Elizabeth Lowell - ...

Elizabeth Lowell - Mackenzie-blackthorn 04 - Granite Man, Elizabeth Lowell

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Granite Man (02-1991)--
~ 1 ~
Forcing herself to let out the breath she had been holding, Mariah MacKenzie fumbled with the brass
door knocker, failed to hang on to it, and curled her trembling fingers into a fist.
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Fifteen years is a long time. I should have telephoned. What if my brother doesn't remember me?
What if he throws me off the ranch? Where will I go then?
Using her knuckles, Mariah rapped lightly on the door frame of the ranch house. The sound echoed like
thunder, but there was no response. She lifted her hand again. This time she managed to hold on to the
horseshoe-shaped knocker long enough to deliver several staccato raps.
"Keep your shirt on! I'm coming!"
The voice was deep, impatient, unmistakably masculine. Mariah's heartbeat doubled even as she
nervously took a backward step away from the door. A few instants later she was glad she had
retreated.
The man who appeared filled the doorway. Literally. Mariah started to say her brother's name, only to
find that her mouth was too dry to speak. She retreated again, unable to think, unable to breathe.
Cash McQueen frowned as he stared down at the slender girl who was backing away from him so
quickly he was afraid she would fall off the porch. That would be a pity. It had been years since he had
seen such an appealing female. Long legs, elegant breasts, big golden eyes, tousled hair that was the
color of bittersweet chocolate, and an aura of vulnerability that slid past his hard-earned defenses.
"Can I help you?" Cash asked, trying to soften the edges of his deep voice. There was nothing he could
do to gentle the rest of his appearance. He was big and he was strong and no amount of smiling could
change those facts. Women usually didn't mind, but this one looked on the edge of bolting.
"My car b-boiled," Mariah said, the only thing she could think of.
"The whole thing?"
Cash's gentle voice and wry question drew a hesitant smile from Mariah. She stopped inching
backward
and shook her head. "Just the part that held water."
A smile changed Cash's face from forbidding to handsome. He walked out of the house and onto the
front porch. Clenching her hands together, Mariah looked up at the big man who must be her brother.
He
had unruly, thick hair that was a gleaming chestnut brown where it wasn't streaked pale gold by the sun.
He was muscular rather than soft. He looked like a man who was accustomed to using his body for hard
physical work. His eyebrows were wickedly arched, darker than his hair, and his eyes were—
"
The wrong color.
"
"I beg your pardon?" Cash asked, frowning.
Mariah flushed, realizing that she had spoken aloud.
"I'm – that is – I thought this was the Rocking M," she managed to stammer.
"It is."
All other emotions gave way to dismay as Mariah understood that the unthinkable had happened: the
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MacKenzie ranch had been sold to strangers.
Of the many possibilities she had imagined, this had not been among them. All her plans for coming
back
to the lost home of her dreams, all her half-formed hopes of pursuing a lost mine over the landscape of
her ancestors, all her anticipation of being reunited with the older brother whose love had been the
bright
core of her childhood; all that was gone. And there was nothing to take its place except a new
understanding of just how alone she was.
"Are you all right?" Cash asked, concerned by her sudden pallor, wanting to fold her into his arms and
give her comfort.
Comfort?he asked himself sardonically.
Well, that too, I suppose. God, but that is one sexy woman
looking like she is about to faint at my feet.
A big, callused hand closed around Mariah's upper arm, both steadying her and making her tremble.
She
looked up – way up – into eyes that were a dark, smoky blue, yet as clear as a mountain lake in
twilight.
And, like a lake, the luminous surface concealed depths of shadow.
"Sit down, honey. You look a little pale around the edges," Cash said, urging her toward the
old-fashioned porch swing. He seated her with a restrained strength that allowed no opposition. "I'll get
you some water. Unless you'd like something with more kick?"
"No. I'm fine," Mariah said, but she made no move to stand up again. Her legs wouldn't have
cooperated. Without thinking, she wrapped her fingers around a powerful, hairy wrist. "Did Luke
MacKenzie – did the former owner leave a forwarding address?"
"Last time I checked, Luke was still the owner of the Rocking M, along with Tennessee Blackthorn."
Relief swept through Mariah. She smiled with blinding brilliance. "Are you Mr. Blackthorn?"
"No, I'm Cash McQueen," he said, smiling in return, wondering what she would do if he sat next to her
and pulled her into his lap. "Sure you don't want some water or brandy?"
"I don't understand. Do you work here?"
"No. I'm visiting my sister, Luke's wife."
"Luke is married?"
Until Cash's eyes narrowed, Mariah didn't realize how dismayed she sounded. He looked at her with
cool speculation in his eyes, a coolness that made her realize just how warm he had been before.
"Is Luke's marriage some kind of problem for you?" Cash asked.
Dark blue eyes watched Mariah with a curiosity that was suddenly more predatory than sensual. She
knew beyond a doubt that any threat to his sister's marriage would be taken head-on by the big man
who
was watching her the way a hawk watched a careless field mouse.
"No problem," Mariah said faintly, fighting the tears that came from nowhere to strangle her voice. She
felt her uncertain self-control fragmenting and was too tired to care. "I should have guessed he would
be
married by now."
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"Who are you?"
The question was as blunt as the rock hammer hanging from a loop on Cash's wide leather belt. The
cold steel tool looked softer than his narrowed eyes. The almost overwhelming sense of being close to
hard, barely restrained masculinity increased the more Mariah looked at Cash – wide, muscular
shoulders, flat waist, lean hips, long legs whose power was hinted at with each supple shift of his
weight.
Cash was violently male, yet his hand on her arm had been gentle. Keeping that in mind, she tried to
smile
up at him as she explained why she was no threat to his sister's marriage.
"I'm Mariah MacKenzie. Luke's sister." Still trying to smile, Mariah held out her hand as she said,
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. McQueen."
"Cash." The answer was automatic, as was his taking of Mariah's hand. "You're Luke's sister?"
Even as Cash asked the question, his senses registered the soft, cool skin of Mariah's hand, the silken
smoothness of her wrist when his grip shifted, and the racing of her pulse beneath his fingertips. Hardly
able to believe what he had heard, he looked again into Mariah's eyes. Only then did he realize that he
had been so struck by her sexual appeal that he had overlooked her resemblance to Luke. He, too, had
tawny topaz eyes and hair so brown it was almost black.
But Mariah's resemblance to her brother ended there. All five feet, eight inches of her was very
definitely
female. Beneath the worn jeans and faded college T-shirt were the kinds of curves that made a man's
hands feel both empty and hungry to be filled. Cash remembered the smooth resilience of her arm when
he had steadied her, and then he remembered the warmth beneath the soft skin.
"What in hell brings you back to the Rocking M after all these years?"
There was no way for Mariah to explain to Cash her inchoate longings for a lost home, a lost family, a
lost childhood. Each time she opened her mouth to try, no words came.
"I just wanted to – to see my brother," she said finally.
Cash glanced at his wrist. His new black metal watch told the time around the globe, was guaranteed to
work up to a hundred and eighty feet underwater and in temperatures down to forty below zero. It was
his third such watch in less than a year. So far, it was still telling time. But then, he hadn't been out
prospecting yet. The repeated shock of rock hammer or pickax on granite had done in the other
watches. That, and panning for gold in the Rocking M's icy mountain creeks.
"Luke won't be in from the north range until dinner, and probably not even then," Cash said. "Carla is
in
Cortez shopping with Logan. They aren't due back until late tomorrow, which means that unless the
Blackthorns get in early from Boulder, there won't be anyone to cook dinner except me. That's why I
don't expect Luke back. Neither one of us would walk across a room to eat the other's cooking."
Mariah tried to sort out the spate of names and information, but had little success. In the end she hung
on
to the only words that mattered: Luke wouldn't be back for several hours. After waiting and hoping and
dreaming for so many years, the hours she had left to wait seemed like an eternity. She was tired,
discouraged and so sad that it was all she could do not to put her head on Cash's strong shoulder and
cry. Her feelings were irrational, but then so was her whole hopeful journey back to the landscape of
her
childhood and her dreams.
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It will be all right. Everything will work out fine. All I have to do is hang on and wait just a little
longer.
Luke will be here and he'll remember me and I'll remember him and everything will be all right.
Despite the familiar litany of reassurance Mariah spoke in the silence of her mind, the tears that had
been
making her throat raspy began to burn behind her eyelids. Knowing it was foolish, unable to help
herself,
she looked out across the ranch yard to MacKenzie Ridge and fought not to cry.
"Until then, someone had better go take a look at your car," Cash continued. "How far back down the
road did it quit?"
He had to repeat the question twice before Mariah's wide golden eyes focused on him.
"I don't know."
The huskiness of Mariah's voice told Cash that she was fighting tears. A nearly tangible sadness was
reflected in her tawny eyes, a sadness that was underlined by the vulnerable line of her mouth.
Yet even as sympathy stirred strongly inside Cash, bitter experience told him that the chances were slim
and none that Mariah was one-tenth as vulnerable as she looked sitting on the porch swing, her fingers
interlaced too tightly in her lap. Helpless women always found some strong, willing, stupid man to take
care of them.
Someone like Cash McQueen.
Mariah looked up at Cash, her eyes wide with unshed tears and an unconscious appeal for
understanding.
"I guess I'll wait here until…" Mariah's voice faded at the sudden hardening of Cash's expression.
"Don't you think your time would be better spent trying to fix your car?" Cash asked. "Or were you
planning on letting the nearest man take care of it for you?"
The brusque tone of Cash's voice made Mariah flinch. She searched his eyes but saw none of the
warmth that had been there before she had told him who she was.
"I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. "I didn't think about anything but getting here."
Cash grunted. "Well, you're here."
His tone made it clear that he was less than delighted by her presence. Fighting tears and a feeling of
being set adrift, Mariah told herself that it was silly to let a stranger's disapproval upset her. She looked
out toward the barn, blinked rapidly, and finally focused on the building. Its silhouette triggered
childhood
memories, Luke playing hide-and-seek with her, catching her and lifting her laughing and squirming
over
his head.
"Yes, I'm here," Mariah said huskily.
"And your car isn't."
"No." She banished the last of the memories and faced the big man who was watching her without
pleasure. "I'll need something to carry water."
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"There's a plastic water can in the barn."
"Is there a car I could drive?"
Cash shook his head.
Mariah thought of the long walk she had just made and was on the edge of suggesting that she wait for
her brother's return before she tried to cope with her car. Cash's coolly appraising look put an end to
that
idea. She had received that look too many times from her stepfather, a man who took pleasure only in
her failures.
"Good thing I wore my walking shoes," Mariah said with forced cheerfulness.
Cash muttered something beneath his breath, then added, "Stay here. I'll take care of it for you."
"Thank you, but that's not necessary. I can—"
"The hell you can," he interrupted abruptly. "You wouldn't get a hundred yards carrying two gallons of
water. Even if you did, you wouldn't know what to do once you got there, would you?"
Before Mariah could think of a suitable retort, Cash stepped off the porch and began crossing the yard
with long, powerful strides. He vanished behind the barn. A few minutes later he reappeared. He was
driving a battered Jeep. As he passed the porch she realized that he didn't mean to stop for her.
"Wait!" Mariah called out, leaping up, sending the swing gyrating. "I'm going with you!"
"Why?" Cash asked, watching with disfavor as Mariah ran up to the Jeep.
"To drive the car back, of course."
"I'll tow it in."
It was too late. Mariah was scrambling into the lumpy passenger seat. Without a word Cash gunned the
Jeep out of the yard and headed toward the dirt road that was the Rocking M's sole connection to the
outer world.
The Jeep's canvas cover did little to shield the occupants from the wind. Hair the color of bittersweet
chocolate flew in a wild cloud around Mariah's shoulders and whipped across her face. She grabbed
one
handful, then another, wrestling the slippery strands to a standstill, gathering and twisting the shining
mass
into a knot at the nape of her neck. As the wind picked apart the knot, she tucked in escaping strands.
Cash watched the process from the corner of his eye, intrigued despite himself by the glossy, silky hair
and the curve of Mariah's nape, a curve that was both vulnerable and sexy. When he realized the trend
of
his thoughts, he was irritated. Surely by now he should have figured out that the more vulnerable a girl
appeared, the greater the weapon she had to use on men such as himself – men who couldn't cure
themselves of the belief that they should protect women from the harshness of life.
Stupid men, in a word.
"Luke didn't say anything about expecting you."
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Although Cash said nothing more, his tone made it plain that he thought the ranch – and Luke – would
have been better off without Mariah.
"He wasn't expecting me."
"What?" Cash's head swung for an instant toward Mariah.
"He doesn't know I'm coming."
Whatever Cash said was mercifully obliterated by the sudden bump and rattle as the Jeep hurtled over
the cattle guard set into the dirt road. Mariah made a startled sound and hung on to the cold metal
frame.
The noise of wheels racing over the cattle guard, plus the smell of nearby grass and the distant tang of
evergreens, triggered a dizzying rush of memories in Mariah.
Eyes the color of my own. Clever hands that made a doll whole again. Tall and strong, lifting me,
tossing
me, catching me and laughing with me. Dark hair and funny faces that made me smile when I wanted
to
cry.
There were other memories, too, darker memories of arguments and sobbing and a silence so tense
Mariah had been afraid it would explode, destroying everything familiar. And then it had exploded and
her mother's screams had gone on and on, rising and tailing with the howling December storm.
Shivering in the aftermath of a storm that had occurred fifteen years ago, Mariah looked out over the
hauntingly familiar landscape. She had recognized MacKenzie Ridge before she had seen the ranch
buildings at its base. The rugged silhouette was burned into her memory. She had watched her home in
the rearview mirror of her grandparents' car, and when the ranch buildings had vanished into a fold of
land, she had sobbed her loss.
It hadn't been the house she mourned, or even the father who had been left behind. She had wept for
Luke, the brother who had loved her when their parents were too consumed by private demons to
notice
either of their children.
That's all in the past. I've come home. Everything will be all right now. I'm finally home.
The reassuring litany calmed Mariah until she looked at the hard profile of the man who sat within
touching distance of her. And she wanted to touch him. She wanted to ask what she had done to make
him dislike her. Was it simply that she was alive, breathing, somehow reminding him of an unhappy
past?
It had been that way with her stepfather, an instant masculine antagonism toward another man's child
that
nothing Mariah did could alter.
What would she do if Luke disliked her on sight, too?
~ 2 ~
Arms aching, Mariah held up the rumpled hood of her car while Cash rummaged in the engine
compartment, muttering choice phrases she tried very hard not to overhear. A grimy, enigmatic array of
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