Texas Temptation (7 page)

She closed the door and stared at him through the open window. Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her.

“Because every time you look at me,” she said, her voice shaking, “every time you touch me, I can't even remember what Jonathan looked like.”

She turned and walked away. He wanted to call out to her, to jump out of the truck and bring her back to him. To hold her in his arms and tell her it was all right.

But it wasn't all right. And it never would be.

So he watched her go.

T
he smell of damp earth filled the air as Annie watched the first-shift crew awaken the long-sleeping derrick. There was an energy here she'd never experienced before. A powerful force that charged the air and ground. It made her skin tingle and her pulse quicken.

Of course, for Annie there was always a certain level of excitement the first day of drilling. She compared it to the first day of school after the summer break, when everything was new and you were unsure of what to expect, unsure if you were going to like your teachers, of who would be in your classes. Then as the semester wore on, the days would settle into a routine, then finally boredom. She'd learned quickly that drilling a rig was no different.

Until this rig.

Jared stood beside her, hands on his hips, watching mud bubble up from the entry hole. All the drilling fluid would be routed into a mud pit, which was a hole in the ground the size of a house. It was also from where she would be retrieving her soil samples as they moved closer to the target zone.

“What's your estimated time to set the casing?” Annie yelled over the roar of the machinery.

“Around three this afternoon,” he shouted over his shoulder, then signaled for the man leading the drill to slow the speed.

“Are you going to watch?” she asked.

He nodded. “I want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

She knew he would, of course. Until everything was in place and he could see how the crews were working together, Annie had expected Jared to do double shifts. Besides, it was much easier to avoid her that way.

When she'd shown up this morning, he'd acted as if nothing at all had happened between them after Emma's party. He'd been business as usual.

He was one stubborn man, she thought dryly.

But no matter how he acted, no matter how hard he pretended, the undeniable draw was still there between them. Lord knew
she
was still reeling from that kiss. And no amount of pretending could make it go away.

Jared called out to Slater, who was busy checking the compressor gauges. The foreman gave Jared an okay sign, then pointed at Annie and gave her a wink. Annie smiled back and waved. Jared frowned.

A woman on a rig was still a novelty for most crews, and not everyone was completely accepting. She could usually tell immediately which men were going to give her trouble, and she dealt with them accordingly. But the members of this crew had greeted her without a hint of resentment, and she wondered if she had Slater to thank for that, or Jared.

She'd also noticed that Glenn Woods and Steve McBain, two of the new recruits Slater had rounded up, had been watching her with puppy-dog eyes, but she'd dealt with that type of infatuation before, and it didn't bother her. As long as they did their work, Annie didn't mind the covert glances and repeated excuses to talk with her.

They would drill to twelve thousand feet, which would take approximately three weeks. If there was no oil found once the designated target was hit, work was to stop and the rig was to shut down. Arloco would cease to pay any bills submitted beyond that point. There was no such thing as bad weather, days off or holidays.

The clock was ticking.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Slater, Jared and Annie opened a bottle of champagne and a bag of pretzels in the office. It was the end of the first day's shift, everything had gone smoothly, and the casing was in place. They were all tired but smiling as the glasses were raised.

“Here's to all that money you're gonna make,” Slater said, clinking Jared's glass with his own. “May you remember all of us little people as you sail off in your yacht.”

“I might remember a lot of things,” Jared said, taking a sip of wine and reaching for a pretzel, “but not one of them will be you as one of the little people.”

Slater's booming laugh shook the trailer walls and Annie laughed with him. Jared watched her eyes light up, and when her lips touched the champagne glass in her hand, he desperately wanted to taste her while the bubbles still lingered in her mouth.

He cursed himself for the thousandth time for wanting her as he did. He'd finally given up denying it. After that kiss the other night, he'd be a bigger fool than he already was if he didn't at least admit to himself he was attracted to Annie.

But it was more than an attraction. It went deeper than that, more intense. She'd aroused more than his body; she'd aroused his very soul, made him want her in a way he could never have her.

“Hey, boss, you look like something the cat dragged in.” Slater refilled his now empty glass, then topped off Annie's again. “Don't you think so, Bailey?”

Annie looked at Jared and nodded. “Yeah, after the dog finished with it.”

Outwardly Jared frowned at their antics, but the impish light in Annie's hazel eyes made him smile inside. Her face was smudged with dirt, her hair tousled, and her jeans and boots covered with mud.

She looked beautiful.

It was all he could do not to pull her onto his lap and cover that smudged face with kisses.

“Well, Slater,” Jared drawled, stretching his long legs out in front of him, “in case you hadn't noticed, you're wearing enough mud to build a dam. I'd get you a mirror, but the way you look, you'd just break it.”

Slater feigned indignation and Annie giggled. Jared grinned at her. “And you, Miss Angel Face, the way your mug looks right now, you could be the poster child for the homeless.”

Annie threw the first pretzel, but from there it was hard to keep an account. Pretzels and champagne flew, and they were all laughing so hard they didn't even hear the knock or the office door open.

“Uh, excuse me.”

Jared ducked a salty missile Annie had aimed at his head, then turned at the sound of the man's voice.

He wasn't one of the crew. In fact, Jared had never seen him before. He was young, around twenty-five, with red hair and pale freckled skin. He was carrying a clipboard and a small black book.

The man picked his way through the broken pretzels and puddles of champagne covering the office floor, then reached into the pocket of his blue plaid shirt and pulled out a card.

“Boyd Fitzer,” the man said loudly, as if he were announcing royalty. “Department of Oil and Gas.”

Jared rose from his chair and took the business card. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fitzer?”

“I need to see your drilling permits.”

Jared frowned. “I've filed all the necessary paperwork and been approved. I've also been told twice on the phone that everything is in order.”

“Well, then—” Fitzer raised one red eyebrow “—you should have your permits, shouldn't you?”

Jared felt a muscle in his cheek jump. “Your department has been a little slow mailing them out.”

The man raised his other eyebrow. “So you started drilling without them?”

At the murderous look on Jared's face, Annie felt it best to intercede. “Mr. Fitzer,” she asked sweetly, “how long have you worked for the department?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Three months.”

Annie groaned silently. The most difficult department employees were always the new ones.

She smiled brightly at the man. “Well, then, perhaps you aren't aware that it's not unusual for a rig to start without the permit in hand once there's verbal approval. You know how slow the postal service can be.”

He hesitated, then shook his head and tapped the small black book he carried. “I'm afraid that's not in the code book. And besides,” he added, “I have no record of your paperwork.”

“No record!” Jared slammed his hands down on the desk. The glasses rattled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

At Jared's outburst, Fitzer dropped his clipboard and book. “There, uh, there's no paperwork. I looked for it personally when I was assigned to you.”

Jared's stream of expletives singed the air. His face red, Fitzer bent to pick up his clipboard, but Slater, who had been sitting back quietly, reached for it first and handed it to the man. Slater then reached for the code book and began to leaf casually through it.

Flustered, the state employee ran a hand through his hair. “Mr. Stone, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to shut you down until you have the proper permits.”

Now you've done it, Fitzer,
Annie thought, shaking her head. This boy really had a lot to learn about oilmen.

“Shut us down!” Jared came around the desk, his fists clenched. “You think you can—”

“Here it is, Jared,” Slater interjected, stabbing a finger at the code book. “Remember that code we were talking about the other day?”

“What code?” Jared yelled.

“You know, the one where it says it's legal to shoot stupid civil servants.”

Slater stood and looked down at Fitzer. The poor man's Adam's apple bobbed as he looked up at his huge adversary.

“You...you c-can't threaten me,” Fitzer said weakly.

“I remember now,” Jared said, his eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze on the younger man, “but wasn't it just stupid civil servants with red hair?”

“Yep.” Slater slammed the book and tossed it at Fitzer. “That's the one.”

Fitzer caught the book and stumbled backward. “You're shut down, Mr. Stone,” he said, his voice wavering. “As of now.”

When Jared made a move toward Fitzer, he turned and ran, slipping once in a puddle of champagne before disappearing out the door.

“He could have at least closed the door behind him,” Slater muttered. “Guy must have been raised in a barn.”

* * *

For the next three days, Jared paced like a caged animal. The wait was driving him insane. Hell, he was past the point of insanity, he thought, dragging both hands through his hair, then over his unshaved face. He'd shifted into lunatic sometime yesterday afternoon. Right after Annie's phone call telling him there was nothing to tell him.

She'd driven to Midland two days ago to handle the problem in person. Jared had wanted to go himself, but she and Slater had convinced him that the rage he was in would only make matters worse. Slater had also threatened to lock him in the toolshed if he tried to go anywhere, and from the determined look on the big man's face, Jared knew he wasn't bluffing.

Reluctantly Jared had agreed, but now, as he stared out his front window watching the dark clouds move in quickly over the horizon, he wished he hadn't. His insides were wound up tighter than a spring fitting, and if he didn't do something soon, he was going to explode.

The only bright spot at this point was that they still had their crew. Slater had managed to convince the men to hang in there a few days. Now all the foreman had to do was keep an eye on everyone to make sure that restless men with too much time on their hands didn't get into too much trouble or hit the bars to excess. Glenn and Tom had asked Jared to join them in a few games of poker, but he wouldn't have had the concentration to play a game of go fish.

Clenching his fists, he stared at the bottle of whiskey on the counter, then continued his pacing. He almost wished he smoked. He may have had a lot of bad habits, but that was one he'd never picked up. He stared at the bottle on the counter again, then swore and kicked a pillow he'd thrown earlier, pretending it was that weasel Fitzer's head.

What the hell was taking so long? It was after seven; the permit department had been closed for two hours. Why hadn't she called?

He needed to hear her voice. Even if it was no news. Even if it was
bad
news. He just wanted to hear that soft sexy voice of hers and know that she was all right. That she would be coming back soon.

He paused at the flash of lightning. The rain started off as a murmur and quickly escalated to a shout, pounding the trailer roof with brutal force. Thunder shook the walls.

He felt trapped. He had to do something. Anything.

He reached for the bottle.

* * *

It was after eight by the time Annie pulled in front of Jared's trailer. The rain had settled into a heavy consistent staccato, and an occasional streak of lightning illuminated the dark sky. She started to get out of her car, then realized it was dark inside the trailer and Jared's truck was gone. Disappointment was like a dull knife in her chest. She'd driven straight here from Midland, not even bothering to stop in town first.

Where was he? In town maybe, but she doubted that. He'd been staying close to the rig since the disaster with Fitzer. She'd been able to reach him here or at the rig.

Which left the rig. But what would he be doing there at this hour? And in this rain?

With a weary sigh, she turned her car around and headed for the oil well. She was tired and hungry and desperately wanted a hot shower. But first she had to see Jared. It couldn't wait.

As she neared the office, she could see a light on in the trailer. So he
was
working. She shook her head, wondering why that should surprise her.

She'd missed him. She'd told herself she was an idiot, but it didn't make any difference. Every time she'd called him, just before they'd hang up, she'd have the crazy urge to tell him, but she didn't. She couldn't.

He was in there now. She could picture him sitting at the desk, his dark hair rumpled, his brow furrowed, his deep blue eyes intense as he studied a chart or a log. She smiled at the image, and her pulse jumped at the thought of seeing him.

She cut the engine of her car and stepped out, preparing to make a mad dash to the office. Thunder rattled the heavens and lightning struck no more than fifty yards away from the rig, illuminating the entire area.

Startled, Annie turned. The derrick glowed from the flash of light and on the platform was the silhouette of a man dressed in black, his coat billowing behind him like the wings of a raven, his arms outstretched.

She froze, staring up at the apparition.