And The Winner--Weds!. Robin Wells
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that made no sense—no sense at all. He clicked the metal box of bandages closed and straightened.
She stood, as well. “Thanks. I really appreciate your help.”
“My pleasure.”
His gaze fell to her lips. They were moist and pink, and they stood out in sharp contrast to the green on the rest of her face. In fact, she seemed to be all eyes and lips. Beautiful hazel eyes. Plump, luscious-looking lips—lips that parted slightly as he stared at them. A rush of heat coursed through him. How he’d like to press his mouth to those lips, to draw that pouty bottom one into his mouth, to slide his tongue right between her lips….
The inappropriateness of his thoughts jarred him. He shifted the first-aid kit to his other hand. “Well, I’d better get back to the ranch. Tommy needs these parts for the car.”
“And I’d better get back inside and get this goop off my face.”
“Right.” Austin nodded curtly. “Well, see you later.”
“Okay.” Those tempting lips curved into a smile. “And thanks. For the first aid, and for stepping in with Lyle.” Her hair had come loose from the low ponytail she wore, and she brushed a stray strand behind her ear.
“My pleasure.” But it was pleasure of an entirely different kind that he was thinking about as he watched her turn and scurry back into the drugstore.
I must have taken one too many knocks to the head in race collisions, Austin thought as he strode to his car. Why else would a woman covered in a shapeless plastic cape who looked as if she’d fallen face-first into a bowl of puréed spinach turn him on more than any woman had in a long, long time?
Lyle Brooks gunned the engine of his expensive car as he tore down the dirt road leading to the resort construction site, still fuming over his near accident in town.
Who the hell did Austin Parker think he was, telling him what to do? He might be a hotshot on the NASCAR circuit, but that didn’t mean he was anyone here in Whitehorn.
Around here, Lyle thought heatedly, he was the hotshot. After all, he was the owner of the construction company building the resort and casino, the biggest thing to ever hit this one-horse town. The complex was going to put Whitehorn on the map. Even more importantly, it was going to make Lyle richer and more powerful than ever.
Lyle braked as he approached the construction trailer, pulling into the spot directly in front of the door. His foreman had suggested that they reserve the spot for the handicapped, but Lyle hadn’t cared for the idea. It was his construction company, by damn. If anyone was going to get the best parking spot, it was going to be him. He wanted the best out of life, whether it was parking spots or cars or cigars or women. He wanted it, he deserved it, and he intended to see that he got it.
Slamming the door of the Jag, he strode up the wooden steps into the luxury trailer to find his secretary, Pam, on the phone. “Oh, he just walked in, sir,” the attractive blonde said into the receiver. “Just a moment.” Pam punched a button and looked up. “It’s your grandfather.”
So the old goat finally decided to call me back, Lyle thought. He’d been trying to reach Garrett Kincaid all morning, but all he’d got was the old man’s answering machine. Lyle didn’t know why his grandfather didn’t just get a cell phone. Garrett said he didn’t need one, but Lyle was certain he was just being stubborn. It was awfully hard to get the old man to change his mind about anything once his mind was made up about it.
But Lyle was working on it. Oh, yes, he was working on it. “I’ll take the call in my office,” he said, stalking past the secretary and closing the door.
He lowered himself into the tall cordovan leather chair. It was a custom-made chair Lyle had ordered from a furniture company in North Carolina, stately and large, with an extra-high back. Even with the two-inch lifts in his shoes, Lyle was only five-foot-nine, and he liked to make an imposing impression.
He picked up the phone and punched the button, forcing a warmth he didn’t feel into his voice. “Hello, Granddad. Thanks for calling me back.”
“What can I do for you today, Lyle?”
“I was, er, wondering if you’ve given any more thought to what we were discussing yesterday. “
He heard his grandfather sigh. “Lyle, we’ve been all through that, and you know how I feel about the matter. That land is reserved for Gabriel, and I’m not going to swap it for yours. There’s no point in discussing it further.”
“I’m not asking for a straight trade. I’m willing to offer a considerable amount of money in addition to my land. For the sake of fairness, I don’t see why you can’t at least consider the possibility of selling it to me.”
“I’ve been more than fair with you, Lyle.” Garrett’s voice was as hard as steel. “It’s my land, and I’ll do what I damn well please with it.”
“But two years ago, you didn’t even know about Larry’s brood of bastards!”
“I won’t have you talking about your cousins that way.” The steel in Garrett’s voice sounded razor-sharp.
“Cousins.” Lyle spit the word out, derision dripping from his voice. “I don’t understand how you can consider those illegitimate whelps as family.” As far as Lyle was concerned, they were nothing but unfortunate reminders of his uncle Larry’s philandering ways.
“Because that’s what they are, whether you like it or not.” Garrett’s voice cut sharply through the phone line. “They’re Larry’s sons. They’re as much my blood as you are, and I suggest you start accepting that fact.”
Lyle stared out the window at the Crazy Mountains, their tops rugged and craggy above the timberline. They looked just like his grandfather sounded, tough and indomitable and unmoving. No, his grandfather was tougher than the mountains, Lyle thought ruefully. If a mountain was in his way, he could always blast through it with dynamite. With his grandfather, he’d have to find a way around.
The old man was completely intractable when it came to this topic. Ever since he discovered two years ago that his late son, Larry, had fathered seven illegitimate children, Garrett had refused to listen to reason. The old man had not only welcomed the bastards into the bosom of the family, but given them all large chunks of the Kincaid ranch, as well. Land that should have been split three ways—between Lyle and his two legitimate cousins, Melanie and Collin—was now going to be split among the bastards.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The piece of land the old man had given Lyle was a worthless parcel abutting the Laughing Horse Reservation up north. The land the resort was being constructed upon, however, was being saved for Gabriel Reilly Baxter, Larry’s youngest illegitimate child who’d been adopted by Jordan Baxter. Adding insult to injury was the fact that the little bastard was probably still in diapers.
Lyle’s grandfather refused to see the injustice of it all. Lyle had tried to reason with the old man. He’d tried wheedling and logic. He’d even had his mother intercede on his behalf. She’d manage to convince Garrett to give Lyle an extra piece of the Whitehorn property, but it had been more of that useless tract next to the reservation. He’d even offered to buy the land the resort would be built on from the stubborn old mule. The only concession he’d gotten was that Garrett had agreed to let him represent the land in negotiations with the Indians, and he’d made sure that Lyle’s construction company got the contract to build the casino and resort.
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