by Francis Ray
“Guess I’m tired from chasing cows all over the place.” Duncan took another bite.
Sadness touched the older man’s face. “Nothing like being in the saddle on the range.” His hands clenched. “I should be out there helping you.”
“You are helping me,” Duncan said, staring at Rooster. “Taking care of this house is one less worry. You know how hard it was to get Mrs. Owens to hire on. As it was, she hated the times the weather kept her from going home and she had to stay over. Women don’t like the isolation of the ranch.”
“But your ranch isn’t isolated,” Raven said, and found herself the subject of two pairs of eyes filled with disbelief. “In my travels,” she began carefully, “this could be considered crowded. Billings is an hour away; town is thirty minutes. Some cultures actually prefer not to interact with others.”
Rooster frowned. “You learn all that doing research for that book you’re going to write?”
“Yes.” Raven noticed Duncan hadn’t said anything. She picked up her bowl and stood. “Thank you for dinner, Rooster. I think I’ll go to bed.”
He took the bowl, his frown deepening. “You didn’t eat much. Weren’t too spicy, was it? Know it weren’t the beef. Double D has the best in the state.”
Raven easily saw the concern on the older man’s face. She smiled to reassure him. “It can’t be too spicy for me. Guess I’m just tired from the drive.” She turned to Duncan. “What time in the morning should I be ready to leave?”
“I’ll return at eight.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to come back unless you planned to. I can be ready whenever you say.”
“We’ll be working at the corral branding, so eight is fine,” he answered.
“That was information I could do without.”
He stared at her. “It’s the law and necessary.”
“But I don’t have to like it. I’ll see you at eight. Night,” she said, then left the room.
Rooster stared after her. “She’s different from most women.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ll be in my study.” He headed through the door. In the great room, his gaze unerringly went to Raven as she climbed the stairs, her back straight and her hips swinging just the tiniest bit.
Temptation and trouble in one delectable package. And not for him!
Duncan continued to his study, wondering how long it would take her to do her research. The quicker she left, the better for all concerned, especially his unruly body. Seems he didn’t have the control he thought he had.
Scowling, he pulled out a chair behind the desk loaded with bills, magazines, and correspondence. He didn’t have time to think about a woman.
But that didn’t seem to stop him.
An hour later, Duncan rubbed his growling stomach with his left hand and made notations in the thick ranch ledger with his right. His accountant sent an assistant out once a month to put the notations in the computer, but Duncan liked to be able to see things at a glance. It had worked out well for all concerned.
For a man who usually made good decisions, he wasn’t doing so well lately. If the fiasco with Rooster weren’t enough, now Duncan had to deal with Raven. He was honest enough to admit that if she’d been bucktoothed, horse faced, and hitting sixty as he’d imagined, he wouldn’t give her another thought.
Instead, she had exotic looks and a heart-stopping figure, and he couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts on anything else. He just had to remember that she was off-limits. He—
His head came up. He sniffed. Bacon. For a moment, he thought he might be hallucinating; then he heard the faint sound of a woman humming. Raven. She was cooking in his kitchen, while he hadn’t had a good meal since last week when he’d gone into town to take Black Jack to the vet and stopped by Duke’s Place.
Another thought struck. Just because she was cooking didn’t mean she could cook. She could be worse than Rooster. Duncan made a face. Nobody could be that bad. Tossing his pen on the desk, he headed for the kitchen to find out. This was his house; he could go where he pleased.
The aromas grew stronger, his salivary glands happier with each step. He entered the kitchen and went still. Raven, a spatula in her hand, stood in front of the stove wiggling her jean-encased butt as she hummed “If I Were Your Woman” by Gladys Knight.
The sensual combination of hips and the lyrics was too much. If Raven were his woman, he knew what would happen.
He could easily imagine those long legs wrapped around him, her hips reaching to meet his, keeping rhythm with his. He forgot all about food. His appetite for something entirely different coursed though him.
Raven snapped one finger, then spun around, obviously oblivious to him, and stopped in mid-spin. She flushed, her beautiful eyes widened. “Duncan.”
“You’re cooking,” he said, the only words he could get out.
“Oh.” She spun back to the stove. “I-I hope you don’t mind.”
He walked over, the mouthwatering aroma as much as the woman drawing him. “Depends.”
She threw a quick look over her shoulder before turning her attention back to arranging the mixture of eggs, bacon, and vegetables on tortillas. “On what?”
“If you plan to share.”
She smiled. He felt the impact in his gut. “There’s more than enough. I planned to keep leftovers for breakfast.”
Duncan’s mood took a nosedive. “Rooster is cooking breakfast.”
“Then we better enjoy this.” Taking another plate from the cabinet, she placed two tortillas overflowing with the egg mixture on each plate. “Have a seat. I’ll get the hot chocolate.”
“Hot chocolate?”
She laughed, a surprisingly husky sound that vibrated along his nerve endings. “One of my vices.”
“Do you have many?” he asked, unsure if he’d meant the words as teasing or serious.
“Nope,” she said, pouring the dark chocolate into two cups. Steam wafted up.
“You don’t have to share,” he felt obligated to say.
“I don’t mind,” she said, and took a seat across from him. “I’m the oldest of three. You learn to share.”
Duncan nodded in understanding, then bowed his head as she blessed the food. “Same here.”
“I’ve met Faith and, of course, Brandon.” Raven picked up her tortilla and took a healthy bite. She closed her eyes, softly moaned. The sound vibrated down every one of Duncan’s already-on-high-alert nerve endings. Opening her eyes, she stared at him. “Aren’t you going to taste it?”
What he wanted to taste was her. That wasn’t going to happen. He picked up his food and took a tentative bite. Delicious. He took a bigger bite and heard her laugh. He could easily get used to that sound if things were different. “Thank you.”
“Forget it. I’m the one who is thankful for you letting me stay here.” She took a sip of chocolate. “The least I can do is share a meal.”
“I meant Rooster.” He took another bite. “You cook like this, yet you ate his food and never complained,” he said, trying to understand.
Her shoulders stiffened. “You think I’m the kind of person who would needlessly hurt a man’s feelings when he’s obviously only concerned and trying to help. Who would do that?”
Duncan didn’t have to think long. Shelley, his ex, would have in a heartbeat. She and Rooster hadn’t gotten along, but then again she hadn’t liked any of the ranch hands. She’d completely fooled Duncan. “Sorry.” He picked up his tortilla.
“Is it me you have a problem with or women in general?” Raven asked, her head tilted to one side as if trying to analyze him again.
He hadn’t expected her to be so intuitive or him to be so obvious. “Why would you say that?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Duncan. You made yourself very clear this morning, but I had hoped we’d gotten past that. You don’t trust my credentials or think very highly of me as a person.”
“I didn’t say that,” he felt compelled to say.
Her
chin jutted out. “You could have fooled me.”
He bit into his food. “Perhaps you’re being overly sensitive.”
“You wouldn’t tell another man that.” She shoved her plate aside. “I can take it. Tell me exactly how you feel about me.”
The erotic, highly sexual words that sprang to his mind, but thankfully didn’t go any further, stunned him. His eyes narrowed as he leaned away from her, away from her sensual assault.
“On the ranch you’re my concern. My responsibility. You’ll be at the cave by yourself. I can’t spare any of the ranch hands to watch you.”
“I don’t recall asking you to.”
“You’ll be totally isolated,” he continued. “We aren’t working that part of the range.”
“All the better.” She finished her chocolate. “We won’t have to make up stories as to why I’m going to the same place every day.”
“You ever work on authenticating cave drawings by yourself?” he asked, watching her eyelashes flicker and waiting for the lie.
“No,” she said, and continued at his start of surprise. “I’ve helped authenticate other finds, and studied cave drawings extensively. I’ve been interested in them since my early days as an undergraduate. I’ve also spoken with several area authorities. I want to do this on my own, but I won’t hesitate to seek assistance if I feel I’m in over my head.”
He had to give her points for honesty. “When will you know?”
“Once I see the drawings in person.” Her eyes glowed. “From what you described and the drawings you sent Ruth, I believe they’re authentic. It’s not unreasonable, since Pictograph Cave State Park is outside of Billings.”
“I understand the attendance is growing each year. They just finished a visitor’s center.” Duncan frowned. “A couple of years back, a hand on a nearby ranch discovered some drawings and before you knew it, there were TV cameras, scientists, and gawkers all over the place. The drawings were defaced. People were coming from everywhere, trying to be the ones to discover other drawings. It was a mess. The rancher spent more time getting people off his property than ranching. I don’t want that to happen on the Double D.”
“I understand your need for privacy, but it will take time to study the site,” she said. “Besides tracing the drawings, if I have time I want to excavate the area to see if there might be any artifacts.”
“You figure on taking your Jeep?”
“Have to with all the equipment.” She reached for his empty plate and mug. “You indicated to Ruth that it was rough terrain, but that a Jeep could make it.”
He cocked a brow. No one on the Double D questioned him. “Depends on the Jeep.”
“Buddy has been with me since I was an undergrad. He’ll make it.” She turned on the faucet over the sink. “I’ll be ready at eight.”
He came slowly to his feet. “Can you ride?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll take the horses.”
“Why not the Jeep?” she questioned, shutting off the water to face him.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s quicker.” And he wanted to check the area again. Shortly after he’d discovered the cave he’d spotted a black bear with two cubs a couple of miles away. Since then he hadn’t seen the bears or any tracks.
“Of course. Thank you again, Duncan. I won’t let you down.”
He went to the doorway and turned. “I’ll be in my study if you need anything.”
“I won’t,” she said.
Duncan stared at her a few seconds longer—beautiful, defiant, and trouble to his peace of mind—and headed toward his study. He hoped she was right about being able to take care of herself. The less they were around each other, the better.
Chapter 3
Raven couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t determine if it was excitement over finally seeing the pictographs or the aggravating but alluring owner of the Double D. Before going downstairs, she purposely waited until she saw from her bedroom window Duncan heading to the barn.
In the kitchen she wrinkled her nose at the mess Rooster had made cooking breakfast. Raven didn’t even want to think about what it might have been. Rooster had popped into the kitchen to see what she was doing, then said he was going to straighten up Duncan’s office—if she didn’t want him to cook her breakfast.
She’d quickly reassured him she just wanted a bowl of cereal and sent him on his way. After eating, she prepared chicken parmigiana in her trusty slow cooker.
The slow cooker had been a gift from her mother after Raven had graduated from college. Raven had put it in a cabinet and forgotten about it until two years later when she’d come home tired, hungry from teaching at a junior college, and stared in the refrigerator, then the freezer, trying to figure out what to cook. She’d been interrupted by a phone call from her mother.
During the course of the conversation Raven had complained about being tired of coming home after work and having to cook. Her mother had reminded Raven that if she used her slow cooker, her dinner would be waiting on her when she arrived home.
After a supper of cold cereal, Raven had pulled out the slow-cooker cookbook and made a grocery list. Now, pouring the sauce over the chicken, she had never been more thankful. At least tonight she wouldn’t have to sit through another tense dinner with Duncan.
One conclusion she had come up with as she tossed and turned most of the night was to continue as planned to cook her own meals and use the evenings to record and research what she’d discovered that day.
A knock on the door came just as she set the timer. Opening the back kitchen door, she smiled on seeing the ranch hand she’d met the day before. “Good morning, Billy.”
“Ms. La Blanc, the boss wants you to meet him at the corral,” the young cowhand told her, his hat crushed to his chest.
“Thank you,” Raven said. “I’ll get my things.” She’d seen the same rapt but harmless look on male students in the past. Slipping the string of her wide-brimmed straw hat over her head, she picked up her field bag.
Today would only allow her to take a few notes; tomorrow—if her hunch was right—she would begin the painstaking process of cataloging her findings. “Rooster, I’m leaving.”
The older man came into the kitchen, a dust cloth tucked in his belt. “You sure you don’t want to take some coffee with you?”
She didn’t even want to imagine how bad it might taste. “No thanks. I have water in my bag.”
“All right. You better go. The boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Raven kept the smile on her face. The boss didn’t like a lot of things, mainly her being there. “You don’t have to worry about the Crock-Pot on the counter. It has a timer and will take care of itself.”
He looked around the kitchen, then walked over to the cooking pot, leaned down to within a foot of the glass lid. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” She smiled. Rooster might appear grouchy, but he was good at heart—unlike his boss. “Good-bye.”
The young hand held open the door. “He’s right about the boss. We better hurry.”
“I gather all of you like to keep Duncan happy?” she said as they went down the back steps.
He threw her a quick, easy grin. “It makes life easier,” he said, then hastened to add, “Don’t get me wrong; the boss is fair. There’s not a job on the ranch that he hasn’t done or won’t do again. He’ll work beside you from sunup until sundown if need be. He’s a man you can count on.”
Raven paused on hearing the loud bellows of calves. “What’s going on?”
“Branding time,” Billy answered. “We got a late start because we had to round most of them up again.”
“The poor things,” Raven murmured. “I’d run, too.”
Billy laughed. “You’re something.”
“Billy, you’re needed to relieve Pete,” Duncan said.
Raven looked up to see Duncan walking toward them leading two horses. He looked strong, commanding, in his element. She had no doubt the proud-steppin
g black stallion he led belonged to him. They would look magnificent together.
The young man jerked around at the sound of Duncan’s voice. “Yes, sir.” He tipped his hat to Raven. “Bye.”
“Good-bye, Billy,” Raven called as he scrambled over the fence into the corral where all the activity seemed to be going on. Watching him leave gave her time to compose herself against the impact Duncan seemed to have on her.
“If you’re ready, we can get going.”
Raven finally turned to him. He wore the same forbidding expression he had yesterday. She almost sighed in regret. For once she’d like to see him animated or excited or just pleased to be around her. She hadn’t given a thought to what a man felt since the debacle with Paul in grad school. She’d do well to remember the reason. “I’m ready.”
Duncan gave her the reins to a pretty white-faced roan mare. “She’s even tempered and easy to handle. Plus she knows the way home.”
Raven’s hand automatically closed around the reins. “You’re leaving me there?”
“It’s not my intention, but I never know when a problem might come up that needs my attention,” he told her. “If it happens, I might have to leave and you might not be ready.”
“Like yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Then, I’m doubly thankful that you’re taking time to show me the cave this morning.” She winced at the protesting bellow of another calf. “And I will be happy to be away for a while.”
“As I said last night, it’s the law. And it makes it easier to identify them.”
“Still I feel for them.” She swung up easily into the saddle, then looked at him still staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing.” His foot in the stirrup, Duncan swung up on Black Jack. The stallion sidestepped, but he was easily controlled.
“He’s beautiful,” she said, staring at the horse. “But not shy about testing who is in control.”
“That’s all right. I admire him for trying. Having a docile animal doesn’t appeal to me.”
She wondered what would appeal to him but wisely kept her mouth shut. “Somehow I figured that out. Ready when you are.”