The Ranchers: Destiny Bay Romances Boxed Set vol. 1 (Destiny Bay Romances - The Ranchers)

by Helen Conrad

  “I’m going to the police,” he’d told her. “I just want you to be prepared.”

  Her beautiful face had crumbled. “You can’t do that,” she cried out to him. “You’ll ruin everything. Don’t you see that?”

  “Vanessa, my dear,” he said almost sadly. “That’s exactly my goal. Don’t you see that?”

  Huge tears had begun a slow progression down her powdered cheeks. “Oh, Michael,” she sobbed, hanging on to him. “I love you so much. Please, for me, don’t do this. Talk to Daddy. Listen to what he has to say. He’s had his reasons. Besides, everyone else is doing these things. I’m sure he’ll be able to convince you—“

  “Vanessa, I’m sorry, but I can’t. What your father is doing is more than illegal. I can’t condone it, much less join in.” He’d gently untangled himself from her. “I’m going to the police. Nothing you can do or say will stop me.”

  “But it’s so senseless. What do you care how Daddy gets the money? He hasn’t ever been caught. That’s what counts, isn’t it?”

  Michael shook his head, staring at her. “Who are you?” he whispered. “I feel I don’t even know you.”

  Vanessa had blinked back her tears. “Don’t you see?” she moaned. “You’ll be dragging your own family into the mud right along with us. Your father was deeply involved in things Sky did. And your mother...” She stopped, a light flashing in her eyes. “Ah, yes, your mother. Come along with me. I have something to show you.” She strode to a wall safe, opened it and pulled out a diamond necklace. “Recognize these?”

  He’d recognized them all right. The Drayton diamonds. The same diamonds that now resided snugly in the speaker of his car. He glanced at the speaker, as if checking to make sure they were still safely hidden. He should never have grabbed them from Vanessa the way he had. But it was too late now. He was stuck with them.

  Jessie yawned, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. He liked watching her, whatever she was doing. She moved like a child, unconscious of how she appeared to others. And that was odd, because she looked damn good. She was as different from the women he was used to as night was from day. She was so real it almost hurt to look at her.

  They stopped for gas at a station with a convenience store. Jessie got out of the car when Michael did.

  “Give me some money,” she said evenly. “I’ll go get us food for the rest of the day.” His hesitation pricked her pride. “Why don’t you try trusting me?” she asked.

  He didn’t smile, but he did hand her the money.

  “Get a paper,” he called after her. “We can read all about ourselves.”

  She nodded and went into the little store, picking out sliced meat, bread and cheese, along with a quart of milk, some soda pop and snacks.

  She caught sight of herself in the big round mirror that was supposed to give the clerk a good look at every corner of the store. From what she’d seen in that paper at the restaurant the police had her high-school graduation picture to go on for identification. With her hair short and curly and a strained smile plastered on her face, that girl didn’t look a thing like the lean, work-hardened woman she saw in the mirror. She felt her shoulders relax. Now if only there were some way to make Michael less conspicuous....

  “I got food,” she told him as she slid back into the car. “And something else.” She grinned at him. “Go down the road about a mile and then find someplace to turn off.”

  “What?”

  She lifted her chin challengingly. “Just do what I say. It’s for your own good.”

  His unreadable gaze held hers and she waited, holding her breath. He didn’t smile. He still didn’t really trust her. His wariness reminded her that this was no game they were playing. The consequences were too real for that.

  Finally he looked away, started the engine and cruised out onto the road, soon coming to a gully lined with scrub brush. Moving carefully, he maneuvered the car across the sand to a spot where it couldn’t be seen from the road.

  Switching off the engine, he turned to her, one eyebrow raised in question. She reached down into the brown paper bag, pulled out some groceries and a new pair of sunglasses and then produced a bottle of hair dye.

  Michael’s handsome head jerked back. “Oh, no, you don’t,” he exploded.

  “Keep calm,” she said, unscrewing the top. “I’m not going after your whole head. Just that silver streak.”

  He actually looked worried. “I like my silver streak.”

  So did she, but she would never admit it. “It brands you, Mr. Fugitive. They won’t even need pictures to identify you.” She took a tissue and poured some of the dark brown dye onto it. “Hold still now. This won’t hurt a bit.”

  His hand on her wrist was surprisingly strong. “Wait a minute,” he ordered. “How do I know I won’t end up with some god-awful green streak?”

  She hesitated, looking into his silver-blue eyes, and suddenly she was aware of him in a physical way that quickened her heartbeat. Something flickered in his gaze. He felt it, too. She was much too close to him. His eyelashes were thick and dark. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  “It’s... It’s the wash-out kind of dye,” she managed to say in almost normal tones. “If you don’t like it, you can get rid of it.”,

  His hand still held her wrist and his gaze still held her eyes. “Just wash it out?” he asked softly.

  She nodded, swallowing. Her attention dropped to his mouth, but she quickly looked back into his eyes, trying to force back the flush she could feel threatening. She would not reveal her weakness to him. Gritting her teeth, she tugged at his arm.

  He let go, though he seemed reluctant. “Be careful,” he growled.

  “Oh, I will,” she retorted, meaning more than just the hair dye, and they both knew it.

  She worked quickly. The silver streak that looked so intriguing came from a crescent-shaped birthmark just above the hairline, she discovered. “And here I thought you were a junior werewolf or something,” she murmured.

  He didn’t smile. Covering up the silver streak was a good idea. He should have thought of it himself. It did make him look unusual enough to be noticed. But taking the time to do it was holding them back once again. He was a man who liked to go for the target, single-mindedly thrashing through the underbrush, but ever since he’d been tangled up with Jessie, the underbrush seemed to be ensnarling him.

  The man-woman thing was there, strong and true. She puzzled him, fascinated him. The way she was leaning toward him made her shirt gape open and he could see her smooth tanned neck fade to skin untouched by the elements. She was lean and strong. Every inch of her body was ready to efficiently carry out her duties as she saw them, nothing more, nothing less. Michael had a deep, warm temptation to show her something else she could do with it. She was as taut and ready as a racehorse at the starting gate, her body tensed, her round, firm breasts as tight as her nerves seemed to be strung. Under her work shirt she wore a white no-nonsense bra. No laces and bows for Jessie. He smiled, and she noticed.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked defensively. “I’m doing fine. I haven’t spilled any on your face yet.”

  He didn’t answer, but the smile faded. He was noticing the fresh, womanly scent of her. Just thinking of it stirred him. He had an impulse to take her hand and press the inside of her wrist to his lips. He could already sense that her heart was beating quickly, more quickly than normal. It would be so easy to reach over and touch her, push aside the utilitarian bra, expose her vulnerability, stroke the dark nipples until she cried out with pleasure. Something told him she would ignite like a bundle of kindling.

  But that would only be another distraction, delaying them further. He had to find Kerry. Time was as precious as life’s blood to him now. Every minute he delayed, he was that much closer to jeopardy.

  Impatiently he pulled at her hand. “That’s enough,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She drew back and he took a look in the rearview mirror. Hi
s silver streak was now a muddy brown. “Great,” he said caustically. “What an improvement.”

  She began to tidy up. “At least from a distance you won’t be so recognizable,” she said.

  He grunted. “Get that bottle put away so we can move. We’ve wasted enough time this morning.”

  Her motions became slow and deliberate. “What’s that you say?” she trilled. “Why, you’re very welcome, of course, but you don’t have to thank me, Mr. Michael Drayton. I’m pleased to do anything I can to help a friend.” She pushed the bag under the seat. “No thanks are necessary, I’m sure,” she said, her face turned up toward him.

  “Thank you, Jessie,” he said with exaggerated politeness. And then it happened. He hadn’t meant to do it. He didn’t even know for sure how it happened. But suddenly that upturned face was so close beneath his, and his hand was cupping her chin and his lips were grazing hers, finding a sweet intoxication he never would have expected.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Guilty Flee

  Jessie retreated, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, her eyes huge. “Don’t,” she said, her voice quivering.

  He looked at her, at a loss. A part of him wanted to apologize; another part wanted to kiss her again. “I was just saying thank you,” he noted stiffly.

  “Words will do,” she said. This time her voice was strong and steady and her eyes flashed fire. “I can understand them better.”

  What was it, he wondered. Did she find him repulsive? No, he’d met her gaze often enough to know that wasn’t it. Did she find sexual attraction repulsive? Or frightening? What kind of fool man would have put that kind of fear into her? He had an impulse to pull her to him, to hold her against his chest and stroke her hair and calm her. But that was silly. He didn’t have time for this.

  “Let’s go,” he said abruptly, turning on the engine again. “I want to get out of here.”

  Jessie sat very still, wishing she could take back the past few moments of her life. He thought she was a silly prude. She could tell. And maybe she was. After all, he hadn’t done anything very threatening. It was just a simple thank-you kiss. She wished there were some way she could tell him she was sorry. But she wasn’t used to telling men that, and she didn’t know how to make that first move. So she sat and looked out the window as Arizona flew by.

  “Hey,” he said at last. “Did you pick up that newspaper I told you to get?”

  “Oh.” She reached down in front of her seat. “I did.” Spreading it open, she studied their pictures on the front page and read the caption out loud.

  “Police are still looking for fugitive Michael Drayton, accused of embezzling funds from Matthews Aviation in San Francisco and stealing a diamond necklace from the daughter of the company’s founding president, Sky Matthews. Last seen in the Tucson area, Drayton is believed to have taken Jessica Carrington, a southern Arizona rancher, as a hostage. The aviation firm has offered a reward in the amount of fifty thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Michael Drayton.”

  She looked up from the paper. “That’s all,” she said. “Pretty skimpy. Not much background here, is there?”

  He shrugged. “Local papers,” he said, but something about the way he said it gave her the idea that he was relieved.

  They drove through a lonely, dusty town and then were in the desert again. Here and there they passed hitchhikers, usually grubby men with all their possessions tied to their backs. But as they went by one short person with his thumb out, Jessie realized the face was young... and familiar.

  “Stop!” she yelled, swinging around to look behind them.

  Michael jammed on the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road. “What?” he demanded. “What’s the matter?”

  “Back up.”

  “What?”

  “That kid from the town. The one you saved from the bullies. I think that was him.”

  Michael glanced back at the boy, who was trudging toward the car and groaned. “Oh, no. Listen, we already saved him once.”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve got to give him a ride.” Jessie looked at the young boy. He’d recognized them, too, but there was no smile. “Look at that sweet face. How can you leave that on the road?”

  “Very easily. Give him a couple of bucks and let’s get out of here.”

  “No.” She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t leave the boy behind. “Think of it this way. We need him.”

  Michael’s gaze was skeptical.

  “They’re looking for you and me, not a family group,” she reasoned. “If we take him along, that’s what we’ll be.”

  She had a very good point. Michael hesitated, then shrugged resignedly. She opened the car door. “Come on,” she called to the boy. “Get in.”

  He got in as though he were reluctant to take the ride, pulling his bag in beside him. Michael didn’t waste any time getting under way again.

  “What’s your name?” Jessie asked the boy, twisting in the seat so that she could look him in the face.

  “Jimmy.” He settled in the back seat and met her gaze with a mixture of shyness and bravado.

  “Hi, Jimmy. I’m Jessie and this here’s Michael. Where are you headed?”

  His dark eyes went from Jessie to the back of Michael’s head. “Where are you going?”

  She grinned at him. “I asked you first.”

  His eyes were hooded. He didn’t look scared exactly, just careful. “Bullhead City,” he said at last.

  She turned to Michael. “It’s in our direction. He can get another ride from Phoenix.”

  He nodded grudgingly, glancing at Jimmy in the rear-view mirror. The kid was probably okay. It wouldn’t hurt to have him along for a little while.

  Jessie was examining him, too, as she chewed on her lower lip. He was awfully young, eleven or twelve. What kind of a mother would let a boy this age wander all over creation on his own?

  “Where are your parents?” she asked.

  The look he flashed her was just this side of resentful. Then his face hardened and he met her gaze with his chin high. “I’m trying to find my mom. She should be waiting for me in Bullhead City.” He pursed his lips and Jessie could see she wasn’t going to get another fact out of him if he could help it.

  “What happened? How did you get separated?”

  He avoided her gaze and shrugged.

  She looked at the stained, callused hands. “Your people are migrant workers, aren’t they?” she said, recognizing the signs. “Did she go on ahead to cover a new crop?”

  He nodded.

  She turned away, biting her lip again, cursing the woman, whoever she was. This boy thought he was tough, but he needed taking care of. He was still a child. She’d hired boys barely older than him on her ranch. Some of them had been tough, hardened. And some of them had been a little thick. But this boy was neither. His bright, dark intelligent eyes told her that.

  He didn’t want to talk. She knew she should leave him alone. But she kept remembering how he’d looked confronting those bullies in the town, that brave face, the resignation in his eyes, and she couldn’t stop. Turning, she smiled at him again.

  “Is Bullhead City where you live most of the time?” she asked.

  His expression said, Here she goes again, but his mouth said, “Uh-uh.”

  “Where do you live?”

  He avoided her eyes. “Around.”

  Around. In the dusty camps that usually didn’t even have real structures for the people to live in. Poor kid. Conditions had gotten a lot better in many areas in the last ten years or so, but there were still plenty of people living on the edge.

  Michael looked back at the boy and almost grinned. In a way he envied him. He was young to be on his own, but what Michael wouldn’t have given to have had that kind of freedom when he was a boy. Lucky kid.

  “Leave him alone,” he advised Jessie. “If he doesn’t want to talk don’t make him.”

  Jessie turned and sat straight in her
seat, but she was seething. It took her a few minutes to calm down. Leaning forward, she turned on the radio, fidgeting with the dial until she found a country-and-western ballad of love lost. She hummed along with it until another sound caught her attention. Every time the singer hit a high note, something rattled in the speaker. Opening the glove compartment, she discovered a small tool set, removed a screwdriver and started for the speaker.

  “Hey!” Michael’s hand shot out, stopping her, and the car nearly swerved off the road. “What are you doing?”

  She grabbed the side of her seat, surprised. “There’s a noise in the speaker. I was just going to remove the cover and take a look.”

  “No. Don’t go anywhere near that speaker.”

  The harshness of his tone surprised her once more. She was going to show off her expertise with tools and he wasn’t going to let her. “Fine.” She put the tools away, snapping the glove compartment shut. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

  The edginess between them was back full force, making Jessie wonder what she was doing there when she should be home, seeing to her ranch. Michael was as infuriating as he was attractive.

  Attractive! Was that what was keeping her with him? She sighed with self-disgust. If she was really letting herself fall into that old trap she was a bigger fool than she’d ever been before, and she didn’t want to think about it. Abruptly she picked up the brown paper bag and dug out a snack. “Want some peanuts?” she asked, turning to offer them to Jimmy.

  He shook his head, but she could tell by the way he looked at them that he was hungry.

  “Come on.” She tried to hand him some.

  He shook his head again, looking out the window.

  “Hey, come on,” she coaxed. “You’ve got to eat these. You’ll be doing me a favor. If you don’t eat them, I will. And then I’ll get fat. And then I won’t be able to ride my horses anymore.” She blew out her cheeks, pretending to be fat, and there was the ghost of a smile in his eyes when he glanced at her, then looked away again.

  “Please,” she said softly.