taylor laughed. She got inside her car, started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. Then she circled back, returning to Russ who was standing beside his pickup.

  “What do you want now?” he demanded.

  “I just came to tell you I like blue cheese dressing on my salad.” With that she zipped out of the lot. She was still smiling when she happened to glance in her rearview mirror in time to see Russ slam his black Stetson onto the asphalt.

  Three

  No doubt psychologists had a term for the attraction Taylor felt for this rancher, she decided early Saturday evening. Why else would a woman, who was determined to avoid a certain man, go out of her way to goad him into a wager she was sure to win? Taylor couldn’t fathom it herself. Maybe it was some perverse method of inflicting self-punishment. Perhaps her disastrous relationship with Mark had lowered her to this level. Taylor didn’t know anymore.

  She’d prefer to place all the blame on Russ. If he hadn’t made her so furious with his nonsense about a woman needing a man, she probably would’ve been able to stand aside and smile sweetly while he changed her tire. But he’d had to ruin everything.

  During dinner at least, Mandy would be there to act as a buffer.

  “What do you mean you’re going over to Chris’s?” Russ asked his sister.

  “I told you about it Thursday, remember?”

  Russ frowned. Hell, no, he didn’t remember. He needed Mandy to help him with this stupid dinner wager he’d made with Taylor. The woman had tricked him. In his view, she should be cooking, not the other way around. He would’ve been happy to take her to dinner in town and be done with it, but he knew better than to even suggest that. She’d insisted he make dinner himself.

  “What’s so important at Chris’s that you have to do it now?”

  “We’re practicing. Drill team tryouts are next week, and I’ve got to make it. I’ve just got to.”

  She made it sound like a matter of life or death. “Couldn’t the two of you practice some other time?”