Ross had guessed as much from just meeting the man, but he needed evidence before he could make an arrest. “I also want time to see if others involved in his trial have had threats made against them—or attempts on their lives.”
“You can mount your investigation whether I return to Miami or not.”
He resisted the urge to go to her and run his hands through her hair, to pull her into his arms. “But I can’t keep you safe if you’re in Miami.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” she said softly.
“But you are.” He’d spoken with more emotion than he’d intended. Clearing his throat, he continued in a more even tone. “You were attacked on the road in my county and as a guest in my home. That makes you my responsibility.”
He could see his arguments were swaying her, could observe her determination wavering. He waited, giving her time to decide.
“How many days will it take to clear Traxler?” she asked.
“I can’t say for certain. I’m hoping by Wednesday that we’ll have some indication of his guilt or innocence. Enough to know whether it’s safe for you to return to Miami.” And by then, he hoped he’d have convinced her to stay until…
The stress of his job had to be catching up with him. He’d only met Jessica a few days before, and already he was hoping she’d stay indefinitely.
Her forehead wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. “I suppose I could stay until Wednesday. I can spend that time in your office, arranging files and information for whoever takes my place.”
“I have a better idea,” Ross said.
Jessica looked doubtful. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?”
He threw her a challenging smile. “Because you have no sense of adventure?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He couldn’t help goading her, pressing to gain his objective. “I figure you fiscal types are all alike. Rather have your head stuck in ledger books or computer financial programs than out enjoying nature.”
“Enjoying nature? In that snowbound icebox?” She jerked her head toward the window. “You must be crazy!”
“You haven’t seen the summer camp,” Ross said easily, “where we graze the herd in warm weather.”
“It isn’t summer! And the weather definitely isn’t warm.”
“The camp’s even more beautiful in winter.”
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if she realized she was being set up but didn’t know what to do about it. “Where is this summer camp?”
“In the mountains, about twenty miles west of here.”
“Accessible by road?”
Ross shook his head. “Only by trails. We drive the cattle from horseback, or sometimes using vehicles with four-wheel drive.”
She looked at him as though he’d been crazy to suggest such an outing. “Neither horses nor four-wheel drive can make it to the mountains in that snow.”
“You’re right,” he admitted.
She appeared to relax, as if considering the subject closed.
“We’ll go by snowmobile,” he said.
Her tension returned instantly. “Now I know you’ve lost your mind.”
He shook his head. “We’ll be on Shooting Star land the entire trip. You can write it up for your report.”
“And we’ll be a prime target for anyone with a rifle.”
“Not if no one except Fiona knows where we’re going. We’ll be so bundled up that, even if we’re spotted, no one will know who we are. There shouldn’t be anyone on the property this time of year anyway. It’s posted against hunting. And all my hands are bunked here at the main house until spring.”
“What about your job? You can’t just drive away while you have crimes under investigation.”
“I’ll make all my calls and assignments before we leave. And I’ll take along a shortwave radio to keep in touch with dispatch.”
Her eyes flashed in triumph, as if she suddenly knew she’d outfoxed him. “But who’s going to guard Fiona and Courtney while we’re gone?”
“Chang Soo,” Ross replied.
“He’s an old man.” She stared at Ross as though he’d grown two heads.
“And an expert in martial arts,” Ross said, remembering how the old man had managed to best even Ross’s most skillful deputies in hand-to-hand combat. “Besides, ever since yesterday’s shooting, I’ve had several of the hands on rotating shifts, guarding the house and the property 24/7. I’m afraid you’ve run out of reasons for us not to visit the summer camp.”
A smug smile created alluring dimples in her cheeks. “There’s no way I can make such a trip.”
“Why not?” He thought he’d just convinced her she could.
“I’ll die of hypothermia. I didn’t bring the kind of clothes needed for that kind of exposure.”
“No problem.”
“Freezing might not be a problem for you, but it doesn’t appeal to me at all.”
“Wait here,” Ross told her.
Fiona kept a wardrobe of special gear for guests who arrived unprepared for the rigors of the Montana winter. Ross had only to gather the proper garments Jessica would need for the snowmobile trip and hope they fit.
Experiencing a surge of self-satisfaction, he strode toward the storage closet at the end of the upstairs hall. He’d accomplished his major objective in persuading Jessica to stay until Wednesday.
Now all he had to do was keep her safe.
Chapter Eight
Jessica climbed the steps to the porch of the summer camp house and flexed her muscles, stiff from the long ride. The camp house sat on the crest of a ridge and a breathtaking winter wonderland stretched below her, as far as she could see.
The snowmobile ride had been long and noisy, vibrating every part of her until she wondered if she’d ever stop quivering. The heavy protective garments had barely kept out the cold, and she felt frozen to her bones. And despite the incredible stillness of the snow-covered scene, her ears still rang from the roar of the engines.
Cold, shaken and stiff, she should be miserable. But she wasn’t, she realized with amazement. She was having the time of her life.
Not that sitting pressed against Ross with her arms wrapped around his waist and her face buried in his back had had anything to do with her exhilaration. It had to be the fantastic scenery, the wide open spaces, the brilliant sunshine and the crisp air, redolent with the scent of pines.
You hate winter, she reminded herself.
But, surprisingly, she was discovering it wasn’t so bad, at least not in small doses.
Or as long as you have a man like Ross McGarrett to share it with.
She thrust that seductive thought aside, stomped the snow from her boots, stripped off her goggles and turned from the sweeping view to the house.
“This place looks like the Ponderosa,” she said, remembering reruns of the old Bonanza series. The long, low rustic log building with its wide porch was what she had expected upon her arrival at the Shooting Star instead of the stately Victorian.
“Wait’ll you see inside.” Ross unlocked the door and held it open for her. “It’ll take time to warm the place. I’ll get the fires started.”
Jessica entered the dim room. Ross followed, closed the door and began removing dustcovers from the furniture. Massive stone fireplaces flanked either end of the huge space. Its floor was made up of wide pine planks the color of pumpkin, and its principal furniture a long trestle table with benches and several leather sofas and chairs grouped in front of the fireplaces. A kitchen area with a wood-burning stove, a sink with an old-fashioned pump, and rustic pine counters and cabinets were tucked in one corner.
“No electricity or running water,” Ross explained, “but we manage without them.”
He quickly put matches to kindling and logs already laid in the twin fireplaces, then started a fire in the woodstove.
“Your crew lives here during the summer?” Jessica asked.
Ross nodded. “Sleeping qua
rters are upstairs in the loft—but the hands usually sleep outside near the herd if the weather’s mild.”
“And the place just sits empty the rest of the year?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You find that fiscally irresponsible?”
Surprised that her assignment had fled her mind completely, she said, “I left my financial hat back at the ranch. I’m merely curious.”
“It’s used sometimes for hunting parties or as a family retreat.” Ross scanned the room with a glint in his eyes that told Jessica the place was special to him. “Fiona likes to come here to spend a few days alone, reading and enjoying the solitude. She says it recharges her batteries.” He frowned, and his brown eyes darkened to almost black. “But I’ve discouraged her from staying here by herself since Kathy died last year.”
In the excitement of the snowmobile ride, Jessica had forgotten the killer who stalked them. She was suddenly aware of how far she was from everyone and everything, and she felt isolated and vulnerable. She’d been a fool to let Ross talk her out of leaving Montana today.
She’d been an even bigger fool to allow him to carry her off into the wilderness.
What on earth had she been thinking?
Thinking?
Rational thought had nothing to do with her decision. After his simple kiss had created such a tumult of emotions in her last night, she’d been operating on some euphoric plane that was completely alien and impulsive. The last place she should be in her present state was alone.
With him.
As if sensing her thoughts, he came to her. Placing one arm around her shoulders, he tipped her face upward with his other hand until their eyes met. His gaze was warm, comforting, and she found herself drowning in deep brown eyes.
“You’re safe here,” he said softly. “I promise.”
His words generated conflicting responses. On the one hand, she felt assured that he’d protect her with his life from anyone or anything that attempted to harm her. On the other, Ross McGarrett himself presented the greatest danger to the barriers she’d erected around her heart. She’d learned that lesson last night, when she’d longed to throw herself into his arms and have him sweep her off her feet. And the danger had reasserted itself this morning when her heart had leaped with happiness at the sight of him at her door.
That was exactly the kind of illogical, irrational, junk-for-brains thinking that could lead to disastrous consequences.
Fighting against her absurd desire to remain in his embrace, she slipped from beneath his arm, moved toward one of the fireplaces and pointed to the antlers mounted above the mantel.
“Are those from deer?” she said, grasping at the first subject that entered her mind to push memories of last night’s kiss away.
“Elk,” Ross said.
“You kill them for their antlers?” she asked with a shudder.
He shook his head. “Some folks hunt elk for food, but the venison’s too gamy for my taste. Those antlers, however, came from a live elk. They shed them every year.” He flashed her a grin. “No animals were harmed or killed in the furnishing of this ranch house.”
“Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “How about the leather on these sofas?”
“Must be vinyl,” he said with a deadpan expression.
“On a cattle ranch? Yeah, right.”
At least the atmosphere had lightened, and she’d managed to place some distance between them. Maybe she’d survive this outing after all without making a fool of herself again.
The fires were spreading warmth through the room, and Jessica found herself sweating in the heavy outerwear that had protected her from the windchill during her ride. She removed the head gear, jacket and pants and folded them across a nearby chair.
Ross did the same. “How about lunch?” he asked.
She cast a dubious glance at the primitive kitchen. “You’re going to cook?”
He laughed, and she was struck again by how much she liked the rich, smooth sound of his voice.
“I’ve cooked many a meal here,” he said, “but today you’re in luck. I have a thermal hamper in the snowmobile. Chang Soo packed lunch for us.”
He went outside and returned immediately with a hamper he must have stored beneath the seat of the vehicle. It had been several hours since breakfast, and the fresh air and frigid temperatures had made Jessica hungry.
“Want some help?” she offered.
“You’re the guest today,” he said. “Have a seat close to the fire, and I’ll serve you.”
He placed the hamper on a low table in front of the fireplace, then crossed to the corner kitchen. He carried back speckled-blue enameled plates, mugs and flatware, and, after covering a part of the table with a linen cloth Chang Soo had included in the hamper, set two places.
The hamper yielded a treasure trove of Chang Soo’s specialties—sandwiches made of chunky chicken salad with almonds on thick slices of homemade bread, a hot compote of baked apples, apricots and raisins, and a large thermos bottle of fragrant, steaming coffee.
While they ate, Ross told her stories of past events at the summer camp, from bears raiding the garbage pit to the time a porcupine had cornered Fiona in the outhouse. He seemed the happiest and most relaxed he’d been since Jessica met him.
“You love the Shooting Star, don’t you?” she asked, even though the answer was obvious.
“It’s been my home my whole life,” he said with a nod of agreement. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“But being sheriff takes so much of your time. Why not be just a full-time rancher?”
His expression sobered. “Some men see being sheriff as a stepping-stone to another elective office. They want to be a state senator, serve on the governor’s cabinet, or even run for Congress.”
“And you don’t?” With his charm and good looks, Jessica figured he’d win any election in a landslide.
“I’ve never had political aspirations. I just want to keep life safe and orderly for the people I’ve known all my life.”
She twisted in her chair to face him. “Don’t take this wrong, but if that’s your goal, what are you doing up here today with me? Shouldn’t you be working?”
He nodded toward the radio on the sofa beside him. “I am working. Before we left this morning, I coordinated an investigation that reaches into eight states. Every detective in the Swenson County Department has an assignment. In order to identify the person who threatened you and find the others who’ve been terrorizing our citizens, we need information.”
“You can’t catch your criminal if you don’t know who he is,” Jessica agreed.
“And I talked to Max.”
“How is he?”
“Max is fine. Nothing out of the ordinary with him or his family. He sent his love, by the way.”
“Did you tell him I was quitting?”
Ross appeared surprised. “I didn’t know you were.”
“You did, too,” she said, less irritated than she’d expected, “but it’s just as well. I should tell him myself so he can line up a replacement.”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind.” Ross leaned over and refilled her coffee cup.
“And maybe pigs will fly.”
He shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
“I expect to board a plane to Miami on Wednesday,” she stated firmly, wondering if she was trying to convince herself as much as Ross. She was growing to like the sheriff too much for her own good, and placing three thousand miles between them seemed a smart idea.
“Kathy didn’t particularly like the Shooting Star, either,” Ross said. “She fell in love with New York. Wanted to live in the city.”
“It’s not that I don’t like your ranch,” Jessica said hastily.
“It’s a nice place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live here?”
“My Florida blood’s too thin. I’d never survive an entire winter.”
She expected him to argue, but instead, he stood and placed more logs on the fire.
“You must miss Kathy a great deal,” Jessica said.
Talking about his wife should help reerect those barriers around her emotions, she hoped. The man was a widower with a child, still grieving over the tragic death of his pretty, young wife. He didn’t have the time or inclination for involvement with a stranger.
Not that she was interested.
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Ross answered.
“And it’s none of my business,” Jessica assured him quickly. “After all, I’m just a hired hand, not really your guest.”
“I’d like you to be a friend.” Ross sank back onto the sofa and pierced her with a searching gaze. “For the past year, it’s been hard to know who my real friends are, since there’s a high probability one of them killed Kathy.”
“If I’m to do my job,” Jessica said quickly, “I have to remain objective—”
“Didn’t you just tell me you’re quitting and going home?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then be my friend until you leave.”
“But I hardly know you.”
“That’s why I brought you here. So we can get to know each other better.”
The heat in his eyes made the room suddenly too warm, and she fought the urge to rise and move away from the fire. She tore her gaze from his, afraid of what she saw there. “I don’t have time for many friends in my line of work. I move around a lot.”
“And that suits you?”
Jessica started to answer in the affirmative, then stopped. Did she really like bouncing from one location to another, staying in unfamiliar cities, sleeping in hotels, dining alone in restaurants? She had her condo, but spent little time there. She realized with a start that she stayed so busy, she’d never taken time to analyze whether she was doing what she wanted with her life.
But what was the alternative? A husband? Children? And the all-too-familiar heartbreak when that arrangement eventually came crashing down around her?
“Tell me about Kathy.” She was unwilling to talk about herself, reluctant to examine her own life too closely.
Ross leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. For a moment, Jessica thought he wouldn’t answer. When he opened his eyes, their brown depths reflected pain and sadness.
The Christmas Target Page 11