Texas Wildcat

Kelly’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”

“If you’re going out on a job with us, you’d better wear our uniform. Otherwise, the police or military are apt to haul you off the site. We’ll have Arlene make up a badge for you, too. In the meanwhile, pack one suitcase with bare essentials and be ready to move on a moment’s notice.”

Coots’s rolling laugh filled the room. “You know what he means by essentials, don’t you?”

“No. What?” Kelly asked dubiously. Both of these Texans were enjoying this far too much and it made her wary.

“Deodorant and toilet paper, honey. ’Cause most of the places we go are out in the middle of the boondocks.”

She burst into laughter. “Enough for six months, right?”

Coots continued to chuckle. “On second thought, maybe you’d better hire a camel caravan. I can just see it now: rollers for your hair, nail polish, perfume—”

Kelly stifled more laughter. “Okay, I get the point. I’ll come to the airport or wherever you want me to meet you with bells on.”

“By the way, Sam wanted a few minutes of your time when you were done with us,” Coots said, a know-it-all grin on his face.

She shouldn’t have blushed, but she did. Hastily picking up her papers and purse to quell her nervous reaction, Kelly answered in a casual voice, “Good. I wanted to thank him for dropping that report off to me last night.” Well, that wasn’t a total lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Regardless of the outcome of her meeting with Boots and Coots, she had wanted to personally thank Sam for being so supportive.

“He’s out in the warehouse with Colly, our mechanic,” Boots said, pointed toward the door that led outside.

Kelly nodded and set off down the carpeted hall. At the very end, between the richly furnished offices, was a floor to ceiling photograph of a huge oil well fire. Plumes of billowing red, yellow and orange flames were exploding skyward from the desert well. Above were frighteningly black clouds of smoke. She shuddered inwardly, remembering that it was Blanchard pipe that had failed under just such a circumstance and had left two men injured. Taking a deep breath, Kelly made a turn and walked out into the high humidity and Texas sunlight.

She had purposefully dressed in burgundy slacks and a simple, no-nonsense pink blouse with her hair drawn back into a chignon at the nape of her neck. She had found through hard experience that businessmen responded to her more as an equal if she wore pants rather than a dress. Kelly shook her head over the stupidity of it all. She had a brain in her head regardless of what she wore! Tendrils of hair curled softly about her face from the dampness in the air as she ducked into the coolness of the large, clean warehouse. Kelly halted, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sudden shade.

“Well, how did it go?” a male voice inquired from behind her.

Kelly gasped and turned on her heel. She met Sam Tyler’s interested gaze, her heart beginning to pound at his curious scrutiny.

“I…uh…God, you scared me! Do you always sneak up on people?” she demanded breathlessly, resting her slender fingers at the base of her throat.

His white coveralls were marked with dark smudges of grease. The same hands Kelly remembered as being gentle despite their size and strength were now smeared with machine oil. He was carrying a large coupling in his left hand; his right arm was still in the sling. Sam’s blue eyes twinkled as he held her startled gaze. “Sorry.” His smile became more devastating. “I try not to make a habit of scaring beautiful women.”

Kelly took a step back from him. The bright sun slanted off his broad shoulders, making Tyler seem even taller and more well muscled than she recalled. It was her imagination. She blinked, gathering her wits together. “Boots said you wanted to see me,” she explained abruptly, nervous beneath his blue eyes.

Sam moved next to her. “Follow me. We can talk as we walk. Colly will throw a wrench at me if I don’t get this coupling over to him.”

Kelly nodded and fell in step with him. She was grateful when he shortened his stride for her sake. Although she was long-legged, she was no match for Sam’s stride. “I wanted to come out and thank you,” she said in a rush of words. Why did he make her feel edgy? The coveralls he wore zipped up the front of his chest and she couldn’t help but stare at the mass of black hair visible above the zipper. He was excruciatingly masculine.

“I’d like to talk with you privately, if I could,” she said, glancing up at him.

“No problem.” He looked at his watch. “It’s noon. Why don’t I get cleaned up a little and I’ll take you over to Pondi’s, a great seafood restaurant not far from here.” He smiled. “Besides, you need some meat on your bones, Kelly Blanchard. You’re too damn skinny for a Texas woman.”

She thrilled inwardly to the way her name rolled off his tongue. Frowning and trying not to show that he was affecting her so deeply, she shrugged. “How would you know if I were skinny or not?” she challenged, on guard against the familiarity that just naturally seemed to exist between them.

“Remember, I was the guy that held you last night.” There was teasing in his tone. “And as I recall, I could feel every rib. Now, you willing to own up to being underweight and let me buy you lunch? Or are you going to fight me every inch of the way?”

An unwilling smile curved her lips. “Okay, Sam Tyler, I’ll take your browbeating this one time. I owe you, anyway.”

Three

After Kelly was introduced to Colly, a huge man who was much more heavily muscled than Sam, they departed. Kelly let Sam drive them in one of the many white Cadillacs that belonged to the company. The air conditioning was a lovely respite from the heat and Kelly relaxed in the comfort of the car as Sam drove.

“Does everyone at Boots and Coots own a Cadillac?” she asked drily.

“They’re our company cars.”

“Some company car,” she complimented, trying not to smile with him.

“You figure that our expenses run a minimum of several hundred thousand dollars a day for a team to go on a blowout. Most blowouts aren’t capped or killed right away. Boots went on one that took six months to extinguish. Add the money up on that.”

Kelly did some quick arithmetic. “No wonder all you guys go around driving Cadillacs and wearing eighteen-carat gold Rolex watches!”

“Money doesn’t buy everything.”

Kelly met his teasing blue gaze. “You’re right. Money never did buy my Dad or myself.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Oh?”

He slowed the car down and pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. “I’d hate to be the man to make the mistake of trying to buy you,” he laughed. “You’d probably deck him.”

Kelly shot him a prim look. “I am a feminist, Mr. Tyler. But I don’t think it’s necessary to go around clubbing people to make myself understood.”

Sam enjoyed her quicksilver moodiness. One moment her green eyes sparkled with challenge; the next, with an angry golden flame of righteousness. “Okay,” he said, “I give up!” He got out and then leaned down. “I’ll be an MCP and open the car door for you.”

He was impossible! Kelly broke into laughter. “Okay, I give up too! Please, open the door for me. Despite this liberated day and age, I always have room for a gentleman in my life.”

His hand fitted perfectly in the small of her back as he guided her toward the restaurant. He stole a look down at her as he opened the door. She looked a hundred percent better than yesterday. “Tell me,” he murmured, “do you look great today because of a night’s sleep or me holding you?”

She shivered imperceptibly at the husky tone of his voice. Kelly had been unable to wipe Sam Tyler from her mind. And he knew she was attracted to him! Not wanting to give him an edge, she muttered, “I slept well, if you insist upon knowing.”

Sam guided her to a darkened booth. His clean white coveralls almost glowed in the dimly lit atmosphere of the restaurant. Shadows played across his face as he sat there watching her. He folded his large, callused hand around the glass of water the waitress set before him. Many small and some larger scars covered his fingers and the back of his hand. It was mute testimony to working around machinery and welding all of his adult life.

“I’m going to take the liberty of ordering lunch for you, Ms. Blanchard.”

She stared at him. “As a show of male force?”

A grin edged his strong mouth. “No, just so you can benefit from my good taste. Although—” he looked down at his coveralls—“you’d never know I have any taste from my present outfit.”

If he had said it any other way, she might have taken issue with his statement. “Let’s see what your taste is worth, Mr. Tyler,” she challenged softly.

“Okay. I think you’ll be pleased.”

After he gave the waitress their order, Sam became serious. His brows drew together slightly. “You look pretty happy compared to yesterday. Something good must have come out of that meeting with Boots and Coots this morning.”

She nodded, sipping the vodka gimlet she had ordered. “They’ve agreed to give me one more chance,” she explained. “I’m going to go on the next call.” She saw his face tense. “What’s wrong?”