Her Forbidden Cowboy

by Charlene Sands

  Her eyes fell on a black portfolio tucked under his arm. It looked odd there, as if he should be wearing a three-piece suit while carrying that austere leather case. Instead of moving on, he squatted down beside her, his tanned knees nearly in her face. Obviously, he wanted to chat.

  “I see you sometimes in the morning, walking along the beach.”

  “You’ve inspired me,” she said. “Of course, I only do three miles. How are your runs going?”

  “Killing me, but I’m getting in the ten miles.”

  His legs were taut, like those of a natural runner, and the rest of his body, well...it would be hard not to notice his muscles and the way his T-shirt nearly split at the seams around his shoulders and upper arms. “Good for you.”

  “So, how’s it going?” he asked. “Other than sunbathing and taking long walks, are you having a good time?”

  “Yes. It’s nice here. I’m working on some new lesson plans for my class. I teach first grade back home.”

  “Ah...a teacher. Such an honorable profession.”

  She waggled her brows. Was he poking fun at her? Or was he being genuine?

  “My mother taught school for thirty-five years,” he added, his smile wistful, pride filling his voice. “She was loved by her students, but she wasn’t a pushover. It wasn’t easy pulling my antics on her. She was too savvy. She knew when kids were up to no good.”

  “I bet you gave her a run for her money.”

  He laughed, the gleam of his lake-blue eyes touching her. “I did.”

  “What grade did she teach?”

  “All grades, but she preferred fourth and fifth. Then, later on, she became dean of a middle school, and eventually, the principal of the high school.”

  She nodded. She didn’t have much else to add to the conversation. Not that Dylan McKay wasn’t easy to talk to. He was. And she loved talking about education to anyone who would listen. It was just that he was fabulous, famous Dylan McKay. And he kept smiling at her.

  “Hey, I’m having a party on Saturday night. If you’re still here, I’d love for you to come. Maybe you can get Zane to get out and have a little fun.”

  “Oh, thanks.” He’d caught her off guard. Wasn’t that what she needed right now, to be a wallflower at an A-list party? “I’m...uh, I’m not the partying type. Especially now.”

  “Now?”

  She shrugged. “I’m going through something and need a little R and R.”

  “Ah...a breakup?”

  She nodded. Her pride aside, she opened up a little to make her point. “Broken engagement as the wedding guests were taking their seats in church.”

  “Ah...gotcha. I’ve been there once, a long time ago, when I was too young to know better. It turned out for the best, so believe me, I understand. Listen, I promise you, the party is low-key. Just a few friends and neighbors for a barbecue on the beach. I’d love to see you there.”

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled, and she smiled back. Then he pointed to her upper thigh, on the right side, closest to him. “Uh-oh. Looks like you missed a spot. You’re starting to burn.” Grabbing the sunscreen tube from the blanket, his long fingers brushed the soft underside of her hand as he set the sunscreen into her palm. “Better lather up and—”

  “Stop corrupting my little sis, McKay.”

  Jessica whipped her head around. Zane stood on the sundeck railing, staring at Dylan. His voice was a far cry from menacing, but the cool look he shot Dylan made her wonder what was up.

  Dylan winked at her. “Maybe she wants to be corrupted.”

  “And maybe you want to turn tail and go home. I don’t have to read that script, you know.”

  “Whoops,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “He’s got me there. Maybe you can help me convince him to take this role. Wanna try? Since you’re about to turn into a fried tomato out here.”

  Under normal circumstances, she was probably the least starstruck person in Beckon, Texas, but how could she not take Dylan up on his offer to go over a movie script? The notion got her juices flowing, and excitement buzzed around her like a busy little bee.

  She glanced down at her legs. Oh, wow. Dylan was right. There were more than a few splotchy patches on her body. Time to get out of the sun. “Sure, why not?”

  “Great.” He swiveled his head in Zane’s direction. “We’re coming up right now.”

  Gallantly, he offered her his hand. She couldn’t very well refuse the gesture. She slipped one hand into his and simultaneously clutched her cover-up with the other as they rose together. He was too close for comfort, his eyes smiling on her, their hands entwined. Gently she pulled away, making herself busy zipping herself into a white cotton cover up and ignoring his rapt attention. He was a charmer, but thankfully his touch hadn’t elicited a jolt of any kind. She glanced at Zane, leaning by the railing, his sharp gaze fixed on her.

  Something hot and unruly sizzled in the pit of her belly.

  She ignored it and pushed on, climbing the steps with Dylan McKay following behind.

  * * *

  “Did he ask you out?” Zane probed the minute Dylan McKay exited the house. Looming over her, Zane was a bit foreboding, as if he was her white knight protecting her from the wicked prince of darkness. Geesh.

  “Wh-what?”

  “The guy couldn’t take his eyes off you down on the beach.”

  She shrugged and picked up three empty glasses, reminiscent of her waitress days at Holcomb House.

  After coming back into the house she’d left the two men to take a quick shower and slip on a sundress. She’d listened to Dylan’s script proposal to Zane with keen interest in a spacious light oak–paneled office on the main level of the house. The meeting took almost an hour. Then they’d had drinks in the cool shade of the patio. Iced tea for her. The men were content to knock back whiskey and soda.

  Dylan was a charming lady’s man to the millionth degree, and she knew enough to steer clear. The idea that he’d be interested in a little ol’ school teacher from Beckon, Texas, was ridiculous. She had no illusions of anything else going on between them, and Zane should know that.

  Her mama’s image flashed before her eyes. That was it. She bet her mother put Zane up to watching out for her, making sure her tender heart didn’t get broken again. Well, heck. She’d let him off the hook, but not without giving him some grief. Her chin up, she said, “He invited me to his beach party Saturday night. It was just a friendly invitation.”

  Zane’s mouth tightened into a snarl and he snorted. “Doubtful.”

  “I told him I probably wouldn’t go.”

  “Good.” Zane nodded, satisfied. “You don’t need to get involved with him. He’s—”

  “Out of my league?”

  His eyes widened. “Hell, no.”

  “Well, he is. And I know it all too well. Heck, my life is messy enough right now. There’s no room for romance, though it’s absurd to think of Dylan McKay actually being into me.”

  Zane immediately reached out to grab her arm. Surprised, she jerked from his touch, and the glasses she held nearly slipped from her hand. “Don’t put yourself down, Jess.”

  A jolt sprang to life, spiraling out of control where the strong fingers of his bandaged hand pressed into her skin. Sharpness left Zane’s dark eyes, and he gave her a bone-melting look. “I was going to say, he would never appreciate you. You’re special, Jess. You always have been.”

  Because she was Janie’s sister.

  Zane held dear her sister’s memory, closing his heart around it and not allowing anyone else into his life. He was a sought-after hunky bachelor, but he’d been true to Janie’s love even now, years later. Jessica understood she was only here because Zane was too nice a guy to refuse her mama a favor. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and relea
sed her to go lean against the railing.

  Free of his touch, she marched the glasses into the kitchen, handing them to Mrs. Lopez one at a time. She had to do something to quell her pounding heart. What the heck was wrong with her?

  “Dios, you do not do the work around here. That’s my job, no?”

  “Yes. But I like to help.”

  It was the same conversation she’d had with Mrs. Lopez since she’d arrived here. Jessica saw nothing wrong with putting clothes in the washer and turning the thing on, or clearing the dishes, or helping slice potatoes for a meal. Today, especially, she needed to do something with her hands.

  “Sí, okay.” A relenting sigh echoed in the kitchen.

  She picked up dirty dishes on the counter, loaded them in the dishwasher and put things back in the refrigerator. A few chores later, after scanning the clean kitchen they’d both worked on, she gave Mrs. Lopez a bright smile. The woman was shaking her head, but with a twinkle in her eyes. Progress.

  Jessica strode out the kitchen door and was immediately knocked against the doorjamb. Pain shot to her shoulder. The jarring bump brought Mariah’s face into view. “Oh, sorry.”

  Mariah was equally shocked from the collision. “I didn’t see you.”

  “My fault. I should learn how to slow down.”

  She chuckled. “I’m the same way. I’ve got to get where I’m going fast, no matter if it’s just to sip coffee and read the newspaper.” Mariah, always impeccably dressed, rubbed her shoulder through her cognac-colored silk blouse. “Guess we’re alike in that regard. Where were you going in such a hurry?”

  “Nowhere. Just outside. I left Zane hanging and I wanted to go back to talk to him.”

  “Good luck with that. I just left him, and he’s a bear right now.”

  “Oh, really? Why?” It couldn’t be the Dylan McKay thing, could it?

  “I don’t know exactly what set him off other than he hates being confined. He feels like a caged animal. Though he doesn’t make an effort to go anywhere, other than for business.”

  “I can see how that would make him restless.”

  Mariah smiled. “That’s the perfect way to describe it. He’s restless. But I’m afraid that came on well before his fall. I think a change of pace is good for him. I’ve helped him make the decision to open this second restaurant, and now he’s thinking about movie roles. It might be just what he needs.”

  Or maybe he was running away from his past, the same way she was. Zane loved music. He loved writing lyrics and composing songs. He was meant to entertain. His sexy, deep baritone voice made his fans swoon. That’s the only Zane she’d known.

  “Dylan invited you in to hear his pitch, I understand. What did you think of the movie?”

  “Me? Well, I, uh...to be honest, I think the idea of Zane and Dylan being estranged brothers coming home after the death of their father might work. If Zane can act, he’d be great in the role. The only issue I see is the love triangle about the girl back home. I saw Zane’s reaction to Dylan’s description of the romantic scenes he’d have to do. Zane instantly shut down. I’m not sure if Zane’s up to that.”

  “That’s exactly what I think, too. Zane’s not going to do something he’s not comfortable with. Believe me, I know. I’ve had plenty of discussions with him about his recent decisions. He bounces things off me. He asks me a question, and I tell him the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “I will say this. Zane can act. He’s been doing so for over two years now. His public persona is far different than the real Zane.” Mariah was ready to say more and then clamped shut. Her eyes downcast, she shook her head. “Forgive me. I keep forgetting who you are.”

  Jessica drew her brows together. “It’s because of Janie. He’s still hurting.”

  Mariah nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  Mariah’s eyes fell on her softly, her genuine warmth shining through. “Please forget I said anything. It’s none of my business.”

  The idea that after two years, Zane was still making decisions based on the love he had for Janie, nestled deep into her heart. It was beautiful in a way, but also incredibly sad. “You’re Zane’s personal assistant. You spend a lot of time together. I can see that you care about him as a friend, too, so maybe it’s more your business than mine.”

  “Zane thinks of you as family. He’s said so a dozen times since you’ve come here.”

  “I’m the little sis he never had.” Wasn’t that the term he’d used this afternoon with Dylan McKay?

  Stop corrupting my little sis.

  Zane’s loyalty to her family was very sweet. She didn’t take it lightly, but she also didn’t want him to think of her as a pity case. From the moment her shocked guests walked out of the church on her wedding day, weeks ago now, something harsh and cold seeped into her soul. Trust would be a long time coming, if ever again. So Zane didn’t have to worry over her. She wasn’t a woman looking for love. She wasn’t on the rebound. He could sleep well at night.

  “So, what are you up to today?” she asked Mariah. She was learning the ins and outs of Zane’s superstardom. Mariah sifted through a dozen offers a day for special appearances, television interviews and charity events on Zane’s behalf. She’d learned that Zane was a generous contributor to children and military charities, but lately, he’d declined any personal appearances. Mariah worked with his fan club president on occasion and took care of any personal business, such as setting up medical appointments or shopping trips. It was a different world, one that her sister, Janie, had resigned herself to because she’d been with Zane from the launch of his career. They’d grown into this life together.

  “More restaurant business to do today. We’ve got a decorator working on the interior design, but Zane’s not sure about the motif.” Mariah’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself.

  Jessica walked over to the French door leading out to the deck. Zane was sprawled out on a lounge chair, shaded from the sun, his booted foot elevated, reading the script Dylan had brought over. Keen on the subject matter, he seemed deep in thought. As her gaze lingered, she watched him close the binder and stare out to sea, his expression incredibly wistful.

  She followed the direction of his gaze and honed in on the vast view of the ocean. The sounds of the sea lulled her into a soothing state of mind. It was a place to find infinite peace, if there ever was such a thing. Her nerves no longer throbbed against her skin. These past few days, she’d been much calmer. Were time and distance all she’d needed to get over Steven Monahan? Geesh, Jessica felt at one with nature and started to believe. A chuckle rose from her throat at the notion. She was beginning to sound like a true Californian.

  “Crap! Damn things.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Zane’s crutches fall to the ground. The slap echoed against the wood deck. Zane was off the chair, bending to pick them up and trying to keep weight off his bad foot. It looked like a yoga move gone bad. She moved quickly, her legs eating up the length of the deck to get to him.

  “Zane, hang on.”

  He stumbled and fell over, landing on his bad hand. “Ow!”

  By the time she reached him, he was on his butt, cursing like the devil, shaking out his wrist. She kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

  He tilted his head toward her. “You mean other than my pride?”

  She smiled. “Yes, we’ll deal with that later. How’s the hand?”

  “I managed to catch the fall on the tips of my fingers, so the wrist should be fine.”

  He moved his fingers one by one as if he was playing keys on a piano. So much for keeping his hand immobilized. “Maybe your doctor would be a better judge of that.”

  “Now you sound like Mariah.”

  “I knew an old goat like you once,” she said, putting his right arm over her s
houlder. “Let me help you up.”

  “I knew the same goat,” he bounced back. “Smart critter.”

  “Pleeeze. Okay, are you ready? On three.” She swung her arm around his waist. “One. Two. Three.”

  His weight drew her toward him, the side of her face against his chest, her hair brushing his shirt. He smelled like soap and lime shaving lotion. His heart pounded in her ear as she strained to help lift him.

  Zane did most of the work, his brawny strength a blessing. Together, they managed to stand steady, Zane keeping weight off his foot by using her as his right crutch. Once again, just like the other night, she was wrapped tight in his arms. Ridiculous warmth flowed through her body. She couldn’t explain it except she felt safe with him, which was silly because this time she’d done the rescuing. “There,” she said, satisfied she’d gotten him upright. “Now, we’re even.”

  His arm over her shoulder, he turned to her with eyes flickering. “Is that so?”

  Well, maybe not. She was getting drunk on him, minus the alcohol. “Yes, that’s so.”

  “I could’ve gotten up on my own, you know.”

  “It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

  He laughed. “True.”

  “So, I’m glad I was here to help. Show a little gratitude.”

  He wasn’t a man who liked taking help. That was part of the problem. His gaze roamed over the deck where he’d spent most of his day, and she sensed his frustration.

  “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.

  “Sure. Where would you like to go?” Mariah said he didn’t like to go out, so she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by. If he needed some breathing room, away from his gorgeous house and his familiar surroundings, who was she to deny him?

  “Anywhere. I don’t care. Are you up to driving my car?”

  “I can manage that. I’m going to get your crutches now, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer.

  She released him and he stood there, balancing himself for the two seconds it took her to pick up both of his crutches and hand them over. Tucking one under each arm, he pointed a crutch toward the door. “After you.”