The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson

       Nine

      Late afternoon the next day, Gavin walked out on the porch with a steaming cup of coffee. He couldn’t believe he’d jogged around the ranch house twenty times last night. That would be equivalent to ten miles. When was the last time he’d done that?

      On top of his workout last night, he’d gotten up at the crack of dawn to ride the range with Caldwell and his men. Sharing breakfast with them over an open fire had brought back memories. Most of the men who worked for Gavin had worked for his dad and had known Gavin when he’d been a kid. Although they called him boss, he knew they did it out of respect and not because he was involved in the day-to-day operations. Caldwell took care of the place. No matter how long Gavin was away from the ranch, he rested easy at night knowing the Silver Spurs was in good hands. Gavin also knew that whenever he returned Caldwell had no problem relinquishing that leadership role to him.

      He took another sip of coffee as he eased down to sit on the steps. The cold weather was settling in. It was hard to believe Thanksgiving was next month. He’d gotten word that morning from his commanding officer that the team would be headed out again in late January. At least his teammates with families would get to spend the holidays with them. Gavin wondered if his grandmother would hang around the ranch this year. Because he was rarely home during the holidays, Gramma Mel usually flew to Saint Louis to spend time with her sister and her family.

      “How did things go today with Caldwell and the men?”

      Gavin glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. “Good, but that’s no surprise. They know how to keep things going in my absence. And I covered just about everything with Phil yesterday. We talked again today and the books look good.” The only thing he hadn’t done that he’d wanted to do today was take another ride out to the dig site.

      “When do you expect Mr. Clete back in town?” he asked.

      “By the middle of next week,” she said, taking a seat in the porch swing.

      “Good.” Although Gavin felt certain Clete was the one who’d moved the marker, he wanted to be absolutely sure. However, for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine anyone else coming onto the property and tampering with Layla’s markers. What purpose would it serve?

      Flip’s camera had picked up something underground, both in her marked spot as well as another spot close by. Like he’d told her, it was probably nothing more than bullet shells or branding irons. One section did have a relatively higher reading than others but he’d figured out a reason for that, as well. Buried Native American artifacts. Gavin’s grandfather had claimed this had been Native American land generations ago. If Layla’s research was as thorough as she claimed, she would already know that.

      “I had a salad earlier, but if you’re hungry I can fix dinner.”

      “No need. I plan to go into town in a few and I’ll grab something at the café.”

      No way he would tell his grandmother that in addition to dinner he intended to make a booty call. Word was out that he was home and a ton of women had left voice mails. On the drive into town, he would decide which woman would be the recipient of his visit. Not having Layla was getting to him. He needed to get laid and then he could be more rational about her, take his time seducing her without losing his cool.

      “Looks like you aren’t the only one going into town, Gavin. Now, doesn’t she look extra pretty?”

      He followed his grandmother’s gaze. Layla was crossing the yard and walking toward them. He had seen her in dresses before, but this was one with a skirt that was shorter in the front and longer in the back. Instead of boots she wore high heels and she had a knitted shawl around her shoulders.

      Her hair was styled the way he liked best, flowing around her shoulders. And he could tell she was wearing makeup—not much...except for the ruby-red lip color. He frowned, refusing to let her get next to him the way she had last night. He’d been stupid enough to think their evening would end differently. Namely, in bed together.

      “Good evening, Ms. Melody. Gavin.”

      He did the gentlemanly thing and stood. He couldn’t help noticing she’d given his grandmother a huge smile. But the one she’d given him was forced. Not that it bothered him one iota.

      “Layla,” he said, letting his gaze roam all over her.

      His grandmother moved forward and gave her a hug. “Now, don’t you look pretty. Have big plans for the evening?”

      Layla shrugged her shoulders, keeping her focus on Ms. Melody and ignoring Gavin. “Not that big. The equipment arrives tomorrow and my team the day after. Then it’s all work and no play. I decided to spend my last day of freedom doing something I enjoy doing but rarely have time for—going to a movie.”

      “By yourself?” Gramma Mel asked.

      Layla chuckled. “Yes, by myself.”

      “What are you going to see?”

      “That new romantic comedy with Julia Roberts.”

      “Now, isn’t that a coincidence. I was going into town to see that one myself,” Gavin said.

      Both Layla and Gramma Mel turned to stare at Gavin with raised brows. He smiled at both women’s expressions. He then directed his next statement to Layla. “Since we’re going to see the same movie, is there any reason we can’t go together?”

      Gavin was certain there was but he knew Layla wouldn’t call him out on it in front of his grandmother. When she didn’t say anything he leaned closer to ask, “Well, is there?”

      As if recovering from her initial shock, she opened her mouth, probably to say something that would blister his ear. Then she quickly closed it, seeming to remember that his grandmother was standing there, listening to their exchange.

      “No, there’s no reason,” she said. “I’m just surprised you would want to see a chick flick. I took you for a blood-and-guts sort of guy.”

      He shook his head. “As a SEAL, I see too much of that in real life. A chick flick should be interesting. Besides, I like Julia Roberts.”

      “In that case, I see no reason why we can’t go together,” she said.

      Although she’d tried to sound cheerful about it, he knew she wasn’t. Was that her teeth he heard grinding? “Great. We can go in my truck. I just need to grab my Stetson and jacket.”

      * * *

      “I enjoyed the movie, didn’t you?”

      Layla had pretty much given him the silent treatment since leaving the Silver Spurs earlier but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact he seemed amused by it. “Yes, I enjoyed it.”

      She probably would have enjoyed it even more had he not been there to cloud her concentration. It had been hard to focus on the huge movie screen with a sexy man sitting beside her.

      “When are you going to stop acting childish, Layla?”

      She glanced over at him. “Childish? You think I’m acting childish when you told me last night that we won’t kiss again unless sex is part of the mix?”

      “Yes, that’s what I said and I meant it.”

      “Well, sorry if you think I’m acting childish but I’m the one acting more adult than you. All you can think about is—”

      “Making love to you.”

      She swallowed, seeing a picture of that very thing in her mind. “Yes.”

      “Can’t help it. You do things to me, Layla.”

      When she was honest with herself, she could admit that he did things to her, as well. But she would never admit it to him. He was just like all the other men she’d known, which is why she’d sworn off relationships. All men