by Janet Dailey
“I’ll take it,” she said, “But I don’t usually carry a phone, and I can’t risk anything that might make Stella suspicious. If you need to talk to me, come in and order a beer. We’ll work it from there.”
She was quiet on the way back to town, maybe worried about her brother, Sky thought. He let her off behind the Shop Mart, where he unloaded the hose parts and tossed them into a Dumpster. Why stir up a fuss when no harm had been done?
Driving home, he forced his attention back to the ranch. If the colts he was training could save the Rimrock, nothing could be allowed to distract him from his vital job—not Marie and her problems, and not even the sexy, red-haired hellion who kept stealing into his thoughts.
Lauren could drive him crazy if he let her, but that wasn’t going to happen. Sure, if she wanted a roll in the hay, he’d be glad to give her one, no strings attached. But he’d seen her kind before—a spoiled princess having a little fun with a cowboy, not caring who got hurt. Sooner or later she’d face the fact that he could never give her all she wanted, and she’d move on. He was already prepared for that. As far as he was concerned, she was already gone.
As the house and barns came into sight, Sky glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was barely ten-fifteen. Plenty of time left to work with the colts. But the sun would be blistering hot. He would need to give his four-legged pupils plenty of water and maybe shorten their training intervals.
Still shifting mental gears, he came up to the house. He’d resolved not to look, but his gaze was drawn as if by a magnet to the gravel strip out front. There was Lauren’s Corvette, the dust still settling on its shiny black chassis.
The sudden thought of her, in that room, at that desk, in those jeans, triggered a jolt of lust. A curse escaped his lips as heat forked through his body like an electric jolt.
Damn the woman!
Sky tore his eyes away and kept on driving.
Lauren switched off the computer, rose from the desk chair, and stretched her arms above her head. She’d put in a long day at the Rimrock. Beau would be pleased with what she’d managed to get done.
Beau had dropped by earlier for a quick hello. “I see you found your earring,” he’d said, casting an impish glance at the little gold stud she’d replaced in her earlobe. “For what it’s worth, Sky’s under strict orders to let you work today.”
“Fine.” Her hot-faced glare had warned him not to say more. Beau Tyler was an incorrigible tease, but he seemed to know when he’d pushed far enough.
At lunchtime, Bernice had brought her a chicken sandwich and some icy lemonade. She’d mentioned that her brother, Jasper, was home from the hospital and already chafing to be up and around. Aside from that—and the brief distraction of Sky’s truck passing the house—Lauren had worked undisturbed.
Now it was late afternoon and time for a decision. She could go home now, or she could swallow her pride, find Sky, and apologize for yesterday’s behavior. After picking up the hat she’d left on a chair, she closed the office and wandered outside to the front porch.
There was nobody in sight—only a red-tailed hawk riding the updrafts and a dust cloud swirling across the sun-parched yard. Heat waves blurred the near distance where the long barn stood, with the corrals and horse paddock on its far side. Would she find Sky there if she went to look for him? Would he be civil, or would he simply ignore her and go on with his work?
Maybe she should just get in her car and leave. Anything would be better than withering under the contempt in those proud cobalt eyes. A man like Sky could get any woman he wanted. If he’d decided Garn Prescott’s daughter was more trouble than she was worth . . .
Lauren dismissed the thought. She had her own pride. And if all she needed was a male body in her bed, there was always Josh Hardesty, who would be back at the beckoning crook of a finger. But Sky had stirred something she hadn’t felt since Mike’s death. Not that she was in love with him—that would be too much to expect, as well as a disaster for them both. But for the first time in a year, she’d begun to feel something besides grief.
Without having made a conscious decision, she was walking across the open ground. Whorls of dust rose from under her boots. The slanting sun beat down on her straw hat as she came around the barn.
The horse paddock, which had its own windmill-driven watering system, was an island of green in a sea of sun-parched brown. Mares and foals clustered in the shade of a big cottonwood on the far side, their tails whisking flies out of one another’s faces. Separated from the mares by a fence, Sky’s colts drowsed in the heat or gathered around the water trough. A half-dozen older cows, kept around to accustom the colts to the presence of cattle, grazed along the far fence.
Lauren’s pulse quickened as her eyes found Sky. He was on the near side of the paddock, working with Erin and her young palomino. Moving closer, Lauren leaned against the log fence to watch. She’d gotten to know Will’s daughter over the past few weeks and found the girl delightful. Today Erin and Sky were working with a length of rawhide rope, not trying to lead the foal but simply letting him smell it, laying it across his back and draping it lightly around his neck to give him the feel of it.
Lauren knew better than to speak. She stood still and watched, amazed by Sky’s gentleness. Here, in his own element, he was different from the gruff, driven man she’d come to know. With Erin and Tesoro he was all patience, his manner firm but tender, as if the girl and the foal were the most precious things on earth. What a wonderful father he’d make, Erin thought, then brought herself up short. Where had that thought come from?
No doubt Sky was aware of her—he was alert to everything around him. But he gave no sign that she’d caught his attention. He was focused on the lesson he was giving. His manner told her that any other business—even hers—would have to wait.
He took his time before ending the session, releasing the foal with a pat on the rump. With Erin at his side, Sky walked back to the fence.
“Hi, Lauren.” The girl grinned up at her. “Isn’t Tesoro looking good? Sky says he’s really smart.”
“I can tell,” Lauren said. “He’s growing, too.”
“Sky says that if Tesoro’s going to be a stallion, we have to make sure he’s well trained, and that he knows I’m his boss.”
“Well, it looks like you’re well on your way.” Lauren could feel Sky’s gaze on her. He looked as if he’d been out in the hot sun all day. Sweat had plastered his cotton shirt to his lean-muscled torso. Below the brim of his Stetson, moisture beads trickled down his sun-burnished face. The salty man-aroma of his body seeped into Lauren’s senses, arousing, despite the tension between them.
Erin caught the top rail of the fence, swung a leg over, and jumped to the ground. “Guess I’ll go see if Jasper needs anything,” she said. “Thanks, Sky. I know you were really busy today.”
He gave her a quicksilver smile. “I can always make time for you and Tesoro.”
“More tomorrow?” she asked. “Just for a little while.”
“Sure.”
Lauren watched the girl race back toward the house. Pulse tripping, she turned back to face Sky. Was he going to welcome her, or chill her with a look?
His gaze found her. His chiseled face was unreadable. “Hell but it’s hot,” he growled. “Hand me that empty bucket next to your feet.”
Puzzled, but knowing better than to question him, Lauren passed the bucket over the fence. He moved to the nearby watering trough and filled the bucket to the brim. Tossing his hat aside, he lifted the bucket high and emptied it over his head. Lauren watched the cool water spill over him, plastering his black hair to his head, flowing down his face and body like a cascading stream over a rocky ledge.
With one hand, he raked his hair off his face. His dripping clothes clung to his body. His breath eased out in a long exhalation. “That’s more like it,” he said. “Now what was it you wanted, Lauren?”
His voice was as cold as his look. Lauren was on the verge of excusing herself and
walking away when a crazy idea struck her. Taking a reckless chance, she placed a boot on the middle rail and swung over the fence to stand facing him. With a nod, she pointed to the bucket in his hand. “I could use some of that myself if you wouldn’t mind,” she said.
“But you aren’t—” He broke off, raising one ink-black eyebrow. His expression had become knowing, half-amused. With a deliberate move, he stepped to the trough and scooped the bucket full of water. Lauren braced herself, closing her eyes as he lifted it above her head.
If he hesitated, it was no more than an instant. She felt the shock of the cool water, breathed the mossy smell of it as it poured over her, soaking her hair and her shirt, dripping down over her jeans and boots.
When she opened her eyes, Sky was grinning down at her. “You look damn good wet,” he said. Then his eyes went hungry.
Lauren didn’t reply. She’d become sharply aware of the way their clothes clung and the way their gazes devoured each other’s bodies. The ache that rose in her was sweet and hot and raw. If he so much as touched her she knew she would topple past the edge of all common sense.
But nothing was going to happen here, in the sunlit paddock where anyone coming out of the barn or passing the corrals could see them. They stood in mute frustration, moisture steaming off their hair and clothes.
Sky cleared his throat. “Let’s go for a ride,” he said.
They saddled Storm Cloud and Belle, mounted up, and headed west into the rugged canyon country. Riding single file through the scrub, hat brims lowered against the glare of the late-day sun, they said little until they’d reached the lengthening shadows of the escarpment. It was cooler here, the trail more open. The first rays of sunset cast a glow over the rocky buttresses and hoodoos.
“I had no idea it would be so beautiful here.” Lauren caught up with Sky, who’d paused on a level spot to wait for her.
“People can miss a lot with their heads buried in their computers,” he said.
“I’ll try not to take that personally.” Lauren let her hat fall back against her shoulders. Her hair and clothes had dried in the heat. A light breeze cooled her face.
Storm Cloud snorted and tossed his handsome head. They made a striking pair, Lauren thought, the black horse and the hawk-proud, black-haired man. If she’d been an artist she’d have chosen to paint them like this, with the setting sun and the canyon behind them.
“Storm Cloud seems to be behaving today,” she said.
Sky patted the gelding’s shoulder. “I haven’t had much time to work with him, but he does seem more relaxed. If he’s calm enough by the time we’re ready to go back, I’ll let you ride him.”
“No perfume today, I promise.” Lauren laughed, thinking this was as happy as she’d felt in months.
“There are some petroglyphs up that steep-sided canyon. It’s not far. We should have enough daylight left to see them.”
“Then let’s go.” Lauren nudged the mare to a walk. The uneven ground here was slow going, but the pace made it easier to talk.
“I want to apologize for yesterday,” she said. “I was trying to smooth things out for my father’s sake. It turned out to be a bad idea.”
“I don’t own you, Lauren.” Sky’s voice had taken on a slight chill. “I’ve no right to judge your choice of company.”
“Not even if that company turns out to be a horse’s ass?”
He sucked in his breath as if her choice of words had shocked him, then exhaled with a chuckle. “I won’t have you insulting some poor innocent horse.”
“Sorry.” Lauren had to laugh. “I’ll say no more, except that my father went rushing to the bank this morning to make sure the man hadn’t stopped payment on his check. I’ve learned my lesson. No more political favors for me.”
Sky was silent for a moment. “I take it your father doesn’t know about us—not that there’s much to know.”
The last words stung. Lauren shook her head. “I’m a big girl. I don’t have to tell him everything.”
“He wouldn’t be happy.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, he wouldn’t. But since he chose not to be part of my life, why should it be any of his business?”
Sky didn’t answer. His eyes had taken on a veiled look, as if his thoughts had wandered elsewhere.
“What about your parents?” she asked him. “Do you have family somewhere?”
“My mother died when I was three. My father . . .” The words had taken on an edge. “My father’s dead, too. They weren’t married.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. It is what it is. I was raised by my aunt and uncle in Oklahoma. I still touch base with my cousins, even though I can’t say much for the way they live.”
“And what you do with horses? How did that come about?”
“My grandfather was good with horses. He died when I was twelve, but I owe everything I know to that old man. The most important lesson he taught me was to look at every situation from the horse’s point of view.”
“Empathy, then.”
“I guess that’s the fancy word for it. But I’m not much for talking about myself. How about you?”
Lauren hesitated, knowing she needed to share but unsure where to begin.
“Beau told me you’d been engaged. If that’s too personal—”
“No, I need to say it. He died last year. Jumped off a bridge. He even left me a note—as if that would help.” Lauren was startled by her sudden surge of anger, the first she’d felt toward Mike since his death. What a horrible, selfish thing to have done to the people who loved him.
Sky didn’t speak. Anything he might have said would have been inane.
“That night in the Blue Coyote—it was the one-year anniversary of Mike’s death. I’d had an ugly fight with my father, and it had all come crashing in on me. I just wanted to forget.”
“I figured something like that.”
“I never thanked you for making sure I was all right.”
Sky’s mouth twitched in a hint of a smile. “As I recollect, you weren’t in a grateful mood.”
She glanced down at her hands. “Just so you’ll know, it wasn’t the first time I’d done something like that.”
“We’re all human, Lauren. Sometimes being human hurts.”
They rode in silence for a time, taking in the stillness of the canyon. The shadows were longer now, the sky like a river of flame above the canyon walls. Clumps of cedar, fed by deep roots, grew green in the hollows below the cliffs.
The trail had narrowed. They were riding single file again, but Lauren was sharply aware of Sky’s presence and the heat that flowed between them. Shivers of anticipation rose in the depths of her body. Would he have brought her this far just to look at the petroglyphs?
Where the trail branched off into a side canyon, he paused and waited for her to come even. “Has your father ever mentioned that little canyon?” he asked her. “It used to be part of the Rimrock, but years ago Bull Tyler sold it to your grandfather for one dollar. Nobody knows the whole story, except maybe Jasper, and he’s not telling.”
“So that’s the place.” The opening to the side canyon was screened by brush. If Sky hadn’t pointed it out, Lauren would have ridden past without a second look. “My father told me Will had offered to buy it back.”
Sky nodded. “It’s the only piece of Rimrock land that’s ever been sold. I know Will wants it in the family. But he said your father couldn’t—or wouldn’t—sell. Something about a deathbed promise to your grandfather.”
“I wouldn’t know about that. But I’ve heard of the Spanish gold that’s supposed to be buried there.”
“Will says that’s just a story. Old Ferg—your grandfather—sifted through every inch of ground and never found it.” Sky glanced upward. “It’ll be dark before long. Come on.”
She followed him along the winding trail into the depths of the main canyon. Halting the horses, he swung off the gelding and dropped the reins. Lauren dismount
ed to stand beside him on the smooth sand at the base of the cliff.
“Look there.” He guided her gaze upward. Stylized figures of men, women, and animals were etched across the cliff face, cast into relief by the slanting light. Lauren could make out warbonneted chiefs, deer, cougars and bison, birds and horses—dozens of horses, their leaping, galloping poses frozen in time.
“Beautiful . . . and so sad,” Lauren murmured, recalling the history she’d read, how the Comanches had been the finest horsemen on the plains until the army had defeated them in these canyons and slaughtered all their beloved horses—slaughtered them by the hundreds and hundreds—to make sure the tribe would never rise up again. Here in this place, the heartbreak became real.
Without a word, Sky turned and pulled her into his arms. His kiss was rough and hungry, his sex a straining ridge against her belly. Frantic with need, Lauren melted against him. She wanted his hands on her skin, the weight of him between her legs. She wanted the feel of him thrusting inside her, filling her, owning the secret depths of her body.
Clumsy with eagerness, her hands fumbled with the front of his shirt. With a mutter of impatience he ripped the garment open and tossed it onto the sand. When he took her in his arms again the feel of his golden skin was like being wrapped in sunlight. She breathed in his mossy aroma, her tongue tasting the subtle, salty sweetness in the hollow of his throat, her fingers ranging over his body, coming to rest on a nipple. He groaned as it puckered and hardened beneath her touch.
Freeing the hem of her shirt, he slid his hands up her ribs. The front fastener of her bra came apart with a skillful twist. Lauren’s breath caught as his hand closed over one breast, cupping its weight, stroking its sensitive surface. She butted against him, grinding like a stripper to heighten the shimmers that were already rocketing through her body. She was spiraling out of control, and she didn’t care. All she knew was that she was dripping wet and she wanted him—every splendid inch of him.
“Please . . . don’t wait,” she muttered.
He chuckled against her ear. “Does that mean the same as don’t stop?”