Chapter Seven
Worry gnawed at Dutch like a fly pestered a horse. Someone had gotten comfortable in the undergrowth outside the office. Someone who’d followed Chloe? Nothing like this had ever happened on his spread before. It was a nice, family-atmosphere dude ranch where people came to vacation, relax and forget the crime statistics. He was lucky to be able to offer that to the guests.
Who would’ve thought he’d also get lucky enough to hire a woman who overcame her shyness just long enough to pat his behind and make his blood boil?
“So who do you think would sleep in the bushes and wait for her?” MaryAnne asked across her desk.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Wade maybe?”
“Nah, too young.”
“Tim?”
“Too lazy.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
She snickered. “You just don’t want to fire him.”
“He’s starting to work out all right. He gets to every lesson before she does.”
“Yeah, and then he disappears.”
“But not until the lesson’s over and the horses are taken care of. I’d say he’s got a thing for her. Maybe he was following her and fell asleep.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, little brother.”
“Now why the heck would I do that?”
She grinned and sounded quite innocent when she said, “I don’t know, Dutch. Why would you do that?”
He didn’t give her question the consideration she so clearly wanted. “Okay, smarty-pants, who do you think it was?”
“My vote’s on Ben.”
“Ben?”
She rolled her eyes like a teenager. “How many times do It have to tell you? He’s not a dude.”
“Looks like a dude. Dam near fell off his horse at a lope this morning like a dude.”
“It’s an act.”
He scowled. “For a grown woman, you sure are ignorant.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If he’s acting, it’s just to get your attention.”
“Is not.”
“Is so. You’ve been making cow eyes at him, too.”
“I’m just keeping tabs on him, since you won’t.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey, if Chloe ends up missing, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
His gut reacted with a quick kink. “Don’t say that. Maybe it was her dog after all. Or maybe Katie and Nicole lied to me again.”
“They don’t lie, Dutch.”
“The hell they don’t.”
“They’re not like their mother. Oh, they tease you once in a while because you’re such an easy target, but they don’t lie. I believe someone slept out there, and I think it was Ben. He’s always near where Chloe is.”
“So? You’re always near where he is.”
“Well, I’m not now,” she said with a huff.
He narrowed his eyes for a closer inspection. “Why is that?”
She shrugged as if it meant nothing.
“Couldn’t find him, huh?” The kink twisted into a definite knot. “You don’t know where he is?”
“Nope.”
Hair prickled the back of his neck. Common sense told him to ignore it. Something deeper wouldn’t let him. “She should be on her way back by now. Call the foreman and see how long ago she left.”
He had to wait a long ten minutes for a portable phone to reach his foreman. When the connection was finally made, MaryAnne’s frown told him more than he needed to know. He surged to his feet.
“She hasn’t gotten there?” she asked over the phone. “You’re sure?”
He slammed his hat on his head and yanked the door open. “Tell him to start looking from their end. I’ll drive over from here.”
SLOWLY, Moira opened her eyes to find everything tilted at a crazy angle—very disorienting until she took a few deep breaths and let the dust settle. She finally figured out it was the truck, fifteen feet down a boulder-strewn hill, which was askew, and not the world.
A check in the mirror reassured her the stock trailer was still behind her and a tad more upright than the truck. Personally she thought the hill was a little too steep for her to not have both feet firmly planted on terra firma. From the sound of shod hooves kicking the inside of the trailer, the horses felt exactly the same way.
She glanced out the window for help, hoping someone competent would be in the area checking cattle or something. No such luck.
Where’s a cowboy when you need one?
Only one she wanted to see right now sprang to mind—Dutch. And he wouldn’t be anywhere nearby. He’d be back at the dude ranch, thinking his horses were in good hands with Chloe when, in fact, he’d sent them off with a princess who hadn’t a clue what to do now.
If someone told him the truth, he’d get that little scowl he wore sometimes, a wrinkle right between his eyebrows. The first time she’d seen it, he’d been afraid she was going to back his Jeep into the ditch.
Then his face would light up with his sexy grin, as if he thought someone was trying to put something over on him.
And finally, when he realized she really was a princess, he’d take Katie and Nicole firmly in hand and repeat that “they’re different than us, you know?” line of his. He’d take his precious little girls and walk away.
Her only consolation at this point was that anyone could have been run off the road. Even the most seasoned driver.
With a dirty look in Moira’s direction, Friday scrambled from the floor back onto the seat. When Moira reached out a reassuring hand, the dog not only growled, but she also pulled her lip back and showed a full set of pointy teeth.
“If you hate me so much, why the heck did you come along?”
She’d drugged the dog and crated her for an airplane ride. There’d been that little mishap with Dutch’s Jeep. Now this. Undoubtedly Friday would be ecstatic to see Chloe’s jet next weekend.
It would also be an opportunity for Moira to throw herself at Chloe’s feet and beg to have her identity back. What did she know about being a cowgirl, anyway? Crashing a stock trailer definitely wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d asked to trade places. Of course Chloe was married to King William now and quite unlikely to take mercy on Moira’s predicament.
She wouldn’t mind Dutch riding up just then on a white horse and taking charge. Except the only white horse in the near vicinity was trapped in the trailer.
Moira knew what she had to do—sort of. With the angle the truck was on, and as shaken as she was from the accident, she couldn’t push the door open. She crawled up and out through the window.
“I’m coming,” she said in the most soothing tones she could summon up for the horses’ sakes. She stumbled over the rock-strewn slope, caught herself and continued to reassure them with more assurance than she felt. “Easy now.”
If she concentrated really hard, she could imagine she heard Dutch saying the same things to her. He’d been in her thoughts all week, whether she was having trouble being a cowgirl or carrying it off successfully. She knew exactly how he spoke, loved his deep baritone. Loved how she felt all tingly whenever he was near. Loved the way he could reach out and touch her so casually, so confidently, so tenderly.
“Easy, fellas.”
She looked at the slope, studied the trailer and decided, whether she thought she could do this or not, she had to. She talked to the horses a bit more, climbed up on the running board and peered in at them. At least they were on their feet. Lucky them—they had four each to balance on, so they’d be better on this hill than she was.
When they saw her, their feet moved as quickly as their ears. As they shifted, the trailer slipped a foot downhill. “Great.”
It didn’t take long to find a rock to block the wheels; it did take a while to pry it out of the ground with her bare fingers and wedge it next to a tire. After that, her head starting to clear, she quickly and calmly entered the trailer and led the horses out one at a time.
“You guys are good as gold,” she said as she patted their sweaty necks.
A streak of red blood on a white foreleg caught her eye. The gelding wasn’t too happy about her inspecting his gash, but it had to be done so she’d know how serious it was. She scoured the inside of the truck and trailer for a first-aid kit, but found none. The only thing she had to bandage him with was her tank top, which she whipped over her head without hesitation. It wasn’t like she was standing out on a city street in her bra. The only things around her with eyes were the horses and a few curious cattle.
And the cop who drove up right after she had her lime-green top tied around the horse’s foreleg, sopping up crimson blood. She dodged to the far side of the gelding, so all the cop would be able to see were her feet and her head.
On the edge of the road above her, he opened his door slowly, stepped out and asked, “Speeding again?”
She saw red, and it wasn’t the horse’s blood. “You’ve got a radio in that car, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then notify Dutch to get on over here and bring some bandages.”
“You hurt?”
“No, but his horse is.”
“God, lady, first his Jeep, now one of his horses. I’d better hang around and make sure all he does is fire you.”
She’d been a princess too long, given too many orders in her lifetime to miss this opportunity. “Call him!”
It felt great.
DUTCH FELT HORRIBLE.
Ever since MaryAnne had notified him that Carlson had called in with Chloe’s whereabouts, that there’d been an accident and help was needed, he’d been driving like a madman to reach the site. To reach her.
He’d sent her off with a truck and trailer in an area of the mountains that she didn’t know. Forget that she’d grown up traveling all over creation from one rodeo to another. Forget that the weather was clear, the day sunny, traffic nonexistent. If she was hurt, he was to blame.
He skidded his Jeep—which now drove so poorly after the “Chloe incident,” he realized it had to go in for repairs—to a halt right behind Carlson’s patrol car. He’d drawn a really simple, clear map for her to follow.
How the hell had she gotten way over here?
Standing on the edge of the road, he looked down the slope and scanned the accident. His gaze sped over the tilted truck, the crooked trailer, the two horses standing peacefully munching on a bush.
When he saw Chloe on her feet, talking to Carlson, obviously uninjured, he drew in a breath so deep it hurt his lungs.
He covered the terrain down to her with more speed than good sense, considering the rocks, boulders, and fallen tree trunks that could have tripped him up. Any one of them could have flipped the truck and sent it and the trailer rocketing all the way to the bottom.
Could have sent her with them.
He threw his arms around her. “You okay?” The first time Katie had fallen off Buck, he’d discovered that caring for someone was hard work. Now, with Chloe, he thought it might take years off his life.
She was warm and whole, thank God. The scent of lilacs filled him, reminding him of spring and new beginnings. When her head nodded against his chest, he squeezed her a little, afraid she might have sore ribs or other injuries. When he got no complaints, he tightened his hold. Then it dawned on him—
What the heck was she doing wearing a leather jacket in the middle of a hot afternoon?
He held her at arm’s length, took a closer look and fingered a lapel. “What’s this?”
“Oh—” she smiled shyly “—Carlson lent me his jacket.”
“You tore your shirt?” It was the only explanation he could think of. And that meant—“You’re hurt? Are you bleeding?”
His hands flew over her, squeezed her arms to see if any bones were broken, unzipped the jacket. Maybe she needed compresses or stitches. Carlson turned away and averted his eyes as Dutch acted on pure instinct, on reflex.
Until he pulled the jacket open to see the prettiest, laciest bra he’d ever laid eyes on. The lime green shade only served to remind him that was the very color her tank top had been earlier—when she’d been wearing it.
Underwired, it offered him plenty to look at. Low cut, it showed the swells of her breasts. Perfect mounds that would fill his palms. Cleavage that begged him to bury his face in it.
“What the hell—” She shot away from him, tripped over a boulder, landed on her behind and rolled toward the horses’ feet.
Dutch saw leather, skin, and lace, all in a revolving blur. She was unhurt—before, anyway—and he had a lot of apologizing to do. Right after he helped her up and found out what had happened to her shirt and why she was wearing Carlson’s jacket. And how much of her bra he had seen.
“Freeze!”
Rushing after Chloe, reaching out for her, caught off guard, Dutch froze.
Carlson brushed past him and helped Chloe to her feet before she got stepped on. “Good thing I hung around,” he said pointedly as she tugged the zipper up in short little jerks.
Dutch began, “Chloe, I—”
“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to go back up to your vehicle.”
“Sir?” Dutch had always liked the respect that title conveyed. Now it sounded cold. So official.
“I’m okay, Carlson,” she said calmly. “Really.”
“I’ll see you get safely back to the ranch.”
“No, really, he was just—”
“His sister’ll look out for you.” He glanced at the truck and trailer, and shook his head. “You’d best pack up and leave the state, though.”
He tried to usher her up the hill away from Dutch, who admitted he had to give her credit when she dug in her heels.
“No, wait.” She slipped her arm free. “He was just trying to—” She pinned Dutch with a glare. “What the hell were you trying to do?”
“I saw the jacket. I thought you might need first aid.”
Carlson grasped her arm again. “Yup. Makes a lot of sense to me. Lady’s wearing a jacket, you figure she needs first aid.”
“Well, hell.” Dutch exploded. “It’s ninety degrees out here. Why would she take her shirt off in front of you unless she was hurt?”
“She didn’t. It was already off when I got here.”
Dutch got a vivid image of Carlson driving up and Chloe greeting him in nothing more than that damned wisp of lime lace.
“You thought I was hurt?” Her soft voice was a welcome relief to dealing with Carlson’s suspicions.
“I...I thought, if you tore it in the accident, that you were cut. Or something,” he mumbled. He was rewarded for his effort when she stepped closer to him. “I thought you might need a compress.”
Her gaze never left him as she asked, “What do you think, Carlson? Does he look sincere to you?” Only her smile hinted that she was teasing him.
“That, or he’s a darned good actor.”
Dutch’s gaze was locked with hers as well, as he wasn’t about to break it. “I’m a damned good actor—when I’m in Hollywood. So what happened to your shirt?”
She spread her hands on her hips and went on the offensive. “Did you know you have no first-aid kit in your truck or your trailer?”
“No, not really,” he said through tight lips. “Are you hurt or not? Or do I have to tackle you and rip that jacket off to find out?”
I should be so lucky.
“Your horse is.”
He didn’t have to follow her pointing finger. The bloodstained bandage against the white hide of his horse drew his eye like a beacon—now that he no longer had to worry about Chloe being hurt. “Is he going to need a vet?”
“Unless you like to sew.”
“I’m pretty handy with a needle. I haven’t always had money.”
“In your pre-Hollywood days?”
He’d barely nodded when Carlson butted in. “I saw his movie last night.”
If Dutch knew how to send the man packing, he would have. Not that he minded Chloe finding out he’d made a movie.
The officer’s whole demeanor changed to admiration. “He was fantastic. And—” he winked in Dutch’s direction “—if my date’s reaction is any indication, those Hollywood studs better be lookin’ over their shoulders.”
Dutch decided it wasn’t so bad having Carlson around after all. He clapped him on the shoulder as if they were old buddies. “Hey, they’re okay guys.”
Chloe’s eyes widened.
MaryAnne had told him to sell himself on his good points. Would Chloe like him better as a movie star than a cowboy? And why did that bother him? He was the same person either way. One was as good as the other.
Irritation grew as he recognized old insecurities creeping in. He was as good a man today as he ever was. The only difference now was that he had enough money to take care of a woman, to give her anything she desired. If Chloe wanted a whole dresser full of sexy lingerie, he’d be more than happy to oblige.
It was more important, though, that he showed how he felt about her, how he’d lost ten years off his life when he thought she might be hurt. And he would—as soon as he figured out how. In the meantime, he’d continue to emphasize his strong points.
He unbuttoned his shirt and flashed what his agent billed as a pretty impressive set of pecs. He shrugged it off his shoulders. “Here. You can give him his jacket back now.”
DUTCH AND CHLOE sat next to each other on the side of the hill, overlooking the truck and trailer, overseeing the horses. At least she was watching the horses. He was wondering if the rest of her underwear was lime lace. It was a far more delightful image than wondering who the hell drove the green-and-rust pickup truck she’d described to Carlson and him.
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
Chloe sighed. “For the hundredth time, yes. Would you stop asking?”
“Sorry, can’t.”
She looked sexy as all get out in his shirt, with the tails flapping around her thighs. In her skin-tight, tan jodhpurs, it wasn’t difficult to imagine her wearing none at all. Visions of a morning after flooded his mind and made other conversation exceedingly difficult.
That, and he was still figuring ways to impress her.
“Maybe you’d like to soak in a warm tub or something.”
She nodded. “There isn’t one in the dorm, though.”
He knew that. He had another plan. Hopefully, one of these times, one would work. Otherwise the summer was going to be over before he’d accomplished anything. She’d head back to school in Santa Barbara, probably, and leave him holed up here for the winter.
When his foreman and crew finally arrived, Dutch gave Chloe a hand up. He was quick to notice she moved slowly and carefully. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but—?”
“Just stiffened up.”
He assisted her into the Jeep by placing his hands anywhere he thought would help—without getting him slapped in the process. When he felt something brush against his leg, he looked down and saw Friday staring up at him. “Yeah, you, too. Get in.”
She put her front paws up on the running board and gave him a look more sorrowful than anything Katie or Nicole had tried on him.
“I guess she’s sore, too,” Chloe said. “I’ve dumped her onto the floor twice now.”
Before the dog could remember to growl at him, he scooped her up and dumped her onto Chloe’s lap. “Maybe you’d better hold her this time.” After he was behind the wheel, he gently suggested, “You kind of have to put your arms around her to hold her, you know.”
Chloe remained rigid in her seat. “I don’t think so.”
He rested his elbow on the steering wheel and studied the odd picture the two of them made. Not the usual devoted owner/loving pet image. “She doesn’t like you much, does she?”
“Gee, I’m not sure,” she said with dry sarcasm.
“Why keep her, then?”
She started to answer right away, then gave it more thought. “I promised,” she finally said.
“Her?”
“No, someone who loves her.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s my friend, and she went away to school in Europe, and she knows no one else’d take care of this mutt.”
“Yeah, I can see why. She must be a really good friend.”
“You have no idea.”
He U-turned the Jeep and headed up the narrow, winding road to his lodge, hoping it wouldn’t make anyone carsick. Ten minutes later, they rolled through a gate. “We’re back on my land now.”
When he pulled to a stop in front of his native-timber-and-stone lodge, the dog jumped out, but Chloe didn’t.
“Where are we?”
“My place.”
She glanced around. Was she nervous? The last thing he wanted was to make her nervous.
“I’ve got a hot tub out back that you can soak in.”
Her eyes lit up for a moment before her expression clouded. “I don’t have a suit.”
He hopped out. “No problem. We’ll have a ‘no clothes’ rule.”
“Great.” She allowed him to take her arm and help her out of the Jeep, then tossed the most delicious smile up at him. “When will you come back for me?”
MOIRA STOOD ON THE DECK and looked longingly down at the hot tub. She didn’t have to ask if it came with a masseuse; she knew it didn’t. Unless, of course, she wanted to ask Dutch for a back rub. Which she did.
And she didn’t.
Not that he’d have any problem with it, but she’d just barely gotten up the nerve to pat him on the rear, fully clothed. She wasn’t sure she’d come far enough to lay half-naked in front of him and let him run his hands all over her. Though, after having her life flash before her eyes, she was ready to move forward a bit faster.
“I’ll rustle us up some food in the kitchen.” His tone hinted that he’d rather she change her mind about letting him join her.
“Food sounds good.”
Disappointment flashed across his face, then disappeared with a grin that clearly said he wouldn’t be a man if he hadn’t tried. “Oh, one more rule. No dogs in the hot tub.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of sharing it with her.”
He inched closer, as if he were going to come right out and ask to share, but then he turned and left her alone.
She stripped down and slipped into the hot, steamy water before he could find a reason to come back. It was hot and bubbly and felt so, so good. Putting her head back, she melted into the preshaped, reclining bench and dreamed of how things used to be. Back when she’d been a princess and enjoyed her own spa every day after riding. Then a masseuse worked out all the knots. A manicurist touched up any nails she’d damaged. If she were going out, her maid styled her hair for the evening. Her clothes would be laid out. Classical music would be playing throughout the condo, filling her with a sense of ease and expectation.
But if things were the way they used to be, she wouldn’t have met Dutch. He might not fill her with a sense of ease, but she definitely was getting expectations.
She knew Dutch already had plenty of them. Unfortunately, one was probably that a woman her age had experience in matters more basic to the survival of the species than pinning ribbons on winners at charity horse shows, sponsoring symphonies and hosting banquets.
CHLOE WAS CRYING her eyes out when Dutch returned to the lodge. He’d driven the Jeep back down to the dude ranch and left it there until the dealer could work it into his schedule, then borrowed MaryAnne’s pickup.
A box of tissues sat on Chloe’s lap. Several wads of them dotted the hardwood floor at her feet. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. Her fingers hovered around her trembling lips.
His first fear was that she was in pain from the accident, but when he recognized the music blaring from the television, he realized she was watching Katie and Nicole’s copy of “Wedding of the Century,” the tape he’d made for them of Queen Marie or Mary or someone and King William.
He slipped onto the far end of the couch without distracting her—a good thing for him because he could sit and stare to his heart’s content, if he didn’t go deaf first.
Startled, she jumped when she noticed him, and grabbed for the remote.
“That’s okay,” he yelled over the music. “Let it play.”
When the last note ended and the narration returned, she reduced the volume and sighed. “I can’t believe she selected Beethoven for the wedding.”
“Bad piece?”
When she glanced at him, he got the feeling she didn’t even see him. As if he weren’t really there.
“No, it was great. It fit the church. You’re not in a hurry to get back, are you?”
He shook his head, then faced the television as if he were interested. “I forgot her name. Something real different.”
“Moira.” She said it softly, almost reverently, and then she captured her trembling lower lip with her teeth.
“Yeah. Moira. Real different. Sounds kind of royal, doesn’t it?”
Her head bobbed in a motion somewhere between a nod and a shake. Definitely noncommittal.
“I mean, normal women have names like MaryAnne and Katie and Nicole. And Chloe.” When he got no reply, he asked, “Why are you crying?”
“Oh, I, um, always cry at weddings.”
“Why do women do that?”
“She’s so beautiful.” A fresh deluge streamed down her cheeks, and she set to blotting. “Look at her.”
He preferred to study Chloe’s profile. “You know, you two look a lot alike.”
It could have been his imagination, but her spine seemed to stiffen. Her gaze darted from the TV to him. “No, not really.”
“Same hair color.” If he was going for points here, he could do better than that. “Same nice figure, too.”
“Mmm, I think she’s taller.”
“Well, I know you’re prettier.” He studied her a little longer, wondering why she was so entranced by the royal wedding in front of her. Was she like Nicole? “Would you like to be a queen?”
She punched the Off button. “Would you like it if I were?”
His laugh was hard. “Hell, no. I told you, royalty’s out of my league. If you were a queen, you’d be all snooty and unapproachable.”
“Snooty?”
Was that a smile?
No, definitely not. She looked... offended.
He scooted across the cushions. The closer he got, the more he noticed she’d withdrawn, but he pressed on until he was as close as he could be without touching her. “I want you just the way you are, Chloe.”
Her smile was tentative. Her eyes still shimmered with unshed tears. “You...you do?”
He nodded. “What the heck would I want with a queen?”
“I don’t feel like a queen. How about a princess?”
“Nah. A cowgirl from Texas is more my style.”
When he reached out to touch her cheek, to see if it felt as soft as it looked, she shot off the couch. The remote control clattered to the floor among the crumpled tissues.
She quickly fell to her knees and began gathering them. “Sorry for the mess.”
He bent over, trying to see something other than the top of her head. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No! Of course not.” Her laugh sounded forced. “What could you possibly have said wrong?”
“You seem upset.”
She offhandedly waved a wad of tissues in the air. “I’m just...emotional today, that’s all. I’m not used to endangering the lives of innocent horses.”
Well, she still has her sense of humor.
When she headed for the trash can in the kitchen, he was left to think about where he’d gone off track this time. She denied he’d said anything wrong, yet she’d withdrawn, just like before.
Am I pushing her too fast?
Nah.
He just didn’t understand what was important to her yet. MaryAnne had told him to stress what he had to offer, but Chloe knew what he owned, and that hadn’t worked. His sister must be off base.
What was Chloe missing in her life? That he could provide?
Well, for starters, she was no longer on the rodeo circuit. Did she miss it? Did she miss the trick riding? The thrill? Was teaching dudes a step down after that kind of life?
Maybe for some people.
If she had a trained horse, would she go back? Because he could do that for her. Buy her a trained horse, ready to go. Not that he wanted her to go, but even if he bought her one, she’d have to spend weeks practicing with it. Months maybe. Right here on his ranch.
It would give her a reason to stay.