Sam wandered through the house, capturing memories of Jack’s home to store away with one day’s worth of delightful experiences. There were the hours she’d spent laughing with Beau, listening to his tales of school, his friends, and most importantly his dad, talk that was underscored by a hint of pride and a certain amount of animosity, not unlike other kids his age. She’d stored away Crosby’s cantankerous talk, and Lauren’s own special brand of joy and tear-filled woe. These people, in a matter of hours, had become a family she could love.
Tomorrow, they’d be gone—but at least she would have wonderful things to remember.
She touched her lips. They’d never forget the feel of Jack’s kiss, nor would her arms forget his embrace. Those two precious things should be enough, but she wanted more. She wanted to know how it would feel to lie with him in his big old bed all night and wake up with him beside her in the morning. She wanted to know what flavor of ice cream he liked, if he preferred Pepsi or Coke, if he wore boxers or Jockeys when he wasn’t wearing a skimpy thong.
But those were the kinds of intimate details that could take weeks, months, even years of togetherness to learn, and her time was running out.
She went into his office and stared out the window, sitting finally in the chair where she could watch life going on outside. Mike sat atop his horse, talking to Beau. When he rode off, Beau went back to roping a fence post, which seemed to be his favorite pastime. Rufus chased the rope’s shadow, and farther away, high on a snow-dusted rise, she saw Jack riding slowly back to the ranch.
Behind her she heard the phone ring twice before the answering machine clicked on. “Jack, pick up if you’re there.” Sam’s first thought was that the woman on the line might be Arabella. Instead it was someone calling about fabric for the chairs and booths in the Houston restaurant.
Jack didn’t seem the kind of man who’d be interested in the colors or design of a restaurant. He seemed more interested in spring roundup and how many head of cattle he could ship to market. But whether or not he enjoyed the nitty-gritty details of his business was something more she wouldn’t have the time to learn.
She followed the sway of Jack’s body in the saddle as Pecos carried him toward the corral. He dismounted and patted his horse’s rump, sending the gelding toward the clumps of grass growing on the farside of the barn.
Beau walked toward him. Father and son laughed together, their body language so similar. They shared a few words, then Jack took the rope in his hands and built a loop so fast and easy that it seemed a natural part of his movements.
She tucked the moment away, along with Jack and Beau going into the barn and bringing out an Appaloosa that looked exactly like the one she’d seen yesterday, grazing in a far-off pasture. Could it possibly be the same? she wondered.
Again the phone rang. Again the answering machine picked up. “Hey, Jack. It’s Wes Haskins. Call me. I want to talk about Samantha Jones.”
She twisted around, staring at the phone, at the answering machine. Had she heard the man correctly? Had he mentioned her name? Getting up from the chair, she played back the message. The man on the phone, Wes Haskins, was someone she’d never heard of, but it was definitely her he wanted to talk with Jack about.
Why?
She laughed at her sudden anxiety. She had nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear. She wasn’t in trouble with the law. She hadn’t done anything wrong. All she had to do was ask Jack about it when she went outside.
She grabbed a blank piece of paper from his desk and rummaged around for a pen so she could write down the man’s name. It wasn’t common, and she didn’t want to forget. She lifted a wrinkled sheet of paper and a sparkling shoe glistened atop a stack of folders.
Why on earth had Jack kept that one rhinestone shoe? Had he been holding on to a reminder of their first night together? That’s silly, she thought. Men aren’t sentimental that way. Still, it brought a smile to her lips.
And then the smile faded.
The words Wes Haskins-Investigator glared at her from the wrinkled paper in her hand. They were printed in bold block letters. Beneath them were the words: Subject, Samantha Jones.
Her fingers trembled as she read the report. Wes Haskins had found out very little about her past, because there was little to tell. But that didn’t make her feel any better.
Jack had had her investigated.
That hurt, more than him wanting her to come to Wyoming for Lauren’s sake and no other reason.
She leaned against the desk, wondering what she’d done so wrong in her life to deserve this on top of everything else.
Jack tightened the cinch on the Appaloosa’s saddle and adjusted the stirrups. He tied a bedroll on the back, not that he planned to keep Sam out all night, because it was far too cold. But he thought it might be nice to find a quiet spot where they could sit together and watch the stars.
Teaching Sam to ride was something he’d been looking forward to all day. He’d spent sixteen years enjoying the solitude of his rides on the prairie, yet today he’d felt alone, like part of him was missing.
When he heard the screen door he looked over the saddle and watched Sam walk toward him, already bundled up and ready to ride. She had a smile on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. They normally sparkled. Right now, they looked as if she’d been crying.
“Did you find the coyotes?” she asked, standing a good ten feet away from the horse as if she was afraid to get too close.
“Only their trail,” Jack answered. “I plan on going back out tomorrow. Care to go with me?”
“We’ll have to see what tomorrow brings.”
He folded his arms atop the saddle. “Something troubling you?”
She shook her head.
Jack never had been able to figure out a woman. If you didn’t ask what was wrong, they’d get upset. If you asked, they’d say nothing. Why the hell they couldn’t give you a straight answer was anybody’s guess.
“Beau tells me you spent the day learning to rope.”
“Not too well, I’m afraid.”
“She’s okay, Dad,” Beau said, walking out of the barn. “Given a little time she might even be a good cowboy.”
A real smile touched her lips when she looked at Beau. She’d obviously taken a liking to his son during the day; but he, himself, seemed to have fallen out of favor. “I’m afraid a good cowboy has to be able to get the rope over a cow’s head,” she said, laughing while she spoke to his son. “I haven’t even figured out the basics of making a decent loop.”
“Do you know how to dally?” Jack asked.
“We didn’t get that far,” Beau told his dad.
“Wanna learn?” he asked Sam.
“Sure. Why not.”
Jack ignored her noncommittal attitude, figuring he’d pry the reason for her gloomy mood out of her when they went on their ride. He whistled, and Pecos lifted his head and came toward him. He mounted, the saddle leather creaking beneath him, and untied his rope. “You mind playing the part of a cow?” he asked his son.
“You gotta be kidding.”
Jack swung a loop over his head as he and Pecos circled Beau. “Seems to me I did it for you a time or two.”
“Can’t you use Rufus?”
“He’ll just bark at my heels. You, on the other hand, will give me a hard time.”
Within minutes, Beau was trying to evade his rope, laughing as he ran, even when the lasso sailed over his shoulders. Jack showed Sam the basics of dallying the rope around the saddle horn, showing her how easily the line could be turned loose if the roped animal or rider got into trouble. Then he showed her how to tie hard and fast, a maneuver he didn’t recommend because the rope couldn’t be untied quickly—and that could easily spell danger.
Jack circled his horse around Sam and came to a stop. He rested his hands on his saddle horn and looked down at her pretty face. “Are you ready for your riding lesson?”
She avoided his eyes, but nodded.
“Can I ride with you?” Beau asked.
Jack angled his head toward his son. “I’d rather you rode out to the south pasture to check the fence.”
“Can’t that be done tomorrow?”
“No. And when you get back, you’ve got homework to do.”
“I don’t see why that can’t wait.”
“Because I promised your grandparents I’d make sure it got done. Because you’ve got a straight-A average to keep up. Because you might decide one of these days that cowboying’s too damn hard and you’ll want to be a doctor again.”
“Fine!” Beau stomped off, disappearing into the barn.
“Do you have to be so hard on him?” Sam asked, anger in her eyes. It wasn’t the emotion he longed to see, but it was a hell of a lot better than the blank glare she’d aimed at him for the past fifteen minutes.
“I’m not being hard, I’m being a good father.”
“He thinks you’re too hard sometimes. He thinks you should lighten up.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Living out here isn’t easy, Sam. I’m not going to coddle him.”
“No one says you have to, but where does love fit into the picture? Have you ever come flat out and told him how you feel?”
“That’s my business.”
“If you haven’t told him, Jack, you’d better.”
“You’re the one who told me actions speak louder than words.”
“Sometimes they send mixed signals. If you love Beau, you’d better tell him—because I don’t think your actions are getting the message across.”
She was right. Too damn right. His actions didn’t seem to be making any sense to her, either.
Beau led his horse out of the barn, and he looked over the saddle at Jack. “Since I’ve got to do everyone else’s job while you’re out having fun, mind if I borrow the truck tonight?”
“You know the rules,” Jack told him. “No license, no driving.”
“I don’t want to go all that far.”
“No.”
Beau’s jaw tightened. “Fine!” He jumped on his horse and took off at a gallop.
Jack swung down from his saddle, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched Beau head halfway up the rise toward the old twisted cottonwood tree. When Beau stopped, he laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Sam asked.
“You’ll see.”
Beau had a scowl on his face when he galloped back to the barn.
“Forget something?” Jack asked.
“Gloves!”
Beau stormed into the barn, came back out pulling rawhide onto his hands, swung up in the saddle again, and took off.
“What was all that about?” Sam asked.
Pride swelled inside his chest. He might be hard, but Beau was learning fast. “It’s about a boy growing into a man.”
“Ready for your riding lesson?” Jack asked. He walked toward the Appaloosa and held out a stirrup.
Until that very second Sam hadn’t given a moment’s thought to being frightened, but the horse looked so big, the saddle looked so high off the ground, and she had no idea how to control the beast once she got on top. She’d nearly forgotten her one and only experience with a horse, nearly forgotten that the beast had tried to take a hunk out of her arm when she’d attempted to mount from the wrong side, nearly forgotten that the casting director at the audition she’d gone to had made her feel like a fool.
Suddenly her hurt feelings about being investigated were eclipsed by her fear of the horse.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go riding today,” she said, backing away.
“Scared?” The rise of Jack’s brow and the cocky manner in which he’d asked the question made her mad at him all over again.
“I’m not scared of anything.”
“Then grab on to the saddle horn and put your left foot in the stirrup.”
“What if the horse tries to bite me.”
“Belle doesn’t bite. She’s gentle, that’s why I picked her for you.” Jack took hold of her hand and pulled her toward the horse. “Here, pet her,” he said, guiding her fingers over the horse’s neck. “Show her you like her. This is one of those moments when actions speak louder than words.”
She smoothed her hand over the mare’s sleek coat. Belle twisted her head, and Sam started to move away, but Jack’s arms folded around her, keeping her from going anywhere. “Don’t let her see that you’re afraid.” His fingers pressed against her belly and she felt the strength of his chest against her back. His whispered words were warm against her ear. “Let her know you’re the boss.”
He kissed her neck, his lips tender and feeling oh so good against her skin. “I missed you today.”
It would have been easy to rest her head against his shoulder and fall under his spell, but she was confused about what he wanted from her, and until she was certain, she wasn’t going to let him get the best of her.
“What do I do next?” she asked, pulling his hand away from her stomach and dropping it off to her side.
“You put your left foot in the stirrup,” he said gruffly.
She did just as he told her, not liking the fact that one foot was pretty much tied to the side of the horse. If Belle took off—she’d probably die.
Jack’s hands slid over her hips.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, jerking around to stare at him.
“I’m teaching you how to ride.”
“With your hands on my butt?”
She could feel the expelled air from Jack’s sigh hitting her temple. “I’m helping you into the saddle, Sam. That’s all.”
“Well, don’t get any other ideas.”
She could feel his thumbs on her bottom, and even though he said he was helping, she imagined there was more behind his touch than mere teaching.
“Now,” he said, “pull yourself up and throw your right leg over the saddle.”
She took a deep breath and did exactly what Jack told her. Strangely enough, once she was on Belle’s back and had her hands firmly gripped around the saddle horn, things didn’t look so ominous.
“This isn’t so bad,” she said, smiling at Jack as she fumbled to put her right foot in the other stirrup.
“You surprise me, Sam.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything—except flying.”
She was afraid of so much more, especially of losing Jack. “It’s easy to get hurt if people know your weaknesses. I try my hardest not to show mine.”
He leaned against Belle’s side. His fingers worked their way over her leg, making small, lazy circles as he studied her face. “You keep people from getting to know you that way, too. Is that what you want?”
“Where I grew up, it was better if people didn’t know too much about you. Our worlds are different, Jack, but you and I are an awful lot alike.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t open up much. You hide things from Lauren, from Beau, and who knows who else. I may be open about superficial things, I might joke a lot and tease, but I prefer keeping feelings inside where no one can trounce on them. You do the same thing. That’s probably the biggest reason we’re both still alone.”
“Do you want to be alone?”
She shrugged, wanting to end a conversation that was leading nowhere. There would be time for more talk later, talk about her leaving, talk about him having her investigated, but right now she wanted to gather more memories of life on the prairie, of riding under a big blue sky, because all too soon she’d be alone again.
They rode for nearly an hour through snow, dirt, and prairie grass, catching sight of an occasional jackrabbit, the lone hawk that soared overhead looking for a meal, and the pronghorn that seemed more plentiful than the cows. Jack taught her the difference between a walk, a trot, a lope, gallop, and run, and showed her how to guide Belle not just with the reins, but with the nudge of her knee. She was far from an expert, but she soon felt comfortable sitting astride the beautiful Appaloosa.
But dusk was drawing near, and it was time to talk.
“I want to go home tomorrow,” she said, when they reached a rise that looked out on forever.
Jack circled around her and stopped. His lower leg brushed against hers.
“Why?”
“I’m tired of the charade. You don’t need me here for Lauren any longer.”
“You can’t leave until she knows the truth.”
Those weren’t the words she’d wanted to hear. She’d wanted him to say he needed her here for him—but he’d gone right back to being an employer again. He’d paid her; he wanted his money’s worth.
“Tell her the truth, Jack. If you don’t, I will.”
He looked away, staring off toward the faint line of mountains to the west. “I spent half the day trying to figure out how to tell her. No matter what I say, neither one of us come out looking too good.”
“I don’t care how I look anymore, Jack. If you want to put all the blame on me, go right ahead. I don’t have to live with Lauren, so it doesn’t matter.”
He looked back at her, his eyes blazing. “I’m not going to put any blame on you. This whole thing’s my fault, not yours, and you sure as hell don’t have to go because of it.”
“The only reason I’m here is because of this charade.”
“You’re here because I want you here.”
“Yeah, to make your sister feel good.”
“You think I didn’t have any ulterior motives?”
“Everything you do is surrounded by ulterior motives.”
“Such as?”
“Such as having me investigated.”
“What?”
“I saw the report in your office. I heard Wes Haskins calling to talk to you about me. You tell me why I should stay, when you hired a private investigator to check me out.”
“You should stay because I care for you.”
“Well, someone ought to teach you how to show it.”
“I’ve shown you every time I’ve turned around. I’ve bought you clothes that I hand-picked, and I hate to shop. I rode out last night in the cold and brought back an Appaloosa because you said you’d love to have a horse like the one you saw as we drove to the ranch. I’ve done dozens of things for you, but you keep pushing me away.”
“You paid me to be here, Jack. You told me you wanted me to come here because of Lauren. A few minutes ago you told me I couldn’t leave because of Lauren. Where do I fit into this picture?”
“Ah, hell!”
“Don’t ah hell! me, Jack. I think I deserve more than that.”
He jerked on Pecos’s reins and spun the horse around, riding across the top of the rise at a full run. Suddenly he brought the horse to a halt. He sat there for the longest time, staring at the horizon. Finally, he turned Pecos around and rode slowly back.
Even from a distance Sam could see the heat in Jack’s eyes, the anger, and she didn’t want to look.
She grabbed the rope from her saddle, needing something to do to keep from going out of her mind. She started building a loop as Beau had shown her, doing her best to circle the rope over her head.
“You won’t find much use for your lassoing skills in West Palm Beach,” he told her when he neared.
“Nothing says I have to go back to Florida. I might go to Montana or Colorado instead. I hear they need cowboys there.”
“I could always use a good hand here,” he said, forcing a wink.
“I don’t want you to joke about this. I want your promise that you’re going to tell Lauren the truth. Once you do, I’m leaving.”
“I’ll tell her tonight,” he stated flatly. “Tomorrow morning at the latest. But there’s no telling when I can drive you back to town.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can find my own way.”
He took off his Stetson and plowed his hands through his hair. “Your arm’s gonna be sore if you keep that up,” he said, staring at the loop circling over her head. “I could probably stir up a calf if you want something to rope besides blue sky.”
“I was hoping for something more your size.”
“Anything my size would pull you right off Belle and drag you half a mile.”
“Should we find out?”
He shook his head in total frustration. “Why don’t we just head back to the ranch?”
“Lead the way, Jack. I’ll follow.”
Yanking on the reins, he dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and headed off at a nice steady lope.
Sam let go of the lasso.
It was a fluke. Sheer luck. The rope sailed over Jack’s hat and shimmied down his chest. Sam jerked the line to tighten it and dallied fast, holding on to the rope with all her might.
Jack slid over Pecos’s rump and landed with a thud in snow, dirt, and clumps of grass. “What the—”
She slipped off Belle, ran across the short stretch of prairie, and pounced on Jack. She straddled his stomach before he came to his senses, took the loose end of the rope and quickly wrapped it around his wrists, again and again and again.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You were the biggest thing around, and I thought you’d look good flat on your back.”
“Let me up.”
“Not until I make something clear.”
He could have struggled. He could have escaped, but he didn’t move. Instead, his jaws ground together as she tied knots around his wrists.
“Make your point.”
“I’ve been hurt in my life, Jack. More than you can imagine. But you’ve hurt me more than all those other hurts put together.”
“How have I done that?”
“You paid me to come here for your sister, but you figure you might as well have a little something for yourself, too. Well, I’m not cheap. I’m not a whore, and I’m not going to give you something just because you think you’ve paid for it.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think, Jack. You tell me you want me to come here and then you say you don’t know why the hell you do want me to come here. You tell me you trust me, and then you have me investigated.”
“If you’d read the damned report, you would have noticed that it didn’t say a thing. You’re pure as the driven snow as far as the investigator’s concerned.”
“I don’t care what the report says. I want to know why you had me investigated in the first place.”
“Why? You charged nearly nine thousand dollars to one of my accounts. You stole a sewing machine, you masqueraded as my fiancée at Lauren’s country club when I wasn’t even there. I didn’t know where to find you—and believe you me, I wanted to find you. You looked like you were in some kind of trouble. That, Samantha, is why I had you investigated.”
“Once you found me, once you learned that I wasn’t some two-bit crook, you should have called off your investigator.”
“I did!”
“When?”
“Last night. Right after the fax came in.”
“Last night!” She wrapped another length of rope around his wrists. “You should have done it right after you learned the truth.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve had other things on my mind!”
“Well, I’m going to walk out of your life again, and then you don’t have to worry about my past or my present or my future. That will give you a few less things on your mind.”
She pushed up from his chest.
“Untie my hands, Sam!”
“You’re a cowboy,” she shouted, climbing onto Belle’s back and grabbing the reins. “You know all about knots and ropes. Get out of them yourself.”
Damn fool woman!
Jack struggled to his feet as soon as Sam rode off. He managed to step out of the loop she’d thrown over his shoulders, but his hands were another matter. She’d knotted a good ten feet of rope around his wrists and arms as she’d sat on his chest and berated him.
When he got his hands on her…
Ah, hell!
He whistled for Pecos—and waited.
He whistled again, but the horse didn’t come.
“Damn fool horse!” he mumbled, bending over and doing his best to pick up his Stetson off the ground. “See if I ever give you a lump of sugar again.”
He managed to get his hat on his head and started to walk. Once more he whistled, then blew out a frustrated sigh, watching a cloud form in the chilly air.
“Damn fool woman! You’re gonna pay for this.”
He put his hands up to his mouth and started gnawing at the knots as he walked. He was a good hour from the ranch, one solid hour he could spend thinking up a long list of ways to get even. Tying Sam up sounded good for starters.
Within the first two miles or so he’d worked the knots free with his teeth and in the last two or three miles, with his feet aching something awful, he decided what to do to Sam.
He was going to murder her.
It was dark when he reached the ranch. Pecos was unsaddled and in the corral with Belle and Diablo. “Just you wait till tomorrow,” he told the horse when it tried to make amends by coming to the railing and whinnying softly. “No carrots, no apples, no sugar. As far as I’m concerned, you’re dog meat.”
Pecos kicked up his heels and galloped to the farside of the corral.
Sam Jones, on the other hand, wasn’t going to have the chance to run away.
He went into the barn, found a good strong rope, and headed for the house.
He slammed through the kitchen door. Beau was at the table tending a cut on his hand, and looked up. “You made it back.”
“Yeah.”
“Arabella said you might be gone a while.”
“She did, did she?”
“Yeah.”
Jack grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, twisted off the cap, and took a swig.
“I rode about two miles of fence,” Beau told him. “Didn’t see anything down.”
“Good.”
“Have you given any more thought to me using the truck tonight?”
“The answer was no. That hasn’t changed.”
He took another swallow of beer, watching the way Beau gritted his teeth, but he ignored the anger. It would go away shortly. “Where’s Arabella?” he asked.
“Upstairs,” Beau spat out. “She said she was going to take a bath.”
Jack unconsciously looked up at the ceiling, as if he could see the object of his rage through the wood. “Tell Crosby not to expect Arabella and me for dinner.”
“Why?”
“We’ve got some talkin’ to do.”
Jack caught the shrug of Beau’s shoulders from the corner of his eye as he stormed from the kitchen.
When he reached the living room, Lauren rose regally from her perch on the couch, a thick magazine in her hands. “Jack. I’m so glad you’re back. Do you have a moment to look at—”
“No!”
“But I found this wedding cake, and I thought it would be perfect for you and Arabella. Of course, I’d have to make a few—”
Lauren stopped talking when Jack aimed his glare at her.
“My goodness, you look upset.”
“I’m going to kill my fiancée.”
“Oh, dear.”
“If you hear screams, don’t bother coming up. There’s a strong possibility something might get aimed at you.”
“I don’t suppose you need a referee?”
“No!”
Jack took the stairs two and three at a time. His bedroom door was locked, which added to his anger, but it didn’t stop him. He simply reached above the door, took down the key, and a moment later stepped into the room, slammed the door behind him, and locked it.
He pocketed the key.
Sam stood in front of the closet wearing nothing more than a pair of panties and a matching bra.
She looked good. Damn good! And right then he could picture her lying in her coffin wearing nothing else.
She grabbed the white shirt she’d worn last night and held it in front of her. “You look upset.”
“Upset? What gives you that idea?”
“I haven’t seen you frown like that since I dropped your tuxedo outside your hotel-room door.”
He took a long, cool swallow of beer and sat down in his chair. “Took me half an hour to get the knots untied. Do you have any idea how mad you get walking across a prairie in thirty-degree weather, trying to work knots loose with your teeth?”
“I imagine a person could get a little upset. But do you have any idea how mad you get when you find out someone is investigating your background?”
“The only reason you should be upset is if you have something to hide. Do you?”
“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Try me.”
“No!”
“I’ll get it out of you if it’s the last thing I do.”
“How?”
He grinned as he worked the loop over his head, watching her every move, wondering which way she’d go.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Same thing you did to me.”
“That was a fluke. I couldn’t do it again in a million years, even if I tried.”
“It didn’t feel like a fluke when my butt hit the ground. Didn’t feel like a fluke when you landed on my stomach and started tying my hands.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Okay, so I’m not. That doesn’t give you any reason to rope me, now.”
“I’ve got a hell of a lot of reasons to lasso you.”
“Name one.”
He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for games. Make your move, Whiskey. Let’s see if you can get away.”