Texas Wildcat. Lindsay McKenna

always opposed her working. He wanted no wife of his to be a corporate executive. Kelly had relinquished her position as vice-president when she left Houston to marry, but she had insisted on helping her father as a regional director. Her involvement with the business had led to one horrible argument after another. After five years of quarrels, Kelly had given up on the faltering marriage, unwilling to suffocate beneath Todd’s restrictions. But she was still suffering from the effects of the divorce.

      Before she had time to consider all those effects, the door of her office was jerked open. Kelly’s eyes widened as she met the angry blue gaze directed at her. She froze, fingers resting on the desk, facing her adversary. He wore the white coveralls that were synonymous with Boots and Coots Company. Over the left pocket was the name, Sam, in blue embroidery. Kelly’s heart leaped. He wasn’t a huge man, but the animal power within him took her breath away. She had never met him before, yet her senses were instantly affected by him. His blue eyes narrowed on her. The face, darkly tanned by the Texas sun, was square, the jaw uncompromising. His black hair was neatly trimmed and hidden beneath a white baseball cap with the Boots and Coots symbol upon it. Involuntarily, Kelly took a step back, her legs brushing against the chair. If it weren’t for his mouth, she would have been completely intimidated by him. But it was a kind mouth, though it was drawn now into a thin line.

      “I’m Sam Tyler. Where’s Blanchard?” he ground out. Sam Tyler was feeling irritated with the fact that his left arm had to remain in a sling for the next week. He glared at the woman in front of him. “We’ve got a score to settle with him.” He halted at the desk and unceremoniously dropped a piece of aluminum pipe on it. “Blanchard integrity!” he snarled. “Take a look, honey. The old man’s company can go to hell for this,” he continued, jabbing his square index finger down at the pipe. One end was blown completely apart, its normally smooth exterior now jagged, razor sharp splinters.

      The smarting pain of the burns on his shoulder and upper arm fueled Sam’s anger. The woman standing before him appeared as tired as he felt. Her eyes were the color of dark emeralds. Was she Blanchard’s secretary? Despite the pallor of her face and the darkness beneath her large eyes, she was damn good looking. Sam squelched those thoughts. “Where is the old—”

      “Dead.”

      Sam’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about? I just talked to him two weeks ago.”

      Kelly’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I said he’s dead. Does that compute? He was killed last week in an automobile accident.”

      Sam swallowed his anger. A frown formed on his forehead and he reached up, taking off the cap. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Then who are you? His secretary?”

      “I’m his daughter, Mr. Tyler. Look,” she began, in a strained voice, “sit down. I’ll have Susan bring us some coffee. I just heard about the pipe blowing. I need more information.”

      Sam’s mouth softened and he took a step back. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice losing its hard edge. “I guess we could both use a cup of coffee.”

      Kelly tried to still her racing heart. This man was a stranger to her, so why was she responding to him so strongly? I must be closer to exhaustion than I thought. She had to get some sleep soon or…Kelly brushed her thoughts aside and called Susan to bring coffee. Sam had seated himself in the chair before her desk. Her gaze settled on his heavily bandaged left arm and the sling.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Jake told me you and Slim got burned.” She regarded him gravely. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

      Running his strong-looking fingers through his dark hair, Sam held her gaze. In that instant she looked so damned fragile; a china doll that had been fractured. The anger he had carried all the way home on the plane dissipated. He judged her height around five feet nine. Thick, auburn hair tumbled in graceful abandon around her shoulders, barely brushing her breasts. The simple black dress with its white collar and french cuffs increased her look of vulnerability. Her complexion appeared washed out. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he continued to study her. Why hadn’t he seen her around Houston? Where had Blanchard been hiding his daughter? She appeared to be almost ethereal. At that moment he wanted to reach out and touch her to see if she was real. Would she disappear like a cloud on a scorching Texas day?

      “I shouldn’t have come barging in here like a steam roller, either,” he apologized. “It’s just that we’re all pretty upset by Slim’s injury.”

      Susan entered, interrupting the tense conversation. With their respective cups of coffee in hand, they waited until the secretary left the office. Kelly walked over to the desk and sat down. “You had every right to be angry, Mr….”

      “Call me Sam,” he insisted.

      It would be easy to call him by his first name.

      The sudden warmth in his voice eased the tension between them. “Let’s discuss your problem with the pipe,” she suggested, pulling over a notebook and a pencil. “Can you tell me what led up to the pipe’s failure?”

      Sam hesitated, sensing her utter exhaustion. “Look,” he began on a more conciliatory note, “you don’t need this right on top of your father’s death. I could speak to Jake. We’ve dealt with him quite a bit in the past.”

      Kelly shook her head. “No,” she returned, a smile pulling at one corner of her mouth, “I need to be kept busy right now.” The smile disappeared as she stared over at the pipe. “And this incident has top priority.” She was thankful her father wasn’t here to witness this. His pride in producing a quality product was well known; this would have broken his heart.

      Sam leaned forward, resting his one elbow on his long thigh. “You’re taking over his business, then?”

      “Yes.”

      Sam nodded. She had guts. He liked the fire he saw flickering in the depths of her wide, transparent eyes. “Okay,” he agreed, “let me fill you in on the details of the pipe blowing, then.”

      “Fine. Start at the top, Sam.”

      He leaned back, feeling the dull pain from the second-degree burns across his right shoulder and upper arm. He disdained pain-killers because he didn’t want the loss of alertness they caused. “We got a call to cap a Canadian gas well up in the province of Alberta. Coots was available and the three of us flew up.”

      “And the pipe?”

      “Trucked in. It took Pete four days to make the drive.”

      Kelly nodded. It was August and it must have been warm even up in Canada at the time. “Do you remember the temperature on the day our pipe failed?”

      He shrugged one broad shoulder. A shoulder that looked as though it could carry the weight of the world on it. Kelly found herself wishing she could simply lay her head on it for just a moment…to find a moment’s peace. Her rambling thoughts surprised her. Sam Tyler was a complete stranger to her! Wearily, she touched her brow, confused by her own chaotic emotional reaction.

      “It was eighty-two degrees Fahrenheit, but near the blowout it was close to twenty-five hundred degrees. We worked under a galvanized roof while welding the blowout preventer to the pipe. With the shielding of the roof plus the water fog, it was a livable two hundred degrees underneath.”

      “Were you aware of a front coming through? What was the weather situation at the time?”

      He gave her an intent look. “What are you getting at? You think high temperature and high barometric pressure might have had something to do with the pipe failing?”

      Kelly felt her stomach tighten. “I don’t know. All I want are the facts. We’ll have our lab analyze this pipe. The lab people will have to have all available data in order to make a correct analysis.” Her voice sounded just as clipped as his. But she didn’t want to fight. She wanted peace. She wanted to be held by strong, protecting arms. And there had been no one for the last year of her life. No one who would allow her to lean on him for a moment to try to gather her emotional strength.