Wilde Bunch Page 11

  But what was the alternative? Announcing to one and all that Lily hadn’t been in school and her whereabouts for the day remained unknown, not to mention highly suspect? Was what went on within the Wilde family any business of the Franklins? Kara didn’t think so. An inexplicable feeling of loyalty to Lily—and to Mac—kept her silent.

  That didn’t keep her from feeling guilty, however. Kara was careful not to look either at Will or Mac. Instead she watched Tricia, who appeared displeased. Because her attempt to cause trouble for Lily had been sabotaged?

  “Kara, about tomorrow,” the reverend persisted. “I will be glad to arrange—”

  “I think I’d better stay here with Clay tomorrow, Reverend Franklin,” Kara cut in. No, she was not a prisoner here, she assured herself. And she was speaking for herself. She could spend the day in town with the Franklins if she wanted....

  Her eyes flicked over Ginny and Tricia. But she didn’t want to. It was her choice, her own decision.

  Mac smiled, pleased at the outcome. She felt his hand slide over the curve of her hip, his fingers spanning her possessively. Flushing, she tried to subtly step away from him. He did not let her go.

  “Tai jumped down and grabbed a piece of chicken and took it back up on the elk head with him,” Autumn announced, running in through the den. “Does he like potato salad, too? Can I give him some?”

  “That cat!” exclaimed Tricia. “Oh, my throat feels scratchy! I feel like I’m going to sneeze again. Are my eyes getting puffy?”

  “Autumn, don’t you dare put potato salad on the elk’s head,” warned Mac.

  “Is Brick coming to school tomorrow?” Joanna asked eagerly. “It’s Wacky Tacky Day at the junior high. We’re supposed to wear the wackiest, tackiest outfits we can find and every homeroom will pick a winner. At the end of the day, there’s an assembly and all the winners go up on stage for everybody to see!”

  “Wacky Tacky Day?” repeated Autumn, smirking. “Maybe that’s why Brick and Jimmy Crow decided to go to Yellowstone.”

  “Autumn, go into the kitchen and guard the rest of the chicken from the cat,” ordered Mac.

  The mention of the cat once again, galvanized the Franklins into action. “We really must leave,” Ginny said hurriedly. “I know you folks must be hungry and, of course, we can’t have our Tricia exposed to cat dander.”

  The thank-yous and goodbyes were rushed amidst a plethora of parallel conversation and confusion. Ginny fairly dragged her daughters outdoors, and Autumn pulled Kara away from Mac, insisting she come with her to the kitchen.

  Mac and Reverend Franklin were left standing alone in the entry hall.

  “Are you going to try to keep me from seeing Kara, Mac?” the pastor demanded. “Why?”

  Mac shrugged. “I think it’s in her best interest to stay here with us.”

  “Her best interest?” Reverend Franklin snorted his disdain. “You just met her yesterday, Mac. You can’t possibly judge what—”

  “I’m going to marry her, Rev. It was your idea and it was a good one. But your part of the plan is all over, until it’s time to conduct the ceremony. That will be soon, I promise you.”

  “Mac, this isn’t how I anticipated things to be.” The pastor was clearly distressed. “I envisioned Kara staying at my house in town while you two became acquainted. I intended her to have a choice as to whether or not she wanted this—this marriage.”

  “She wants it.” Mac smiled a pure male smile of confidence and satisfaction.

  The reverend swallowed hard. “Mac, I am well aware that your charm and—uh—skill with women is...considerable. A quiet, sensitive young woman like Kara could be easily overwhelmed by your...attentions.”

  “Daddy, Mom says we have to go!” Joanna came running back to stand in the open doorway. “She says we have to let the Wildes eat their dinner now.”

  “I’ll be right there, dear,” said the pastor. “Go wait in the car with Tricia and your mother.”

  Joanna obediently scurried off, and Reverend Will turned to Mac. “Mac, your ranch is one of the most successful in the state, and you’ve made it that way by using your intelligence and aggression and determination. But to use those qualities, that drive, to hustle an innocent young woman into making a decision about her future while under your—”

  “You’d better go, Rev,” Mac interrupted coolly. “When it comes to making a choice between your concern for Kara or following your wife’s commands, you made it clear a long time ago that you’ll do whatever Ginny says, regardless of Kara’s feelings.”

  The reverend blanched. “I know I let Kara down when she was a child,” he murmured, his eyes downcast. “Which is why I will not let it happen again. This time I’m going to be here for her when she needs me.”

  “But she doesn’t need you, Rev,” Mac said bluntly. “She’s not a little girl anymore. I can give her what she needs, what she wants and vice versa. You aren’t involved in the arrangement.”

  “On the contrary, I feel very much involved. I was the one who suggested that you invite her out here, hoping that when you got to know her, you would appreciate all her fine qualities and—”

  “I told you I’m going to marry her,” Mac cut in. “I don’t understand why you’re suddenly against the whole idea which was yours in the first place.”

  “I wanted you to get to know her, to fall in love with her, not rush her into a marriage of convenience to facilitate your problems with the children. You don’t know or understand Kara, you couldn’t possibly care about her, not in such a brief length of time.”

  “I don’t have the luxury of time, Rev. The kids and I need someone now, and it’s going to be Kara.”

  “It isn’t fair to her, Mac.” The pastor threw up his hands in dismay. “You don’t see her as a unique individual or the special young woman that she is. All you see is a warmhearted girl whom you can railroad into marrying you to take over this house and those kids. It wouldn’t have mattered who got off that plane, you had already decided you would marry her.”

  “Well, isn’t that the whole point of mail-order brides? It’s not and never has been a dating service. The objective is marriage for a man who is in dire need of a wife.”

  “And the woman?” the reverend demanded. “What about her?”

  “She gets a husband and a family and a home, all the things you claimed Kara wanted so much.”

  Reverend Franklin’s shoulders drooped. “I just hate the idea of Kara not being valued for who she is,” he said with a sigh. “You’ve made it depressingly clear that you’d take to wife whoever had walked off that plane. It’s demeaning for human beings to be viewed and treated as fungible as—as grains of sand.”

  “Rev, you’re overreacting,” Mac began, but was interrupted by a long sharp blast of the car horn. “And you’re being summoned by your loving spouse. Don’t worry about Kara. I’ll take care of her.”

  The horn sounded again, and the grim-faced pastor hurried from the house.

  In the living room, Kara stood quiet and still. She’d left the kitchen to talk some more with Uncle Will, hoping it would be less strained with Ginny and the girls in the car, unable to listen and observe them. But the sound of his voice and Mac’s halted her in her tracks and their topic of conversation—her—rendered her immobile.

  She’d heard her former stepfather express his concern for her. And she had heard the cold-blooded way Mac Wilde viewed her. As a commodity, a convenience. Interchangeable with any other woman.

  It wouldn’t have mattered who got off that plane... Fungible... Not valued for herself... You’d take to wife whoever had walked off that plane... The words tumbled through her head, mocking her. When she heard the reverend leave the house, a lump swelled in her throat. She wanted to go with Uncle Will, to run away from this place. To run away from Mac Wilde.

  Impulsively, she rushed for the door only to collide headlong with Mac in the vestibule.

  “Whoa!” He laughed, putting his hands on her shoulders t
o steady her. “Are you trying for some kind of track record? I think Clay’s made it through the house in two seconds flat. You’ll have to beat his time.”

  Kara didn’t smile or laugh or even look at him. Quickly slipping out of his grasp, she hurried outside on the porch in time to see the Franklin’s car heading down the driveway, away from the house.

  “The Rev had to leave.” Mac came to stand behind her. “Ginny was determined to get Tricia far away from the dangers of cat fur as soon as possible.” He locked his hands around her waist, clasping them on her stomach. “It was nice of them to bring dinner and all, but truth be told, I’m glad they’re gone.” He nudged her hair aside with his lips, then kissed the curve of her neck.

  “Oh, don’t!” Kara exclaimed, thrusting his hands away from her. She stormed back into the house, her hazel eyes blazing.

  Mac followed her. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked baffled. It was obvious he had no idea why she was so upset. His total lack of awareness stoked her fury higher.

  She whirled to face him. “I was in the living room while you and Uncle Will were talking. I heard everything that was said.”

  Mac’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

  “And?” she echoed. “And?”

  “You said you overhead our conversation, and I want to know why you’re suddenly madder than a wet hen. You didn’t hear anything you didn’t already know. So why the tantrum?”

  “I am not having a tantrum!” she fairly choked on the words. “I just can’t believe that you could be so—so obtuse and unfeeling to think that I shouldn’t mind hearing myself described as a—a—fungible convenience, interchangeable with whatever other woman happened to get off that plane. You don’t know me or value me as a person, you just want to use me to—”

  “Wait a minute, lady!” Mac seized her around the waist and pulled her into the small room across from the living room, the one whose door had been closed until this moment. She had time to glance around to see that it was an office, complete with desk, computer and other business machines, before Mac pushed her against the wall, pinning her there with his big hard frame. He caught her chin in his hand and forced her head up.

  “If you were listening carefully, you’ll realize that I never said those things,” he growled. “That was your beloved Uncle Will describing you, honey, not me.”

  “Let me go!” Kara demanded, struggling against him. She was humiliated and furious and, worst of all, hurt. She scorned herself as a naive fool for forgetting, even for a moment, exactly why Mac Wilde wanted her here.

  “I’ve decided to stay with the Franklins tonight and return to D.C. tomorrow.” She refused to meet his eyes, despite his efforts to force her to do so. “Tai can spend the night in their garage. I’ll fix up a box for him—it won’t hurt him for just one night. Now, let go of me! I’d like to start packing.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Mac growled.

  He angled his body forward, and she could feel the hard evidence of his desire straining against her hips. She gulped, startled. How could he be so aroused when they hadn’t even kissed, when he’d barely touched her? Except to drag her into his private office, Neanderthal-style. Well, such caveman tactics might turn him on, but she refused to succumb to them!

  Automatically, she tried to draw back, but there was nowhere to go, she was sandwiched between the wall and Mac, her hands trapped at her sides.

  “I liked having you here to greet me when I came home this evening,” he said huskily, his lips brushing hers. “Let’s go back to that moment, when I first walked through the door, before all the interruptions and all the people...”

  He nipped at her lips as he spoke, taking small sensuous bites after every couple of words.

  “No!” She tried to turn her head away but his hand held her chin firmly, keeping her mouth available to him. “Let me go, Mac. I don’t want any part of your stupid plan. I just want—” She paused to gasp.

  Mac had wedged his knee between her thighs. She uttered a breathless little cry as he rubbed his hard arousal against the softest, most vulnerable part of her in intimate suggestion.

  “You want what I want,” he whispered.

  Six

  A tidal wave of heat surged through her. She tried to hang on to her outrage. “Don’t think you can use your—your charm and skill with women to—”

  “I’m not going to waste time arguing with you. Actions speak louder than words.” He threaded all his fingers through her hair, holding her head captive between his strong hands, and then covered her mouth with his.

  Kara moaned, her mind spinning. She was falling for his macho tactics all over again, just like she had yesterday! Just like she would tomorrow if she dared to stick around. She knew she should push him away. Her hands were now free to do so, but a syrupy lassitude was seeping through her, and she couldn’t seem to summon the energy to do anything but slump bonelessly against the wall. And Mac.

  He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, and her body arched reflexively. Wildfires of sensation raged through her every erogenous zone, melting her, turning her body pliant and soft, sensuously fitting itself to the contours of his hard male frame.

  Kara abandoned any semblance of resistance. The pleasure and excitement coursing through her was too intense to give up. Tension spiraled inside her, growing tighter. Her arms slid around Mac’s neck and she kissed him back as wildly, as carnally, as he was kissing her.

  His hands cupped her bottom, caressing her and lifting her higher and harder against him. Kara writhed against him, electrified by the intimacy, wanting more. A knot of desire spasmed through her as he moved his thigh between hers in a rhythmic sawing motion, back and forth, applying an exquisite pressure that caused unbearably wonderful sensations to radiate through her body.

  And then Mac lifted his mouth, though his lips remained close enough to touch hers as he spoke. “I hope this clears up any idiotic misconceptions you have about me not wanting you. Baby, when I touch you, I go up in flames.”

  His words thrilled her. Nobody had ever told her that she set them afire with desire, nobody had ever dragged her into a room and kissed her with a passion she’d only seen in the movies, either.

  But then, he knew that, didn’t he? A man of his charm and skill... She could almost hear Uncle Will’s voice warning her not to take Mac Wilde’s claims of passion seriously.

  “You would say the same thing to whoever had stepped off that plane,” she said tautly, lowering her eyes. His intense dark gaze made her blush. “You only want a woman to—”

  “I only want you,” Mac cut in, his voice rough and raspy. “And you want me so much you’re shaking with it.”

  She was trembling, her legs so weak she probably would’ve fallen if he hadn’t been holding her. And he knew it. She was weak for him; his lovemaking made her weak. And he knew that, too. She wanted him, despite knowing that what he wanted from her were her housekeeping and child-care services, not her heart and her mind and her body. Though he didn’t mind taking her body, as long as she was so willingly offering it to him. Helplessly willing.

  She had no secrets from him, he knew everything! Tears of humiliation stung her eyes.

  Mac studied her, wondering what she was thinking. His body was throbbing with the ache of pent-up desire. She roused him faster and harder than any other woman he’d ever known, and that included his ex-wife, Amy, whom he had always considered the major lust-inducer of his life.

  Now he gazed into Kara’s limpid hazel eyes, he ran his thumb over her tremulous, slightly swollen lips. It seemed he was going to have to rethink his previous beliefs. Amy was a distant memory who didn’t measure up to the passion Kara so effortlessly kindled within him.

  “I’m sorry the Rev upset you,” he said softly. “You were happy till the Franklins showed up tonight. I think it’s best if you keep your distance from them, at least for a while.”

  Kara stared into his burning dark eyes. He was sincere, she marveled. He ac
tually believed it was Reverend Franklin and his family who’d caused her distress. She was somewhat awed by his ability to miss the point entirely. Maybe those books in the pop-psychology section in the bookstores had it right, after all: men and women really were from two different planets with astonishingly disparate perceptions, language and actions.

  There was a racket emanating from the kitchen. Mac draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side as he walked her out of the office. “We’ll finish this later,” he murmured, leaning down to drop a quick kiss on the top of her head. “After the troops have retired for the night.”

  The sensual promise implied in his words, in his possessive hold, made her shiver. “Mac, I can’t. I don’t...” She took a deep breath and started over. “I don’t have casual flings.”

  “You know a casual fling isn’t what I’m proposing, Kara.” Mac grinned. “Which is a natural segue into what I am proposing—marriage.”

  They came to a halt in front of the big granite fireplace in the living room.

  Kara gnawed nervously on her lower lip. “You really expect me to go through with this mail-order marriage, don’t you? I mean, Uncle Will hoped it might happen, but he didn’t consider it a done deal. You do.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You think that I’m so desperate that I’ll marry a man I don’t know, a man I’ve known for less than two days? How do you know that I—I’m not already in love with someone else?”

  “You’re not, are you?”

  The question was posed so indifferently, Kara was insulted. “Maybe I am!” she flared.

  “Then why did your uncle Will suggest that I invite you out here to be my bride?” Mac challenged, his sardonic smile matching his tone. “He hardly would’ve done that if he knew you were in love with another man.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know!”

  “If you were madly in love with some guy, you’d have told him,” Mac declared with maddening assurance. “Women don’t keep stuff like that a secret. On the contrary, the moment a woman decides she’s in love, she can’t wait to announce it to the whole world.”