Marry Me, Cowboy. Peggy MorelandЧитать онлайн книгу.
blew out a shaky breath. A divorcée. Cody had said. Harley quickly shook away the distracting thought that formed in his head. Didn’t matter, he told himself. All he wanted from her was her land. Catching the reins of his horse, he swung up into the saddle and looked back at the Beacham place just in time to see the screen door slam shut behind her.
He’d give her a day or two to settle in, he told himself, then he’d pay her a call. She’d probably jump at the chance to lease him the land. He bit back a grin. More than likely, being a city girl, she wouldn’t have a clue to the value and he could lease it from her for a song.
That thought kept a smile on his face as he rode back across his land toward home.
It took more than a couple of days for Harley to get around to calling on Mary Claire. More like two weeks. He kept telling himself he was too busy to bother with it, but he knew in his heart he was just plain scared to face her again. Telling himself he didn’t have anything to feel guilty about didn’t help, because he couldn’t quite shake the memory of her lying on the ground beneath him, struggling, her eyes wide with fear, pinned by his greater strength and weight. A gentle man by nature, it shamed him to think he’d handled a woman in such a rough way.
But he needed that land, he told himself as he finally made the drive to the Beacham place. And if it meant confronting the Reynolds woman and his shame to get it, he would. He parked alongside the picket fence and frowned at the closed but sagging gate. From the direction of the house came the sound of blaring rock music. Hooking a hand on the top rail, he avoided the broken gate and swung himself over the short fence. He strode down the winding, weedchoked brick walk, determined to get this business behind him.
Harley took the three steps that led to the porch of the Beacham home at a lope, then nearly fell right back down them when his gaze slammed into the backside of Mary Claire Reynolds herself. She stood on the fourth rung of a stepladder, bent at the waist, scrubbing at the front windows. Covered by a pair of ragged-hemmed cutoffs, the cheeks of her butt did a game of now-you-see-me-now-you-don’t as she moved her hips in time with the beat of the music. Legs that seemed to go on forever pressed against the ladder as she leaned toward the windows...and he couldn’t help but remember the feel of those legs wrapped around his waist.
Not liking the direction of his thoughts, Harley swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. “Ms. Reynolds?” he called. When she didn’t respond, he raised his voice to be heard over the blasting rock music. “Ms. Reynolds!”
Startled, she jerked at the sound of his voice, then grabbed at the top of the ladder to keep from tumbling backward. Moving quickly, Harley lunged, grabbing her at the waist and hauling her to safety.
Momentarily stunned, she could only stare up into the face of the man who held her. Blue eyes, dark complexion, thick mustache and bushy brows. It took only a moment before recognition dawned. She pushed against his chest, her green eyes snapping. “Get your hands off me!”
Embarrassed to realize that his hands still circled her waist, Harley dropped them to his sides and took a cautious step back. “Sorry. I thought you were going to fall.”
“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t scared the life out of me.” She let out a huff, tugging her T-shirt into place, then stooped to switch off the radio that sat beneath the ladder. More a George Strait fan himself, Harley sighed with relief at the silence that followed.
“What do you want?” she asked irritably.
Harley pulled off his hat and pushed his fingers through his hair. This business meeting wasn’t getting off to a very good start. “Well, ma’am, I’ve come to talk to you about leasing your land.”
Her head shot up, an eyebrow raised appraisingly. “And what need do you have for my land?”
“I’d like to run some cattle on it, if you’re of a mind to lease it.”
Mary Claire wiped her hands on the back of her cutoffs, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “I hadn’t thought about leasing,” she said thoughtfully.
“Were you planning on using the land yourself?”
“No,” she replied slowly.
“Then perhaps you’d be willing to lease it to me.” He waited a beat, then added, “Seems a waste to let the land sit idle when it could be generating income for you.”
He saw the gleam of interest in her eyes before she covered it with a frown. “Who said I needed income?”
Taken aback, Harley looked at her in surprise. “Well, nobody did,” he said. “Just seems foolish to let good land go unused.”
Mary Claire continued to frown at him, her green eyes narrowed to suspicious slits.
Harley heaved a sigh. “I can see you’re not interested. Sorry to have bothered you.”
He started to turn away, but Mary Claire’s voice stopped him before he’d taken a full step. “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. I just hadn’t considered the possibility of leasing the land before.”
Harley turned back. “Then you’ll lease it to me?”
Mary Claire’s frown deepened. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do business with this man. First impressions were important to her, and her first impression of this guy had been anything but pleasant. The bruise he had given her backside was a faded reminder of that first encounter. But money was important. She couldn’t afford to pass up an opportunity to generate income, no matter what the source.
“Depends,” she said, folding her arms beneath her breasts as she studied him. Deciding his offer was worth considering, she motioned for him to follow her. “I was just about to take a break, anyway, so you might as well come inside. We can discuss this over a glass of iced tea.”
Hat in hand, Harley followed her into the house and down the hall to the kitchen, trying to keep his excitement in rein. It wouldn’t do to let on how badly he needed her land. He looked left and right, wondering at the quiet. “Where are the kids?”
“Upstairs. It’s so hot I made them rest in their rooms for a while. Not that they’re resting,” she added dryly. “Jimmy’s probably playing Nintendo and more than likely Stephie’s knee-deep in dolls.”
Nodding, Harley took a seat at the table she gestured to, then watched in silence as she nabbed two glasses from the cupboards and filled them with ice. She set both on the table, then went back to the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea.
Taking the chair opposite him, she filled each glass, then picked hers up. She tipped it in a silent toast and took a long drink. Mesmerized, Harley stared at the smooth column of her throat and the slender fingers that held the glass. On a sigh she set it back on the table and leveled her gaze on his. “How much?”
Giving himself a firm mental shake, Harley blew out a slow breath. He’d already given the price a great deal of thought and named one just short of fair.
Her eyebrows shot up at his offer. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
He leaned back, ready to dicker. “Well,” he said lazily, “the land’s in pretty bad shape. I’ll have to do some clearing before I can run any cattle on it. And the fencing will need some work,” he added with a regretful shake of his head. “It’s down in several places.” He offered her a conciliatory smile. “But don’t you worry. I can take care of that,” he offered as if he was doing her a favor.
“At whose expense?” she asked pointedly.
Harley frowned, then replied, “I suppose I can handle that.”
Mary Claire studied him a minute, then named a new price.
This time it was Harley’s eyebrows that shot up. “Why, that’s highway robbery!” he exclaimed.
Mary Claire leaned back in her chair, smiling smugly. She knew nothing about the value of the land, but judging by the surprised look on his face,