“My parents were workaholics and didn’t have time for parties. Besides, my birthday is close to Thanksgiving and they definitely didn’t have time for a kid’s party while doing a Thanksgiving Day feast for the people at their law firm.” She gave him a large, slightly loopy grin. “But it doesn’t matter, right? Because we’re celebrating my success. Tonight I am somebody.”
A knock on the back door stopped any response he might have made. “It’s Adam,” Dillon said, seeing the man through the window.
“Oops, I forgot that I told him from now on instead of doing morning updates we’d do evening ones when you’re here.” She jumped up from the table and swayed her way to the back door. It took her two tries to punch in the security code and open the door to allow him inside.
“Adam, we’re celebrating,” she said cheerfully.
“Did you solve Sam’s murder?” Adam asked Dillon.
“No, not yet,” Cassie replied before Dillon could open his mouth. “I’m sure he will. He’s a brilliant chief of police, but right now we’re celebrating because I sold a painting.”
“Congratulations,” Adam said.
“Thanks.” She sat back down at the table and gestured for Adam to join them. “I’d offer you some champagne, but the bottle is empty.” She giggled. “Dillon drank it all.”
Adam cast Dillon a look of amusement.
“Now, tell me about all the cows news there is to tell,” Cassie said.
As Adam gave Cassie his daily ranch report, Dillon listened absently and studied the man. Whenever he was around any of the men who worked on the ranch he found his suspicion that one of them was the killer more difficult to sustain.
Whoever Dillon was hunting, he was good...very good at maintaining a false face to the world. He hid his evil behind guileless eyes and a friendly smile. Or, in the case of Humes’s men, behind a sneer and a cocky attitude.
He focused his attention back on Cassie, who was laughing at something Adam had said. God, she was gorgeous. Just sitting across the table from her had him half aroused.
It had touched him deeply that she’d been so upset about the ruined dinner. It was obvious she was only cooking in an effort to please him.
It also broke his heart a little for her that her parents had never given her a birthday party. What kind of cold animals had raised her?
But he couldn’t forget what her dream had been for her first painting sale. She’d envisioned herself in an art gallery in New York City. It was just a whimsy of fate that had placed her here in Bitterroot with him, and that same fate was responsible for the fact that they were celebrating her first sale at the kitchen table in the property she’d inherited.
But he hadn’t lost track of the possibility that her subsequent sales would occur in an art gallery in New York City. She was here now, but she could be gone next week. He wished she’d make up her mind already about what her future plans were.
The possibility of her leaving was why it was vital that he not get any more involved with her. He had to protect himself. It had been a mistake to make love to her because he wasn’t the kind of man who indulged in meaningless affairs. When he loved, he loved deeply, and he had to stop his feelings for her before he hit the point of no return.
“I think we’re good for tonight,” Adam said and stood to leave. “I’ll check in again tomorrow evening, and congratulations again on the big sale.” He nodded to Dillon and then left by the back door.
Dillon got up and reset the alarm. “How about I make a pot of coffee?”
“Coffee might be good. I have to confess that I’m a little tipsy,” she said sheepishly.
He grinned at her. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“At least I know what to do if I have a hangover tomorrow morning.”
“What’s that?” Dillon asked while he measured out the coffee.
“Greasy eggs and lots of water.”
He turned to look at her. “Really?”
She nodded, her curls bobbing with the gesture. “Halena told me and it really works. I woke up with a terrible hangover after the barn party and she fixed me right up.”
“I’d believe almost anything Halena Redwing said.” He turned back to the coffee machine and once it was dripping through he returned to his chair at the table.
“There’s leftover apple pie,” she said and then giggled once again. “If you like it so tart your cheeks squeeze together and you can’t talk for ten seconds.”
“It really wasn’t that bad,” he protested.
She fell silent as he got up once again to pour the coffee. He set her cup in front of her and returned to his chair with his coffee before him.
She smiled at him. “You are such a nice man, Dillon. I just can’t figure out why some woman hasn’t snapped you up. You must be extremely picky.”
“I guess I am,” he admitted. “I know what I want and so far I haven’t found it yet.”
“But you thought you had it with Stacy,” she said and then took a drink of her coffee. Her eyes held his gaze intently over the rim of the cup.
“Yeah, I thought I’d found it for a while, but obviously it wasn’t meant to be.”
She lowered her cup. “Do you believe in soul mates?”
He frowned thoughtfully. “I do. My parents are as in love with each other now as they were when they first got married. They still hold hands and often finish each other’s sentences. I believe they’re soul mates.”
“That’s nice.” She took another drink of her coffee.
“What about you? Do you believe in soul mates?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied and stared down into her cup. When she looked up at him again there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I’m not sure I believe my parents are soul mates. There were times I even wondered why they stayed married to each other.”
“They fought a lot?” he asked.
“No, not at all.” A tiny wrinkle appeared in the center of her brow. “They’re both highly intelligent and devoted to their law firm. I think the only thing they really have in common is their obsessive need to succeed. They were distant with each other and they were distant with me.” She remained still for several long moments, as if reliving something in her mind and then she released a little laugh.
“Sorry, I got sidetracked,” she said. “The original question was do I believe in soul mates? I’m not sure. The verdict is still out.”
For the next few minutes they drank their coffee in silence. It was a comfortable quiet and he could tell the effects of the champagne were slowly wearing off her.
“Want another cup?” he asked when she’d finished her drink.
“No, I’m good. Why don’t we get out of the kitchen?”
There was little to clean up and it took only minutes for the two of them to settle on the sofa. He kept to his own corner, as always acutely aware of her evocative scent and the warmth that radiated from her.
“This has been one of the best days of my life,” she said. “I thought I had some talent, but there’s nothing better than somebody validating it by buying a painting.”
“It’s a shame you didn’t have that fancy art gallery and fellow artists to help you celebrate,” he replied.
“Pizza, champagne and you were perfect.” Her gaze was warm...too warm on him. “There’s only one thing that would make it even more perfect.” She leaned toward him, open invitation written all over her face.
“Cassie, please don’t look at me that way,” he protested.
“What way?” she asked and moved slightly closer to him.
He jumped up and walked across the room to the chair. “Stop looking at me like you want me.” Warmth filled his cheeks as he continued to look at her.
“But Dillon, I do want you,” she said softly.
“We can’t go there again, Cassie.” He eased down in the chair and realized the conversation he’d thought to have with her the night before after making love to her needed to happen right now. “Last night was a
mazing, but we just can’t go there again.”
“Why not? We’re both single and consenting adults and surely you aren’t going to try to deny that you’re attracted to me.” She sat up straight and looked sober as a judge.
“No, I’m not going to deny that. But, Cassie, I’m here for your protection, not to build any kind of a relationship with you. It’s not fair to you for me to sleep with you knowing that I have no future plans with you.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “What if I’m okay with that?”
Oh, God, the woman was positively killing him. He was trying to do what was best for both of them and she’d never looked as alluring as she did at the moment.
“I’m not okay with that,” he replied.
She held his gaze and he was surprised to see a little challenge in the blue depths. “I just want you to know that I can’t promise I won’t try to change your mind.”
“Is that a threat?” he asked with a touch of humor.
She grinned. “A promise. It’s definitely a promise.” She pulled herself off the sofa. “I think I’ll go upstairs and work for a little while before bedtime. I’ll just say good-night now.”
“Good night, Cassie.” He couldn’t help but notice there appeared to be extra wiggle in her cute butt as she passed him on the way up the stairs.
He released a deep sigh as she disappeared from his view. He definitely needed to find this killer sooner rather than later.
Chapter 11
Cassie stood at her kitchen window and stared out at the cloudy, gray day. It mirrored her current mood. In the past week life with Dillon had been both wonderful and excruciatingly torturous at the same time.
They’d shared deep, meaningful conversations about philosophical issues, their ideas on parenting and their beliefs on whether ghosts were real or not.
They’d laughed together as they watched movies and they’d shared little tidbits of their day over dinner each evening. They’d even played a mean game of poker one night where he’d managed to win all of the toothpicks they were wagering. But the one thing they hadn’t done was intentionally touch.
Oh, they’d brushed shoulders at the kitchen sink and their fingers had accidentally touched reaching for food at the same time. But there had been no kisses, no warm hugs or caresses and it was driving her just a little bit crazy.
She thought it might be driving him crazy, too. She was aware of him gazing at her when he thought she didn’t notice. When she did meet his gaze she saw suppressed desire there, darkening his beautiful eyes to a steel gray.
The week had been quiet and she was beginning to wonder how long he would be here. There had been no breaks in the case. He had no leads to follow and she knew he couldn’t just stay here with her forever, although there were moments when she thought that might be wonderful.
She released a deep sigh and turned away from the window. She wasn’t taking any chances with dinner tonight. In the last week she’d managed to cook a halfway decent pot roast, but had fumbled on other attempts to provide him a good dinner. One night he had surprised her by bringing home a spaghetti dinner from the café.
On the menu tonight was chicken noodle soup and ham-and-cheese sandwiches. She grabbed one of the cans of soup, opened it and then dumped it into a pot on the stove. Thank goodness there was no way to screw up canned soup and sandwiches.
She emptied three cans of the soup into the pot and then turned the burner on medium heat. Dillon should be coming home at any time.
This isn’t his home, she reminded herself. And she still wasn’t even sure if it was going to be hers for long. She set the table and tried to still the sweet anticipation that filled her as she waited for Dillon to arrive. It was an anticipation she’d experienced every night as she waited for his return after a day of work.
Once again she walked over to the window and stared out into the distance. The view had become so familiar. Outbuildings and pastures and men on horseback going about their daily chores.
There was no question she felt a sense of peace here that she knew she would never find in the city. When she went shopping in Bitterroot, there were no swearing taxi drivers, no squeal of bus brakes and no people jostling or cursing to get to their destination as quickly as possible.
In this town most of the people stopped to pleasantly greet each other and they didn’t appear to be in any real hurry to get anywhere. Almost all of them wore friendly smiles on their faces whenever she saw them. Definitely a far different pace than in the city.
Her heartbeat quickened as Dillon’s car pulled down the long drive and parked just outside the back door. He got out of the car and once again she was struck by how handsome he was. While her physical attraction to him was off the charts, over the past week she’d become emotionally connected to him, as well.
He spied her standing at the window, and that wonderful slow curve of his lips lifted into a smile that warmed her heart. She returned the smile with a wave.
Was this what it was like to be in a real, committed relationship? This feeling of elation whenever she saw him? This bliss in her heart knowing that he’d be here with her at least for another night?
Was this possibly love? The contentment of talking to him in the evenings? The joy of sharing a simple, burned meal with him? The desire to see his smiles as often as possible?
She hurriedly moved to the door, punched in the code and then opened it to greet him. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” he replied.
As he swept passed her and into the kitchen, she smelled his familiar scent, and a warmth pooled in the pit of her stomach. “How was your day?” she asked.
“Busy. Somebody robbed the little convenience store on the west side of town sometime last night.”
“Oh, no, was anyone hurt?”
“Thank God the store was closed at the time.” He walked over to his chair at the table, pulled his black cowboy hat off his head and sank down.
“Was a lot of money stolen?” She walked over to the cabinet and began to pull down bowls and plates.
“No money, just booze and snacks and candy bars. I have a feeling within the next week or so there are plans for a big teenage gathering in some pasture.”
“So you think it was kids who broke in.” She set the table as he told her more about the crime that had taken place sometime after midnight.
“Yeah, there had to be more than one to carry all the stuff outside.”
“Aren’t there security cameras in the store?” she asked.
“There are, but some wise guy threw a cowboy hat over it so it didn’t show who was inside and doing the damage.”
She carried the ham and cheese and bread to the table. “That stinks,” she replied. “Do you have any ideas who might be responsible?”
He grinned. “I have a very specific idea. I recognized the cowboy hat. It belongs to Abe Breckinridge’s grandson, Harley.” He shook his head. “Dumb kid.”
“Oh, Abe and Donna are going to be absolutely heartbroken. Have you already talked to them?”
“Yeah, right before I came here. I spent most of the day processing the scene and trying to find some evidence that would point to another guilty kid.”
“Did you find anything?” she asked.
“No, and when I spoke to Harley he wouldn’t give up any other names, although I have my suspicions as to who else was involved. Jim doesn’t want to press charges. I tried to change his mind, but he just wants to either get his merchandise back or be paid for the stolen stuff. He doesn’t want to ruin Harley’s life forever for some stupid teenage crime.”
“That’s nice of Jim.” She got the soup from the stove and ladled it into the bowls.
“Jim, Abe, Harley and I are going to sit down first thing in the morning and work out all the details. I figured a night of Abe hammering at Harley would probably convince Harley to tell me who broke in with him and where the stolen stuff is located. I needed to knock off for today so I could get back here before dar
k.”
She frowned. “I hate that this is interfering with the way you do business,” she said. She carried the soup pot back to the stove and then joined him at the table.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. “I knew what I was signing up for when I decided to stay here.”
But she did worry about it. It bothered her while they ate dinner and small talked. It continued in her thoughts as they cleaned the kitchen and then moved into the great room to watch television.
Was she really in danger or had the axman only meant to frighten her into selling the property to Raymond Humes? Was what had happened to her really connected to the crime that had taken place here fifteen years ago?
And then there was the fact that every second, every minute she spent in Dillon’s company only made her want to spend more time with him. And that confused her.
If she was going to leave Bitterroot to head back to New York she had to make a decision in the next week or two at the very latest. She just couldn’t put it off any longer than that.
At eight o’clock Adam knocked on the door to give her the daily report. He had nothing new to report other than Clay Madison, the ranch’s resident Romeo, had hit his head in the stables and suffered a mild concussion.
“The doctor told him to stay in bed and rest tomorrow,” Adam said.
“He needs to let me know if there’s anything I can do for him,” Cassie replied. She absolutely hated it when any of her men were sick or got hurt.
“You know Clay. He has half a dozen women in town to bring him anything he needs if he asks them.”
Cassie laughed. She knew Clay’s reputation as a ladies’ man. “Just keep me posted on how he’s doing and tell him I’m thinking about him.”
“Will do,” Adam replied.
Minutes later Cassie and Dillon were once again alone in the house. More than once she felt his gaze lingering on her. Even though his mouth said one thing, she felt his longing for her.
She knew if she pushed him, if she really set about seducing him, they would once again wind up in her bed making love. But as much as she wanted him tonight she felt strangely vulnerable.
Killer Cowboy (Cowboys of Holiday Ranch) Page 13