A Cowboy at Heart

by Roz Denny Fox

  “You agreed to give me until after Thanksgiving, Linc. What’s changed?”

  He turned his lips into her palm and felt her shiver with…exactly what, Linc wasn’t sure. If he could be sure it was desire rather than fear, he’d have no qualms about raising the heat. But the way things stood, he merely sighed. “My word’s my bond, Randi. Let’s just go to town and get the items on your list.”

  She sank gratefully into the leather seat. Neither spoke until Linc pulled into the parking lot of a department store in a nearby town. Not Susanville. Miranda had missed seeing the name of this place. But she was glad when a survey of the main street didn’t reveal any record stores.

  “Shopping will go faster if I take the list for the boys and you buy for yourself and the girls,” Linc suggested.

  “How will I pay?” She panicked for a moment.

  “Here, use my credit card.”

  “Linc,” she drawled, “they won’t let me sign your name.”

  “Right, and we’ve already established that you won’t sign yours. Is your first name even Randi?”

  His snide tone landed like a well-thrown punch. He’d set her up, she thought angrily. His comment about the credit card was just another way to bring up the subject of her name. Her identity. “My dad called me that,” she said, gritting her teeth. “Hey, look, this store has central checkout. How long will you need to choose for the boys? I can probably fill my list in half an hour.”

  “A woman who can shop for clothes in half an hour is every man’s wildest dream. Marry me,” Linc sang out, clutching his heart.

  “Ha, ha!” She ripped the list in half and slapped the top half into Linc’s hand.

  True to her prediction, she whipped through the girls’ department in nothing flat. She took longer buying boots and sneakers. She all but raced down the last aisle in order to beat Linc to their appointed meeting place.

  He arrived several minutes afterward, looking totally frazzled. “Damn, but you did win the race.”

  She attempted to appear bored. “Oh, were we in a race?” She hoped it wasn’t evident that her heart still galloped like crazy from her last fifty-yard dash.

  “Okay, show me what you bought. I’ll bet you weren’t as generous as I was.”

  As they compared items, it became evident that she’d outbought Linc two items to one.

  “I concede. You’re the better shopper.”

  It was small as compliments went, but Miranda was as pleased as if he’d handed her a gold medal. It was probably because nothing she did ever pleased Wes Carlisle, she mused. He always wanted more, wanted different, wanted better.

  Miranda couldn’t believe Linc forked over his credit card without batting an eye at the staggering sum. Another area in which Wes was a control freak. Even though she earned the money, he harangued her constantly over every nickel and dime she spent.

  “Thanks from all of us, Linc,” Miranda said quietly as they exited the store.

  “You’re welcome. I hope the kids like what we bought. Now I’m wondering if we made a mistake in not bringing them.”

  “I believe I can safely say not one of them has ever been given anything half as nice in a long, long while.”

  “Except you. You strike me as a woman used to wearing designer duds.”

  Miranda’s eyes widened. “What makes you say that?”

  “The way you walk into a room, Randi. Like a queen.” He opened the hatch of the SUV to stow their bags. “I’m betting you’re no stranger to money.”

  “Sadly, money doesn’t guarantee happiness.” There was such a tremor in her voice Linc just stared at her.

  He tossed in the last sackful of jeans and slammed the door. “You intrigue me. Comments like that only pique my interest more.”

  “Why?”

  Linc locked the back and removed the keys. He didn’t know why she got under his skin, dammit. Or maybe he did. He’d grown up in a shallow town. And he’d spent his adult years dating women who came out of that pool. If he had to label Randi, he’d use the word genuine.

  And yet…Randi had secrets. Her past was a mystery. So for all he knew she might not be genuine at all. Irritated by his seesawing feelings toward her, Linc wrenched open the passenger door. He stood stiffly aside and let her climb in by herself.

  Miranda had hoped he’d suggest stopping for coffee before going home.

  He didn’t.

  The first ten minutes of the drive were completed in total silence. Miranda saw that Linc was brooding again. “How many head of cattle are you expecting?”

  “Not many.”

  “Enough to feed ranch residents?”

  “No. Enough to give city kids a taste of what it’s like to take care of something—someone besides themselves.”

  “Oh. I know you mentioned planting crops. I’ve forgotten what.”

  “Walnuts, citrus and olives. That’s it for now, except for enough potatoes, carrots, peas and beans to supply our kitchen with fresh vegetables in the spring.”

  “Hmm. I read an article about planting tomatoes in a pot inside a deep hole. It protects their foliage and keeps them from freezing or getting scorched, depending on the climate you live in.”

  Linc gave her a sharp look. “Why would you read agriculture articles?”

  “Is there a law against it?”

  “I’ll wait and plant our tomatoes in April, when it warms up.”

  “Fine!” She slumped in the seat and crossed her arms.

  In spite of his efforts to ignore her, Linc’s lips twitched. Hell, she was impossible to ignore. “I don’t know a damn thing about farming,” he admitted. “I’m learning as I go. I really could use some tips. Last night, when I should’ve been poring over farming literature, I spent my time thinking about kissing you.”

  Her mouth fell open. Turning red, she sat up and faced the side window. “I…uh…don’t know what to say.”

  “Speechless at last, huh?” Relaxing, Linc planted an elbow on the window ledge, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  “I’m far from an authority on farming,” she said. “I was on a bus in Arizona when I read the piece on planting tomatoes. My dad swore by the Farmer’s Almanac. But as a part-time farmer in Tennessee, he grew a little tobacco, not walnuts or olives.”

  “Tennessee?” Linc leapt right on that slip. “So that’s where you came by your Southern accent?”

  Miranda could have bitten out her tongue. She’d been so careful to avoid personal details in case someone got too nosy and ultimately tied her to the missing Nashville star. “As I said, Dad was on the road a lot. Actually, the farm seems a lifetime ago. I remember I loved what time we did spend there, though.”

  “Was your dad in sales?”

  “Um… Hey! Look at that truck you pulled in behind. He’s turning down our lane.” She scooted forward. “Your cattle, I’ll bet.”

  “Damn! The man I bought them from promised not to deliver until next week at the earliest.”

  “Your life’s full of surprises, Parker.” He scowled at her, but at least she’d forestalled his questions about her father’s occupation. The truth would be out if anyone suspected her dad was Doug Kimbrough, lead guitarist for the once-famous Great Smokies bluegrass band.

  Unexpectedly, an acute wave of nostalgia tore through Miranda’s heart. There were so many great memories mixed in with the more recent bad ones. Wesley Carlisle had, in his greed, ruined something that had been joyful and good.

  Miranda was glad the hubbub over the steers and the clothes Linc had bought meant no one was likely to notice her melancholy mood.

  The little kids and Jenny were ecstatic as they opened sack after sack.

  “Randi, I’ve never owned such pretty shirts and pants!” Cassie exclaimed.

  “Me, neither,” Wolfie admitted, his voice quavering. He hooked a skinny arm around his sister. “Now me and Hana are gonna look like normal kids. Thanks, Randi.”

  Miranda discreetly brushed a tear. “You n
eed to thank Linc. I may have helped pick stuff out, but he paid the bill.”

  “Is Mr. Linc Santa Claus?” Hana asked in a tiny awe-filled voice.

  Jenny chuckled. “Christmas is almost two months away, short stuff. I really doubt some fat old dude in a dumb red suit can top this, though.”

  Miranda noticed Jenny kept stroking a fringed paisley shawl shot through with gold and silver threads. “I knew you’d like the shawl,” Miranda said. “I took it right off a mannequin. They had it teamed with the black crop top, tied around a pair of hip-hugger jeans. The smaller flowered scarves—well, I’ll show you girls how to tie them in a cap over your hair. I saw some girls who had them on. They looked really cool.”

  “Can I wear one now?” Cassie’s hazel eyes glowed.

  “Sure, sweetie. Tonight, after supper, we’ll sneak off and have our own fashion show.” Miranda began removing price tags.

  Jenny jumped in to help. “While the guys are outside ooh-ing and ahh-ing over a bunch of dumb cows, let’s all go wash our hair.” Her excitement was infectious.

  Cassie, wearing new jeans and a kitten-soft shirt, lamented with a sigh, “I sure wish Mr. Linc would let us stay here forever.”

  Miranda’s thoughts drifted in that direction, too.

  It was Jenny’s pragmatic admonition as they trooped into the bathroom that threw a damper on hope. “Sooner or later, everything good gets ruined. It’s better if you don’t wish for too much, kid. Then when you get kicked in the teeth, it doesn’t hurt so bad.”

  Miranda lifted her soapy head from the sink, feeling a need to stand up for Parker. “It’s not fair to blame Linc for rules and regulations he can’t control. Don’t forget he didn’t come here with the notion of being a foster dad.”

  “But he’s the one who phoned Social Services,” Jenny said after a toss of her still-wet hair. “He could’ve left well enough alone.”

  Miranda would have said more, but Jenny switched to another subject—one that practically stopped Miranda’s heart. “Hey, look at the color washing out of your hair! I guess I’ve never been in the bathroom when you put in a rinse before. Rats, Eric’s right again. He bet me five dollars black isn’t your natural color. What is?”

  Standing still, letting soap drip into her eyes, Miranda might have answered had she not caught sight of a flash of blue at the door. Blinking rapidly, she realized Linc lounged in the doorway, listening to every word. Her breath lodged in her lungs as she remembered that he’d also commented on her hair color, too.

  Her throat closed at how great he looked with booted ankles crossed and thumbs casually tucked under the buckle of a wide leather belt—as if he was a born cowboy, instead of a brand-new one.

  To avoid answering, she turned on the cold-water faucet and ducked beneath it. If nothing else, the frigid water shocked some sense into her. Linc struck her as a man who hated duplicity. Hated lies and liars. And at the moment, her life was one massive lie.

  Taking care to wrap a towel around her head until she had a chance to see how much of the rinse had washed out of her hair, she finally acknowledged Linc. “Could you please knock before entering a bathroom? We’ve been trying on clothes. I’m pretty sure privacy’s an issue that’ll be high on Mrs. Bishop’s rules, Parker.”

  He unwound his lanky body and backed guiltily from the room. “I just stopped in to pick up my lunch and to ask what time you’d planned supper.”

  Miranda tugged at the wet front of her T-shirt. Hana had splashed her, and she’d elected to forgo changing until she’d finished her hair. Clearly Linc’s interest was divided between thoughts of supper and hunger of another type. She hoped Jenny hadn’t observed his masculine response. But not much escaped the teenager.

  Sure enough, Jenny jabbed Miranda with an elbow. “You’d better tell him the cook’s not on the menu.”

  Linc’s gaze flew to both their faces. At that point, Miranda wasn’t sure who was the more crimson, Jenny, Parker or her. Under the circumstances, she thought she threw a fairly good block. “Come on, Jenny, we should at least try to act mature. And Linc, getting back to your question, I’d planned supper for seven. Late enough so you farmers won’t lose any daylight, but early enough for Wolfie and Cassie to get to bed at a decent hour. Remember, they’re going to school tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Really?” Cassie spoke from behind Linc.

  He sprang aside to give her wheelchair access. Scraps lay curled contentedly in the child’s lap.

  “That’s right, kiddo.” Linc bent to scratch the head of the yawning dog. “Mrs. Banks at your school promised to try and put you and Wolfie in with the teachers you had before the Tuckers made you drop out.”

  “Yippee! I loved Mrs. Sullivan. I think Wolfie liked Mr. Wall, even though Wolfie says he doesn’t like school.”

  “Maybe he will if we help him catch up,” Linc said. “I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we?” He watched her nod. “Okay, since that’s settled, duty calls. I’ll let you ladies get back to making yourselves beautiful.” His gaze swung to Miranda, this time definitely lingering on the towel hiding her hair.

  She grabbed the towel with both hands, as if that protected her against his prying eyes. But her movement only brought his eyes to her breasts. Almost immediately, he left. Not fast enough, however, to keep the heat from stealing into Miranda’s cheeks again. She also felt her heart begin to pound. Luckily, Jenny had already turned aside to wipe steam off the foggy mirror.

  Miranda knew she and Linc would have to be much more careful about publicly displaying their attraction to each other. She’d come too far in this charade to let out-of-control hormones screw things up for her now. Her chance at ever having a normal future depended on continuing to evade Wes Carlisle’s efforts to find her. At least until she figured out what to do.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DAYS FLOWED into weeks. Life at the ranch fell into a satisfying routine for Miranda. Outside the kitchen window, freshly plowed fields slowly filled with almost-straight rows of spindly walnut and olive trees. Seed grain had been cast across the allotted acres of rich-smelling earth. As Miranda set about baking pumpkin pies and tarts for the next day’s Thanksgiving holiday, she reflected on the numerous changes around the ranch.

  One positive note: the first bunkhouse now had indoor plumbing. The boys had wasted no time staking claims on beds in the more private quarters. Eric, Shawn, Greg and Wolfie had all moved their belongings. Just yesterday, she and Jenny had hung green-plaid curtains to match the bedspreads. The place looked masculine and amazingly improved.

  Three new teens had shown up one day, three weeks after Cassie and Wolfie returned to school but had packed their bags and left a few days later. None of them was willing to work. They were a surly trio, and Miranda had been only too happy to see them go, as had the others. Except for maybe Linc. He honestly thought, now he’d set his mind to it, that he could turn every kid’s life around. He’d been dejected following the teens’ departure, and Miranda knew he considered them another failure, ranking just below his perceived negligence as a brother.

  The only thing that roused Linc from his latest funk was Wolfie and Cassie coming home with fantastic report cards. Which was the reason Miranda was baking pies and preparing turkey stuffing in advance of tomorrow’s holiday. The older teens planned a party in the bunkhouse tonight to celebrate Wolfie and Cassie’s success.

  They’d put Jenny in charge of decorations. That freed up Miranda to cook, while Linc and the boys planted the last batch of olive trees.

  On their most recent supply outing to Susanville, Jenny had been secretive in her purchase of decorations. The boys were afraid she’d go overboard with crepe-paper streamers and balloons.

  Even if she did, Miranda had no objections. She was in a mood to celebrate, because there was something else she learned in Susanville. The cutout of her at the record shop had been replaced with one of Justin Timberlake. And her CD, produced after she’d left Nashville, had been relegated to its rightful place
among myriad other country recordings.

  Feeling freer, she’d stopped at the local library and read several prominent newspapers. Not one word in any of them about her disappearance. At last, it seemed, she was yesterday’s news.

  With that weight gone, she’d stopped coloring her hair. Only yesterday, Jenny had trimmed off the last remnants of her black rinse. Except for the fact that her hair was pixie short, when Miranda looked in the mirror, she saw her true self again.

  She’d caught Linc checking her out in a new way, too, a sexy way that left her stumbling about in a haze. At times, though, she worried that the intensity with which he studied her meant he was still trying to place her, figure out who she was.

  The last thing she’d done in town, without telling the others, was to register for night classes in sociology at the college, beginning in January. Now she was trying to work up the nerve to tell Linc. Her breathing got shaky whenever she imagined how he’d react to the news that she planned to stay on at the ranch after the deadline he’d set for her to either leave or come clean about her real age and identity.

  Linc had pressed her often enough to open up. Of course she still continued to hesitate, in spite of the fact that they’d grown closer in the past few weeks. He was always mindful of how much she kept to herself whenever they sat and talked in the evenings. It had become their habit to share coffee and conversation in the kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed.

  Furtive good-night kisses had become standard. Yet Linc didn’t rush to cross the invisible line to greater intimacy. Miranda had no doubt that her half-truths were to blame.

  Linc filled her head day and night. Because he’d come to mean so much to her, she wanted them to take that next step. If they didn’t, she was afraid he’d lose interest altogether. In many ways he was an impatient man. She’d gleaned that much through their discussions of his work with some of Hollywood’s top stars. A case in point was how quickly he’d leapt into building this refuge. Yes, Linc Parker charged through life at full-throttle—but he expected results.