Darling Enemy

“Is he going to be gone long?” Jenna wondered.

Mary shrugged. “A day or so, he said. But it’s just the beginning. He may have to bring the dreadful man here as well—you know, to check the rest of the books.” She caught the look on Jenna’s face and laughed. “Yes, I know, this is Canada, but King reinvests some of the profits from the Montana operation into the livestock operation here, and...” She shook her head. “It’s all very confusing. Ask King to explain it to you someday, I have no head for business management.”

“Blakely does,” Jenna murmured with a wry glance at her mother. “I could ask him.”

Mary smiled at her. “I like Blakely very much. If you need an ally, my darling, you have one in me.”

“Thanks, Mom,” the young blonde said with a beaming smile. “It will take two of us to get around King.”

“Get around King?” Mary paused with her fork in midair and stared at her daughter. “Now, Jenna...”

“Everything will be all right, I promise,” came the smug reply. “Let’s hurry and eat, Teddi, I want to introduce you to Blakely. You’ll adore him!”

* * *

Blakely would have been adorable only to a girl who was in love with him, but he was personable and seemed to know his business. Teddi had to smother a grin at the worshipful look in Jenna’s normally sensible eyes as they followed the thin, dark-eyed man around the property while the two young women were briefed on its operation. Blakely had red hair, so bright that it seemed coppery in the sun, and Teddi couldn’t help but wonder what kind of children Jenna and the livestock foreman would have—blond ones or redheads. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing if they were serious about each other. Jenna would never make King believe that it was she Blakely was interested in, not the millions she stood to inherit.

King. If only she could stop thinking about him! In view of his contempt for her, she should have detested him in return. But she didn’t. She couldn’t stop her eyes from following him whenever he was near. She felt an attraction toward him that nothing ever daunted, and she was helpless to prevent it.

She shook herself out of her troubled thoughts as Blakely mumbled something about the growth of the livestock farm.

“Originally,” he informed the girls, “farms in western Canada were laid out in 65-hectare parcels. And most of the farms are scattered within a 320-kilometer strip along Canada’s southern border. But these days only about 5 percent of the work force is employed in agriculture,” he added sadly. “Although productivity is increasing among those who remain, and mechanization has aided us quite a lot. Did you know,” he continued, blossoming as he elaborated on his favorite subject, “that the average output of one farm worker today provides food for over fifty people?”

“I’d give that man a raise,” Teddi murmured.

Blakely stared at her until the words penetrated, then he threw back his head and laughed, delighted at the little joke.

“Forgive me,” he told her, “I do tend to get carried away about farming. I love it, you see. Not just the land, or working it and working with cattle on it; but the history and heritage behind it all. This was once part of the Northwest Territories,” he said, sweeping his arms around to indicate the lush green valley in its summer splendor, with the tall, sharp peaks of the Rockies in the distance. “Alberta and Saskatchewan were organized out of it in 1905, but French fur traders were here long before then settling the wilderness. It’s an exciting history, the settling of this territory, one I never tire of reading about. Or,” he added sheepishly, “talking about.”

“I like to talk about my part of the world, too,” Teddi told him, “and I like learning about yours just as much. Please don’t apologize. Think of it as cultural exchange,” she added impishly.

“Thank you, Teddi,” he replied with a smile.

“And now that we’ve got that settled,” Jenna added, linking arms with the tall man, “let’s see the rest of it.”

Teddi followed along behind them, her eyes sweeping over the well-kept barn and stables, the white fences that kept the animals in, the huge fields of grain growing to feed the animals through the winter. It was an imposing sight. No wonder King loved it so. The scenery alone was lovely.

The next morning, Teddi went riding with Jenna and Blakely, keeping to herself, and eventually riding back alone to the ranch. It wasn’t kind to tag along after them when they were so obviously falling in love and wanted to be alone.

She gave the horse to the ranch hand at the stables and walked aimlessly toward the house. Mary had driven into Calgary to shop, and there was no one to talk to. She didn’t mind being alone here, though. It wasn’t like being alone in that spotless New York high-rise apartment with the doors bolted and chained for safety. Here, there was help within earshot all the time. She’d never felt afraid at Gray Stag—mainly because it was King’s domain, and she was afraid of nothing when King was around.

She walked into the house, idly wondering how much longer he’d be away. She was about to start up the stairs when King suddenly came down them, startling her.

He was wearing work clothes; a blue-patterned shirt open at the throat over worn jeans and dusty boots, and a straw Western hat jammed down over his blond hair at an arrogant angle.

“Where are they?” he asked without preamble.

“Your mother’s gone shopping,” she said uneasily.

“And Jenna?” he prodded, narrow-eyed.

She averted her gaze. “She’s, uh, out riding.”

“With Blakely?”

She glared at him. “What’s wrong with Blakely?”

Both eyebrows went up. “Did I say anything was?”

She shifted, running her hand along the highly polished banister. “Well, no,” she admitted reluctantly.

“You’re always ready to expect the worst of me, aren’t you?” he asked as he reached her, his eyes darkening as they slid over her face. She couldn’t have imagined the picture she made, with her short, dark hair framing her face, her brown eyes like crystal, her cheeks just faintly flushed. “Your mouth is as red as a cardinal’s breast.”

She searched his quiet eyes, stunned at the compliment, something she’d never expected from King. King—her enemy.

He moved down another step, easing her back against the bannister with the threat of his big body. He reached down and cupped her chin with a lean, strong hand. His thumb stroked her lower lip lightly.

“How old are you now?” he asked in a deep, taut voice.

She swallowed. He was too close, too disturbing, far too masculine. He smelled of the outdoors, of a woodsy cologne and cigarettes. “I’m twenty,” she said unsteadily. “I’ll be twenty-one in four months.”

“Too young,” he murmured. “Still years too young. Do you know how old I am, Teddi?”

“You...you’re thirty-three,” she whispered.

“Thirty-four,” he corrected. His eyes fell to her mouth and studied it for a long time. “God, what a sweet mouth!” he ground out. Then, as if the admission had annoyed him, he let her go abruptly and moved away toward the front door.

She stood staring helplessly after him, her eyes glued to the blue-patterned shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the blond head that seemed to throw off golden lights as he passed under the chandelier. She loved the way he walked, so tall and bronzed and regal. She loved everything about him.

He turned with the doorknob in hand and looked back at her suddenly, reading with pinpoint accuracy the aching hunger she was too young to disguise.

His face hardened. His hand tightened on the doorknob. He uttered a soft curse and whirled, slamming the door shut with a booted foot as he headed straight for her.

She watched him with eyes so filled with confusion they seemed black, her face lifting as he came closer.

She didn’t even protest when he reached for her, crushing her soft breasts against his chest as he bent to find her mouth in one smooth, expert motion.

She felt his hard lips burrow into hers with a sense of awe, her eyes closing so that she could savor their warmth and sensuality. She stiffened involuntarily as he tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue probing at her lips.

“Let me...” he ground out, grasping the hair at the nape of her neck to tug gently, surprising a gasp from her lips. As they parted, his tongue shot past them into the soft, dark warmth of her mouth, exploring, tasting, teasing, fencing with her own tongue in an intimacy she’d never liked with other men. But King made of it a pleasure beyond bearing, a caress so sensuous that her hands reached up to grasp his hard face between them and urge him even closer.

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