Though she hated to admit it, he was probably right. Lindsay said nothing, but she jotted a reminder to herself about checking into available dome tents in the supply room.
“Besides,” Rex added casually, studying a scuffed area on the side of his leather boot, “what if you have company some night?”
“Company?” she asked, still thinking about the supply room. “What kind of company?”
“Overnight company.” His eyes rested on her with unmistakable meaning. “It would certainly be best to keep a visit like that private, wouldn’t it, Lin?”
“Look, I have...” Annoyingly, her voice caught and squeaked. She had to clear her throat and start again while he kept watching her intently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she concluded with all the dignity she could muster.
“No idea at all, Linnie?”
She put the pen down and sat erect, folding her hands tightly on the desk in front of her. “I don’t think you have this all straight yet, Rex,” she said. “There will be no visitors in my tent on this camping trip. It’s not going to happen. Do you understand?”
“But what if poor little Danny has a nightmare?” Rex’s eyes sparkled with laughter.
“Then Danny would come into the tent and sleep with me, and bring his teddy bear,” Lindsay said. “But he’s eight years old. Anybody older than eight can spend the night outdoors.”
“Even if one of the bigger guys has a nightmare?” Rex asked, his face deliberately sober, though his eyes continued to dance. “Like for instance, what if the biggest guy of all has a really bad dream, and needs some comforting in the middle of the night? Would you be coldhearted and turn him away, Lin?”
“In an instant,” she said.
But her heart was pounding, her whole body moist with yearning as she pictured the deep shadowed woods, the starry blackness overhead, the scent of pine and the sleeping boys sprawled all around dying embers of a wood fire.
And Rex slipping silently into her tent in the moonlight, lying with her on the rumpled bedroll, holding her and kissing her, their naked bodies warm as fire in the chill of the night...
She got up abruptly and tossed her pen onto the desk. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Let’s go up to the house for some lunch, all right?”
Rex followed her from the office and ambled at her side toward the big log ranch house Lindsay had once shared with her father and mother, but now occupied by herself.
As they walked, she struggled to regain her composure, but she was still shaken and disturbed by all these wayward reactions of her body.
“Are you okay, honey?” he asked, taking her arm gently.
The touch of his hand on her bare skin was almost unbearable. Lindsay wanted to pull her arm away, but that would just start another uncomfortable discussion about her aloofness. So she submitted as if they were old friends who’d walked together like this a thousand times.
And that was true, of course.
But she didn’t remember this tingling hunger, this wild song in her heart, the urgent desire to stop and burrow into his arms, press her face against his chest....
“God, I’m so tired,” she said abruptly, climbing the steps to the veranda. “I’ll bet I didn’t sleep more than two hours last night.”
“Why not?”
Lindsay held the door open and went into the house behind him, heading for the kitchen. “I had a breather on the phone just before bedtime,” she said over her shoulder. “It really spooked me.”
“A breather?” Rex asked behind her.
“Oh, it’s not the first time.” Lindsay washed her hands at the sink, then rummaged through the fridge, taking out cold cuts, bread and lettuce. “This guy calls me from time to time and then just...sits there. Never says a word. It’s so unnerving.”
With the ease of long familiarity, Rex moved through the kitchen taking plates from the cupboards, getting out a knife and cutting board.
“Do you know who it is?” he asked.
“No,” Lindsay said curtly. She arranged slices of bread on the countertop and reached for the butter. “My call display always just says it’s a private call, the same way it does from your unlisted number. I haven’t the foggiest idea who it might be. “
But that was a lie, she thought miserably. It was true she didn’t know the man’s name, but she certainly knew his face.
And the feel of his hands, and the sound of his voice...
She shivered and paused in the middle of the kitchen, hugging herself to ward off a sudden chill.
“Linnie?” he asked, looking up quickly. “What’s the matter?”
She gave herself a little shake and began buttering the bread with quick nervous strokes. “I’m just worn-out, and it’s pretty stressful to plan this whole camping trip on top of everything else. Rex, would you rather have mayo or mustard on your ham?”
He reached out and grasped her hand, the one holding the knife. “Honey, you’re shaking like a leaf. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing going on! I’m stressed out, that’s all.”
She paused, conscious of him watching her in concern, and forced herself to meet his eyes.
“Rex, I really want to thank you for helping me with all this, and being such a good sport. You’re taking a huge load off my hands, and I appreciate it.”
He grinned in reply. But the smile didn’t touch his eyes, which remained thoughtful and worried. “Hey, what choice do I have?” he said lightly. “Like you told me, I’m bought and paid for, right?”
Lindsay felt a touch of sympathy. “Are you really going to hate it? Going on this trail ride for a whole week with a bunch of boys?”
“And you,” he said casually, breaking chunks from a head of lettuce. “Don’t forget the most important part. You’re going to be there, too.”
“But that doesn’t mean anything,” she said, trying to match his casual tone. “It’s been such a long time since my presence or absence made any difference to you.”
“How do you know that?”
Lindsay glanced up at him in surprise, conscious again of his maleness, the hard planes of his face, the sculpted line of his lower lip. She had a sudden urge to touch him, to caress his cheek and run a finger over his mouth.
The image was both distressing and embarrassing. She turned hurriedly back to her work, hoping Rex hadn’t noticed.
But even when she wasn’t looking at him she could sense his nearness as he lounged by the counter, his physical strength, even the pleasant scent of his aftershave. The room had an intensely intimate feel, as if they were the only two people in the world.
Lindsay had been alone with the man hundreds of times, but she’d never been so aware of him.
“I’m still worried about this guy who calls you and breathes on the phone,” he said at last, breaking the awkward silence. “Are you sure it isn’t just a wrong number or something?”
“I’m sure,” she said briefly. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?”
Rex turned away to slice mushrooms and green peppers on top of the lettuce, making a salad. “Sometimes,” he said over his shoulder, “people can dial a number and then get interrupted or forget what they were going to say, so they just hang up without saying anything. Hell, I’ve even done it myself.”
“So have I,” Lindsay said. Despite her agitation, she was touched that he kept trying so hard to reassure her. “But it isn’t like that, Rex. This guy calls me...” She paused, gripping the knife tightly, and felt her heart begin to pound. “Never mind,” she said. “Please, let’s talk about something else, okay?”
He went to the fridge and got out the salad dressing, giving her another worried glance. “Have you told the police?” he asked.
Lindsay stared at him.
Tell
the police, a voice echoed inside her head. Tell the police, tell the police....
She took a deep breath and stacked the sandwiches on the cutting board, slicing them raggedly with her knife. “What am I going to tell them? This guy phones from time to time and says nothing, and it scares me? I’m sure they’d be really impressed with that.”
As she spoke, Lindsay pictured herself talking to the police, telling them the whole truth, easing the terrible burden on her heart.
That interview with the police was a fantasy she’d had for almost four years.
But Lindsay knew she was never going to do it. She was such a pitiful, contemptible coward....
“I know a female detective in Casper who has great advice for this kind of thing,” Rex was saying. “You know what she always tells women if they’re being upset by crank calls?”
Lindsay arranged her sandwiches on a plate and set a couple of places at the table in the sunny eating nook. “What does she tell them?”
Rex brought over the salad and a pair of small wooden bowls. “She says to keep a police whistle right beside the phone. When you know your caller’s on the line, blow it as hard as you can right into the mouthpiece. The sound hurts like hell. It’ll be a while before this guy wants to call you again.”
Lindsay looked over at him, startled. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” she said slowly. “In fact, it’s great. I wonder if one of the boys has a really loud whistle.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a good one tomorrow when I pick up the supplies.”
Lindsay watched as he took an electronic organizer from his breast pocket, flicked it open and punched in a notation.
There’d been a time, and not too long ago, when she would have looked on such an action as affected and pompous, a deliberate display of Rex’s sophistication. No doubt she would even have been vaguely annoyed.
But Lindsay realized she’d been unfair to this man in recent years.
Now he was sitting across from her in jeans and boots, planning a campout in the mountains, expressing concern about her welfare. And she found his pleasure with his electronic organizer had a boyish quality that was actually endearing.
“You men,” she said, smiling at him. “You sure do love your toys, don’t you?”
Rex frowned, concentrating on setting the alarm to ping as a reminder. “Toys?” he asked.
“Like it’s so hard to carry a notebook and pen,” Lindsay scoffed. “You need your stuff on a memory chip or it doesn’t count.”
But she didn’t feel sharp or scornful. And she knew there was a note of indulgence, almost affection in her voice that unnerved her.
Rex looked up and met her eyes in obvious surprise. Then he smiled, a warm grin that made his whole face light up. Suddenly he was the same boy she’d known so long ago, with his mercurial shifts from brooding anger to a cheerful, sexy ebullience that used to take her breath away.
Their sandwiches were briefly forgotten, along with the conversation. For a long moment they smiled at each other as the warm bars of sunlight slanted through the window blinds.
CHAPTER NINE
LINDSAY WAS the first to turn away, her heart pounding. “Come on,” she said with forced casualness, “have a sandwich. If they’re left over, I’ll just have to eat them for supper.”
“Do you ever get lonely here?” Rex asked, looking around at the pleasant ranch-style house. “How do you spend your evenings?”
“Lots of nights I bring things home from the office. When I don’t have any work to do, mostly I read, or listen to music and do my cross-stitching.”
“Don’t you watch television?”
“Not much, just a few shows that I really like. The rest of the time I turn it off.”
“That’s what I should do,” he said. “I watch far too much junk. But if the television’s not on, my place seems so lonely.”
Lindsay glanced at him, surprised by this unexpected glimpse into his private life. “Somehow I never pictured you sitting around watching television,” she said. “I thought you were always out on the town with some glamorous woman.”
He laughed with genuine amusement, then shook his head. “Oh, Linnie,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “If you only knew.”
She was about to ask him what he meant when a knock sounded at the front door.
“Come in,” Lindsay called, knowing it would probably be one of the boys. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” Danny responded from the entry foyer.
“Take your shoes off and come in, Danny,” Lindsay told him. “We’re having lunch.”
He arrived in the kitchen, padding softly in his stockinged feet, and came over to lean against Lindsay’s chair as he always did.
She put her arm around the little boy and hugged him. “Those socks are full of holes,” she told him. “Where are the new ones I bought you?”
“In the wash. Rosemary took them,” he said, referring to the pleasant, motherly woman who looked after the boys’ dormitory.
“All six pairs?” Lindsay asked while Rex looked on, smiling.
Danny snuggled against her and examined the sandwiches. “Maybe not all of them,” he said evasively. “But these were the only ones I could find this morning.”
Lindsay sighed and made a mental note to do another check of his wardrobe. If she didn’t stay on top of it all the time, he soon looked like a ragamuffin.
“Danny, I don’t know what to do with you. I really don’t.”
But Danny wasn’t listening. Gravely he selected a sandwich from the plate that Rex offered, then sank into a chair between them.
“This is nice,” the little boy said after chewing and swallowing a huge bite. “It’s like eating with a real family.”
“A real family?” Lindsay asked.
“A mom and a dad.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Lindsay reached out to give the little boy a hug, then became aware of Rex’s thoughtful glance. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she sipped hastily at her glass of water.
Danny continued to eat, placidly unaware of the discomfiture he’d caused. “Clint says...”
Lindsay touched his shoulder gently. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetheart.”
Rex smiled at her, his eyes crinkling warmly. He seemed relaxed and at ease in this setting, which surprised her a little.
Even in his late teens when he was the acknowledged leader of the other boys at the ranch, Rex Trowbridge had always been big, prowling and predatory. And in later years when he became a “corporate animal,” as Lindsay often teased, he’d seemed even more formidable, though in a glossy, sophisticated kind of way.
Despite the closeness of their long friendship, she had to admit he was even a little scary in his city lawyer mode. But now, relaxing in the sunny kitchen with Danny between them, the man didn’t seem imposing at all, just pleasant and approachable.
Lindsay found herself liking this new, casual Rex. In fact, she liked him a lot.
Except when he started looking at her with such disturbing intensity, or teased her about their long-ago, childhood relationship....
“What does Clint say?” she asked Danny to break the silence.
“He says you and Rex should come over to the barn and look at the horses.” Danny sat erect in the chair, beaming with importance at being the one to deliver this message. “Clint says he needs the final list checked off or something.”
Lindsay and Rex exchanged another puzzled glance.
“Are you sure he wants us to do it?” Rex asked the little boy. “Wouldn’t Sam be the one to approve the riding horses?”
“Clint asked, but Sam said for you to do it,” Danny reported. “Clint said Sam didn’t feel like bothering about the horses.”
Lindsay met Rex’s eyes
again, frowning. “That sounds so odd. Rex, do you have any idea what might be wrong with...”
Rex raised an eyebrow and nodded imperceptibly toward Danny. “Not a clue,” he said. “But there’s definitely something going on there. I’ll see what I can find out, okay?”
“Something going on where?” Danny asked, then took a thirsty swig from the tumbler of milk Lindsay brought to him.
“Now you’ve got a milk moustache,” Rex said. “Here, let me fix it.”
He took his napkin and swabbed gently at the little boy’s mouth. Lindsay sat down again, watching the tender competence of his hands. Suddenly her heart melted with emotion. She got up hastily to clear the counter and load the dishwasher.
“What’s your rush?” Rex asked, leaning back in his chair to watch her. “Don’t we have time for coffee and a chat?”
Lindsay avoided his gaze. “We really should go right away to look at those horses. Then we have to finish the supply list and print another one for each of the boys so they can get their packs ready for inspection. The truck is leaving with all their equipment at five o’clock tomorrow evening to rendezvous with us Monday morning at the trail head, so we only have...”
“Lindsay,” he said.
She stopped and turned to him.
“Quit fretting and rushing around,” Rex told her calmly. “There’ll still be lots of time to get everything done.”
He extended a long arm and drew Danny close to him, scooping the little boy from his chair. “Come sit on my other knee, Lindsay,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll tell both of you a story.”
Danny bounced happily on the big man’s lap, but Lindsay turned away, annoyed once more by the teasing sparkle in Rex’s eyes and his slow meaningful grin.
“No stories today,” she said curtly. “There’s far too much to do.”
Danny tipped his head back. “Tell me the story,” he said to Rex. “What’s it about?”
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