Texas Wildcat Page 4

  “I’m going to take the liberty of ordering lunch for you, Ms. Blanchard.”

  She stared at him. “As a show of male force?”

  A grin edged his strong mouth. “No, just so you can benefit from my good taste. Although—” he looked down at his coveralls—“you’d never know I have any taste from my present outfit.”

  If he had said it any other way, she might have taken issue with his statement. “Let’s see what your taste is worth, Mr. Tyler,” she challenged softly.

  “Okay. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  After he gave the waitress their order, Sam became serious. His brows drew together slightly. “You look pretty happy compared to yesterday. Something good must have come out of that meeting with Boots and Coots this morning.”

  She nodded, sipping the vodka gimlet she had ordered. “They’ve agreed to give me one more chance,” she explained. “I’m going to go on the next call.” She saw his face tense. “What’s wrong?”

  He turned his cold mug of beer around in his hand, saying nothing for a moment. “They’re going to let you go on our next call?”

  “Yes.”

  “What if it’s to South America? Or to the Persian Gulf?”

  “I don’t care where it is, Sam. I’ve got to see Blanchard pipe under field conditions. I want to be there in case something happens. I refuse to let one more person be hurt in the field because of our pipe. That’s a promise I made to myself.”

  He watched her through hooded eyes. She had backbone. More than most men. “You’re still a woman in a man’s world, Kelly. God, I’d hate to think of the reaction of the Saudis if they saw you over there with us.”

  Her emerald eyes flashed with fire. “Since when did God hand out brains just to men and not to women? I’ve been running the eastern region of Blanchard Pipe for the last seven years for my father. I know this business inside out from the regional level. The salesmen I deal with don’t care whether I wear a dress or pants.” That was a lie. But she didn’t care. Sam had picked a sore point with her and she would not apologize for her explosiveness on the topic. “I was born in Texas. I was raised around wildcat wells, roughnecks and this crazy industry of ours. Just because I moved to Pittsburgh when I married, that doesn’t rob me of my knowledge of the oil fields.” Her voice became less strident, more introspective. “My father’s name is solid in this business, Sam. I aim to carry on in the same fine tradition. I won’t have his reputation blackened by anything or anyone. And especially not by some male chauvinists who think that because I’m a woman I’m a harebrained idiot!”

  “Hey,” he called softly, catching her startled gaze, “I’m on your side, Kelly. I believe in you. I’m just a little worried about some of the regions we might get called into. We’ll really be roughing it.”

  Kelly sat up and squared her shoulders. “I don’t want to sound egotistical, Sam, but if I could survive the last year of my life in one piece, I can survive anything.” Her voice grew husky. “I had a husband who wanted to break me because I didn’t fit his idea of what a woman should be. Gage Wallace was trying to oust my ex-husband from their partnership. And on top of that, my father died a week ago.” Her lips thinned as she looked beyond him, fighting back tears. “Don’t worry about me surviving in the wilderness. That will be a piece of cake compared to everything else that has happened.”

  He pulled a white handkerchief from his back pocket and placed it between them. “You know what I like about you?”

  Kelly took the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “No. According to Todd, no man in his right mind would like anything about me. I’m too assertive. Too headstrong. Too—”

  “I happen to applaud all those attributes,” he interrupted, catching the wariness in her eyes. “You’re a Texan. That says it all as far as I’m concerned. Your ex couldn’t have been born here.”

  She returned the damp handkerchief. “No, he came from a very rich steel family in Pennsylvania.”

  “Any children?”

  Kelly shook her head. “No.”

  “Every want a family?”

  She managed a wry grimace. “Yes, if I can ever find a man who will be happy with me as I am.”

  Sam allowed a hint of a smile. She was a woman who knew herself and had been unwilling to accept other people’s assessments of her abilities and talents. Now, she was wary of any male. “Don’t give up on all of us just yet,” he coaxed.

  The waitress brought their lunch, interrupting their conversation. Sam was pleased with Kelly’s reaction to the Monk fish.

  “It tastes like lobster!” she exclaimed.

  “They call it ‘poor man’s lobster.’”

  Kelly laughed. “You can’t be exactly poor working for Boots and Coots.”

  “No, I’m not. But then, I don’t count happiness in terms of money, either.”

  She was pleased with his answer. After barely eating during the last seven days, she was suddenly famished. Sam was right, she acknowledged, she was terribly underweight. Later they lingered over a light wine. Finally Kelly roused herself.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “The burns? Fine. Another five days and I can get rid of this damn sling.”

  “I feel awful about—”

  “You’ve apologized already,” he admonished.

  Her brows knitted. “I wish it hadn’t happened. Getting burned scares me worse than anything.”

  Sam allowed a dry smile. “That’s why you’re not a firefighter and I am.”

  “Fire scares me for a lot of reasons,” she admitted.

  Sam heard a touch of fear in her voice. “Something happened?”

  Kelly nodded. “When I was twelve our house burned, Sam. I can remember waking up in the middle of the night coughing and choking. I could see the red glow outside my bedroom door and I panicked. I remember two firefighters in oxygen masks climbing through a window and finding me hiding in the closet. I was hysterical.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “You’re damn lucky you didn’t die of smoke inhalation. That was a close call.”

  “Too close,” she agreed. Why was she admitting all her worst fears to him? They talked as if they had been friends for a million years. Who was this man who sat across from her? she wondered. “Tell me about yourself, Sam. Were you born in Texas?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Little place in West Texas called Del Rio.”

  “And your family?”

  “My mother’s still alive. I have two younger sisters.”

  “No one else?” Why should she care whether he was married or not? But she did. Unconsciously, Kelly held her breath, waiting for him to answer.

  “There used to be,” he admitted with a sigh. He made a grimace. “Unfortunately, Fay couldn’t deal with my life as a firefighter.”

  Kelly felt guilty for prying that information out of him. Sam Tyler’s personal life was no business of hers. She shouldn’t have forced him to look back on that kind of agony. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me.”

  “That’s all right. I expect a woman like you to ferret out whatever interests her.”

  She lifted her chin, meeting, holding his azure gaze. “Tell me,” she asked, “are you always so gentle with people who have hoof-and-mouth disease?”

  A grin crept back onto his face. “With most people, I am. Why?”

  She gave a small shrug. “I wish I had some of your patience and understanding of people. You had every right to tell me to mind my own business.”

  Sam took the check, pulled out his credit card and handed them both to the waitress. A glimmer of humor remained in the depths of his eyes. “Well, you’re bound to find out sooner or later anyway.”

  Perplexed, Kelly asked, “What are you talking about?”

  Sam signed the credit card receipt and thanked the waitress. He returned his attention to her. “Anyone ever connected with me knows I have a decided weakness for redheads. I love redheaded women.”

  She stare
d blankly at him for a long moment. Then her lips thinned. “Is that a statement or a challenge?”

  Sam grasped her elbow and helped her to stand. He guided her noiselessly out of the restaurant. Despite the large roughout boots he wore, he made no sound on the tiled floor. “Take it any way you want, Kelly Blanchard,” he taunted, his mouth near her ear.

  Kelly shivered inwardly at the purr in his voice. She pulled her elbow from his grasp, giving him a sharp glance. “Why do I have the feeling you’re the cat and I’m the mouse?”

  Sam laughed softly as he opened the door for her. “I just hope that when the next fire call comes in, I’m chosen for the team. It will be interesting to watch a redheaded woman dealing with that kind of stressful situation. My bet’s on you, by the way.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. His teasing was without rancor. Sam Tyler, in his own special way, was boosting her confidence. If there was a mean bone in his body, she didn’t know where it might exist. He was so different from Todd. Different and refreshing.

  * * *

  It was late Saturday morning and Kelly didn’t want to work anymore. She sat in the cozy breakfast nook surrounded by several hanging green plants. A smile crossed her lips. Her father had always loved greenery of any kind and his house certainly attested to that. Along the sills of each window were a myriad of bright, flowering plants ranging from cactus to African violets.

  Moments later, her father’s housekeeper bustled in with a breakfast tray. “And here you are working, Miss Blanchard!” Hattie chided, placing a plate filled with eggs, bacon and potatoes in front of her. “Come on now, don’t give me that look! You need to eat!”

  “This is too much food!” Kelly protested lamely.

  Hattie, who had been her father’s housekeeper for almost thirty years, patted Kelly’s shoulder. “Now you look here, Missy, you eat! And I don’t want another word from you until then. Just put all of this paperwork aside and stuff yourself.”

  Kelly did what she could, but she barely made a dent in the delicious food. When Hattie returned she glared at the half-filled plate and grudgingly replaced it with a cup of steaming coffee.

  “Just like your father,” Hattie grumbled, and then marched off to the kitchen once again.

  Kelly rested her head against her hand, staring out the window. It was lovely outside. She could spot a blue jay bickering with a blackbird in the trees around the swimming pool. Glancing at the stack of work before her, Kelly forced herself to get busy. Her head wasn’t into it, and her heart…well, that was lingering on Sam Tyler. It shouldn’t be, she told herself sternly. But it was.

  With a sigh, she opened up the first document and forced herself to begin reading.

  The doorbell chimed. Kelly looked toward the kitchen. Hattie stuck her head out the entrance, puzzlement written on her dark features.

  “You expect’n anyone, Missy?”

  Kelly shook her head, then glanced at her wristwatch. It was ten-thirty a.m. “No. Were you?”

  “No, ma’am,” she said, marching through the breakfast nook and down the hall to the foyer.

  Kelly’s heart leaped. Sam Tyler? No, it couldn’t be. But…it was his voice! She roused herself and stared down toward the foyer. Concerned, she tugged her apricot-colored silk robe more closely around her and rose.

  Sam’s bulk filled the hall. Kelly smiled, meeting his azure gaze. Her heart lifted in silent joy and she didn’t try to quell the breathless anticipation that filled her. Today he was in a light beige cowboy shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. His jeans were molded to the length of his legs, accentuating his well-muscled thighs.

  “I happened to be in this neck of the woods and thought I’d drop over and see how you’re coming along,” he said.

  “Hattie, bring Mr. Tyler some coffee, please.” She gestured to the other wrought-iron chair. “Sit down,” she invited. She could feel the heat staining her cheeks, but there was nothing that could be done to hide that fact. It had been years since Kelly had blushed so easily! And yet, Sam Tyler looked so devastatingly virile and handsome that it almost took her voice away. No man had ever affected her so strongly in her life.

  Sam sat carefully in the delicate-looking piece of furniture. He gave her a quick smile. “I haven’t heard from you lately.”

  “I’ve been up to my neck with my father’s business.”

  He gave a casual nod of his head. “Your father was known to be a workaholic. Are you turning into one also?” he probed.

  Hattie brought the coffee and gave Sam a warm smile. “Here you go, Mr. Tyler.”

  Sam took the fragile china cup in his large, callused hands. “Thank you.” He waited until the housekeeper had left. “You planning on working today?”

  Kelly nodded, gesturing toward the pile of documents spread in front of her on the small table. “Unfortunately, yes.” She tilted her head. An inexplicable happiness was bubbling up within her. She could lose herself in the blueness of his eyes, in that crooked teasing smile on his sensual mouth and in the balm of his husky voice. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Oh, I kind of had other plans for you today,” he hedged, watching her carefully.

  “You did?”

  Sam enjoyed the sparkle that appeared in her jade eyes. She still looked pale and drawn. But that did not mar her attractiveness in the least. The impulse to simply reach over and run his fingers through her silken hair was almost a tangible urge. He forced himself back to his purpose for coming. “We figured since you’ll be coming with us on a call, someone had better acquaint you with the equipment plus other odds and ends.”

  “That someone being you?”

  “Any objections?”

  Kelly forced a cool smile. He had given her a confident grin. One that said: of course you won’t have any objections. “Are you always so sure of yourself?”

  Sam tried to look contrite. “Caught again. What do you have against a man who is sure of himself, Kelly Blanchard?”

  It was her turn to quell a burgeoning grin. “Nothing…everything.”

  Sam toyed with the cup of coffee between his hands. “Care to tell me more about it over lunch?”

  “Is that an invitation or an order?”

  “Where you’re concerned, an invitation.” His blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “You don’t give orders to redheads and live to tell about it. Strictly an invitation.”

  Kelly rose, her laughter ringing down the hall. My God, how long had it been since she had laughed so freely? The thought made her suddenly sober. Embarrassed that Sam had caught her in a quixotic mood, she swept past him. “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes,” she promised.

  Actually, it took twenty-five. But Sam would understand. She deliberated over what to wear—something she hadn’t done in a long time. Todd hadn’t cared what she wore as long as it wasn’t jeans or pants. But she had been raised in them. Today she fingered a pair of well-worn designer jeans. To hell with it, she decided, jeans it would be! It would be hot and muggy out in the Texas sunlight so she chose a cool apple green tanktop. Throwing her hair up in a delightful spill of curls high on her head, she knew she would be as cool as it was possible to be. The morning had suddenly brightened for Kelly. She tried not to look at the reason for her new joy. Right now there was no room in her life for another man. Todd had taught her too well….

  Four

  “Boots thought it might be helpful to give you a quick lesson in the type of equipment we use at a blowout,” Sam explained, guiding her out the back door of the main office. He was having a devil of a time keeping his voice even, his eyes where they were supposed to be and his hands at his sides. Kelly was a woman in every sense of the word. He liked her easy fluid walk, the intelligent spark in her eyes and that steel-trap mind she possessed. Did she know how unique she was? He compressed his lips, wanting to convey many of his impressions about her. It might give her spirit a lift. Even with a light application of makeup she still appeared pale. His mind drifted back. His own fath
er had died unexpectedly of a heart attack out on a drilling rig and he felt once again the pain he was sure Kelly was experiencing. Placing a hand beneath her elbow, he guided her toward the first row of spotless white equipment.

  “Over here is our basic tool at a blowout. This is called an Athey wagon.” He halted near it. “Basically, it’s a sixty-foot boom and hook assembled on a set of bulldozer type tracks.”

  Kelly looked up at a long arm with a huge hook at the end of it. She was wildly aware of Sam’s nearness. It was simultaneously heady, frightening and exciting. Trying to appear nonchalant, she gave a brief nod of her head. “What do you do with this ungainly looking thing?”

  Sam grinned. “We use a bulldozer with galvanized sheets protecting the operator to push the Athey wagon into the fire. Once there, the hook is lowered and then we begin to pull the mangled steel debris off the platform.”

  Kelly looked up at him. In the strong Texas sun, he looked incredibly masculine—a cowboy torn from a bygone era, the 1800s, and placed in this day and age. All he needed was a cowboy hat. Instead, he wore the perennial Boots and Coots white baseball cap. It was placed at a rakish angle on his dark hair, the bill protecting his narrowed eyes from the sunlight. “Is it necessary to get rid of all the rigging before you go in to put out the fire?” she wanted to know.

  “Can’t start until we do. That’s why the Athey wagon is a must. After clearing away the debris from the platform and surrounding area, we use the wagon to place the explosive charges into the flame.”

  Kelly shuddered. “It sounds dangerous.”

  Sam smiled patiently. “Only if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  Blowouts of any kind—with or without fire—were killers. Unconsciously, she rubbed her arms in silent disagreement. “I know you fly all over the world to put out fires. How does all this equipment get over to say, Saudi Arabia or to South America?”

  “By plane,” Sam explained, leading her over to a specially built truck. “We use these trucks to load our wagons, the pumps and piperacks into the plane.”

  “Do you have a plane?”