“Almost done,” he said.
“What?” She looked up abruptly.
“The tour. It’s almost over. Two more shows and you can forget all this and go home to Jackson.”
Forget it? He must be joking, she thought, but didn’t voice the words, though her stomach knotted up like a sailor’s line. “And what will you do?”
“Gonna spend some time at home. Relax.”
“Relax!” She almost barked the word, then calmed herself and tried again. “Isn’t it going to be hard to relax?”
“You forget. I’m a lazy ass by nature.”
“And you forget,” she said, “someone is threatening your life.”
He snorted and shook his head. “So hard up for a job that you have to make a place for yourself, O’Shay?”
She glanced out the window and let the terror roll over her. “What will you do about security?”
“Security?” He laughed. “My ranch is in North Dakota, O’Shay. There isn’t exactly a deluge of people there, murderous or otherwise.”
“You think no one knows where you live?”
“I told my mother.”
She refused to be baited by his stupid sense of humor, and tried to remain calm, to remind herself that it was his life, his decision. “You think the threats will simply cease?”
From the back, Nuf called again, his tone no more soothing than usual.
“Come on up, Fats,” Nathan called, then, “No. I don’t think the threats will simply cease, because I don’t think there were ever any threats.”
Frustration felt like a boiling pot inside her. “The letters mean nothing to you?”
He shrugged. “A prank.”
“And the blowout? The electrical short?”
“Accidents,” Nathan said.
“Sweet Mary!” Brenna jerked to her feet and paced the aisle, trying to calm her nerves, to remember that she was a professional. “What the hell are you trying to do, Fox?”
“What do you mean?” His face was impassive when she looked at him.
“What do I mean?” She snarled the words. “You’re not that stupid. No one’s that stupid. You’ve been bombarded by threatening mail and freak accidents. But you act like nothing’s happened.” She swung suddenly toward him. “Why?”
Nuf cried again.
“Geez, O’Shay, you’re taking this way too serious.” Nathan’s tone was relaxed, but his body seemed tense and stiff when he rose to his feet and pushed past her on his way to his traveling bedroom.
“Too serious?” She turned as he passed her.
He stopped in the doorway for a moment. “Geez, cat, what have you gotten into this time?” He disappeared, only to reenter a moment later with the overstuffed cat in his arms. Around Nuf’s neck was a plastic six-can carrier. “You’re the most suicidal animal I’ve ever met,” he murmured to Nuf.
“There’s you,” Brenna countered irritably.
Nathan snorted. “When was the last time I got my head caught on a drawer handle?” he asked, and pried the plastic ring from the cat’s neck.
“I haven’t been around very long.”
He ruffled the cat’s fat head before setting him down and lifting the rings between them. “You been slogging beer again, O’Shay?”
“No,” she said, irritated by his refusal to see the truth.
“Then where’d he find the hoops?” he said, tossing the rings to the table.
Brenna turned away, trying to cool her temper, to think, to give Nathan time to see logic. But he was not a logical man. At best, he was an artist; At worst, a heavy-handed, half-witted barbarian. And if—
Her thoughts stopped abruptly. Where had Nuf found the plastic rings? Turning stiffly, she paced to the table and picked up the packing bonds.
“Did you leave this in here?” she asked Nate.
He shrugged, noncommittal. But her heart refused to slow. Turning, she paced up to the driver. One quick question made her certain Atlas hadn’t been sloppy.
Wandering back to her chair, she turned the rings in her hand. Nuf was grumpily licking his ruffled fur back into place. She was probably being silly. Nuf was fine, and he was prone to accidents. Closing her eyes, she blew out a quick breath and tried to relax. But just then her fingers scraped across an indentation in the plastic. Breathlessly she lifted it higher, barely daring to look at it.
But she couldn’t delay forever. Her fingers told her the truth, even if her eyes refused to see.
“Nathan.” Her voice quavered. His eyes narrowed when he looked at her.
“What is it?”
“Was the bus locked?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Are you sure?”
“Geez, O’Shay, if you’re trying to drive me insane you’re on the right track. What’s the problem?”
“Your initials—” she began, but strangely, she couldn’t say the rest.
“What?”
She calmed herself. “Your initials are carved into the plastic.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t touch it!” It seemed, suddenly, like a live grenade in her hands. “There might be prints.”
He leaned toward her to scowl at the plastic, then stare pityingly into her face. “Relax. That’s not an N. It’s an H. Or maybe…” He looked at it askance. “Tally marks, fence rails, nothing at all…”
She stared at him, not daring to move, to breathe, or even to talk for a moment. But finally, her heart rate and her muscles relaxed a mite.
“What do you want, Fox?” she asked softly.
He watched her from inches away, saying nothing.
“Do you want me to beg?”
“O’Shay—”
“I will,” she said softly, unable to stop the words. “If that’s what you want, I will.”
“What are you talking about?”
She raised her chin slightly. “Please don’t go to North Dakota without a bodyguard.” Silence, but for the sound of the wheels on the road beneath them. “Please. If you don’t want me, I understand.”
“O’Shay—”
“I’ll find you someone else. I know a dozen good agencies. I’ll call one tonight. I’ll—”
He grabbed her arms suddenly, his eyes intense. “You’re being ridiculous.”
Her eyes filled with tears, though she cursed herself for it. “I can hire my replacement by the weekend.”
He dropped her arms. “So you’re trying to get out of our deal?”
She stared at him, her throat tight.
He turned stiffly away. “I’ve been leaving you alone, letting you do your job. What more do you want from me?”
“I want you alive.”
“Why? To pay your fee? To give references?”
“Please,” she said, barely able to force out that one word. “Don’t go without me.”
“You want to go with me to Five Crow?”
She tried to grin. “I won’t eat much.”
They stared at each other for a brief eternity.
“Fine,” he said finally, nodding jerkily. “Fine. You come then.” He jabbed a finger at her. “But you’re not going to break my heart.”
13
BRENNA COULD FEEL Nathan’s excitement. He sat across the aisle from her, staring out the window like a small boy at Christmas. Their bus turned off the tar road and bounced onto gravel. Soft green hills, haloed by the sinking sun, rolled into view.
Finally, the bus pulled to a halt, and Nathan was out the door. Brenna followed more slowly, looking about as she left her home on the road. His house was a low building made of natural logs. Behind that, a cluster of wooden barns hung in a half circle. And past that—the low, craggy hills speckled with bent elder and ash trees. Not another building was in sight A narrow creek meandered through his property, sparkling like rough gold in the quiet hills. Beside it, a herd of horses grazed, their sleek coats nearly as bright as the rustling water.
A thrill of excitement sparked through Brenna. There was
something about this country that spoke to the cowboy in her, to the jewel thief, to the little girl she’d lost long ago. Something that touched her, moved her.
Off to her right, she heard Nathan speak to his driver. There were low murmurs of laughter, and then Atlas’s footsteps moving away.
Brenna glanced toward Nathan. He stood with his back to the bus, looking out over his land, oblivious to all else. She watched him breathlessly. His emotions, always evident on his face, were even clearer than usual. His love for this land was written in his eyes. And suddenly she wanted to stay here forever, to dip her toes into the water, to lie back on the green grass and learn all there was to know about Nathan the Fox.
He glanced toward her. Brenna turned abruptly away. Scowling at her own foolish thoughts, she hurried back to the bus, reminding herself the whole while that she was here to guard him. Nothing else.
She diligently remembered that when he showed her to her room, a cozy little nook overlooking the south pastures.
She remembered when he gave her a tour of his sprawling, pine-paneled home. And later, when they moved Nuf from the bus to the house, her mission ran through her mind like a litany. Keep him safe. Keep him safe. Don’t get involved.
He made spaghetti sauce for supper and when he touched the wooden spoon to her lips and asked her opinion, she was steely tough, even when his gaze, warm as hazelnut coffee, rested on her face.
Later, she stood beside him at the sink and remembered again. Each time he handed her a wet dish to dry. Each time he shared another little tidbit about himself. Each time he breathed, or smiled, or turned just so, so that she could see his profile, or the tanned width of his wrist, or, God forbid, his butt, tight as a fresh plum in his faded blue jeans.
She held her breath as she stared at it.
“Full moon,” he said.
“Huh?” She snapped her gaze back to his face.
“There’s a full moon tonight”
“Oh.” There were just the two of them, alone in this quiet little house in the hills. Oh, indeed!
“A full moon in a sky as dark as Mississippi mud.” He hummed a bar, then grinned at her as he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Bet you’ve never seen a sky as black as ours.”
“I—”
“Come on.”
“It’d be better if you didn’t go out after dark,” she said, trying to draw herself out of his eyes.
But he laughed. “You expect me to stay inside? Really, O’Shay!” He stepped an inch closer. She could feel his masculinity like the undertow of a warm wave. “I thought that’s why you were here. To keep me safe.”
She swallowed hard, and tried to pull her gaze away. But it was hopeless, because his words of some days before kept running through her mind. “You’re not going to break my heart” he’d said. But why? Did he, perhaps, care for her a little? Could it be that she was more than a new and intriguing challenge to him?
“Isn’t that right?” he asked softly.
“What?” she breathed.
“Aren’t you here just to keep me safe?”
Damn it all! She couldn’t remember.
“Tell me now, O’Shay,” he said, and gentle as a sigh, he touched her cheek. “’Cause if you’ve got other reasons I’m ready to launch a full-scale seduction.”
Her jaw dropped. And against all odds, she managed to shake her head.
“No what?”
She couldn’t remember that either.
“Why are you here?”
Oh! She knew that one. “I’m your bodyguard.”
“No other reason?” He smoothed his fingers across her cheek, then ran the flats of his nails along her jawline. Her knees threatened to buckle, tossing her headlong into his arms. That’d be bad. Wouldn’t it?
Amazingly, she shook her head again.
He drew his hand abruptly away and shrugged as if her reasons were of no concern to him. “Well, you’d better come out with me then, ‘cause my body’s definitely going to need guarding out there in the spooky darkness.”
She mastered the operation of her knees and managed to accompany him outside. They stepped away from the lights of the house. The night was as still as heaven. In the distance, she heard a cow low.
He led her down to the closest barn and switched on the lights. Rows of stalls marched away from them. They walked down the concrete aisle together. Horses blinked at them from behind their barred doors.
Nathan introduced her to each one, smiling as he made the acquaintances, talking to them, stroking a few, telling her anecdotes and stories and dreams.
Finally, they wandered out the back door and into the pasture. The creek meandered like flowing mercury past their feet. More horses grazed on the hillside. They were indistinct and magical in shades of silver and black.
Hearing their approach, the nearest horse snorted and shied, starting the whole herd running. They flew like a band of thundering ghosts, up the dark hillside, seeming to collide with the moon as they made their fanciful escape.
Brenna stood absolutely still, made breathless by their magnificence. “Beautiful,” she breathed.
But Nathan said nothing. She turned toward him and caught the glint of his stare.
“You think so?” he asked softly.
She nodded. Keep him safe. Don’t get involved. Pulling her gaze away with an effort, she scanned the hilltop. “Where’d they go?”
He remained silent for a moment. “They’ve got a couple hundred acres. Want to see?”
She managed a nod and took a step away from him, but he caught her hand. “Creek’s deeper than it looks,” he said, and bending slightly, swung her into his arms.
“What—”
“Gotta keep my bodyguard dry. What if I get…” He shrugged. She could feel the movement of his chest and arms against her own. The warmth of his body seeped into her soul, making her feel heavy and lost. “What if I get shot or something and you have to run home for help?” His face was inches from hers, so magnificently sculpted it made her want to weep. “Wet feet might slow you down.”
That made sense, she thought nonsensically. But not as much sense as the feel of his heart beating slow and steady against her arm, or the sound of his voice, raspy and soft on her cheek.
“O’Shay…” he murmured, his lips inches from hers. Goose bumps quivered over her at the raspy tone of his voice. The moon grinned down from its lofty height.
Damn her mission. She couldn’t resist him any longer. “What?” she breathed.
There was a pause. “Do you ride English or Western?” he asked.
“What?”
He dropped her feet abruptly to the grass. “I’m planning to do a lot of riding,” he said, striding off. “I suppose you’ll have to come along. Do you go English or Western?”
She stood in the darkness, trying to think, to make her legs hold her weight, to remember, God yes, that she was a professional. And professionals did not throw themselves in their employer’s arms and beg like a shameless dog to be petted.
BRENNA TRIED TO DO HER JOB. She installed a first-rate security system in Nathan’s house and horse barn, ordered a privacy fence and gate put across the front of his property, and, most tantalizingly grueling of all, kept diligently by Nathan’s side.
The days passed in sweet torture. Meals with his family, infectious laughter, playing hearts in the evening, touching hands as they traded queens and fives.
But through it all, he seemed oblivious to the feelings that sparked from his fingers to hers, and treated her as nothing more spectacular than a buddy.
August came hot and dry. But Nathan had begun conditioning Lula for the upcoming rodeo and refused to stop because of the heat. Instead, he would work the mare early in the morning or late in the evenings.
Tyrel brought his gelding over a couple times a week and they would rope steers together. Brenna sat in the shade, watching their comradery, listening to their laughter, marveling at the way Nathan turned his head or tossed his lariat, or walked, o
r breathed…
Sweet Mary, she was sick! She rose to her feet, and paced. The sun was perched just above the western horizon, but the heat was unrelenting. She pulled a few stray hairs away from her neck and hoped for a breeze. There was none.
“Hot?”
She jumped at the sound of Nathan’s voice, close enough to whisper in her ear.
He grinned. “I thought you were supposed to be watching me. Boogeymen, you know.”
She turned away to watch Tyrel turn his rig onto the road.
“I’m thinking you’re probably the only boogeyman that comes this far north.” She was irritated, not so much by the heat, but by his placidness. Yes, she wanted…no…insisted on a professional relationship. But he didn’t have to make it look so easy. Not when just being in the same county as him made her feel itchy and squirmy and hot.
He grinned. “It’s cooler up in the hills. Want to go for a ride?”
“On horse?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “What else?”
She hadn’t thought of it that way, but now a steamy image of her straddling him sizzled in her mind. “I didn’t…I don’t…” He was watching her very closely, and there wasn’t a single rock nearby large enough to hide under. “Of course you meant on horse.”
He watched her for a moment longer, but in the end he chuckled low in his throat in that sexy way he had and led her down to the barn. Once there, he insisted on saddling her horse for her, saying she’d better watch his back—just in case. But somehow her gaze never quite managed to rise that high.
Her mount was a leggy chestnut mare called Boo. Her coat matched Brenna’s hair within a shade of perfection. The saddle Brenna settled into was a deep-seated Western model with a rubber-wrapped horn and enough wear to make it fit like a comfortable pair of jeans.
They set off down the gravel road at a jog trot. Memories rushed back at Brenna, the satin stride of a good horse beneath her, the feel of power and freedom and peace. She was glad she hadn’t become a jewel thief. It was more fun being a cowboy. She silently laughed at herself and drew a breath deep into her lungs as the sun sank into the mulberry red sky.
“Wow,” she said softly.
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