The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson
was the reason she was here. That and nothing else.
“Don’t know about you, but I can’t keep sex out of it, Layla. I think you know why. Whether we like it or not, there’s a strong sensual pull between us. I felt it the moment I set eyes on you this morning, and if you say you didn’t feel it as well, then you would be lying. You might pretend otherwise, but you want me as much as I want you.”
No matter what he said, she would deny it. She hadn’t come to the ranch for this. She had come to Cornerstone, Missouri, to do a job—to prove her theory and move up in her career—not to have an affair with a navy SEAL who could overtake her senses. A man who was proving, whether she wanted him to or not, that she had sexual needs she’d ignored for too long. But regardless of that proof, under no circumstances would she sleep with him. Doing so would be a very bad idea. It would be a mistake that could cost her all she’d worked for up to this point. Besides, hadn’t he all but told her to get off his land?
Instead of a straight-out denial, she said, “What I want is to be allowed to do my job. I need to do that dig, Gavin.”
His gaze hardened. “Why? To prove me wrong?”
“More than proving you wrong, I need to prove to myself and my peers that I am right. There’s a difference, but I don’t expect you to understand.”
* * *
Yes, he understood the difference. Hadn’t he felt the need to prove that he was his own man? To prove that being a SEAL hadn’t been about his grandfather’s and father’s legacies but about establishing a legacy of his own? The first Gavin Blake had been handpicked to be part of the first special operations unit that became known as the SEALs. And Gavin’s father, Gavin Blake Jr, had died a war hero after rescuing his team members and others who’d been held hostage during Desert Storm.
For years, he’d thought being Gavin Blake III was a curse more than a blessing. You couldn’t share the name of bigger-than-life SEAL predecessors without some people believing you should be invincible. It had taken years to prove to others, as well as to himself, that he was his own man. Free to make his own mistakes. Now he cherished the memories of the heroes his grandfather and father had been and he was proud to carry their names and to continue the family legacy of being a SEAL. In the end, he’d realized becoming his own man hadn’t been about proving anything to others but proving it to himself.
A part of him wanted to believe that Layla’s issues were hers alone. They were her business to deal with and not his. But for some reason he couldn’t let her go. His curiosity pushed him to say, “Don’t leave the Silver Spurs just yet, Layla.”
He saw that his words surprised her. Gave her pause. “Why? You ridiculed my years of research, accused me of manipulating your family and told me not to dig on your land. Why should I stay?”
“To convince me that you’re right.”
He could tell from her expression she thought what he’d said didn’t make sense. “I can’t do that unless you give me permission to excavate, Gavin. That’s the only way I can prove anything.”
Gavin was totally captivated by Layla Harris—by her passion for her work, and this passion between them. Why? He wasn’t sure. She was beautiful, but he’d been around beautiful women before. She was built—with lush curves, a nice backside and very attractive features—but all those were just physical attributes. Deep down, he believed there was more to Layla Harris than just her beauty, more than her intelligence. There was something inside of her she refused to let surface. And it was something he wanted to uncover.
One thing for certain, he honestly wasn’t ready for her to leave the Silver Spurs. But she was right. Why should she stay if he wouldn’t allow her to dig on his property? He gritted his teeth at the thought of any woman making him feel so needy that he’d allow her to dig up the south pasture, his special place. But he quickly remembered he’d gone six months without sex, which had a way of crippling a man’s senses.
“It’s late,” he heard himself say. “Let’s talk more tomorrow.”
“Will talking tomorrow change anything, Gavin?”
All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t think straight being this close to her. But the last thing he wanted was to wake up tomorrow and find her gone. “It might,” he said. “I’m not making any promises, Layla. All I can say is that right now I’m exhausted and can’t think straight.” He would let her think his muddled mind was due to exhaustion and not the degree of desire he had for her.
“Will you read my research?”
He wouldn’t lie about that. “No. You can go over the important aspects of your work when we meet tomorrow.”
She stared at him for a long moment as if weighing his words. Finally, she said, “Alright. I’ll stay until we can talk.”
Relief poured through his body, quickly followed by frustration and annoyance. No woman could tie him in knots like Layla seemed capable of doing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When he’d first arrived, her hair had been neatly pulled back. Had he mussed up her hair when he’d kissed her? Maybe that was why the loose curls now teasing her forehead were a total turn-on.
“Good night, Gavin.”
That was his cue to go. “Good night.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold Missouri night.
Layla awakened the next morning wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Would remaining an additional day to meet with Gavin really change his mind?
There was always the possibility that it could, which was the reason her bags were not already packed. Besides, she was a fighter, a person who didn’t give up easily. It had taken over a year to convince the university to give her funding for the dig, and another six months to get them to ease off some of their restrictions and ridiculous conditions. Even now, she wasn’t sure the heads of the department believed in her 100 percent, but at least they were giving her a chance.
Now all of that forward momentum—the work that could change the history books and earn her a tenured position—could end because of Gavin. She drew in a deep breath. What was she going to do? Short of sleeping with him, she would do just about anything to convince him to reconsider.
She shifted in bed to look out the window. She’d thought she had a beautiful view in her high-rise apartment overlooking downtown Seattle—until now. The rolling plains, majestic hills and valleys of the Silver Spurs were awesome. The concrete jungle she saw each morning from her bedroom window couldn’t compare.
She loved it here. She wouldn’t mind returning to visit. But this time, she wasn’t here for a vacation. She had a job to do and she hoped Gavin wouldn’t stand in the way of her doing it.
Gavin.
He thought she’d been manipulative enough to use her musician grandfather’s name to get in good with his grandmother. Although he had apologized, those accusations still bothered her. Yet in spite of them, she had allowed him to kiss her. And it was a kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about. A kiss so deeply entrenched in her mind that she’d thought about it even while she’d slept. She was thinking about it now while wide-awake.
Layla realized that kissing, something she’d never enjoyed doing before, wasn’t so bad after all. At least with Gavin it wasn’t bad. Evidently other guys had lacked his expertise. Not only did he have a skillful tongue, but he knew how to use it. The feel of being in his strong arms had sent pleasure throughout her entire body.
She drew in a sharp breath as memories flooded her, filling her with a longing for them to kiss again. Yet how could she even contemplate repeating that kiss when she wasn’t sure she even liked him? The one thing she did know was that she definitely desired him and he’d been arrogant enough to call her out on that.
In