Tall, Dark, and Lonesome

by Debra Dixon

  As he moved higher, mapping the contours of her thighs with his hands, Zach’s body responded, hardening, aching. The earthy scent of the cloves was a heady, sensual fragrance that teased him. He wanted to let his hands go farther. He wanted to feel her softest skin beneath his fingers and the intoxicating feel of her dew on his thumb as he probed her depths.

  Stopping to replenish the oil on his hands was an intrusion. He couldn’t bear to lose contact with her skin. Instead he continued to massage with one hand and reached for the bottle with the other. In a smooth motion he poured a thin line of oil on her thigh and set the bottle down. Both hands returned to learning the nuances of Niki’s body.

  If he let his fingers stray toward the tender inner flesh that led to the shadowy secret that fascinated him, she tensed, but didn’t deny him. When his hand floated beneath the edge of her running shorts, his control began to slip. Touching her only created a need within his gut to do more, feel more. He knew she responded to him. Her breathing was every bit as shallow and ragged as his own. Her eyes were closed, hands clenching and unclenching in an unconscious rhythmic pattern.

  Knowing he affected her was almost as erotic as the way his hands slid across her skin, gliding, searching. If he hardened any more, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away without taking what he wanted, what he could make her want too.

  “Done,” Zach said raspily. Suddenly he pulled away; the spell she cast threatened to swamp his better judgment.

  Zach busied himself with the bottle and cap simply to give his hands something to do. He silently cursed the demons that kept Niki from responding to him unless she was asleep or seduced. He wanted her to need him on a conscious as well as instinctive level. But for that to happen a key question had to be answered. Why was Niki running from Wyoming? He almost laughed when he realized that the running shorts were probably the most appropriate piece of clothing she owned.

  “Thank you,” she said, voice ragged. Without another word, she slid into her sleeping bag, feeling the strain of the silence in the air.

  Turning away from Zach, she closed her eyes and, tried to calm her emotions. Thank you? As a response to what had just passed between them, the words were woefully inadequate. Removing his hands had done nothing to quiet the awareness that hummed through Niki. Only a fool would have misunderstood the caress of his fingers, or the way his thumbs had flicked beneath her shorts, teasing but not quite touching the center of desire that he’d awakened with his clever hands.

  If he’d been trying to prove to her that she had no business coming to Wyoming, he couldn’t have done a better job. Rational thought deserted her the moment she crossed the state line. Hadn’t she learned her lesson once? Wasn’t once enough? She had no business wanting a cowboy from Cutter’s Creek. A cowboy who intended to be a state senator when he grew up.

  What good would come of allowing anything more than friendship to grow between them? She was going back to New York, and as soon as Zach found out about her very public reputation, that would be the end of everything. Men with political ambitions cared about integrity, moral fiber, and all those other things that mean-spirited small-town people thought were synonymous with chastity.

  And even if he didn’t subscribe to that theory, his constituency did. Niki Devlin would not be welcome as the significant other on Zach Weston’s arm.

  Zach was already gone when Niki woke up. Frankly, she hadn’t expected him to be there. Her face burned when she thought of his hands teasing, rubbing, seducing. Last night she would have let him do anything. This morning she was thinking more clearly. She’d tread carefully around Zach. She couldn’t even risk friendship.

  When she tested the soreness in her muscles, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the liniment had done its job. A few spots still hurt, but the thought of climbing back on a horse didn’t fill her with yesterday’s terror. She changed clothes and saddled Cay, trying to concentrate on the experience of the cattle drive instead of wishing Zach were an accountant from Seattle and not a politician from Wyoming.

  For the second time that afternoon, Zach snapped at one of his men. His frustration with Niki affected his whole personality. John, who’d gotten as curt an answer as he’d ever heard from Zach, raised an eyebrow, but galloped off to do as he’d been told. As he watched the younger man go, Zach regretted his foul mood, but realized there wasn’t anything he could do about it until the tension between Niki and himself was resolved.

  Niki rode on the far side of the herd. She’d elevated the simple act of avoiding him to an art form. The couple of times he’d managed to get close enough to speak, she’d given him an artificial smile and a few snappy one-liners before edging away. She wasn’t interested in anything more than witty repartee. She was scared of anything more, and by damn he was going to find out why. Purposefully, he maneuvered his horse through the stragglers. As he reached her, Bill Truitt’s voice interrupted urgently.

  “Zach!”

  Looking up, Niki saw Zach beside her, and Bill signing wildly to the right. Twenty or so head of cattle had broken away from the herd and were trotting downhill, picking up speed as they went.

  “Damn,” Zach muttered. “I should have been paying more attention. Johnson Mills left his south gate open again.” He fished in his shirt pocket and pulled out a silvery cylinder. Placing the tube between his lips, he blew two short breaths into the mouthpiece, but not a sound came out of the whistle.

  Niki watched quietly, unsure exactly why Johnson Mills’s gate was responsible for a mini-stampede, or why none of the hands tried to turn back the escaping cattle. Zach gave a signal with his arm. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of blue-gray. Brass came from behind the cattle, swinging wide around them but never taking his eyes off the leader.

  Brass’s every movement was reminiscent of a wild animal intent on the chase. His body bunched and exploded with power each time he took a stride. As both cattle and dog neared the gate Niki felt her nerves stretch taut. The cattle had a clear line to the opening, but in front of Brass lay a four-strand barbed-wire fence.

  Niki knew Brass would have to stop. He’d run out of ground. He’d never be able to turn the cows in time. Then she realized that Brass had no intention of stopping at the fence, and Niki sucked in another nervous breath. Her hand found Zach’s arm. “Zach, that’s a barbed-wire fence.”

  “I know,” he bit out, silently cursing himself for sending Brass. The damn dog was too determined, didn’t know when to take another tack. Snicker would have dropped back, followed the cows through the gate, and then reversed their direction, driving them calmly back to the herd. He thought about whistling a “stop” command, but he knew that Brass was moving too fast; he’d never stop quickly enough. Zach didn’t even want to imagine what a collision with the fence would do to his dog.

  Without checking, Niki knew everyone watching was holding his breath, afraid to make a sound. Her stomach began to flip unpleasantly, and she wished Brass would at least look at the fence. In an instant it was over. Brass never broke stride and yet flew over the fence, clearing the top wire by at least a foot.

  Niki had only a second to relax and catch a breath, because Brass began to change directions almost before his feet hit the ground, throwing himself into the path of oncoming cattle. Suddenly predator met prey in an age-old confrontation. Brass radiated power as he crouched, ears pricked, tail low. He stared at the leader, who slammed to a halt, bellowing in fear and anger. The other cattle stopped uncertainly, waiting for a signal from the mahogany-colored cow in front. Slowly, inch by inch, Brass crept toward the cow, forcing her back.

  The moment was so compelling, Niki imagined she knew how the cow felt. “Poor cow,” she whispered.

  “If you’re going to feel sorry for one of them, feel sorry for Brass. That cow could kill him, or cripple him for life, but he can’t walk away. Every instinct he has is screaming at him. This is his purpose in life, what he was bred to do. He has no choice. The heifer does. S
he can keep running, or she can stop.”

  A chill slid through Niki’s bones, and the air rushed out of her lungs. She jerked around to look at Zach, but he was already working his way down the hill to the chastised cattle. She told herself that Zach wasn’t talking about her. He was talking about the cow! He didn’t know she was Nicolette Devlin. He didn’t, she told herself firmly. But his words wouldn’t go away.

  She can keep running, or she can stop.

  SIX

  Zach took the early watch, trying to avoid Niki and the forced intimacy of the tent. Around the others, she was as wonderfully open as she had been at the beginning of the trail drive, but alone with him, she was quiet. Even the artificial smile was gone. Zach despised the wary look that had haunted her eyes since she found out about his political ambitions. And since Brass had gone flying over the fence, she hadn’t answered one question with a complete sentence.

  Riding in a slow circle around the sleeping herd, he asked himself a question. Weston, why did you make that remark about running or stopping? Obviously, his speech had nothing to do with Brass and everything to do with his feelings for Niki. Until he’d said the words to her, he hadn’t known how much he resented her arousal of emotions he’d buried long ago.

  Instinct screamed at him—just as instinct had screamed at Brass to vault the fence. Zach was going to vault a fence of his own and hope like hell that Niki could stop running. Dammit! He didn’t even know why she was running. Or what hurt her so badly that she had to lie to protect her secret.

  Zach cursed long and eloquently. Niki wasn’t only running from her secret. She was running from him.

  Narrowing his eyes at the North Star, he remembered something his grandfather told him about breaking horses. “Son, sometimes you’ve got to give a filly her head. Let her run, but stay with her. Don’t let her throw you. When she’s too tired to run anymore, she’ll be looking for a partner to lead her home.”

  Zach exhaled slowly. Dear God, when had he decided he wanted a partner?

  Niki indulged herself in that dreamy twilight between sleep and wakefulness. Dreams were the one place she didn’t have to suffer the consequences of her actions. She could do anything, be anything, have anything. In the twilight time, she could even make her dreams behave according to her plans. Right now she was wrapped in the cocoon of Zach’s arms, nestled against his chest. In her dream, if she wanted to, she could find his mouth and seek the warmth she knew was there.

  She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to wake up. Already the camp was alive with sounds. She could smell the fire, hear the distant mooing of cows and the clank of the coffeepot. In her dream she could even smell the elusive outdoor scent that always reminded her of Zach. And leather. She smelled leather. What a dream, she mused.

  When dream-Zach kissed her, she opened her mouth eagerly, inviting him inside. She’d wanted this kiss for so long. As their tongues coupled, Zach’s roughened hands cupped her face, and Niki moaned with pleasure a second before twisting away to stare into the compelling eyes of a flesh-and-blood Zach.

  “Oh, my God!” Niki felt as if her heart were fluttering.

  “Morning, Cookie,” Zach said huskily and pulled her back into his arms.

  Shock held her motionless, and Niki knew the truce was over. Gone was the curt, impersonal tone of the last few days. Zach had replaced it with a harmony of inflection, resonance, and mischief. She didn’t like the glint in Zach’s eye. In fact, she didn’t like anything about his attitude.

  Morning, Cookie. Those two words were enough to start the trip-hammer beating of her heart. That and the knowledge she’d just kissed him. “What are you doing here?”

  “I think I was kissing you,” said Zach, and he gently stroked her arm in a proprietary way.

  Niki blanched, brushed his hand away, and scooted to a safe distance. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live in Wyoming,” Zach answered, deliberately being obtuse, and watching the erratic rise and fall of her breasts.

  “Dammit, Zach. What are you doing in this tent? Don’t you need to be punching cows or something?”

  “No.”

  “It’s almost light,” she pointed out.

  “I noticed.”

  If Niki hadn’t known better, she’d have sworn Zach enjoyed her confusion. He was beginning to get on her nerves with all that staring and his ridiculously sexy smile. What the hell was wrong with him? Yesterday they’d avoided each other like a divorced couple at their daughter’s wedding, and now, without warning, Zach had changed the rules.

  “Why’d you kiss me, Niki?” It wasn’t a fair question, but Zach asked anyway, hoping that she’d admit to the chemistry between them. Maybe if she did, the air wouldn’t crackle with unspoken words each time he got near her. Denial only increased the tension and delayed the inevitable. And making love to Niki was inevitable. Her impatient kiss had told him that much.

  Pressing a hand to her head, Niki forced herself to think. She’d kissed him. Or he’d kissed her. Spit! She didn’t know who kissed whom. Everything was so confused, fuzzy. Dreamlike, she corrected. And now he’s got a pretty good idea about your dreams. She rubbed the palm of her hand against her forehead. Think, Niki, think. You can’t let him know how you feel.

  “I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me,” she accused, pink color soaking her cheeks.

  Zach leaned back and locked his hands behind his head. “That’s not how it looked from my side.”

  “Fine. I won’t argue with you about something this ridiculous. Just don’t go making a big deal out of this. Anything I did, I did because I was dream—” Niki closed her eyes and tried to make the bad day go away. It didn’t work. When she opened her eyes, Zach had raised up on one elbow, a ghost of a smile on his face.

  “Dreaming? Of what?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. Surely you need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.” Niki stopped, regained control of her rebellious tongue. “You’ve been leaving early every morning, I just thought …” Her voice trailed off uncertainly as Zach pinned her with his steel gaze.

  “What’s wrong, Cookie? You act like I’m not welcome in my own tent?”

  “Of course you’re welcome in your own tent,” Niki stammered, and cursed the heat she felt rising to her cheeks again.

  “Good,” Zach said, unzipping his bag and kicking his long legs free. “I intend to spend a lot more time in my tent from now on.”

  “Won’t that be nice,” Niki muttered with a half smile and a less than enthusiastic nod. Margaret, this is all your fault. You wished this on me, and when I get back to New York, I’m going to wring your neck. Right after I wring Eli’s.

  All morning Niki endured Zach’s endless scrutiny. Whenever she looked up, he was there—watching, waiting, and smiling that irritating smile of his. If she needed help pulling a confused calf out of a ravine, Zach materialized at her side with an extra rope and managed to turn the rescue into a sensual episode. The flimsiest excuses gave him reason to touch her. Objecting to his touch only made her intense reaction to it more obvious.

  Lunch became the lifeline she clung to, praying for a few minutes alone. By the time she’d grabbed her sandwich and sat down against the wagon wheel, her nerves were as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. She might have left Zach on the range, but she hadn’t been able to leave the tension.

  “Hey, I thought you were going to wait,” Murray shouted to someone beyond Niki’s vision.

  “Decided I couldn’t wait.”

  At the reply, the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Those words were intended for her more than Murray. Inch by inch she turned her head, afraid to look and afraid not to look. A wicked grin lit Zach’s face as he touched his hat brim with a thumb and forefinger. He exchanged a few pleasantries with the guests and headed straight for her.

  As he closed the distance, Niki found herself involved in a tug-of-war with her own emotions. Part of her wanted to grin right back at him
and another part wanted to scowl. Scowling won. “Go away, Zach.”

  “Sorry, lady. But you’ve got the only shade for a hundred yards, and I need a nap.” Zach plopped down, stretched out, and winked at her as he settled his hat over his face. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Why punish me?” she snapped. “I was trying to find a little peace and quiet myself. It’s not my fault you tossed and turned all night.”

  Zach raised his hat just enough that he could level a gaze at her. “I wasn’t the one doing the tossing and turning.”

  … one of those looks of his … the kind that can set your hair on fire from across the room.

  More than Niki’s hair was on fire as Zach dropped his hat and made himself comfortable. Heat seared her cheeks as she recalled how she’d snuggled next to Zach in the dream, burrowing the tip of her cold nose into the back of his neck.

  Chicken salad suddenly tasted like cardboard, and Zach’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle.

  Afternoon picked up where morning left off. Zach was relentless. When the cattle began to kick up clouds of dust, he handed her his bandanna to use as a dust filter and all but dared her to refuse. Even the nightly campfire hadn’t provided relief. Everyone was too tired for the usual round of jokes, songs, and lies and stories about the day. After a few feeble attempts at conversation, the men began to wander off toward their tents.

  So instead of being able to hide in the crowd, Niki found herself staring at Zach across the circle as the rest of the group disappeared. When he toasted her with his mug, Niki decided the situation called for desperate measures. Grabbing her laptop from the tent and cornering Bill, she dragged him toward the light of the chuck wagon lantern.

  “Got a minute?” she asked. “Great. Now, what’s the difference between the spring and fall cattle drives again?”

  “In the fall—”

  “Wait.” Niki held up a hand to stop him, trying to ignore Zach’s gentle laughter from the fireside. Flexing her fingers, she willed them to work. “Sorry, I seem to be a bit fumble-fingered tonight.”