The Westmoreland Legacy

She stood to stretch and was about to head toward the bedroom when she heard a knock on the door. Glancing at the clock on the wall she saw it was after ten. Usually Ms. Melody was in bed every night by eight since she was such an early riser. Had something happened? Had the older woman decided not to butt heads with her grandson and didn’t want Layla and her team to dig on the Silver Spurs after all?

Layla moved toward the door. It didn’t have a peephole so she leaned against the wooden frame and asked, “Who is it?”

“Gavin. Gavin Blake.”

Her gaze widened and heat swirled around in her lower belly. She tried forcing the sensations aside. Why would Gavin seek her out at this time of night? Had something happened to Ms. Melody? From their talks, she knew the older woman suffered occasionally with migraines.

She opened the door and the man stood there, almost bigger than life, and looking as yummy as a chocolate sundae. He was dressed as he had been that morning. Jeans. T-shirt. Western boots. But her brain wasn’t computing what he was wearing as much as how well he was wearing it.

Although it was cold, he wasn’t even wearing a jacket. He leaned in the doorway looking exactly like any woman’s dream. Hot. Sexy. And then some. He was one of those can’t-get-to-sleep nighttime fantasies that left you hot and bothered with no relief in sight. It was those thoughts that had her unable to speak, so she just stood there and stared at the penetrating dark gaze holding hers as her heart beat violently in her chest.

She knew SEALs stayed in shape, but the body of the man standing before her was simply ridiculous. She knew of no other man whose body was so well built. So magnificently toned. His jeans appeared plastered to him in the most decadent way. He made her think of wicked temptation and sinful delights.

Doubting she could stand there much longer without going up in flames, even with the blast of cold air, she swallowed deeply and then forced her voice to ask, “Is something wrong with Ms. Melody?”

From the look that quickly flashed across his features, she could tell he was surprised by her question. “What makes you think something is wrong with my grandmother?”

Layla sighed deeply. “What other reason would bring you here?”

That, Gavin thought, was a good question. Why was he here? He had heard the harmonica. And had quickly figured out the source was Layla in the party house. So what had driven him out into the night? He definitely could have waited until morning to talk to her about the dig. Had he come here just to stand in the doorway to try and get his fill of looking at her?

“Gavin?”

And why did the sound of his name from her lips send desire throbbing through him? In his horny state, it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. “Yes?”

“If nothing is wrong with Ms. Melody, why are you here?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard you playing a harmonica.”

Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise. She must have been shocked that he heard her. The guest cottage was far away from the main house and on the opposite side of the bedrooms. Gramma Mel had probably told her he would be sleeping hard for a full day.

But he wasn’t sleeping. He was here. He rubbed his hand down his face in frustration. He needed to get to Mississippi fast or else...

Or else what? He would begin thinking of Layla Harris in his bed? Too late. His mind had already gone there. More than once. Those thoughts had pretty much settled in the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Having her at the party house wasn’t helping matters. Typically, all he had to do was snap his fingers to get any woman he wanted. Why were his fingers itching to be snapped? With Layla Harris, would it be that easy? Why didn’t he think so?

“I am so sorry,” she said now. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you need to get all that rest and—”

“You didn’t wake me.”

“But you said that you heard me playing.”

“I did, but that’s not what awakened me.” Gavin figured there was no reason to tell her how disrupted his sleep patterns tended to be during his first few days back home. Which still left her question unanswered. Why was he here? Why had he sought her out? In the middle of the night? “You play very well,” he said.

Gavin thought she was even more beautiful than she had looked this morning. He blamed the easy smile that touched her lips.

“Thanks, but I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to give me that compliment.”

No, he hadn’t. He’d actually come to give her hell for feeding his grandmother a bunch of crock about buried treasure on their land. So he needed to say what he had come to say. “We should talk. May I come in?”

* * *

It was funny he would ask. After all, she was the visitor on his land. This was his house. Ms. Melody had told her that Gavin and some of his SEAL teammates had built it a few years ago as a place to hang out whenever they visited.

Gavin and his friends could get loud and rowdy here at the cottage without disturbing his grandmother. That accounted for why the place was so spacious with the cupboards bare—except for a refrigerator stocked with beer and wine coolers. Not to mention that a deck of cards seemed to be in every room.

“Yes, of course you can come in. You own the place.”

“But you’re my grandmother’s guest.”

Had he said that to remind her she wasn’t his guest? To remind her that her presence on the Silver Spurs was something he didn’t support? Layla would find out soon enough.

She moved from the door and he followed, closing it behind him. “Would you like something to drink?” Grinning brightly, she said, “There’s plenty of beer and wine coolers in the fridge.”

Gavin chuckled. “I’ll take a beer.”

She nodded. “One beer coming up.” She felt his gaze on her backside.

“Here you are. I feel funny doing this,” Layla said, coming back into the room carrying a cold bottle of beer.

He lifted a brow. “Doing what?”

“Serving you your own beer.”

“No reason that you should. You’re my grandmother’s guest.”

That was the second time he’d said that, Layla thought. Not one to beat around the bush, she crossed the room to hand him the beer, and then wished she hadn’t. Their hands had only briefly touched so why was heat filling her? And why was he looking at her as if that same heat filled him?

She quickly took a step back and wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans.

“You think that will get rid of it?”

She met his eyes. She knew what he’d insinuated, but she wanted to be sure. “Get rid of what?”

“Nothing.”

He then opened the bottle and took a huge gulp. Afterward, he licked his lips while she watched. Her chest tightened. He lowered the bottle from his mouth and held her gaze. “Want a sip?”

She drew in a deep breath to clamp down on her emotions. Was he offering to share his beer? For them to drink from the same bottle? Doing something like that was way too intimate for her. Evidently not for him. A distinct warmth coiled around her midsection. The way his eyes darkened wasn’t helping matters.

She should call his bluff and take a sip. But that might lead to other things. It might give him ideas. The same ideas floating crazily through her head. The last thing she needed was an involvement with a man. Any man. Especially him. Her work was too important to her. The idea of an October fling was not. “No thanks. I had one earlier and one was enough for me.”

Instead of saying anything, he nodded and raised the bottle to his lips to drain the rest. She watched his throat work. When had seeing a man drink anything been a turn-on?

When he finished the bottle and lowered it, she asked, “Want another one?”

He smiled at her. “No, one was enough for me.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at his use of her words. “I don’t know, Gavin Blake. You seem like the sort of guy that could handle a couple of those.”

“You’re right, but that’s not why I’m here.”

His words were a reminder that he hadn’t shown up tonight for chitchat and drinking beer. “Yes, you said you wanted to talk. Is there a problem?” Layla knew there was and figured he was about to spell it out for her.

“Who taught you to play the harmonica?”

She’d expected him to just dive in. His question threw her. “My grandfather,” she said, angling her head to look up at him. “He was the best. At least most people thought so.”

“And who was your grandfather?”

“Chip Harris.”

Surprise made Gavin’s jaw drop. “Chip Harris? The Chip Harris?”

Layla nodded. “Yes,” she said, intentionally keeping her voice light. Very few people knew that. It wasn’t something she boasted about, although she was proud of her grandfather’s success and accomplishments. He’d been a good man, a great humanitarian and a gifted musician. But most of all he had been a wonderful grandfather. Her grandparents had helped to keep her world sane during the times her parents had made it insane.

Layla saw Gavin’s dark, penetrating eyes suddenly go cold. “Is anything wrong?”

“So that’s how you did it.”

She raised a brow. “That’s how I did what?”

“How you were able to talk my grandmother into going along with your crazy scheme of Jesse James’s treasure being buried on my property. You probably heard she’s a big fan of Chip Harris, and used the fact that you’re his granddaughter to get in good with her. Get Gramma Mel to trust you and—”

“You jerk.” Anger flared through her. His accusations filled her with rage. “How dare you accuse me of doing something so underhanded, so unethical and low? You might not know me but you know your grandmother. How can you think so little of her to imagine she has such a weak mind she could be taken in by anyone? How can you not trust her judgment?”

Layla drew in a disgusted breath and then added furiously, “For your information, I never once mentioned anything about my relationship to Chip Harris to her. Ms. Melody’s decision was based on my research, which she took the time to read. And she asked questions and found some of her own answers. So regardless of what you believe, her decision was based on facts, Gavin Blake. Facts and nothing more.”

Gavin was stunned by Layla’s rage. When her words sank in, he regretted accusing her of manipulating Gramma Mel. He’d crossed the line and he knew it. He owed her an apology. “I’m sorry. I should not have accused you of that.”

“But you did. Save your apology for your grandmother. She’s one of the most intelligent women I know. But tonight you made her out to be a woman who can be influenced easily by anything, especially name-dropping. Like I said, you should know your grandmother better than that.”

Gavin didn’t say anything. Probably because he knew she was right. His grandmother was as sharp as a tack. She’d told Layla so many stories of how he’d tried to pull one over on her...unsuccessfully. Maybe he should do what his grandmother had done and read Layla’s report for himself.

“I should not have come here tonight,” he finally said.

“No, you should not have, especially if you came to talk that kind of BS. I don’t have time for it.”

Layla’s words seemed to irritate him. “You don’t think I have a right to question why you’re here?”

She didn’t back down. In fact she took a step closer. “You have every right. But you already know why I’m here. If you don’t agree with your grandmother or you want to question why I feel a dig on the Silver Spurs is warranted, I can understand that. But what you did, Gavin, is question my integrity. I take that personally.”

“You have to admit the idea of buried treasure on my land is pretty far-fetched.”

“Maybe to you but not to me. You’re a SEAL. I’m sure there are times when you engage in covert operations where the facts lead you to believe your assignment will be successful...although logically it doesn’t seem possible.”

He frowned. “It’s not the same.”

“I think it is. I did my research on the life of Jesse James. Five years’ worth. I studied his life, specifically that bank robbery in Tinsel. That’s what led me here. If you took the time to read my research, you would see it’s all there. All I’m asking is for you to give me the same courtesy Ms. Melody did and take the time to read my work.”

“I don’t have to read a report to know what you’re claiming isn’t true.”

In frustration, Layla blew out a breath and threw up her hands. “Why are you so stubborn?”

Instead of answering he gave her a careless shrug of his broad shoulders. “I’m not being stubborn. Just realistic.”

He wasn’t even trying to be reasonable. “So what do you want, Gavin? Since you believe that I’ve hoodwinked your grandmother and I’m a lunatic on the hunt for buried treasure, did you come here tonight to ask me to leave? To tell me to get off your property because you won’t allow me and my team to dig?”

When he didn’t say anything but continued to stare down at her with those dark, penetrating eyes of his, she knew what she’d just said was true. “Fine. I’ll leave in the morning.”

She moved with the intention of walking around him to show him the door. He surprised her when he reached out and grabbed her arm. The moment he touched her it seemed every hormone in her body sizzled. She couldn’t move away from him. His hand skimmed down her arm in a sensual caress.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She heard the tension in her voice and felt her heart rate quicken. Their gazes held and something hot in the depths of his eyes held her hostage. She wanted to break eye contact and couldn’t. How could any one man have so much sex appeal? Create such primal attraction?

Layla became angry with herself because of her reaction to him. The man standing in front of her had destroyed her plans. He’d placed her in a difficult position with the administration at the university and with her team. She’d have to cancel excavation and lose her funding. She might never get another chance to prove her theories. Yet at that moment all she could think about was how fully aware of him she was.

“What I’m doing is touching you,” he answered moments later, as if he’d needed time to give her question some thought.

Well, she had news for him. He should keep his hands to himself. So why wasn’t she telling him that? And why was there a throb inside her? One that had started in her stomach but was now going lower to the juncture of her thighs? And why, when she saw his head lowering, did she just stand there? When his lips touched hers and he wrapped her in his arms, she sank into him. The same way he was sinking into her mouth.

The kiss was making her forget everything, even the fact that he wanted to throw her off his ranch. The only thing she could concentrate on was how his tongue was moving around in her mouth, sending shivers up her spine until she heard herself moan.

But he was moaning as well, and then he deepened the kiss. She recognized this for what it was. Lust. And that usually led to sex. If that was his plan, he could take it elsewhere. She had no intention of getting involved, no matter how fleetingly, with a man who refused to take her work seriously.

She pulled her mouth free and took a step back. “Like I said. I’ll be off your property in the morning.” She then walked around him to the door.

Before opening it, she glanced back at him. He stood in the same spot, staring at her as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Seriously? Did he think she was that complicated? As far as she was concerned, he was the problematic one.

He was the man who, with very little effort, it seemed, could tempt her to lower her guard, to surrender to this need he created inside of her. A need she hadn’t realized even existed. And it appeared he was dealing with his own need if the huge bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans was anything to go by. There were just some things an aroused man couldn’t hide.

“We need to keep sex out of this, Gavin.” She’d had to say it, considering the strong sexual chemistry flowing between them. Chemistry both of them were fully aware of.

He stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing, but she saw the tightening of his jaw. Had her words hit a nerve? Had they made him realize that she wasn’t as gullible as he thought?

When he began walking toward her, her heartbeat quickened with every step he took. Never had she felt such a strong primal attraction to any man. Even his walk, his muscled thighs flexing erotically with every step, tripped her pulse. It had her drowning in the sexual vibes pouring off him.

When he came to a stop in front of her, he grabbed her hand to keep her from opening the door. Immediately, like before, they became attuned to each other. Why was there such a strong physical attraction between them? No man had ever made her forget about work. But she struggled to remember that work was the reason she was here. That and nothing else.

“Don’t know about you, but I can’t keep sex out of it, Layla. I think you know why. Whether we like it or not, there’s a strong sensual pull between us. I felt it the moment I set eyes on you this morning, and if you say you didn’t feel it as well, then you would be lying. You might pretend otherwise, but you want me as much as I want you.”

No matter what he said, she would deny it. She hadn’t come to the ranch for this. She had come to Cornerstone, Missouri, to do a job—to prove her theory and move up in her career—not to have an affair with a navy SEAL who could overtake her senses. A man who was proving, whether she wanted him to or not, that she had sexual needs she’d ignored for too long. But regardless of that proof, under no circumstances would she sleep with him. Doing so would be a very bad idea. It would be a mistake that could cost her all she’d worked for up to this point. Besides, hadn’t he all but told her to get off his land?

Instead of a straight-out denial, she said, “What I want is to be allowed to do my job. I need to do that dig, Gavin.”

His gaze hardened. “Why? To prove me wrong?”

“More than proving you wrong, I need to prove to myself and my peers that I am right. There’s a difference, but I don’t expect you to understand.”

* * *

Yes, he understood the difference. Hadn’t he felt the need to prove that he was his own man? To prove that being a SEAL hadn’t been about his grandfather’s and father’s legacies but about establishing a legacy of his own? The first Gavin Blake had been handpicked to be part of the first special operations unit that became known as the SEALs. And Gavin’s father, Gavin Blake Jr, had died a war hero after rescuing his team members and others who’d been held hostage during Desert Storm.

For years, he’d thought being Gavin Blake III was a curse more than a blessing. You couldn’t share the name of bigger-than-life SEAL predecessors without some people believing you should be invincible. It had taken years to prove to others, as well as to himself, that he was his own man. Free to make his own mistakes. Now he cherished the memories of the heroes his grandfather and father had been and he was proud to carry their names and to continue the family legacy of being a SEAL. In the end, he’d realized becoming his own man hadn’t been about proving anything to others but proving it to himself.

A part of him wanted to believe that Layla’s issues were hers alone. They were her business to deal with and not his. But for some reason he couldn’t let her go. His curiosity pushed him to say, “Don’t leave the Silver Spurs just yet, Layla.”

He saw that his words surprised her. Gave her pause. “Why? You ridiculed my years of research, accused me of manipulating your family and told me not to dig on your land. Why should I stay?”

“To convince me that you’re right.”

He could tell from her expression she thought what he’d said didn’t make sense. “I can’t do that unless you give me permission to excavate, Gavin. That’s the only way I can prove anything.”

Gavin was totally captivated by Layla Harris—by her passion for her work, and this passion between them. Why? He wasn’t sure. She was beautiful, but he’d been around beautiful women before. She was built—with lush curves, a nice backside and very attractive features—but all those were just physical attributes. Deep down, he believed there was more to Layla Harris than just her beauty, more than her intelligence. There was something inside of her she refused to let surface. And it was something he wanted to uncover.

One thing for certain, he honestly wasn’t ready for her to leave the Silver Spurs. But she was right. Why should she stay if he wouldn’t allow her to dig on his property? He gritted his teeth at the thought of any woman making him feel so needy that he’d allow her to dig up the south pasture, his special place. But he quickly remembered he’d gone six months without sex, which had a way of crippling a man’s senses.

“It’s late,” he heard himself say. “Let’s talk more tomorrow.”

“Will talking tomorrow change anything, Gavin?”

All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t think straight being this close to her. But the last thing he wanted was to wake up tomorrow and find her gone. “It might,” he said. “I’m not making any promises, Layla. All I can say is that right now I’m exhausted and can’t think straight.” He would let her think his muddled mind was due to exhaustion and not the degree of desire he had for her.

“Will you read my research?”

He wouldn’t lie about that. “No. You can go over the important aspects of your work when we meet tomorrow.”

She stared at him for a long moment as if weighing his words. Finally, she said, “Alright. I’ll stay until we can talk.”

Relief poured through his body, quickly followed by frustration and annoyance. No woman could tie him in knots like Layla seemed capable of doing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he’d first arrived, her hair had been neatly pulled back. Had he mussed up her hair when he’d kissed her? Maybe that was why the loose curls now teasing her forehead were a total turn-on.

“Good night, Gavin.”

That was his cue to go. “Good night.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold Missouri night.

Three

Layla awakened the next morning wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Would remaining an additional day to meet with Gavin really change his mind?

There was always the possibility that it could, which was the reason her bags were not already packed. Besides, she was a fighter, a person who didn’t give up easily. It had taken over a year to convince the university to give her funding for the dig, and another six months to get them to ease off some of their restrictions and ridiculous conditions. Even now, she wasn’t sure the heads of the department believed in her 100 percent, but at least they were giving her a chance.

Now all of that forward momentum—the work that could change the history books and earn her a tenured position—could end because of Gavin. She drew in a deep breath. What was she going to do? Short of sleeping with him, she would do just about anything to convince him to reconsider.

She shifted in bed to look out the window. She’d thought she had a beautiful view in her high-rise apartment overlooking downtown Seattle—until now. The rolling plains, majestic hills and valleys of the Silver Spurs were awesome. The concrete jungle she saw each morning from her bedroom window couldn’t compare.

She loved it here. She wouldn’t mind returning to visit. But this time, she wasn’t here for a vacation. She had a job to do and she hoped Gavin wouldn’t stand in the way of her doing it.

Gavin.

He thought she’d been manipulative enough to use her musician grandfather’s name to get in good with his grandmother. Although he had apologized, those accusations still bothered her. Yet in spite of them, she had allowed him to kiss her. And it was a kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about. A kiss so deeply entrenched in her mind that she’d thought about it even while she’d slept. She was thinking about it now while wide-awake.