She shrugged, which he took as assent. He spent the next few moments gathering a few more armfuls of wood. By the time he returned, the enticing aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon reached him.
None of the other guests or wranglers had ventured out yet, he saw. Cassie still stood at the camp stove, mixing together ingredients for flapjacks; and she barely looked up when he returned to camp. He set the wood atop the dwindling pile and joined her.
He longed to kiss that pink, sunburned nose but he didn't want a spatula covered in batter across his face so he contented himself by just leaning back against a tree trunk and watching her graceful movements.
"Do you remember that first cattle drive we went on together?" he finally asked. "You and your cougar friend?"
She paused for just a fraction of an instant in stirring the pancake mix. "I remember."
"I think that's the moment I fell in love with you," he murmured. "When you faced an angry mountain lion with your chin out and that smart mouth of yours going a mile a minute."
When she returned to the batter, her movements were brisk, almost agitated. "Shut up, Slater."
He moved closer, until he was only a few feet away. She edged away as far as she could without her post at the stove. He was making her nervous, but he didn't care.
He was desperate, fighting for his life here.
"That's when I fell in love with you," he repeated. "On that trip. But I knew even that first time I kissed you by your tent that there wasn't a chance for us. Not then."
"And not now," she snapped.
"I had nothing to offer you. No money, no prospects. Nothing to provide you the future you deserved."
Her eyes were hard blue flames in an angry face. "And just because you're Mr. Big Shot Businessman now, because you have enough money to buy whatever you want, you think that's going to make a difference to me? That I'm shallow enough to care? Are you honestly arrogant enough to think I'll just fall into your arms now that you've so magnanimously decided to return like some kind of damn conquering hero?"
He couldn't keep his hands away from her another second. He reached out and curved a finger along the silky skin under her high cheekbones, aware he was taking the biggest chance of a life filled with risky choices.
"Not because of the money," he said quietly, his heart beating a mile a minute. "Because you never stopped loving me. Any more than I ever stopped loving you."
She froze at his words and stared at him, her eyes huge and stunned. A small, distressed sound escaped her mouth, and he moved faster than that mountain cat she'd confronted to catch it.
He kissed her tenderly, gently, trying to show her the fierce emotions in his heart. At first she remained motionless at the slow assault, then, just when he was beginning to feel a little light-headed from holding his breath, her hands crept around his neck like tiny, wary creatures coaxed out of hiding.
With a hushed sigh, she settled against him, and her mouth softened under his. He wanted to shout in triumph. Wanted to grab her tightly against him and mold her body to his, to devour that soft, sweet mouth.
He didn't want to send her running back for cover, though, so he forced himself to keep the kiss slow and easy while his blood sang urgently through his veins.
She wanted to weep from the tenderness in his kiss and from his words. She wanted the soft, devastating kiss to go on forever while the sun burst above the mountains, bathing them in its warmth. She wanted to stay right there for the rest of her life with his hands cupping her face and his mouth soft and gentle on hers.
When he eased away, both of their breathing came in shallow gasps. "Don't lie to me, Cassidy Jane." His voice was low, compelling, and his hazel eyes gleamed with an emotion she didn't want to acknowledge. "No matter what happened ten years ago, you still have feelings for me, don't you?"
She blinked at him as reality came crashing back. Dear heavens. He was right. She did. Part of her had never stopped loving him, even when she hated him.
Heat soaked her skin, and she wanted desperately to escape, to hide away until she could come to grips with this horrifying realization. Before she could, she heard two high-pitched voices already bickering, then the zip of a tent flap. An instant later the Carlson twins burst out into the clearing.
She barely had time to step away from Zack before their mother crawled out of the tent after them.
"Is that bacon? We're starving! When will it be ready? Can we have some?" The twins punched questions at her in rapid succession.
The jarring shift from the sensuous, dream-like encounter with Zack to the very real demands of two nine-year-olds left her disoriented. She blinked at them for a moment, then quickly composed herself.
She had long practice with hiding her feelings, after all. Even from herself.
"Yes, it's bacon. And if you each wash your hands with one of those wet wipes, I might let you snitch a few pieces now, before breakfast."
The next hour passed in a rush as she prepared pancakes and hash browns and pound after pound of bacon to feed sixteen people. She welcomed the hard work, grateful for something to keep her mind away from Zack and the stunning truth he had forced her to finally admit to herself.
While she was occupied with cooking and cleaning up breakfast and then reloading the food supplies, the Lost Creek wranglers broke camp. The sun was still low in the east when the group began the trail ride back to the ranch.
Without the excitement of the cattle to prod along, the guests were far more subdued during the ride back. Even the dogs plodded along without much energy.
Cassie didn't mind. She had far too many thoughts chasing themselves through her mind to concentrate on anything but a slow, easy ride down the wide trail.
After that cataclysmic kiss, Zack's low words had unleashed a flood of emotions that still whirled and cascaded through her. She thought she had been able to exorcise him from her heart after he'd left. But with just a few words, he had shown her how foolish and naive she was for clinging to that notion.
She still loved him. Had never stopped. Now what was she supposed to do about it?
Absolutely nothing, the cautious side of her warned. She couldn't afford to do anything about it.
"You know who he is, don't you?"
Cassie hadn't noticed Amy Carlson, the twins' pretty, frazzled-looking mother, had fallen behind the rest of the riders and was riding abreast of her. The twins were up closer to the line, being closely monitored by their father and a couple of the wranglers.
She followed the woman's gaze right back to Zack riding ahead of them in that loose-limbed way of his and felt a blush climb her cheeks as she realized she must have been staring at him.
"Who?" she asked, pretending ignorance.
Amy made a fluttery gesture with her hand. "Mr. Gorgeous. Zack Slater. I just about died when I recognized him at the ranch the first night we arrived, eating in the dining hall just like the rest of us mortals."
"I know who he is."
"Besides being every woman's secret fantasy, the man is close to a legend in Denver," Amy went on. "Every single thing he touches seems to turn to gold. I read a piece on him in the business section of the Post. It was fascinating stuff."
She had always thought him fascinating, even when he'd been a rough-edged ranch hand. Though she suddenly discovered she desperately wanted to hear about the life he had made for himself, she didn't want to appear too obvious. "Really?" she asked blandly.
Amy didn't appear to need much encouragement. "He keeps to himself for the most part. Reclusive, almost. I never see his picture on the society pages. But he has this really gorgeous apartment in Denver and a big ranch in western Colorado. According to the reporter at the Post, although he keeps it a secret, he's also a big-time philanthropist who gives huge amounts of money to all kinds of pet projects. A couple of alcohol rehab centers. The children's hospital in Denver. A mentoring program for kids living in abusive situations."
Alcohol rehab centers? Abused children? The littl
e crack in her heart widened even further.
Zack had never wanted to talk much about his childhood, even when they were engaged. He had no family left, she knew that. His mother had died of cancer when he was six and his father hadn't taken her death well. From what she had pieced together, Zack's father had packed up his little boy and carted him from ranch to ranch across the West, never staying long in one place.
Zack had finally struck out on his own when he was just fifteen, although he had never told her why he dropped out of high school or left his father somewhere in Montana.
He had mentioned one time, almost in passing, that his father used to drink too much. She wondered now if his father had been a mean drunk. If he had taken his frustrations with life out on his son.
Was that the reason Zack had preferred the hard-scrabble life of a rambling cowboy to staying with his father?
She wanted to rub a hand at the sudden ache in her chest for that young boy. He had passed a high school equivalency test before she met him, she knew, but it had still bothered him that he hadn't graduated in the traditional way or gone on to college.
He had considered himself uneducated, rough.
She thought of what he had said the night before, that he hadn't been the kind of man she deserved a decade ago.
She hadn't cared a thing about his education level or his bank balance. She had loved his solid core of decency, his honor and his sense of humor. His inherent kindness. The way she always felt cherished and protected in his arms.
A hundred things about him were far more important than what he had or had not accomplished with his life.
But with stunning clarity she finally realized that the things she had considered inconsequential had been anything but to Zack.
She jerked her attention back to Amy Carlson and her recital of his success.
"But why am I telling you this?" Amy said with a rueful smile. "You probably know all about the mysterious Zack Slater."
Ten years ago she thought she knew him. Now she wasn't so sure. "Why would you say that?"
Amy sent her a knowing look. "The two of you have something going, right?"
More heat soaked her cheeks. "What do you mean?"
The other woman grinned. "I have the two eyes God gave me, sugar. I saw the way you two were looking at each other this morning before breakfast. You were both putting out enough heat, I was afraid for a minute there you were going to start a forest fire. Besides that, the man hasn't stopped watching you for longer than a few minutes this entire trip. I'll tell you, there are plenty of days I'd trade both my twins plus my left arm to have a man like Zack Slater looking at me like that."
Cassie barely resisted the compelling urge to see if he was watching her now. "You're mistaken. We don't have a relationship. We...knew each other a long time ago. That's all."
"Well, if I'd had half a chance with a man like him before I met my Paul, you can bet I would have grabbed hold with both hands and not let go for all the pine needles in Wyoming."
That's exactly what she wanted to do, she realized with sudden panic. He was asking for another chance. And, heaven help her, she wanted desperately to give it to him.
But how could she? She wasn't that heedless, optimistic eighteen-year-old anymore—that girl who was confident that everything would work out exactly as she wanted.
Ten years ago she had gone after what she wanted with single-minded purpose. She'd decided she wanted Zack Slater, and she hadn't been about to let anything stand in her way.
Not even him.
She had pushed them both into a relationship, then into an engagement. Maybe if she hadn't been in such a headlong rush—maybe if they had taken more of a chance to build a stronger foundation—he wouldn't have run.
She had been a different person then. What had happened to that reckless, spirited girl who took chances, who embraced every day with boundless excitement and joy?
A few weeks ago she might have said Zack Slater destroyed her when he left.
Now, as she rode along the trail lined with towering spruce and ghostly pale aspen, she faced some grim facts about herself. She had let that girl wither away, until she had become a cold shell of a woman afraid to take any chances for fear of something going wrong.
So terrified of being hurt again that she never let herself dream.
That's why she hadn't made an offer on the café in town yet. Heaven knows, she had enough money from her share of the Diamond Harte revenue over the years that she could have paid cash for the café the day she moved away from the ranch.
Taking the job at the Lost Creek had just been a stall tactic.
She sat a little straighter in the saddle, stunned by the realization. She forgot about the raw beauty of the mountains around her as the cold truth settled in her chest. She had been too afraid of failure, of taking chances. Zack hadn't done that to her. She had done it to herself.
No more. She wasn't going to hide behind the past anymore. Excitement began to churn through her like the creek still swollen with runoff. She was obligated to stay at the ranch for another few weeks, but after that she would start negotiations with Murphy. By the end of the summer she would have her own restaurant.
After her brother's wedding in a month, the cute little rental Sarah lived in would be available. Maybe she could take over Sarah's lease—or even make Bob Jimenez an offer to buy it.
Suddenly the day seemed brighter, the air more fresh. She could do this. She wanted to be that fearless girl again.
And Zack. Did she dare take a chance with him, too? With her heart pounding hard, she thought of the sweetness of his kiss that morning, the thick emotion in those green eyes. He hadn't been lying when he said he still cared about her.
Trying again with him would take a huge leap of faith. Could she trust him to catch her on the other side?
* * *
Zack sat on his favorite chair on the porch watching the stars come out one by one and trying like hell not to spend too much time watching the windows of the cabin next door for an occasional shadow to move past the closed curtains.
What was the matter with him? He was turning into some kind of sick and twisted voyeur, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her. Where was his pride? His dignity?
He didn't have much of either left when it came to Cassidy Jane Harte.
Going along on the cattle drive the day before had turned out to be a complete bust. He was no closer to regaining her trust today than he'd been a week ago when he first arrived at the ranch.
He sighed into the darkness and thought of the stacks of messages Jean Martineau had handed him as soon as they rode back to the ranch. Claudia, his very competent assistant, was frantic to have him back in Denver, with a dozen projects needing his urgent attention. He couldn't keep putting off his return to real life.
He hated to admit defeat at anything, but he was beginning to think this was a battle he couldn't win.
The thought left an acid taste in his mouth. The future stretched out ahead of him, stark and lonely and colorless, but he didn't know what else he could do to change it.
If only he could find Melanie. But one of the messages from Claudia contained another worthless report from his P.I. So far it looked as if the woman had either changed her name and moved out of the country or had been abducted by aliens.
He was betting on the aliens at this point.
Either way, he figured he was damned. If he couldn't find her, Cassie would have to take his story on blind faith. He couldn't see that happening anytime soon.
The only bright spot about the cattle drive had been the way she'd responded to his kiss that morning. He had seen awareness and some deeper emotion flicker in her eyes before she had shielded them with her lashes and surrendered to him.
He shifted in the chair, remembering the sweetness of her mouth and the fluttering of her hands against his chest. She hadn't been exactly bubbling over with enthusiasm during the kiss—hadn't participated much at all, really—but she hadn't
poured hot coffee on him, either. That had to count for something, right?
And a few times on the ride down the trail, their gazes had met and he thought he saw something else there besides anger and disdain. A different light. Softer, somehow.
No. That was probably only wishful thinking on his part. He hadn't seen her since they arrived back at the ranch several hours earlier, when she had treated him with the same cool reserve.
Her porch light suddenly flickered off, leaving only a soft glow through the window. Damn. Now she was going to bed before he had a chance to come up with any kind of half-rational excuse to knock on her door in the middle of the night.
He should do the same. He hadn't slept much all week, and his muscles ached from two days in the saddle. Still, something kept him planted here, watching the stars and regretting the past.
With a sigh he planted his hands on the armrest of the old rocker and prepared to rise, when he suddenly heard the squeak of hinges. An instant later his breath caught and held somewhere in the vicinity of his throat as she stepped out onto the porch.
Though her porch light and his were both out, he could see her clearly from the soft light still on inside her cabin. Her hair was damp around the edges as if she had just stepped out of the tub, and she was wearing a loose, flowing white cotton robe that glowed iridescent in the moonlight.
He opened his mouth to greet her, then paused for just a moment, struck by the stunning picture she made. Sensual and sweet at once. Wistful and wanton. As he watched her move to the porch railing, he couldn't seem to remember how his voice worked. All he could do was stare, his throat dry, as she leaned out and gazed up at the vast glittering night sky, her attention fixed on the same stars he had watched appear.
What was she wishing for? he wondered. He would give anything to know, to be the man she shared her secrets with.
He couldn't sit here like this, lurking in the corner and watching her in such a solitary moment. Remaining silent was an unconscionable invasion of her privacy.
"Hey," he finally called out, his voice sounding rough and ragged to his ears.
CASSIDY HARTE AND THE COMEBACK KID Page 12