Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

“I suppose it might sound that way.” She shifted the pizza boxes on her knees. “Bull, my father has a weak heart. The doctors have said that, with treatment, he could live years. But if his condition takes a bad turn, he could go anytime.”

“I’m sorry, Susan.” Bull meant it. Cliff Rutledge had struck him as a snob, but it was clear that Susan cared about him. “Where’s your mother in all this?”

“My mother and father are still married. But they pretty much live separate lives. She has her society friends and her cocktail parties, where she usually drinks so much that she can’t get out of bed the next day. She likes showing off, and I’m sure she’ll enjoy planning a fancy wedding for me. But we aren’t close.”

“I’m sorry.” Bull steeled himself against showing too much sympathy. Susan hadn’t had an easy life. But this was the girl who’d forced him to kill his prize bull, flirted with him at Ham Prescott’s dinner, and was now engaged to his rival.

“I remember hearing about your father,” she said. “Did you learn any more about what happened to him?”

Bull had, but he wasn’t ready to share the story. “Can’t say I’ve had much time for that,” he said. “But it still eats on me. I won’t be at ease until I know how it happened.”

“My father knows he’s ill.” Susan picked up the thread of her story. “That’s one of the reasons he came back here to Texas. He wanted to see my future settled, with someone to help manage my affairs. Yesterday he took Ferg aside in the library. They talked a while, and then Ferg came out and proposed.”

“And you said yes, just like that?”

“I said yes to being engaged, but I insisted on a year to go to college at Savannah State University. That way I’ll be close to home if Dad needs me. The understanding is that Ferg and I will be married next summer. My father’s promised he’ll be there to walk me down the aisle.”

“So you’ve got it all worked out.” Bull couldn’t disguise the sarcasm in his voice. What was it to him if Susan wanted to marry a jackass like Ferg, who’d likely burn through her fortune faster than fire through dry prairie grass?

“If that’s how you want to put it, yes,” she said. “My father needs to know that I’ll be all right. And he needs something to look forward to. That’s what I’m trying to give him.”

Bull thought about Ferg and his reputation as a womanizer. Susan wouldn’t be getting much of a bargain. But maybe she knew that. Maybe she’d figured that being mistress of a big ranch would be worth putting up with a lazy, skirt-chasing husband. As for Ferg, he’d be getting the beautiful, spirited heiress to a fortune. Now that was what most men would call a trophy!

But what did it matter? Didn’t most marriages involve some kind of bargain—for sex, for security and social standing, for children, even for love, whatever that was? As long as both parties knew what they were getting—and what they were giving in return—maybe that was all right. But would it be enough for a woman like Susan?

Bull had taken a back road that wound among fields and small farms. Now he pulled off the road beneath some overhanging willows. Shutting off the engine, he sat in silence for a moment. The willow leaves made dappled shade over the truck. A light summer breeze rippled across the alfalfa fields and stirred a lock of Susan’s hair.

“I haven’t forgotten what I promised you,” she said.

Bull’s pulse slammed. “Well, for what it’s worth, I haven’t chewed tobacco in the past year.”

“Good, because I’ve given up cigarettes.” The pupils of her eyes were like silver-rimmed pools. Her satiny lips parted as she leaned toward him. The pizza boxes on her lap, along with the gear box between the seats, formed a barrier between their bodies. But when he pushed toward her, and felt the first brush of her lips, he forgot about everything except kissing her.

Her soft, moist mouth clung deliciously to his, lingering for breathless seconds. She tasted of sweetness and chocolate and pure, female sensuality. The flicker of her tongue against his sent a hot jolt of arousal down through his body. Bull savored the aching hunger, wanting his hands on her, and more, but knowing this was the best he was going to get.

They drew apart, both of them slightly out of breath. Bull leaned back in the seat and started the truck. In the awkward silence, he forced himself to chuckle. “Well, Miss Susan, all I can say is, when you gave your word to do it right, you weren’t kidding.”

She reached across the gear box and touche

d his arm. “Take me home, Bull,” she said.

Bull drove back up the lane toward the highway. He’d told himself there was nothing more to say. But there was one question he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Do you love him, Susan?”

She gazed ahead, through the dusty windshield. “I understand him. He’s like a little lost boy who doesn’t know his way. I suppose that’s good enough for starters. The rest will come in time.”

“And does Ferg love you?”

She glanced at him with a bitter smile. “You’ll have to ask him that question, won’t you?”

Bull had no answer. Minutes later he pulled up to the ranch gate and went around the truck to open her door. He held the pizza boxes while she climbed out to the ground. “Thanks for the lift,” she said.

“Anytime.” He watched her walk toward the house, her woman’s stride all grace and power.

He would enjoy winning her away from Ferg, he thought. But what would he be winning her to? He had nothing to offer a woman like Susan. The sooner he forgot her, the better for them both.

Cursing the memory of that blistering kiss—the kiss that had made him want her—Bull climbed into the truck and drove back to the Rimrock.