And she needed to find another place to stay and get out of his house before she surrendered to his seduction.
She got ready to go into town and left to find him.
When she stepped out onto the porch, she heard sounds of metal scraping metal, so she walked down the steps into the yard. Jake was hosing off the big metal box that he had said had belonged to his family. She felt annoyed that he was back on that again. At the same time, her heart beat faster as she looked at his broad-brimmed cowboy hat pushed back on his head, his locks of black hair falling in a tangle on his wide forehead. His jeans were tight on his long legs, his flat stomach and his narrow waist. He had shed his jacket, rolled up his blue denim sleeves and unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt.
She saw the tangle of black chest curls, his broad shoulders that made the sleeves of his shirt pull tightly when he leaned over the metal container and tried to clean it off. It was a dull silver, covered with dents and scratches, far cleaner now than an hour before.
She walked close, and he glanced at her and then went back to his task of cleaning the box. She looked down at it and saw the scratches and letters where he had cleaned the dirt and ash.
A few letters stood out clearly: a large straight line with a half circle that looked like the top of a capital R. She couldn’t read the next letter because there were scratches, maybe an X. Then what looked like the lower part of an E, and she drew a deep breath. “I don’t remember seeing these letters carved in this box before.”
“Well, I damn sure haven’t been out here carving my initials into the tin,” he retorted. “But I sanded down some of the scratches that sort of hid what we have here. I drove back to my ranch house this morning. I needed to look things over anyway, but while I was there, I found my key to this box. I’ve been waiting to let you open it with my key.”
“You haven’t tried to open it?” she asked, more aware of the sunshine on his wide-brimmed tan hat that shaded his face, his muscled arms straining the fabric of his shirt and reminding her how it felt to be held in them. Also, she thought about Jake’s kisses and for a few seconds forgot the metal box. She was annoyed, but at the same time her pulse raced, and she couldn’t stop looking at his strong body, his very kissable mouth.
She wanted his arms around her. She wanted his kisses even while she was angry with him for still insisting her brothers had stolen the box from his family. She could try the key and put an end to his argument.
What if he was right? What if it was a box that had belonged to his family? She glanced again at the R that she could clearly read now.
She didn’t want to worry needlessly until she knew it without question. She walked closer to him, holding out her hand while she looked into his thickly lashed dark eyes and thought he had bedroom eyes, dark eyes made for seduction. “I had a key at my house for this box, but that key is probably buried by ashes now.”
“When we had this, there were three antique weapons we kept in it,” he told her. “A Winchester rifle and two antique Colt revolvers.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and she was startled, because those guns should still be in the box. That’s what had been in there all the years her dad had had the box. He always said his dad had given it to him and his dad had owned it for years. She figured it had been her grandfather’s until he gave it to her dad.
But how would Jake know the weapons that had been in their box? Could he be telling the truth? Would her brothers and her dad stoop to stealing something from Jake and then lie about it?
For the first time, she realized they might have done exactly that.
She looked up and met Jake’s dark gaze, unfathomable eyes that hid his feelings.
“You know those guns are or were in that box,” he said, and she could hear a tight note of anger in his voice. “Also, along with the old weapons was a Glock that belonged to me. I have my initials scratched on it.”
Shocked, she realized he had been telling the truth. She raised her chin and nodded. “I still find it very difficult to believe that my family stole this box from your family. They didn’t do things like that.”
He gave her a look. “Are you going to open it? You have my key.”
He was angry and she had been, too, but her anger had fizzled when he listed those old weapons. Had her brothers stooped to stealing this box? All those weapons except the Glock had been in the box. One of her brothers or her dad could have taken that gun.
There was only one way she was going to find out now. She took a deep breath and stepped closer to put the key in the lock and turn it. She was aware of Jake standing so close beside her. She was even more aware of the anger in his dark eyes.
Anger that might be justified.
Eight
The box was stirring up memories of Claire’s ornery brothers and the things they had done. Jake couldn’t keep from experiencing a low-burning anger. She had been so absolutely certain her brothers and her dad wouldn’t stoop to taking that box from his family, but that’s just what they had done.
As she knelt to unlock the box, he watched her jeans pull tautly over her trim butt. Her long legs were folded under her and that thick red braid hung to her waist, once again making him wonder what she would look like if all that red hair was combed out.
Even in his anger, desire still burned hot and strong. He didn’t want to feel desire. This morning, dealing with that box, he didn’t want to be tied in knots wanting her, but he was. She had always been his enemy, her clan the cause of the feud. She was stubborn and with an annoying family of a rotten dad and two rotten brothers. The younger brother, Laird, wasn’t that bad. Even so, Claire still could melt Jake with a look or set him on fire with a touch.
He wanted her in his arms right now. He wanted to peel her out of those tight jeans that covered what might be the sexiest legs in Texas. Then he wanted to caress and shower kisses on them. He wanted them wrapped around him while he made love with her.
“Well, here goes,” she said, giving him one more fleeting glance.
He was so lost in thoughts of making love with her while she had her long, long legs wrapped around him that he had almost forgotten the metal box.
And then she opened the lid and let it fall back away from her with a clang while they looked at a box filled with papers. To his disappointment, he didn’t see any weapons of any sort. He didn’t see any money. Just a mess of papers. He stepped closer and leaned down to look at old bank statements, old tax returns, faded letters and lists of horses that had been bought and sold.
