Lassoed by Fortune

CHAPTER Ten


Driving to Liam’s ranch that evening, Julia almost turned her car around twice.

She talked herself out of it the first time, but the second time she almost succeeded in talking herself into not going. She would have probably made it home if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew Liam would say that she’d chickened out. The problem was that he would be right. That one small fact would wind up giving him power to lord it over her.

Power over her that she absolutely refused to allow him to have.

So she squared her shoulders, turned around one last time and headed for his ranch. She had to drive as if the devil himself was behind her to make it on time. She’d never been late for anything in her life and she wasn’t about to let this be the first time.

Telling herself that she wasn’t making a mistake she would wind up regretting, Julia walked confidently up to Liam’s front door—in case he was watching—took in a long breath and knocked.

Liam opened the door before her knuckles had a chance to meet the dark wood twice. “You came.”

She couldn’t tell if he was more surprised than pleased or the other way around. The expression on his face was a combination of both.

“Didn’t you think I would?” she asked him as she walked past him and into the front room of his home.

From what she could see, it was a small, sturdy ranch house, very masculine, very him. She remembered hearing somewhere that Liam and his brothers had built it together. They did good work, she couldn’t help thinking in admiration.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t placing any bets on that one way or another,” he told her as he closed the door behind her.

The sound reverberated in her chest but she congratulated herself on her poker face. “Since when did you become so cautious?” she asked, keeping her voice light, amused. “You used to be reckless.”

He shrugged, leading the way into his kitchen. Intrigued by the hint of aroma she detected coming from that direction, Julia didn’t need to be prodded to follow him.

“I grew up,” Liam told her matter-of-factly.

“Oh. When? Sorry.” Julia laughed dismissively in the next breath. The jab she’d just taken at him wasn’t really fair. “I just couldn’t resist. You don’t usually leave yourself that wide open.”

Something on the grill in the center of his stove top was sizzling and Liam turned down the heat. “I’ll be more careful next time. Are you hungry?”

She’d half expected the kitchen to look like a tornado had passed through it, leaving a fire in its wake. Instead everything appeared relatively neat, with several dishes of varying sizes drying on a rack next to the sink. In addition to the main course on the grill, she noticed that the oven was on. Was he baking something in addition to grilling?

“At the moment, I’m more curious than hungry,” she confessed.

He switched off the oven. Whatever he had in there was done. “Curious about what?”

“About what you think passes for ‘cooking.’ The Superette has a fairly well-stocked frozen food section,” she reminded him. Although, she had to admit she’d be hard-pressed to match frozen food to the aroma of what he was making on the grill. The oven was a different matter. Maybe Liam had made one thing himself and whatever was in the oven was his backup in case he messed up what he was cooking on the grill.

Liam looked amused by her implication. “Did you see me buying any frozen food?”

She was keenly aware of every time he came into the store—which definitely was not often. However, she was not one to give up easily. “No, but you have brothers and sisters who could do the buying for you,” Julia pointed out.

“Were any of them in today—or yesterday for that matter?” he asked, glancing at her for a second.

Opening the oven door, Liam grabbed a towel in one hand and used it to extract the potatoes he had baking in the oven. He took them out one at a time and deposited them on the counter.

“No,” she answered grudgingly. “But that still doesn’t mean that you actually cooked the meal you’re going to serve.”

He took a chilled bowl from the refrigerator. As he put that on the counter, as well, she realized it was a bowl of salad. Nothing fancy; lettuce, quartered cherry tomatoes, diced-up peppers—green and red—and a host of bacon bits spread out in a layer across the top. She still couldn’t picture him chopping and shredding, even though she basically had the evidence right there in front of her.

“If you’re so skeptical that I can actually cook, you should have been here earlier so you could have watched me making the meal from scratch.” He turned the heat beneath the main course off altogether and turned to look at her. The amused smile on his face widened. “Why is it so important that I’m the one cooking the meal, anyway?” His eyes teased hers.

“No reason. I would have just been impressed, that’s all,” she answered in a low voice that told him she already was impressed and it was killing her.

“And you don’t want to be impressed by me, is that it?” he noted.

Fidgeting inside, Julia still didn’t look away. She wouldn’t allow herself to do that. When she was a kid, the first one to look away in a staring contest lost. Old habits died hard, she realized.

“I didn’t realize that the predinner appetizer was going to be twenty questions,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Liam allowed, then told her, “Dinner’s almost ready.” The spareribs he’d been grilling were almost done. They just needed a couple more minutes to reach their full flavor. “Would you like a drink while we wait?”

She would have loved a drink to help calm the sudden flurry of butterflies that had come to life and were now circling around in her stomach, growing to the size of vultures.

But a drink would also loosen her up and loosened up was not the state she felt she should be in right now. Not when she was alone with Liam and he was looking far better than a man had a legal right to be.

“A glass of water will be fine,” she told him.

Liam frowned. “Water is for swimming in. Don’t you want something with taste to it?”

Julia thought for a minute, then told him, “Okay. “Orange juice.”

“Orange juice it is,” Liam replied, taking the bottle out and reaching for a glass. “You want a shot of anything with that?” He nodded toward the bottles of alcohol clustered in the see-through portion of one of the cabinets.

“Just straight-up juice is fine,” she answered.

He filled the glass and then handed it to her. “Is it that you don’t drink alcohol or that you don’t trust yourself once you’ve consumed some alcohol?” he asked.

“I have never not trusted myself,” she informed him, “and I drink alcohol on occasion, but this isn’t one of those occasions.” A look of defiance entered her eyes. “I want a clear head when I’m sampling your culinary endeavors.”


Replacing the bottle of juice back into the refrigerator, Liam shut the door. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he told her glibly.

“So, what are we having?” she asked, wanting the conversation to go into neutral territory.

“Besides a truce?” he asked her, the amusement back in his eyes. “We’re having grilled spareribs—” he nodded at them, then at the counter “—a salad and baked potatoes. Simple,” he proclaimed.

“Sounds good,” she told him, although she was still having trouble seeing him as someone who could actually put together a meal that didn’t involve removing it from a box and peeling back some plastic wrap.

“So,” Julia began, taking a steadying breath, “what can I do?”

Liam looked at her, slightly confused. “What do you want to do?” For once, he hadn’t meant it as a leading line—although once the words were out of his mouth, there was a wide, inviting grin punctuating the end of his sentence.

Julia tried again. “Let me rephrase that. What can I do to help with the meal?”

He was going to say “Nothing” since the meal was already done, but he could see she wanted to keep busy. He could understand that. “Well, I haven’t put the plates and other things out yet. You can do that if you want to. Dishes are over there.” Liam nodded at the far cabinet. “Knives and forks are in the drawer directly below them. You can put them outside.”

“Outside?” Julia questioned.

“Yeah, I thought we’d have dinner on the patio. It’s a nice night,” he told her needlessly. “Unless you’d rather eat in the kitchen. Choice is yours,” he added, thinking she would feel more secure if she made some of the decisions herself. He didn’t particularly care where they ate dinner as long as they ate it.

She supposed that having dinner outside might be a pleasant change of pace. “Outside is fine,” she told him. Armed with plates and utensils, Julia opened one of the double doors that led outside.

Liam was right, she thought. It was a beautiful night. Possibly a tad too beautiful, she decided on closer scrutiny. A woman could lose her head, not to mention her heart, on a night like this.

She was just going to have to be on her guard, that was all, Julia warned herself.

But to come back inside and suggest that they stay indoors for dinner would make Liam think she was afraid to be alone with him on a moonlit night. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that. That she was some kind of pushover like the other women he was used to.

She knew she’d damaged his ego that time she’d turned him down for a date—her refusal was the only “black mark” on his so-called dating calendar. Every other girl in high school had all but fallen at his feet—and a couple had, literally. These days, though, she knew Liam was too busy being a rancher to actively seek out the company of fawning women.

Maybe he had grown up, she thought.

Julia came back inside to get napkins and glasses, including hers, which was still more than half filled with orange juice.

As she reentered the kitchen, Liam looked up from what he was doing. “I was going to send out a search party. Thought you’d gotten lost.”

She lifted a shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “Didn’t know that there was a time limit for setting the table.”

“There isn’t. I just thought that maybe you had second thoughts about having dinner like this with me and circled out to the front of the house to where you parked your car.”

She stared at him, insulted that he thought she was running away. “And what? Hightailed it home? You’re not that frightening, Jones.”

“Never thought I was,” he told her mildly. Still, he was fairly certain it had crossed her mind. “Okay, dinner’s ready,” he announced as he picked up the serving platter. It was filled to overflowing with spareribs and she had to admit that the aroma was activating all sorts of salivary glands, making her mouth water.

Walking in front of him, Julia opened the door leading to the patio for him, then set down the glasses and napkins she’d brought.

“Looks good,” she told him.

“Tastes better,” he assured her.

Julia laughed, shaking her head. “Not much on modesty, are you?”

He looked surprised at her comment. “I thought you were the one who valued honesty.”

“Touché,” Julia replied, inclining her head and giving him the round.

Next he brought out the salad and the baked potatoes, carrying both items on a serving tray that, once emptied, he set on its side next to the door. He was going to need it when he took everything back inside after they’d finished eating.

“Okay—” Liam gestured toward the table “—don’t stand on any formalities. Dig in,” he urged her.

Despite what he’d just said about not standing on any formalities, Liam surprised her by waiting until she had taken a seat and then helping her move the chair in close to the table.

“All right, now I’m impressed,” Julia told him honestly as he circled around to his own chair and sat down. “Cooking and manners—what other things have you got hidden up your sleeve?” she asked.

He gave her a look that was nothing if not the last word in innocence as he said, “Not a thing, Julia. Not a thing.”

It was the innocent look that did it. She realized at that moment that she was in big trouble, but her stubbornness, not to mention her pride, kept her seated where she was, refusing to get up and flee.

But when she looked back later, reviewing everything, Julia knew that was exactly what she should have done: fled.

“Well?” Liam had done his best to be patient, but Julia had taken, by his count, five bites of her sparerib when by all rights, it should have taken just one bite for her to find out if she liked it or not.

Julia raised her eyes to his, doing her best to choose her words well, but her wonder and surprise got in her way.

“I’m speechless with amazement,” Julia finally admitted. He watched with pleasure as a smile bloomed on her lips.

“So you think it’s good,” he concluded. It didn’t hurt anything to get a real compliment out of her.

“No,” Julia corrected, then paused just long enough to bedevil him before she added the kicker. “I think it’s better than good. Who taught you how to cook?” Surprisingly, she wanted to know.

“Nobody,” he replied honestly. “I watched my mother a few times and I guess it kind of stuck. It’s a basically simple recipe,” he went on to tell her, knowing she’d ask eventually. “I make this sauce, stick it and the spareribs into a plastic bag and let them stay in the refrigerator for twenty-four hours before I grill the ribs. No big deal, really.”

“Hold it. Back up,” Julia cried, all but holding her hand up like a traffic cop. “You make this sauce?”

He’d been cooking ever since he’d been on his own and didn’t really see what the big deal was. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Interesting. I just can’t picture you like that,” she told him in all honesty. She figured he deserved honesty from her after he’d gone to this sort of trouble, making the dinner. “Making trouble, yes. Making your own sauce, no. Who are you?” Julia asked him with a laugh as she leaned back in her chair as if to get a better, more critical view of the man who was seated at the table with her.


“Obviously not the person you thought I was,” Liam answered glibly.

“Obviously,” she agreed, echoing his intonation. “Do you have any other hidden talents?” she asked again, then instantly realized she’d set herself up by using that wording. “That it would be safe for me to know about?” she added.

He smiled at her over the glass of beer he had poured for himself. “I don’t know. What’s your definition of safe?” he asked.

The look in his eyes was pulling her in. She could all but literally feel the magnetism radiating from him.

Not you, she thought. You are definitely not safe for me.

“Not getting into a compromising situation with you,” she said out loud.

It was supposed to come out sounding terse and off-putting. Instead it almost sounded like a challenge, a dare issued with secret hopes that the challenge would be met and vanquished.

Hurriedly, she changed the subject. Or tried to. “Everything’s very good,” she admitted, the words all but sticking to her suddenly exceedingly dry mouth. “But maybe I’d better be getting back home,” she told him. “I’ve got to open the store up early and—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish making up the excuse she was giving him. “Julia, are you afraid of me?” he asked quietly.

“No!” In contrast, her voice was sharp and somewhat shrill as she answered sharply.

And it was the truth. She wasn’t afraid of him.

What she was afraid of, again, was herself.

She didn’t trust herself to stand fast and hang on to the principles that had seen her through high school—and stayed with her until she’d caught a glimpse of the new, improved Liam.

The problem was that with that torrid kiss she had also glimpsed what she’d been missing and, God help her, she didn’t want to continue missing it anymore even though she knew that giving in was the fastest way to send a guy packing.

Especially a guy like Liam, whose longest relationship on record outside of with his own family was two and a half weeks.

“Good,” he was saying to her, “because I wouldn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

Practicing the craft that was all but second nature to him, Liam took her hand gently in his as he looked into her eyes and promised, “I promise that I’ll never do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Julia could feel everything within her tightening up. Trying to rally when she knew in her heart, knew that it was all but over as far as holding out went.

The problem with Liam’s promise was that while he really wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do, at the same time he, just by his mere existence, by looking at her with his soulful eyes, made her want to do all sorts of things as long as those things were done with only him.