“Adele, honey, you worry too much.”
“If I remember correctly, when Riley was eighteen, he broke his arm falling off one of those things,” Adele maintained with a stern look.
At the thought of Brad getting hurt, Emily gazed up at him. “You’re not going to try it, are you?”
“Don’t you think I’m in shape?” he asked with another grin that made her feel tipsy even without a drink. Remembering his naked body all too well, she decided his good shape wasn’t part of this equation.
“You might be in shape, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt.”
“A bit of risk spices up life.”
“A little risk can put you on crutches.”
Laughing, Brad pulled out a chair for her. After she sat, he lowered himself onto the chair next to her.
“The Montana Mustangs bring that thing along for entertainment value,” Caleb explained. “The bartender’s always glad because he sells more drinks while the clientele work up the courage to go for the money.”
Emily knew if Brad rode the mechanical bull, he wouldn’t be riding it to go for the money. In fact, she wasn’t sure why he would do it. Just for the thrill?
As the Mustangs played lively country music, one by one men with Stetsons, snap-button shirts and boots tried the mechanical creature. Most only lasted a few seconds. One or two almost made it to the end of the ride. A lean young man in his early twenties took his turn, and Emily winced as he was tossed onto the straw-strewn floor and landed on his shoulder.
He was slow to get up and she shook her head, muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Brad’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood. Leaning close, he rested a hand on her arm. “Watch how this should be done.”
“Brad,” she called as he strode toward the man-made machine that she believed should be declared illegal.
The band started a new tune as everyone clapped and Brad climbed onto the “bull.” With a grinding whir it started slow and then sped up until Emily was clenching her hands together, her knuckles white. She couldn’t believe Brad was holding on!
At least, one minute he was holding on and the next…he was on the floor, facing the stage rather than the bull!
The whole room applauded because he had stayed on a fair amount of time. But as he rose to his feet and seemed to be unharmed, Emily’s relief was short-lived because he motioned to the bull again, indicating he wanted another go-around.
He was out of his mind. That was her verdict.
However, when Brad climbed on board again, Emily realized she shouldn’t be surprised. Brad Vaughn was a man who conquered his mountains and always got exactly what he wanted. She didn’t like the idea of him getting shaken sideways and backward and upside down again, but she had to admire his courage. His ride started again, and this time he not only stayed on, but as he raised one arm over his head, his body seemed to move in rhythm with the machine. To everyone’s amazement, he lasted on the bull until the ride wound down and the machine turned off.
Most of the patrons in the Hitching Post got to their feet and applauded, including Caleb and Adele. Emily joined them, clapping as loudly as she could.
Returning to the table with a wide grin, Brad accepted the slaps on the back, the offers of free drinks and the praise for a ride well-done.
Emily was about to add her kudos to the rest when a woman in tight black jeans, a bright red shirt with buttons open to show cleavage and a white cowgirl hat approached Brad at the table. “You’re new around here, cowboy.”
“Just visiting,” Brad answered nonchalantly with a smile.
“How about the first dance? Now that you’ve conquered that thing, they’re going to move it away so everyone can have some real fun.”
The fun this woman spoke of made Emily see green. She’d never realized she had a jealous streak. When she and Warner had been dating, they’d kept it low-key, secluded, away from the public. She realized afterward he’d wanted their relationship kept secret because he hadn’t wanted to be seen dating a secretary in the firm. Even so, when she’d seen women with him in the law offices, she’d never felt this desire to scratch their eyes out. This woman in the cowgirl hat was entirely too bold, brazen and proprietary as she laid her hand on Brad’s arm and stared up into his eyes with a coy look meant to lure him to dance with her.
Emily simply couldn’t stand it. “He’s dancing the first dance with me,” she blurted, amazed at what had come out of her mouth.
At Brad’s amused expression, she wanted the floor to swallow her up.
“Is that true?” the cowgirl asked, giving Emily the once-over. She eyed the white western shirt with embroidery, the ironed blue jeans, the flat leather shoes.
“That’s true,” Brad admitted as the bull was wheeled away, straw was swept up and the band started up again.
“Maybe I’ll just have to cut in,” the cowgirl stated.
“I’m not sure you want to do that,” Brad responded with a wink at Emily. “She might look delicate, but I hear she boxes in her spare time. It would be a pleasure to dance with you,” he said with a consoling smile, “but I promised I’d dance with Emily tonight, and I don’t break a promise.”
The cowgirl looked from one to the other and then she gave a little shrug. “The good ones are always taken. See you around, cowboy.”
Emily knew her cheeks were bright red. Her heart was racing so fast she could hardly breathe.
She was ready to sink into her chair and keep quiet for the rest of the night when Brad’s arm went around her shoulders. “We told her we were going to dance so we’d better get out there and do it.”
Couples were already on the dance floor. But they weren’t standing in traditional dance poses, and Emily didn’t understand the steps they were executing.
“I don’t know how to do that,” she whispered as Brad walked her to the dance floor.
“It’s the Texas two-step and it’s real easy to catch on to. Just follow me. You’ll be fine.”
Follow him. She was beginning to think she’d follow him anywhere.
At first Emily felt totally ridiculous. She didn’t know how to dance the Texas two-step. She didn’t know how to dance! Her feet seemed to want to go in every direction but the right one. But then Brad’s arm tightened around her, his feet seemed to direct hers and they were moving around the circle behind another couple, amazingly keeping in step. Finding herself breathless, she realized it was because she could feel Brad’s heat, inhale his scent, lean into his strong body. Everything about him shouted “fantastic male,” and she wished she could get past the dizzying sensations of dancing with him, being with him…loving him.
When she almost tripped, Brad caught her. “Are you okay?”
No, she was definitely not okay. She was irrevocably in love with Bradley Vaughn. Not falling in love. Already fallen.
“Just learning the steps,” she mumbled as they got into the rhythm of it again and she tried to pull the blinds on the realization that seemed life-altering.
They had finished the first dance when Emily felt a twinge in her side and then some cramping. Familiar with the rhythms of her body and its shifts and changes, she pulled away from Brad’s arm. “I’m going to freshen up.”
He cocked a brow inquisitively.
She simply smiled and slipped away, finding the short hall that led to the ladies’ room.
Five minutes later, Emily washed her hands at the sink and wanted to cry. Her reaction was totally irrational. She should be glad she’d gotten her period—absolutely thrilled. It meant she wasn’t pregnant. A baby now should have been the last item on her agenda. Yet she realized she hadn’t yet bought a pregnancy test because she’d been nurturing the idea of a baby, getting used to it, anticipating a bond with Brad that would last a lifetime.
As she looked herself in the eye in the mirror, she saw the futility in all of it. Getting pregnant was the worst reason to have a connection to a man. It was the worst reason to think a
bout a relationship. She’d known that for years. Her love for Brad had to rise or fall on its own merit. If he had feelings for her, she couldn’t attach strings to them. If he had feelings for her…
She knew they would change and evaporate once they returned to Chicago.
With her purse under her arm, Emily practiced a smile in the mirror and returned to her table to pretend to enjoy the Mustangs for the rest of the night.
As she approached Adele and Caleb, she saw Brad talking to a uniformed officer. It was the policeman from the SUV that had arrived after Brad’s 911 call from the mine.
By the time she reached Brad’s side, the officer had moved away and was threading his way through the crowd.
She took her seat and waited for Brad to take his. When he did, she asked, “Did he catch whoever shot at us?”
“Yes, they did. After I called, they notified surrounding towns. Law enforcement in Livingston spotted the truck. It turns out there was a warrant on the driver for an assault charge. The good guys won this one.”
“Because of you. Not just anyone would have had the courage to get that license number.”
“You didn’t see it as courage at the time,” Brad joked.
“Yes, I did. But I was scared and you weren’t. At least if you were, you didn’t show it.”
“I’ve had a lifetime to practice hiding what I feel.”
When they’d arrived in Thunder Canyon, his guard had been solidly in place. But while here, she’d seen it slip now and then.
Caleb ordered another round of drinks, interrupting their conversation. As the Mustangs played, all Emily wanted to do was talk to Brad privately. They couldn’t do that here. After munching on peanuts and sipping her club soda with its twist of lime, she danced the Texas two-step with Brad again.
When the song ended and the band began a slow ballad, Brad turned her into his arms. “Maybe we can catch our breath on this one.”
She doubted that. She absolutely couldn’t let Brad hold her. She couldn’t give in to her love for him because she knew it had no place to go. “I’d like to go back to the ranch,” she said seriously.
His smile slipped away and he released her. “If that’s what you want.” His expression had gone stony and she explained, “It’s not that I don’t want to dance with you. I do. But we need to talk. Can we go?”
He relaxed some. “All right. Let’s find our coats and I’ll tell Caleb and Adele we’re going back.”
“The Mustangs too much for you?” Caleb asked as Brad brought her her jacket and she slipped it on.
“The Mustangs were great,” Emily assured him. “But I have some notes I want to work on.”
Caleb’s brows arched and he looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Don’t forget to collect your winnings,” he reminded Brad.
Brad nodded. To Emily he said, “I’ll just be a minute.”
Waiting by the door while he spoke to one of the band members, she studied the picture of the Shady Lady again. After Brad joined her, they went outside.
“Did they give you a check?” she asked.
After a short hesitation, he responded, “The Mustangs donate time and money to juvenile diabetes. The lead guitarist has a daughter with it. So I told them to donate the prize money to that.”
It was becoming harder and harder for Emily to reconcile her old image of Brad with the new one that was forming.
As soon as they’d climbed into the SUV and fastened their seat belts, Brad asked, “Do you want to wait until we get to the ranch to talk or do you want to talk now?”
She didn’t want to wait. She really didn’t have that much to say. “I’m not pregnant. I got my period tonight.”
After a few moments of silence, Brad started the engine, pulled out of the parking space and drove onto the main road. They’d driven about a half mile when he commented, “I suppose that’s a relief to you.”
“Isn’t it a relief to you?”
“Actually for the past few days I was thinking of the possibility of being a father.”
“Only the past few days?”
“Have I ever lied to you, Emily? Or misled you?” His voice was gruff with a hint of anger.
She thought about the months she’d worked for him and had to say, “No, you haven’t.”
“Then why would I start now?”
She held on to what she once believed about him because she was safer with that barrier between them. “Maybe because Suzette Brouchard could take you to court and use me as a witness. You want to make sure I’m on your side, and if you convince me to believe you—”
“Stop! We’ve spent almost two weeks together. Some of that time in very intimate contact. Just how do you think you would feel if I told you I thought you were lying to me?”
“I have no reason to lie.”
“And neither do I.”
Confused by her love for Brad, his reputation as a love-’em-and-leave-’em bachelor, feelings that she couldn’t understand and she couldn’t push out of her heart, she kept silent. Anything she said right now would only make matters worse. She knew if they didn’t soon leave Thunder Canyon, her heart would be irreparably broken and she’d never be able to piece it back together again.
For the next few days, Brad tried to keep everything businesslike between him and Emily. His body yearned for satisfaction with her again, and he told himself it was simply a physical need that he could deny or take care of himself. But when she was beside him, taking notes, asking questions or just listening, he resisted the urge to take her into his arms. He resisted the urge to admit he felt closer to her than he’d ever felt to anyone.
While they waited for the mayor’s return, as well as Tildy’s, Brad left no stone unturned. After conferencing with Mark again, he went through piles of issues of the Thunder Canyon Nugget as far back as they went. He also spoke to the prospector again and with anyone else who might know anything about the history of Thunder Canyon, the Queen of Hearts mine or Amos Douglas. But he came up empty.
He and Emily were poking around at the historical society Tuesday afternoon when he got a call on his cell phone from his father. As Emily studied exhibits, he took it in an alcove.
“What in God’s name are you still doing there?” Phillip Vaughn demanded.
Not for the first time in his life, Brad realized he didn’t like answering to his father. “Look, Dad, if I could wind this up now, I would. If I’m going to take over the agency someday, you’re going to have to learn to trust me.”
“As long as I’m still the head of the firm, I call the shots.”
That was the problem. His father was still head of the firm, and Brad wondered now if he would be until his dying day. It wasn’t just answering to his father that bothered him, it was the type of cases that Vaughn Associates dealt with. He was still waiting for word from a California contact about Tess’s daughter. What he would prefer was going out there himself. Then again, he had to rely on the people he trusted.
Glancing at Emily after hanging up, he saw she was standing in front of a display of a mannequin wearing a faded red satin dress that was trimmed with black lace. Ropes of fake pearls around the mannequin’s neck, along with a black ostrich feather in its hair, accented the outfit.
“These clothes belonged to a woman named Lily Divine,” she mused as he came to stand beside her. “You said she’s the Shady Lady in the portrait.”
“That’s what I heard. She was supposedly the madam of a whorehouse.”
Emily studied his expression, her concern now with him rather than with the artifacts. “Is everything okay?”
“My father expected us to return to Chicago by now. I was trying to explain for the third time why we were still here.”
“I guess he didn’t listen the first time,” Emily said with a smile.
“If my father ever listened the first time, the world would stop spinning on its axis.”
“You’re not friends, are you?” she asked.
“Friends? Hardly.”
He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around that idea. He didn’t think Phillip Vaughn was a friend to anyone, yet he did have his cronies who dined with him at the club and expensive restaurants, who played tennis with him. Brad had known true friendship with James, but since then it had eluded him—until this trip with Emily. It was odd, but he felt as if they’d become real friends.
“Are you and your mother friends?” he asked.
“Absolutely. I mean, she was a parent and all, gave us rules and guidelines, made sure we lived up to our potential. But she was always there to talk to. She helped with makeup and went to the movies with us. She’s still a big part of my life. So are my sisters and brother, and I can’t imagine it any other way.”
The museum was shadowy, with not a lot of direct lighting. Brad gazed down into Emily’s pretty face and watched her green eyes sparkle like emeralds. “We’re so different, you and I.”
“I guess we are in some ways. But in others…” She shrugged. “I think we’re a lot alike.”
Her conclusion surprised him. “How?”
“We work the same way. We analyze and think things through. We’re both perfectionists. We both have a few walls, but deep down inside we just want to be accepted for who we are. And on top of all that—” she grinned up at him “—I think I’ve even grown to like Thunder Canyon and Montana.”
Her expression was so mischievous, so genuine. He cupped her chin in his palm and raised her lips to his. When he kissed her, she didn’t pull away.
Until the beeping of his cell phone intruded.
Aware that a docent might interrupt them any second, Brad broke the kiss, gave her a wry smile and answered the phone.
“Vaughn here.”
“This is Elma Rogers, Mayor Brookhurst’s sister. He’s back. He said he’ll meet you at the archives room anytime you’d like.”
Brad glanced at Emily. “How about in fifteen minutes?”
Twenty minutes later, if the mayor was surprised by Brad’s impatience, he didn’t show it. Unlocking the door to the archives room with his key, he turned the knob and pulled the heavy door open.
The mayor was in his fifties and dressed casually. A portly man with a handlebar mustache, he wore trousers with tan suspenders and a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt. The top of his head was bald and his graying black hair fell over his collar in the back.
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