Part 4 (1/2)

Shoving that thought away, she concentrated on the task at hand, cooking over the woodstove and a.s.suring Buck she could handle this while he moved his stuff out of the cabin and into the tent.

”You can can cook, right?” Buck had asked her earlier at the Longhorn Cafe. cook, right?” Buck had asked her earlier at the Longhorn Cafe.

She'd known all she had to do was answer the man's question correctly. ”I'm a woman, aren't I?”

That seemed to appease him, just as she knew it would. A lot of men thought all women were born being able to cook and clean. Not in her family, that was for sure.

No, her talents lay somewhere else. That's why, given time, she had no doubt that she could persuade even a man as mulish as J. T. McCall that he'd be a fool to just sit on his a.s.sets.

But she didn't have much time. Only until tomorrow when Buck returned. Shoot, she'd closed impossible deals in a lot less time than that, she told herself. Whether she liked it or not, she was her mother's daughter.

In the meantime, she would cook supper following the instructions Buck had given her. She just hoped cooking proved easier than changing a flat tire.

WHEN J.T. WALKED into the line shack cabin for supper, the air reeked of smoke even though all the windows were open and a stiff breeze was blowing through the place.

He didn't have to ask how the new cook had done. As he settled into the chair at the head of the table, he spotted a large platter of incinerated steaks, black and shrunken and no longer resembling anything edible.

The cowhands who'd earlier seemed overjoyed to have a pretty female cook in camp were now eyeing the burnt steaks warily.

”You want to pa.s.s the steaks around?” Buck asked, sounding as if he had a sore throat.

J.T. noticed how Buck avoided his gaze as J.T. picked up the platter of cremated meat. Silence filled the cabin. He sensed the men around the table watching him as if waiting to see what his response would be. He knew if the cook had been a male, everyone in this room would be complaining, J.T. at the top of the list. Yet another reason a woman didn't belong in a cow camp.

J.T. looked from the platter to Reggie. She stood in the corner not far from the woodstove, hanging back in the shadows as if trying to make herself smaller. Loose hair hung in limp tendrils around her face, a large dark smudge of charcoal graced her cheek and her new duds looked as if she'd been in a mud wrestling match-and lost. So much for her signature color. All in all, she appeared exhausted. And close to tears.

But it was the expression on her face that was his undoing. She looked downright contrite. He watched her inspect a red, inflamed fingertip, then bring it to her mouth to suck on the burn, and he felt a rush of sympathy for her.

Earlier he'd threatened to throw her to the wolves, but he realized now that that's exactly what he'd done by allowing her to pretend to be the camp cook. He doubted she'd ever cooked in her life, let alone over a woodstove.

Cursing himself, he looked down at the ruined meat on the platter. ”Steaks huh, great,” he said between gritted teeth as he slid one of the charred chunks of once grade A beef onto his plate before pa.s.sing the platter to the man next to him, Cotton Heywood.

Cotton quickly helped himself to a steak. ”Looks good! Boy am I hungry.”

The spell broken, each man complimented Reggie as the meat made its way around the table, each man except for Will Jarvis. He stared at the steak remains, then let his gaze lift to J.T.'s for a long moment before finally stabbing one and dropping it to his plate.

J.T. watched him, still fighting the feeling that there was something familiar about the man.

When J.T. glanced up, he found Reggie's gaze on him. While she still looked duly chastened, he glimpsed grat.i.tude in her blue eyes. He wanted to tell her that he was only keeping peace in his camp, not saving her, but he doubted she'd believe it any more than he did.

He mentally shook his head. This woman had the ability to make a man want to wring her neck one minute and take her in his arms and comfort her the next. Women like her were d.a.m.ned dangerous.

”You are are going to join us, aren't you, Ms. Holland?” he asked, reminding himself that this was her doing. She'd gotten herself into this. And if she thought she was going to get out of eating what she'd cooked, she was sadly mistaken. He wouldn't force his men to eat anything the cook wouldn't also be required to eat. going to join us, aren't you, Ms. Holland?” he asked, reminding himself that this was her doing. She'd gotten herself into this. And if she thought she was going to get out of eating what she'd cooked, she was sadly mistaken. He wouldn't force his men to eat anything the cook wouldn't also be required to eat.

”I'm not very hungry,” she said in a quiet, almost timid voice.

He'd just bet she wasn't considering what she'd done to this food. He studied her. Was she ready to give up? He could only hope. ”I insist you have something to eat.”

Luke Adams got up to pull out a chair for her. Even though the men had to know this woman was going to ruin their food as long as she was here, they all smiled over at her as she sat down. But how could they not feel sympathy for her? She looked as pathetic as a rain-drenched stray kitten. He wondered which of the men had taken the distributor cap for her. The woman was persuasive enough, she could have talked any one of them into it, J.T. realized-even Will Jarvis, the most cantankerous of the bunch it seemed.

Buck pa.s.sed a bowl full of something small, shriveled and crispy brown. J.T. frowned down at them, trying to figure out what food they'd originally been. The brown nuggets resembled large hard nuts.

”Do you want some b.u.t.ter on your baked potato?” Buck asked with more pleasantness than J.T. had ever heard in the big man's tone.

So that's what they'd once been? He would never have thought it possible to make a potato look like this. He wondered what she'd done to them. And decided he didn't want to know.

He was almost afraid to take the large bowl Buck offered him next, but was relieved to see that he recognized the food in it. Baked beans. He scooped a healthy serving onto his plate, glad at least something would be edible. How much damage could Reggie do to a can of pork and beans?

He started to take a bite, but stopped, disturbed to realize what else Reggie's presence had done. Cow camps revolved around male custom. The conversation at the table should have been about critters, who'd be riding the draws looking for strays tomorrow, who'd be wrangling the horses. Instead the men ate in silence.

Nor were they wolfing down their food, though who could blame them. Still some of them were actually using napkins and employing the utensils in the way they were designed.

J.T. shook his head. Reggie was destroying century-old rituals, making grown men behave against their nature, and he didn't like it.

He sawed off a piece of steak and took a bite. It tasted like charred cheap shoe leather. He chewed and chewed and finally forced the bite down with beans. Big mistake. Fire shot through his mouth and down his throat. Choking, he grabbed his water gla.s.s, his wild-eyed murderous gaze leaping to Buck.

Buck kept his head down as if intent on his food. Everyone else at the table also seemed unduly interested in their plates.

He downed his water, then glared across the table at Reggie, fire in his eyes as well as his mouth. The woman was going to kill them all. Any woman who could do this much damage to food wouldn't even blink when it came to disabling a truck.

Was all of this just a plot to get him to change his mind and do the commercial? My G.o.d, the woman would stoop to anything.

She appeared busy pus.h.i.+ng her food around her plate. Smart not to eat it. She glanced up as if she felt his gaze on her. She stared at him in concern. Was she worried that he might leap across the table and throttle her or that he might die right before her eyes? He knew his face must be bright red, his eyes were running water and he could not stop choking.

”Buck said you liked a lot of green pepper in your beans,” she said into the strained silence. No doubt the men were quietly choking to death as well. ”So I found a bag of chopped peppers and put them all in. I think they might have been the wrong peppers.”

No kidding.

Buck let out an uncharacteristic little laugh. ”There were two different bags of peppers in the cooler. I should have shown her which ones to use. I think she used the jalapenos.”

”Yeah,” J.T. said, narrowing his gaze at her. Was it an honest mistake? Or had she purposely done this? No one would be that that cruel, would she? cruel, would she?

Well, she'd underestimated him. There was nothing she could do to get him to change his mind. Not poison him. Not kill his taste buds. Not starve him. Nothing. He would get her out of here tomorrow and Buck would bring back a real cook. Now that J.T. knew what she was capable of, he wasn't letting her near the stove again. He would cook breakfast himself.

”I like my beans hot,” Cotton piped up. ”They're spicy but real good.” He smiled at Reggie.

Luke and Slim jumped to Reggie's defense as well. J.T. watched them eat the beans, their eyes tearing with each bite, lies on their lips, their politeness costing them dearly.

He would have felt sorry for them except for one thing. Reggie was losing that chastened look. Their compa.s.sion and polite compliments seemed to be giving her renewed strength. When J.T. looked down the table at her, he saw that spark of determination, still fairly dim, but burning again in her eyes.

It was the last thing he wanted to see burning there.

”Here, Luke, have some more beans,” J.T. said, pa.s.sing him the bowl. ”There's enough for all of you to have seconds.” He watched each man take his share as the bowl was pa.s.sed around the table. How could they not without hurting Reggie's tender feelings?

Everyone except Will Jarvis and Nevada Black helped themselves to more beans.