Typical Male. Cait London
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my reputation and career. You wouldn’t like the penalties. Why would you admit this now? To me?”
“I wondered when you’d get to that. You won’t raise a fuss. You’ll protect your family and your reputation — what’s left of it. You won’t want anyone knowing that the Blaylocks and Llewlyn were land grabbers. It’s all so simple, Blaylock. I want you to see me coming. I knew you’d run back here to lick your bruises —”
One black eyebrow lifted, challenging her; the morning air sizzled with electricity. Tyrell’s gaze drifted lazily over her face. “Lick my bruises? Run back here?” he repeated slowly, the sound was that of a wolf growling low in its throat just before he—
She’d been threatened before; it was her earliest memory. “You’re here, aren’t you? And not cuddled up to Hillary-poo?”
“Let’s keep on track, Lomax. Why did you choose me? I’ve got a big family.”
“You’re the baby, Blaylock. The soft spot of the family. Five brothers and one sister and they all dote on you. You were prime for the picking, like a big juicy tomato. I checked out your career and reputation and then I studied you. There you were, standing on that street corner, waiting for a taxi. You fairly dripped in expensive designer labels, you checked time on a wristwatch that cost more than some cars. And you just had that spoiled, pampered city-boy look.”
She took a breath. “I just didn’t like you when I saw you. I didn’t care if my tactics worked. I was coming to Jasmine anyway to survey Lomax land, but taking you down — you know, a Lomax taking down a Blaylock, was just something I had to try. I had time off, and pushing a Blaylock out of his cushy job seemed right. If your fiancée and your boss hadn’t believed me, that was just fine, too. But it was worth the effort, and it paid off, didn’t it?”
Anger boiled out of her as she drove home the spear. Tyrell Blaylock had everything and an easy life road; she’d had to scrimp and work for every penny. He’d zipped through college on academic and athletic scholarships; she’d had to care for her sick grandfather and father and work for grocery money, and provide for them. They were all she had — they said her mother had run off when she was only a year old. She hadn’t had tune to date, but finally, as a teenager, she reached for romance. What she found was brief, painful sex in the back seat of a car.
She studied his tall angular body. A man with Tyrell’s looks would have found everything so easy, including sex; she resented that, too. “You were looking at a solid-gold future with the Masons. I wanted to ruin you just as your grandfather and his friend Boone ruined my grandfather. So I gave you a few well-picked Christmas presents and you went down.”
“That’s called stalking, Lomax. I could stop everything with one phone call to the police, but I won’t. I’m going to enjoy the look on your face when you find out that the land has always been Blaylock.” Tyrell’s expression shifted slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking as though he was restraining a grin. He reached to run his thumb along her cheek. “A drop of sun lotion you didn’t rub in when you stopped to eat that sandwich,” he explained.
He’d been watching her. Just as she had watched him. A slight cold chill lifted the hair on her nape. Men just did not watch her, she was part of a work crew—a brief passing glance during a poker game was tops and that was to see if she was bluffing. Now, Tyrell Blaylock was dissecting her piece by piece. Celine inhaled and locked herself to what she had to do; she couldn’t be derailed by him searching out every freckle on her face, by studying her green eyes... well, one did have that spot of brown. She fought the shiver that lifted the hair on her nape; she hadn’t been studied that close — ever. She brushed away the thought that Tyrell was looking at her as a prospective sensual encounter. Men considered her as one of the boys.
She tried to ignore his slow gaze traveling over her cropped reddish-blond curls. She jerked her head to one side as he plucked a leaf from her hair and showed it to her, his eyebrows lifting innocently. She really did not like that slight curve to his mouth, just that bit of lift that said he wasn’t taking her seriously. He would...once she dug out old abstracts, journals and anything else she could find to prove her case. “You’re only thirty-seven, Blaylock. You can build a new career. You’re just —”
She released a smirk and eyed him. “You’re just taking a time-out now, and everyone knows you’re too high powered for this little burg. I saw you there in New York and you looked just exactly like my grandfather said Luke Blaylock looked, like ‘the lord of the land.’ I knew you were the perfect place to begin. I checked you out. You like numbers and take-overs. You won scholarships and aced college, the whole bit. You’re very smart. The braids are a nice touch, by the way. If you’re trying for a warrior effect. A city boy playing at macho games — my, my.”
His smile was tight and chilling. “Thank you for that much. You’re half my size, you’re on my mountain, and you’re calling me out — threatening me and my family. I suppose you’re also the woman who called Diversified’s switchboard. You left a message for me to bring a can of whipped cream, my Tarzan loincloth and lots of scented oil for our date at that sleazy hotel? It was a bit overkill, wasn’t it?”
She’d really put everything she had into that scenario. Pushing away a smirk, she blinked up at him innocently. “Oh, dear. Did I leave that message for Mason to give to you? How silly of me. And my size hasn’t got anything to do with —”
“And you’ve got a fast mouth.” Those black eyes dipped quickly to her mouth, searing it, then jerked back up to lock with her eyes. “You’re going to need much more than threats to deal with me or take any portion of my family’s land away. Tell me why you think you have claim to my family land.”
She lifted her chin, glaring up at him. Raindrops dripped steadily from the brim of her ball cap. She inched to the left to avoid the steady drip coming from the aspen limbs above her. “My grandfather said so.”
He lifted those black eyebrows and reached to switch her cap backward, revealing her face. His dark narrowed gaze sliced at her. “And that’s it?”
Celine jerked her ball cap visor around to shield her expression. One remark about her freckles or her family and she’d—“It’s enough. He wouldn’t lie. He told me the whole story, again and again. It never changed — He bought several pieces of property and he had a deed, the boundaries marked. He had a good house in a high mountain canyon and he was just getting a good start in ranching when your grandfather and Boone decided they wanted the land. They said it was Blaylock and Llewlyn land and that he had no right to it. They said that he’d bought a small piece of property by threatening the owners and then had moved the boundary markers on their land. Then Luke Blaylock, your grandfather and sheriff at the time, kept after him and he couldn’t work to pay the lawyers. The judge who sent him to prison on various robbery charges and assault was bought somehow, or the witnesses were. Then the Blaylocks got the land.”
Celine sucked in air, her temper raging. “I’m a surveyor, Blaylock, and a good one. I know how to read courthouse records, abstracts, and dig at the truth. If a rebar—a metal boundary marker—has been moved one inch, I’ll know. If a pile of rocks serving as a boundary in pioneer times has been moved, I’ll know. If a stone marker has been sandblasted to erase the chiseled inscription, I’ll know.” She narrowed her eyes behind her round tinted glasses and leveled a stare at him. She hoped the raindrops and steam on her lenses wouldn’t diminish the impact of her threat. “I’m especially good at forged deeds. I chose my career with just this moment in mind — to bring down the Blaylocks.”
Celine forced herself not to move as Tyrell lazily reached out a big hand. He lifted her ball cap and eased a finger through her jumble of curls. She forced herself to stand still; she wouldn’t be intimidated by his size. Celine fought a shiver as Tyrell said slowly, “Let me get this straight. You’re dedicated to proving your grandfather’s...belief was the truth.”
He was toying with her hair, winding it around his finger, studying the strands, and not taking her seriously. If there was one thing that could set off her Lomax temper, it was a man taking her too lightly. Celine wished he hadn’t seen her