by Karen Rock
“Got assurances to the contrary.” Boyd stepped off the porch and, to Cole’s astonishment, waved two hands overhead as if he expected whoever was driving.
“Who’s this?” Cole strode to his father’s side and peered at dark-tinted windows as the town car slid to a smooth stop.
“The show’s producer and host.”
“This is a done deal!” Cole exclaimed. “Why’d you keep it from me? Does anyone else know?”
The door opened and a fetching pair of slim, shapely legs in black heels emerged.
“Nope. You’re the first.”
A tall blonde ducked gracefully from the car. Something about her struck him as if he knew her, though he wasn’t sure with the sun backlighting her, casting her features in shadow.
“I don’t understand.”
A suited man joined the lady, and they stepped gingerly across the pebbled drive. She held her head high and stared directly at him.
“The show’s called Scandalous History,” Pa said, then hustled to greet his company.
Scandalous History... Now where had Cole heard of it?
Then it hit him, a sucker punch straight to the gut, leaving him off balance.
“Hello, Cole.”
His body stiffened at the familiar, silky-smooth voice. A flash of memory—listening to her speak as they’d watched campfires, stargazed, fly-fished—pulled a lump into his throat. He’d once thought her words sounded like lyrics, her laughter a song. He’d also thought she walked on water until she’d skated right out of his life.
He peered into the beautiful face he’d seen in his dreams, the one he envisioned while riding the range, gorgeous as ever with her perfectly symmetrical features and large blue eyes in a heart-shaped face. Only she looked different somehow. More sophisticated. Elegant. As if someone had slapped a coat of varnish over her natural beauty, making it harder to see who she really was...if he’d ever really known at all.
Old hurt stalked through him, residual anger on its heels. When she’d left, she’d nearly done him in. Was she back to finish the job? Not a chance.
His jaw clamped shut, and he spoke through gritted teeth, minding his manners for Pa’s sake until he got rid of her and the threat she posed to him and his family.
“Welcome home, Katie-Lynn.”
CHAPTER TWO
KATIE-LYNN.
Besides her family, no one had used her real name since she’d changed it to match her makeover. Katie-Lynn was another person, a ghost from her past.
In LA she was a star.
Remember that girl.
“Katie-Lynn, you’re as pretty as ever.” Boyd beamed at her as he pulled a can of coffee from a wooden cabinet. He hadn’t changed much. Sun streaming through the kitchen’s windows glowed on his thick white hair and highlighted unbowed shoulders in a flannel shirt. The extra lines on his craggy face added to his distinguished appearance.
“That’s sweet of you. Thanks. And I go by Katlynn, now.”
“Help yourself to some fruit if you’re hungry,” Boyd added. “I could make you some toast if you haven’t had breakfast.”
“No. This is great.” She leaned across the oak table, filched a cherry from a bowl and popped it into her mouth, hyperaware of Cole’s eyes trained solely on her. The sensation was unsettling. It reminded her of the buzz of anticipation accompanying a roller coaster’s first lurch, one she’d ridden before. This time, however, she knew the drops, twists and corners ahead.
Her limbs stiffened, and her jaw clamped as she fought the crazy urge to squeeze her eyes shut. She practically lived under a microscope in California; why did Cole’s scrutiny fluster her?
She squashed the disturbing question—he had no sway over her anymore—and glanced across the table at the inscrutable rancher. Cole Donovan Loveland, the first man she’d ever loved, and the only man who’d ever broken her heart.
His eyes were still that unnerving shade of clear, glacier blue. Clipped black hair showed no signs of gray or thinning. And he was still crazy tall—obviously—people don’t shrink in their thirties, least of all a Loveland.
Katlynn’s toes tapped the wide-planked floor.
Cole was as mountain-size and rugged as his surroundings, and he still radiated his enigmatic, I’m-the-puzzle-you’ll-never-solve vibe. Oh...no. This was not good.
“Katie-Lynn?” Tom’s nose scrunched as if he smelled something bad. In his polished Italian loafers and custom suit, her producer appeared out of place in this rustic setting. Hollywood called him a shark, but in the Rockies, he resembled a beached guppy.
“I didn’t have a say in picking my name,” she said beneath her breath. “Then.”
Cole’s narrow-eyed gaze darted between them.
“Don’t you think she looks pretty, Cole?” Boyd persisted, dumping ground beans into an old-school coffeemaker.
At Cole’s noncommittal grunt, her shoulders squared inside the tasteful black dress she’d carefully selected for today.
For Cole.
To impress him; to show him how far she’d come from the mouse he’d once dismissed. To earn his approval...
Why?
Because you’re an idiot.
An empty watering can atop a mat in the center of the table snagged her eye. In a flash, she was seventeen again, picking daisies with Cole to fill it.
“Here’s one for your hair.” He’d tucked a flower behind her ear. “Though you’re the one making it look pretty.”
And she’d blushed, amazed the popular, athletic boy in high school had even noticed her, let alone made her his girlfriend. She’d felt special. Important.
“How about some coffee?” Boyd’s question pulled her back to the present with a jolt, her stomach tipping side to side.
A roasted-bean aroma erupted from the gurgling coffeemaker. Over Boyd’s shoulder, a brick hearth covered most of the back wall. Her mouth twitched as she recalled a disastrous strawberry-rhubarb pie-making attempt with Cole using one of the baking slits. They’d spent hours scrubbing goo off those stones...and had a fun time doing it.
How her tastes had changed.
Refined.
A good time nowadays meant a glass of Dom Perignon, preferably White Gold, while attending a star-studded event to see and be seen.
“None for me.” Tom stabbed at his cell phone then circled it overhead, searching for a signal.
Her eyes lingered on the coffeemaker’s glass carafe. One pot for everyone. No individual cup allowances for mint chocolate coffee or hazelnut vanilla... Here, coffee was coffee. Period. There was a simplicity about it she found refreshing. Sometimes when you had too many choices, you focused on the little things and lost sight of the big picture. Her eyes flicked to Cole again then scurried off, circling the room, landing anywhere but on the magnetic cowboy.
“Katie—I mean, Katlynn?” Boyd gently prompted, as considerate a host as ever. “Coffee?”
“Sounds great.”
“It won’t be fancy like Starbucks,” Cole drawled, his deep, Johnny Cash baritone as gravelly as she remembered. Her heart added a couple extra beats.
“I’m sure it’ll be great,” she replied firmly, striving to stay “mindful” and in the present moment as her life coach advised. Deep breath in, anxiety, frustration, despair, out.
Deep breath in, returning attraction and insecurities regarding ex-fiancé, way out.
“Are you staying at the Holsford?” Boyd asked, referring to the small town’s only hotel.
“They’ve double-booked my suite.”
“You’re welcome to share mine.” Tom’s perfectly shaped eyebrows twitched in the limited way his Botox allowed.
Cole’s lips pressed into a flat line.
“Or you could stay here.” Boyd cast a quick glance at Cole.
Sunlight glinted off Boyd’s silver and turqu
oise bolo tie, the one he donned for special occasions. How sweet that he’d dressed up. “We’ve got plenty of room now that Cole’s living in one of the cabins and Maverick’s out on his PBR tour,” Boyd beamed. “Oh—and Daryl got hitched a while back. He and his wife have a cottage not far from here. You’re welcome to stay.”
From a professional standpoint, staying on Loveland Hills gave her immediate and frequent access to the investigation as well as her location shoots. From a personal standpoint, it’d mean spending too much time around Cole.
Too dangerous.
“Thanks, but I’ll stay at my folks’ place.” She crossed her fingers on her lap. Hopefully...if her mother would return her calls...
“Where can I get a signal?” Tom scooted his spindle-backed chair from the table and stood.
“Signal?” Boyd stared at him, confused, the line between his brows deepening.
“For his cell phone.” Cole jerked his thumb at the door. “Try the porch.”
Tom mumbled his thanks as the screen door clicked shut behind him.
“We don’t have cell service.” Boyd poured coffee into a World’s Best Dad mug.
The upward tug of Cole’s full lips snared her attention. He looked so handsome sitting across from her, his broad shoulders filling out his thermal shirt, his lightly bristled jaw begging to be touched. He cocked his head and caught her staring. Katlynn dropped her eyes, sure everyone could hear her heart thundering in her chest.
“It got him out of our hair at least.” His thick-lashed eyes gleamed at Katlynn when her gaze darted his way again, and he arched a challenging brow.
Was he planning on getting rid of her next?
She lifted her chin. Well, he could try. She wasn’t as easy to discard as she used to be.
“Cream? Sugar?” Boyd held up a pitcher of foamy, fresh milk.
“Do you have skim milk? Artificial sweetener?” she asked with a sigh. After failing to zipper Jennifer’s rose sheath, Katlynn vowed to lose five pounds on this trip.
“No. But I could run to the store.”
“She’ll survive without fake sugar,” Cole asserted, folding muscular arms even a personal trainer would envy. “And a few extra calories would do her some good.”
Was he calling her skinny? She was a size six—practically obese in her industry, hence the necessary evil of slimming undergarments. Speaking of which, she shifted in her seat to alleviate their cruel pinch.
“I’ll just have it black.” She sucked on another cherry, the action seeming to fascinate an intently staring Cole.
“Cole? Want a cup?”
“I’ll fix it.” He snagged a cup out of the cupboard and banged it down on the counter. As he added a generous amount of cream, his lips twisted in a sardonic grin aimed her way.
“Hope it’s not too plain for you.” Boyd handed over the coffee then seated himself beside her.
She sipped her drink, enjoying the rich, unvarnished flavor, so different than her usual nonfat latte with a caramel drizzle. Boyd’s concerned face relaxed at her smile and nod.
“Really good, Mr. Loveland. Best cup I’ve had in years.”
“Well, now...” Boyd cleared his throat gruffly, looking embarrassed, then switched topics. “Glad to have you back home. We’ve missed seeing you around the place. Haven’t we, Cole?”
“You’re back to film a show about my family?” he asked instead of answering his father.
Her eyes lingered on his body as he leaned against the counter—tall, broad and thick with muscle. Cole was dressed in jeans, a thermal shirt and a down vest, pretty much the same thing he’d always worn, if memory served. And her memory seemed to be disturbingly clear where Cole Loveland was concerned.
She gave herself a little shake followed by a coffee chaser.
Get it together. You’re a professional. Not a high school girl crushing on the homecoming king.
Not anymore.
“You’ve heard of my show, Scandalous History...?” How strange to talk to Cole again, to drink coffee and behave civilly, like she’d never been in his arms, kissed those lips, cried those tears.
It takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations...
Cole shrugged, and the simple motion communicated one simple truth. She was as irrelevant to his world as ever. Well. Fine, then, since her world had outgrown his.
“Like I told your father,” she said smoothly, drawing on her vocal training to sound strong, assured, impervious, as if breathing the same air as her ex had no residual effect. “We do investigative reports about American history.”
“Where’s the scandalous part come in?” Cole sauntered back to the table and grabbed his seat.
Her muscles tensed. Boyd rushed to her defense. “No harm in speculating about old news—it doesn’t hurt anyone.”
“Most of your subjects are dead, correct?”
At her nod, Cole turned to his father. “Our situation’s different.”
Concern spiked. Was Cole thinking about his mother and the media frenzy? “No one will be harmed because of the show.”
“Katlynn’s only focusing on the feud.” Boyd dropped more sugar into his coffee. His spoon clanked against the mug’s sides as he stirred.
“What guarantee do we have?”
She met Cole’s direct stare head-on, determined to win him over for her show’s sake. “My word.”
“You gave me your word once before,” he said slowly as though the words were razor blades, slashing his mouth as he released them. They cut her deep, too. “I haven’t forgotten how that worked out.”
“Neither have I.”
Boyd’s eyes flicked between them in the tense silence. “That’s water under the bridge, kids.”
A muscle jumped in Cole’s jaw, and she carefully pried her clenched fingers from her mug handle.
Boyd was right. Their broken engagement was yesterday’s news. Not worth covering. Or revisiting. No matter how the journalist in her wished to excavate their history for the answer to a basic question:
Why hadn’t he loved her enough?
“Katie-Lynn? What are you doing here?” A tall, dark-haired man dressed in a tan sheriff’s uniform appeared at the bottom of the stairs leading from the second-floor bedrooms. In three giant strides, Cole’s younger brother and Carbondale’s local sheriff, Travis, swept her into his arms for a tight hug.
“She goes by Katlynn now,” Cole said.
“Your father gave my show permission to shoot some episodes about your feud with the Cades.” She eased away and grinned up at Travis extra wide, since it seemed to get under a fidgeting Cole’s skin.
“Scandalous History, right?”
At her nod, Travis turned to his father. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Wanted Cole to know first.”
Travis’s broad smile fell and his chiseled features, slightly more refined than Cole’s, sobered. “Right.” He shot his brooding older brother a long look before heading to the coffee machine. “What’ve you learned so far?”
“We’re still in preliminary stages, so I don’t know much beyond what I grew up hearing. I plan on interviewing family members, consulting with local historians and digging through old town records for land surveys and such.”
“Will that clear up our water rights dispute?” Cole asked.
She remembered the restrictions keeping the Lovelands’ ranch on the brink of bankruptcy back in high school. “It’s something I’m going to investigate.”
“I’ll see if the sheriff’s office has anything.” Travis poured himself a cup of coffee and drank it black, his hip propped against the counter.
“That’d be a big help. Thanks.” Katlynn settled back in her chair and peered at the three handsome men. Lovelands were legendary for their incredible good looks and their willingness to lend a hand when needed. They w
ere strong, principled men of action few dared to cross. “Would any of you know if correspondence between Maggie Cade and Everett Loveland exists? Letters? A journal Everett might have kept?”
Boyd shook his head slowly. “Not that I know of, but you’re welcome to check through the house and property.”
“We’ve also got cabins that once housed ranch hands. Some haven’t been occupied in decades.” Travis drained his mug and rinsed his cup. “If Maggie and Everett met in private, one of those might have been the spot.”
“A lover’s nest...” Boyd mused.
Her nose tingled, itching as it always did whenever she caught scent of a lead. “Great. No telling where the clues are, but I’m determined to uncover what happened between those two.”
“It’s not a mystery,” Cole said. “The Cades, hotheaded as always, jumped to conclusions when they discovered Everett by their runaway daughter’s lifeless body and their family brooch...”
“Cora’s Tear,” Travis supplied.
“Right, and the jewel missing.” Cole passed a hand over his thick black hair. “Then they strung up Everett, no questions asked, since they decided he must have coerced their innocent daughter to steal the priceless heirloom. They dispensed prairie justice like outlaw vigilantes.”
“And the murderers broke out of jail and hid in the mountains, harassing our ranch for years.” Travis squinted out the window at nearby Mount Sopris as if wishing he could travel back in time to apprehend them personally.
Hopefully, she’d bring the family closure and justice.
“Are you planning on digging up our property to search for the jewel? It’ll disrupt operations during our busy season.” Cole leaned forward, elbows bent.
“We might excavate a few areas if we have a strong lead,” Katlynn said. “I’ll follow the facts where they lead me.”
“Spoken like a true investigator.” Travis shot her a smile, donned his hat then opened the door. “Y’all have a good day.”
“The jewel isn’t on this land,” Cole insisted.
“Guess we’ll see.”
“What makes you think Everett took it?” Boyd asked.
“He was the last one seen with Maggie, and the Cades don’t have it... If your family took the jewel, it’d explain the bump in business for Loveland Hills after Cora’s Tear went missing. Some say your family may have sold it and used the money to expand your operation. In that case, the jewel would be long gone... However, my preliminary research reveals no transactions or sightings of the infamous piece.”