Texas Brides: The Rancher and the Runaway Bride & The Bluest Eyes in Texas: The Rancher & The Runaway Bride

Tate stopped only long enough to grab her duffel bag and sling it over her shoulder before scampering up the three steps after him.

Adam’s living room was masculine through and through, filled with massive Spanish furniture of natural leather studded with brass. There was not another frill or a furbelow to soften the room. No woman has lived here in a long time—if ever, Tate decided.

She discovered that the adobe hacienda formed a U shape. The two wings enclosed a garden shaded by immense moss-laden live oaks and bright with blooming bougainvillea. A central tile fountain splashed with cascading water.

They finally arrived at Adam’s office, which was located at the tip of one wing of the house. The thick adobe walls and the barrel-tile roof kept the inside of the house dark and cool, reminiscent of days gone by when everyone took an afternoon siesta.

Tate saw from the immaculate condition of the office that Adam must be an organized person. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Tate felt her heart sink. She wasn’t averse to order, she just refused to be bound by it. That had been one small rebellion she was capable of in the space in which her brothers confined her.

Instead of sitting on the leather chair in front of the desk, she seated herself on a corner of the antique oak desk itself. Adam refused to sit at all, instead pacing the room like a caged tiger.

“Before we go any further, I want to know your real name,” he said.

Tate frowned. “I need a promise from you first that you won’t contact my brothers.”

Adam stopped pacing and stared at her.

Tate stared right back.

“All right,” he said. “You’ve got it.”

Tate took a deep breath and said, “My last name is Whitelaw.”

Adam swore under his breath and began pacing again. The Whitelaws were known all over Texas for the excellent quarter horses they bred and trained. He had once met Garth Whitelaw at a quarter horse sale. And he was intimately acquainted with Jesse Whitelaw. Tate’s brother Jesse, the one she hadn’t seen in years, had recently married Honey Farrell—the woman Adam loved.

Honey’s ranch, the Flying Diamond, bordered the Lazy S. Fortunately, with the strained relations between Adam and Jesse Whitelaw, Tate’s brother wasn’t likely to be visiting the Lazy S anytime soon.

Adam turned his attention to the young woman he had rescued from the side of the road. Her short black hair was windblown around her face, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She was gnawing worriedly on her lower lip—something he thought he might like to do himself.

Adam felt that telltale tightening in his groin. He tucked his thumbs into his jeans to keep from reaching out to touch her.

Tate crossed her legs and clutched her knee with laced fingers. She could feel the tension in Adam. A muscle worked in his jaw, and his expression was forbidding. A shiver ran down her spine. But it wasn’t fear she felt, it was anticipation.

She was so nervous her voice cracked when she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and asked, “So, do I get the job?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Tate was on her feet and at Adam’s side in an instant. “I’d be good at it,” she argued. “You wouldn’t be sorry you hired me.”

Adam had his doubts about that. His blood thrummed as he caught the faint scent of lilacs from her hair. He was already sorry he had stopped to pick her up. He couldn’t be anywhere near her without feeling as randy as a teenager. That was a fine state of affairs when he had appointed himself her guardian in her brothers’ stead. But he believed Tate when she had said she would just run away again if her brothers tried taking her home. Surely she would be better off here where he could keep a close eye on her.

He carefully stepped away from her and went around to sit behind his desk. Perhaps it would provide a more comfortable barrier between himself and the uncontrollable urges that struck him when he got within touching distance of this engaging runaway.

He steepled his fingers and said, “The job I have available isn’t the same one that was advertised.”

She braced her palms on the desk and leaned toward him. “Oh? Why not?”

Adam took one look at what her careless posture in the peasant blouse revealed and forced his gaze upward to her wide hazel eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“How?”

Why didn’t she move? He had the irresistible urge to reach out and—He jumped up from behind his desk and started pacing again. “You’d have to know a little bit about what’s happened on the Lazy S over the past couple of months.”

Tate draped herself sideways across the chair in front of the desk, one leg swinging to release the tension, and said, “I’m listening.”

“My previous ranch manager was a crook. He’s in prison now, but besides stealing other people’s cattle, he embezzled from me. He left my affairs in a mess. Originally, I’d intended to hire someone else to try to straighten things out. Lately I’ve decided to put my medical practice on hold—”

“Wait a minute!”

Tate sat up and her feet dropped to the floor, depriving Adam of the delicious view he’d had of her derriere.

“Do you mean to tell me you’re a doctor?” she asked incredulously.

He shrugged sheepishly. “Afraid so. Over the past few months I’ve been transferring my practice to another physician who’s moved into the area, Dr. Susan Kowalski. Now I have time to supervise the work on the Lazy S myself. What I really need is someone I can trust to organize the paperwork and do the bookkeeping.”

Adam pointed to the computer on a stand near his desk. “That thing and I don’t get along. I can’t pay much,” Adam admitted, “but the job includes room and board.” That would keep her from sleeping in her truck, which was about all Adam suspected she could afford right now.

Tate wrinkled her nose. She had cut her teeth on the computer at Hawk’s Way, and what she didn’t know about bookkeeping hadn’t been discovered. But it was the kind of work she liked least of everything she’d done at Hawk’s Way. Still, a job was a job. And this was the best offer she had gotten.

“All right. I accept.”

Tate stood and held a hand out to Adam to shake on the deal.

When Adam touched her flesh he was appalled by the electricity that streaked between them. He had suspected his attraction to Tate, all the while warning himself not to get involved. His powerful, instantaneous reaction to her still caught him by surprise. He blamed it on the fact that it had been too damn long since he’d had a woman. There were plenty who would willingly satisfy his needs, women who knew the score.

He absolutely, positively, was not going to get involved with a twenty-three-year-old virgin. Especially not some virgin who wanted a husband and a family. For Adam Philips wouldn’t give her one—and couldn’t give her the other.

Tate was astonished by the jolt she received simply from the clasp of Adam’s hand. She looked up into his blue eyes and saw a flash of desire quickly banked. She jerked her hand away, said, “I’m sure we’re both going to enjoy this relationship,” then flushed at the more intimate interpretation that could be put on her words.

Adam’s lips curled in a cynical smile. She was a lamb, all right, and a wily old wolf like himself would be smart to keep his distance. He didn’t intend to tell her brothers where she was. But he was betting that sooner or later word of her presence on the Lazy S would leak out, and they would find her. When they did, all hell was going to break loose.

Adam shook his head when he thought of what he was getting himself into. Tate Whitelaw was Trouble with a capital T.

“Where do I bunk in?” Tate asked.

Adam dragged his Stetson off and ruffled his blond hair where the sweat had matted it down. He hadn’t thought about where he would put her. His previous foreman had occupied a separate room at one end of the bunkhouse. That obviously wouldn’t do for Tate.

“I suppose you’ll have to stay here in the house,” he said. “There’s a guest bedroom in the other wing. Come along and I’ll show you where it is.”

He walked her back through the house, describing the layout of things as they went along. “My bedroom is next to the office. The living room, family room and kitchen are in the center of the house. The last bedroom down the hall on this other wing was set up for medical emergencies, and I haven’t had time to refurnish it. The first bedroom on this wing will be your room.”

Adam opened the door to a room that had a distinctively southwestern flavor. The furniture was antique Americana, with woven rugs on the floor, a rocker, a dry sink, a wardrobe and a large maple four-poster covered with a brightly patterned quilt. The room felt light and airy. That image was helped by the large sliding glass door that opened onto the courtyard.

Tate sat down on the bed and bounced a couple of times. “Feels plenty comfortable.” She turned and smiled her thanks up at Adam.

The smile froze on her face.

His look was avid, his nostrils flared. She was suddenly aware of the softness of the bed. The fact that they were alone. And that she didn’t know Adam Philips…from Adam.