The Playboy Meets His Match

She glared at him. “I don’t want to go to jail. I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to go to jail, either. My house is far more comfortable, and I’m better company that any of those deputies and you can have something to eat or drink whenever you want.” He gave her a speculative look. “You know, men have been breaking women’s hearts and vice-versa since the beginning of time. Your sister got jilted by a low-down lying rascal—as you would say—but that happens. When it does, you pick up and go on with life.”

She bristled. “How easy that is for you to say! You’re a playboy and I’m sure you’re incredibly experienced at breaking hearts. I’ll bet you’ve left a path strewn with them back to when you were just out of elementary school.”

“Grade school? I don’t think so!” he said and rewarded her with another fabulous grin.

“And I’ll bet no female has ever broken your heart. So don’t even talk to me about how unimportant a broken heart is!”

He tilted his head. “Another swift punch—somewhat undeserved, I think. I’ve always made it clear that I’m not a marrying man. I’m not into commitment and I always state that up front. I have never been engaged to anyone and never hinted at engagement. So don’t lump me in with broken promises of engagement. There’s a difference. Anyone who dates me knows exactly how I feel about marriage. I’m very open about it. Most of the women I date feel just the way I do.”

“Why aren’t you a marrying man, if I may ask?”

Again, she caught that brief shuttered look and a muscle working in his jaw. He had some touchy point, something that had happened to him that had soured him on marriage.

“My brothers have had disastrous marriages that have torn apart their lives and hurt their children. I don’t ever want to go through that.”

She suspected there was more to the story than he was telling her, but they were little more than strangers and she could understand why he would be reluctant to tell her about himself. As he talked, he unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. She didn’t think he was aware of what he was doing, but she was certainly aware of the slight glimpse of a tanned, well-sculpted chest.

“Those sweats may be rather warm for this time of year. Want something more comfortable?”

“That would be nice,” she said and he stood, reaching down to take her wrist.

“You don’t have to hold me.”

“Only your wrist. I can keep up with you better this way,” he answered lightly, but it made her stand closer to him than was comfortable. He had to be a couple of inches over six feet tall. The top of her head reached his shoulder and she felt as if tiny currents of electricity were jabbing her when she was close to him. The prickly awareness put her on edge because it was so uncustomary for her. What was it about him that caused the sparks? Surely not just his movie-star looks. She shouldn’t be susceptible to bedroom eyes and a high-wattage grin. Something about him had her heart skipping way too fast and she could just imagine the broken hearts he had in his past.

They entered a large hallway decorated with Western art and he directed her back across the kitchen to another hallway. “The east wing of the house has spare bedrooms, my office and a workout room. We don’t use these bedrooms unless everyone is home.”

“Who is everyone?”

“My brothers and their families. They’ve remarried and have kids. We spend a lot of time here,” he said switching on lights and she entered another large, comfortable room with leather-upholstered furniture. A pool table was in the center of the room with a Ping-Pong table in a far corner and an immense stone fireplace along one wall. A wide-screen television stood at one end and one wall was lined with shelves filled with books. Two large gun racks were against another wall with an antique sword mounted over the fireplace.

“I can see why. You have everything you need here at home.”

“Not quite,” he drawled, and she knew he was referring to a woman companion.

“Don’t you get lonesome here?” The moment she asked, she knew it was a ridiculous question, and she answered before he could. “I know you don’t get lonesome anywhere. I’m sure I’m keeping you from some woman’s company tonight, and I’ll bet she’s quite unhappy about it.”

“No, I told you. There’s no one in my life right now.”

“If there’s not, she must be only a day away. I can’t imagine you going ten minutes without a woman close at hand.”

“Tonight I’ve got you, darlin’,” he drawled lightly, and she knew he was teasing her.

“And I know full well you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just assigned to keep you out of trouble.”

“To keep me away from Dorian is the truth. You can’t watch me forever.”

“Nope, I surely can’t, but for tonight I can do my assignment.”

She was acutely aware of his fingers still circling her wrist. Moving close at her side, he led her to another large room where he switched on a light. “Here’s my office.”

“What a beautiful desk.” When she wriggled her arm, he released her. As soon as he did, she crossed the room to look closer at the satinwood-and-ebony desk. “This looks old.”

“It is. My grandfather brought it home from Europe on one of his travels. I’ve tried to add some antiques to this home since I’ve had the house.”

“This is a beautiful desk,” she said, running her fingers along the smooth wood. Antique glass-fronted cases held books, but before she could read the titles, he took her arm lightly and led her back through the kitchen toward the center of the house and the west wing. “We’ll be staying in this end of the house.”

While they sauntered down the hall, Meredith considered escape. Maybe if he drank a few more beers, he would sleep dead to the world and her escape would be even easier.

“I’m surprised you don’t keep a dog out here.”

“There are several dogs on the ranch, but they’re down at the bunkhouse with the men.”

“Don’t tell me dogs don’t like you.”

He glanced at her with amusement in his eyes again. “I get along fine with the dogs. They’re just shut in the bunkhouse at the moment. Want me to get one of them up here?”

“Heavens, no! I just found it unusual to be out in the country and not see a dog.”

“Well, city girl, the dogs are here. I’ll show you tomorrow. Right now, I’ll show you around the house. Here’s the dining room.”

She looked at a large room with a Texas-size carved, mahogany table that held ten chairs on each side and two arm chairs at each end. A sparkling crystal chandelier caught the light and silver gleamed on the buffet. Another brick fireplace was at one end of the room.

“Do you actually eat in here?”

“Sure. The table is over one hundred years old and my great-great-grandfather had ten kids. The Windover descendants are all over Texas. We have big family get-togethers, and each of my brothers has four kids, so that’s at least twelve people when they come home. There’s a guest cottage in back for the overflow.”

“What about your parents?”

Again she caught the briefest shuttered look before he turned his head away and switched off the dining-room light. They moved down the hall. “My parents were divorced. I haven’t seen my mother since childhood, and my dad died last year.”

“I’m sorry you lost your father. My dad died when I was eleven.”

“I miss my dad,” he said gruffly. “Eleven must have been a rough age to lose your father.”

“It was, but my parents were always very involved with each other and not as much with us kids. Particularly my mom. My mother was just not meant to be a mother. I was always mother to my sisters and that was all right with me and good for Mom. Dad helped with the girls.”

“So you were mother to your sisters. Was your brother Hank the second dad?”

“Hardly,” she answered dryly. “Hank’s wild. When Dad died, Hank got more wild. He’s in trouble half the time and he’s out of touch with the family. I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

“I sort of remember that he’d been in some scrapes,” Jason said politely, and she could imagine that if he knew her brother, he knew some of the predicaments Hank had been in.

“If you know Hank, you must ride in rodeos.”