But Jasper had started shaking his head before Walker half finished his proposal.
“That’s not the sticking point, Walker. Think about it and you’ll see. Sure, the Park Rodeo needs to run on solid financial ground, but there’s not a member on the committee, not a...” He flicked a look at Kalli. “Uh, not a businessperson in town who doesn’t believe it’ll come around. And who doesn’t know and appreciate what Jeff did.”
He shook his head again, but this time in sad recognition that things weren’t always fair. Only after he heaved a deep sigh did Jasper go on.
“It’s ticket sales we need. It’s pulling in folks from other towns, other states, other countries, even. If you’re selling tickets to those folks, they’ll also be in town paying for motel rooms, gassing up their cars, feeding their kids, buying postcards and souvenir dish towels and—”
“Westernwear clothes?” Kalli couldn’t keep an edge out of her voice.
Jasper met her look. “Sure, and buying clothes at Lodge’s. I got a business, Kalli. I don’t need the tourists as much as some, but I don’t want to risk losing those dollars, either.”
“I’m sorry. Jasper. That was—”
He waved it off. “It’s natural. You’re fightin’ for what’s important to you.”
“You’re right. It is important to us. And to Jeff and Mary. So tell us what the rules are of this fight so we can get started.”
Kalli’s brusque approach didn’t seem to offend Jasper.
In fact, he looked relieved to state the situation in plain words.
“The committee agreed to let you two run the rodeo for this summer, and we’re sticking to that. But for the Jeffries Company to get the contract to produce the Park Rodeo next summer, it has to finish this season with higher ticket sales than last year. We need that growth for our community to keep growing. Hell, we need it to stay even.”
Kalli’s mind already grappled with the details.
“Whose figure is the committee going by on last year’s ticket sales?” she asked.
Jasper looked surprised. “We hadn’t gotten around to...Jeff’s, I guess. From the report he gave us after last season. It’s always audited, so those are the official numbers, I suppose.” His face brightened as he remembered one detail. “But the wording on our motion does say real specific that the sales have to be higher, not including tickets given away or anything.”
She nodded, two items marked off her mental list. “You said higher ticket sales— How much higher?”
“Now, that’s an interesting question.” He looked from Kalli to Walker and back, frowning. “Seems to me when we voted, we just said higher.”
“So one ticket more will do it.”
“Now, Kalli, I don’t rightly know if the committee will—’’
“If your committee passed a motion that simply said ‘higher,’ and that’s what you were told to relay to us, the committee can’t go changing the rules midstream.”
“But, I don’t know if the committee meant—”
“The committee should have considered what it meant before it voted. How would it reflect on the committee—and the town—if the story got out that you kept raising the ante?” Kalli guessed Jasper was thinking about all the positive publicity Walker and the rodeo had gotten lately, and worrying that she might generate as much negative publicity about him and the committee. Deliberately, she added another sting. “That would rank the committee right along with those sleazy loan sharks you read about.”
Jasper’s frown took on a pleading expression. Kalli stared back without giving an inch—or a ticket. He looked to Walker, clearly hoping for man-to-man sympathy. He got none.
“Kalli’s got the right of it, Jasper. All we need for higher ticket sales is one ticket more than last year.”
Jasper grumbled a curse under his breath, but Kalli didn’t think he was all that upset. He had the attitude of a chairman who recognized his committee had been willing to vote tough because he’d be left to do the dirty work.
“All right, you two. But you got to have that one more ticket!”
Kalli nodded calmly, hoping the gesture hid her convulsive swallow. “I’ll have Roberta type a summary of the points of this conversation, and Walker and I will sign it. It will be delivered to your office first thing in the morning, so there’s no question about the rules we’re working under.”
“That’s not neces—” Meeting her look, Jasper gave a deep sigh. “Okay. Afternoon, Kalli. Walker.”
But Kalli had an addendum. “One more thing, Jasper.”
He stopped a few feet away and turned. “Tell the committee members there will be no more free tickets for them or their guests.”
Jasper’s mouth dropped slightly, then shifted into a grin as he glanced at Walker. “You’ve got a tough one there, Walker. A right tough one.”
Kalli didn’t waste time wondering if she’d really heard a chuckle from Jasper Lodge as he headed off again. She watched him until he was surely out of earshot, then turned to Walker, who still leaned against the fence, apparently completely at ease.
“I can’t cite the exact figures without checking with Tina, but I know we’re behind last year’s overall,” she said. “It’s a question of how much.” She caught the corner of her lip in her teeth. “We have just over a month left. We have to—”
Silently, he held up a hand to stop her words. He looked at her hard, then deliberately turned. He rested his arms on the fence’s top rail, gazing into the arena.
Reining in the urge to hurry to the office and start doing something, anything, Kalli breathed slow and deep, then mimicked his pose as he had clearly intended her to.
The sun was starting to flirt with the heights to the west, bringing a brighter blush to the cinnamon peaks. A truck towing a horse trailer pulled in off the highway; a competitor arriving for the rodeo now two hours away.
A young barrel racer from Idaho, who Kalli had signed up earlier in the day to compete in Park for the first time, led her horse back toward the hodgepodge of trailers. Three cowboys, also newcomers to Park, stood by the exit, comparing horses and exchanging news and affectionate insults, while two of the youthful railbirds edged close enough to listen and see, but not near enough to be shooed away. Three more youngsters, in the absence of horses, galloped themselves around the arena, obviously dreaming of competing one day.
She felt her mouth lifting, not quite a smile, but an easing of the frown, and when she turned her head, she met a similar expression from Walker.
He’d just wanted to remind them both of what they were fighting to keep. He was a good man, and sometimes a wise one.
“Okay, Kalli. What’s the first step?”
She took a deep breath. “First, Roberta types up that summary, you and I sign it and we get it delivered to Jasper. Then, we make tonight’s rodeo the best we’ve had yet.”
He smiled at her, the one-sided smile that seemed so much a part of him now.
Still considering that, she wasn’t prepared when he bent his head, swooping in for a kiss—a quick, firm, pressing of his lips against hers—then straightened immediately, never taking his eyes off her.
The impulse to touch her fingers to her lips—to make sure he really had kissed her or to hold in the light caress?—was strong, but she resisted it.
Willing her voice to stay steady, she said, “Then Roberta and I will run some figures and see how far behind we are and what we need to do to top last year’s ticket sales. Then we get everybody together—Roberta, Gulch, Tina, the announcers, the stock hands, the ticket takers and everybody else we can think of—and we tell them what the situation is and that we need everybody’s help. And then we start looking for answers.”
He grinned, but something warmer sparked in his blue eyes and in his low voice when he said, “That’s my Kalli.”
* * *
HIS KALLI.
On his porch, Walker braced a hand against the column and considered the lone light in the Jeffrieses’ ranch h
ouse below, ignoring the cool night air trying to work a chill in where he’d unbuttoned his shirt before coming out for a last look tonight.
The light came from the last bedroom on the right in the north wing. Kalli’s room.
They’d stayed at the office late, going over figures so they’d know where they stood when they met with the staff in the morning. The computer spit out numbers under Kalli’s competent fingers. Figures not as bad as they might have been, maybe, but not great.
They’d made up ground the past month, but not nearly enough to offset June’s losses. If they stayed at this pace for the rest of the season, they’d be real close. But close wouldn’t satisfy the committee. So Kalli would drive herself relentlessly to get those ticket sales high enough to keep the rodeo for Jeff.
Walker knew her, and he’d have to make sure she didn’t go until she dropped. Already tonight, he’d had to put his foot down, threatening to physically tote her home if she didn’t leave voluntarily. If she hadn’t believed he’d carry out the threat, his Kalli would still be in that little office, working away.
The temptation to smile that had teased his lips evaporated.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? She wasn’t his Kalli.
Not anymore. Maybe she hadn’t ever been. Or how could she have left him ten years ago?
He’d wanted to ask her that the day he’d brought her here. When they’d talked about Cory’s death. He’d thought for so long that she blamed him for Cory’s dying, but he’d believed her when she said he wasn’t to blame.
That left the terrifying question of why she had left. God, he wanted to ask her. But he was afraid he knew the answer.
Because if she hadn’t blamed him for Cory’s death, the only reason he could see for her leaving was that she didn’t want him, or the life he led, which came down to the same thing.
And he couldn’t take hearing that right now, because he’d started to dream. Started to see a future with her in it.
He knew danger. He knew the kind of courage it took to trust your luck and timing and skill to get on the back of a peevish bull.
But he didn’t know if he had the kind of courage it took to see a dream get trampled.
It would be safer not to dream at all.
A twist in his gut answered that. Impossible. He’d held Kalli in his arms, he’d felt her body against his, he’d slipped his tongue into the sweet heat of her mouth, and he wouldn’t stop wanting that—and more—until he stopped breathing.
But maybe he could hold his dream in by giving it a time limit, like the eight-second ride on a bull. He’d let his dream live and take him as far as it could, but only until the end of this summer. Only until the rodeo no longer needed Kalli and she went back to New York.
The light he’d been watching went out and all was darkness.
* * *
TWO NIGHTS LATER , Kalli heard sounds through the open bedroom window as soon as she came out of her bathroom. The muffled thud of animal feet descending a trailer ramp and one low, male voice, uttering soft urgings.
Walker.
She’d tried to pretend she didn’t wonder if he’d be here tonight—the only other person who would be anywhere around the Jeffries ranch for hours—all during the shower she took to wash away the long day’s accumulation of rodeo dust. She couldn’t pretend anymore.
After they’d told the staff yesterday about the committee’s ultimatum, everyone had expressed absolute certainty that they would sell enough tickets for the Jeffries Company to keep the contract. But Walker had decided a surprise birthday party planned for one of the timers tonight would provide a much-needed release. He’d insisted everyone go, including the crew that usually transported livestock back to the ranch each night after the rodeo. Walker arranged that the crew would take stock back from early events, then he’d take the last load himself. Even Gulch had strict orders to go to the party in town and have a good time.
Kalli had made a quick appearance at the party, just long enough to wish Henry happy birthday and to see that Walker had been right—again. They did need this chance to party out some of their worries.
When she got to the ranch, there was no sign of Walker and she thought maybe he’d already finished. Refusing to examine her reaction, she barely took time to flip on a light in her room before taking a long, long shower.
She snagged her bathrobe off the back of a chair, pulling it on over her short gown. Not taking the time to take her hair out of the clip that had kept it from getting wet, she headed out of her room and down the dark hallway.
She didn’t even think about where she was going or what she intended to do. Then she heard the back door open and Walker’s booted heels on the uncarpeted corridor off the kitchen.
She froze.
“Kalli? I saw light on in your room. You okay?”
He stood at the end of the hall, shadowy, but so solid. She swallowed, trying to form an answer.
“Kalli? You okay?” he repeated.
“I’m...I’m okay.”
They stood there, neither moving, neither saying anything, neither able to see the other in the murky half-light.
“Kalli.” A different note in his voice brought her skin alive and tightened her lungs.
“Yes, Walker.”
“I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.”
Her lungs couldn’t take in enough oxygen. She breathed in quick, shallow spurts.
“Walker, we talked about that. The past... The past’s very powerful. And we got beyond that—”
“That’s right, we did. The first time I kissed you, maybe that was for the past. Part of it. But—”
“I know, Walker. That’s what I said. It’s understandable. After all—”
“That was the first time, Kalli. At Lodge’s. That was the old anger and desire we didn’t know what to do with.”
Then he waited. Waiting, she knew, for her to argue.
When she didn’t, he went on. “The other times have been for now. At Sunset Rock— That was the start. That was our first kiss for now. Then at my place. Those were for now. And that’s what tonight is, too. For now.”
He took two steps closer to her.
“I may be just a rodeo hand, Kalli,” he said with a thread of amusement in his voice, “but I do know my tenses. I said I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you.” All amusement left. “That’s present tense. Now. Right now.”
They looked at each other. That was all. He didn’t move any closer. He didn’t say anything. But she could feel her heartbeat react to his presence. She could hear her breathing grow shallower and quicker.
When he moved, it was almost a relief. But the relief was short-lived.
He stopped in front of her, so close that a deep breath could bring them together. He made no move to take her in his arms, no effort to kiss her. He simply stood and looked at her.
Heat seemed to roll off him, seeping into her bloodstream.
Kalli shivered and thought a little wildly that she hadn’t known she could shiver from heat.
She swayed with the impact of that inner fire, brushing unintentionally against Walker. A sound escaped her, blending with his stifled groan. Still he didn’t reach for her. The second time she brushed against him, it wasn’t unintentional, and she reveled in the tremor of his muscles as much as in her own pleasure. Breathing became an adventure, rewarding her with small points of contact, punishing with separation. But when she eased back barely enough to separate their bodies, he locked his muscles and did not let himself follow.
And she understood. He waited for her declaration that she was tired of pretending she didn’t want him.
And it was pretending. It had been for a long time. Maybe from the moment he’d walked into the rodeo office and back into her life. Maybe from the moment she’d walked out of his life.
Keeping her gaze on his face, she reached up and caught the brim of his hat. Deliberately, she eased it off his head, revealing his face as he had at Sunset Rock, loweri
ng it to her side, then disposing of it by opening her fingers.
She opened the clip holding her hair, and let that drop, too.
Then she leaned in, brushing against him. And not pulling back.
As a declaration, it wasn’t very eloquent, but Walker understood it.
Chapter Nine
* * *
NEVER BREAKING THE look, Walker leaned closer, closer. Until she could feel his breath across her lips and her eyelids became too heavy to hold up.
He didn’t hurry. He didn’t crush her mouth, but took it slowly and completely. He outlined her lips with his tongue once, then slid it inside her mouth, a possession.
She put her arms around his shoulders for support, and to press closer. His hands grasped the back of her robe at the waist in balled fists that rubbed from shoulder blade to hip and back.
The kiss deepened, tongues meeting, touching, retreating, thrusting.
The press and movement of his chest against hers rubbed the material of her gown over breasts grown heavy and tender. When he dropped one hand to cover the curve of her buttocks and draw her lower body tight against his, the ridge under his jeans felt hot and stiff against her abdomen.
Kalli’s knees gave slightly, weakened by such pleasure. That weakness had a reward, for it brought them into closer alignment.
His hands dipped lower, under the robe and gown, dragging them up haphazardly so his broad palms and strong fingers spread across her buttocks. He moved against her—beyond suggestion to a blatant statement of desire. She answered by pressing against his hands, then more strongly against his groin.
She felt the heat flare in his body, like a fire fed by a splash of gasoline, and knew she would burn up in it. But she couldn’t step away.
At last—too soon—their mouths parted, both of them gasping for air as if the fire had consumed all their oxygen. For a long moment, they looked at each other, regaining some measure of breath. But not of steadiness.
“Do you want to go to my room?” Her words came out in a curiously formal voice.
He muttered a curse, then rested his forehead against hers and drew in a breath. “Unless you want me to take you right here.”
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