by Pamela Toth
“What do you think?” he asked as they crossed the café parking lot. “We can laze by the pool, hit some casinos if you want, catch a show. I’ll take you shopping. We’ll check out the sights.” His expression softened. “Come with me,” he coaxed. “Like Melissa said, in a couple of days this will have all blown over. Maybe the sheriff will hear back on the blood test by then, too.”
The blood test! The investigation. Emma’s excitement deflated like a balloon with a leak.
“He told me not to leave town,” she wailed. “I’m stuck right here in Whitehorn.”
Brandon’s smile faded, and then he snapped his fingers. “We’ll talk to him. I’m sure that as long as he knows where we’re going and when we’ll be back, he can make an exception. Come on, we can swing by his office on the way.” Brandon began walking more quickly, pulling her along with him.
Emma stopped in her tracks, the movement freeing her hand from his loose clasp. “I can’t ask him for any favors,” she said flatly. Even if Rafe was willing to let her go, she couldn’t presume on their very new relationship by asking for special treatment.
Brandon whipped around to stare at her. “Why the hell not?” he demanded. “You have to be back by Thursday for work and we both know these charges are bogus.”
Grateful for his wholehearted endorsement of her innocence, Emma still had to come up with a plausible reason to not bother Rafe. “I don’t think I could enjoy myself with this hanging over me,” she said lamely.
Brandon was instantly contrite. “Of course you can’t. I’m sorry, sweetie. How arrogant of me to figure being with me would magically make it all disappear.” He traced his finger down her cheek. “I just wanted to distract you for a little while.”
Oh, great. Now he didn’t think he was capable of claiming a hundred percent of her attention. She wanted to tell him that when he kissed her, she forgot about everything else, but circumstances didn’t permit that kind of candor.
“It was a nice idea, though,” she offered, barely able to meet his gaze. How she would have loved for him to show her his city, the house where he lived, and maybe his office building, too. “Could I have a rain check?”
He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Of course. But I have another idea, one that won’t get you in trouble with the local gendarmes.”
“What’s that?” she asked despondently.
“Come and stay at the ranch for a few days. We have plenty of spare bedrooms if you feel uncomfortable about bunking with me while you’re there. I’ll teach you to ride. What do you think?” He was grinning again, his enthusiasm restored.
How could Emma bear being around the Kincaids, knowing the pain Lexine had caused them by murdering Jeremiah and Dugin? Emma was too afraid some hint of her own dirty secret would show on her face like a scarlet letter.
Sadly she shook her head, twisting the truth again. “I’d rather just go home.”
Brandon’s smile faded and a closed look came over his face. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he said briskly. “Just let me follow you to make sure you get there safely.”
She knew her refusal had hurt him. He was taking it as a personal rejection. Would they never get the situation right between them?
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He avoided her beseeching gaze. “If you’ll just wait for me here, I’ll bring my car around.” He didn’t say anything more about spending time together, and the next two days without work to keep Emma busy stretched out in front of her like a jail sentence.
Poor choice of words! The unfortunate comparison made her shiver as she watched him walk quickly away, his shoulders rigid and his hands bunched at his sides.
Once Emma got to her apartment, she saw that a news van was blocking the driveway and two unfamiliar cars were pulled up to the curb. By the time she’d stopped behind the van and Brandon had parked his Lexus, four people had rushed up to her car. As Emma got out, she could hear a camera shutter going off.
“Did you do it?” someone shouted. Another voice called her by name and a man with a video camera hurried over. “Why’d you kill her?” a young woman asked, shoving a microphone in Emma’s face. “Did you know the victim? Was the father of her baby your lover?”
The ferocity of the shouted questions stunned Emma as she pressed against the side of her car. The cameraman blocked the staircase. She couldn’t seem to move. Part of her regretted Brandon seeing this; another part sought him out as the small group crowded closer, their questions increasing in both volume and frequency.
“Have you gotten an attorney?”
“Is this your new lover?”
“Were you jealous of Christina?”
Once again Brandon came to her aid, frowning darkly as he took her elbow in a firm grip.
“I’ve already called the sheriff and he’s on his way,” he announced as he shoved aside the microphone and glared at the reporter. “This is private property. You’re all trespassing. If you don’t leave, I promise you we’ll press charges.”
Immediately the video camera swung toward him. “What’s your name?” demanded the woman. “Were you with Emma that night?”
Brandon never glanced at her. Instead he hustled Emma up the stairs to her apartment as she dug frantically in her bag for her key. Her hands were shaking so badly that she nearly dropped it. When she struggled with the lock, footsteps pounded up the stairs behind them and the chorus of questions grew louder. Brandon shoved her inside and slammed the door shut behind them. He flipped the lock and Emma fell against the closed panel, panting like an out-of-shape cocker spaniel. When someone rattled the knob, she leaped away with a muffled shriek, and then the doorbell started ringing.
Moaning, Emma pressed her hands to her ears until it stopped. “How did they find out my address?” she exclaimed softly after she’d caught her breath. “I’m unlisted.” As if on cue, the telephone rang.
Brandon looked out the window. “Don’t answer that! It looks like that witch with the mike is calling you on her cell phone.”
Emma snatched back her hand. A siren sounded in the distance and she sent up a silent thank-you to Rafe for acting so quickly.
“With computers, we have no secrets left,” Brandon replied as she joined him at the window. “If they want to, they can find out everything about you, right down to your bra size.”
Everything? Even a person’s lineage? A chill went through Emma as the siren grew louder. Suddenly the group below began scrambling for their vehicles. In a flash, the cars and van were gone.
“Thank heavens,” Emma muttered with a sigh of relief, turning away from the window.
“They’ll be back,” Brandon predicted. “Or more like them. It looks like you’re getting your fifteen minutes of fame.”
With a sick heart, she realized she couldn’t stay here, not with cars and reporters hounding her and disturbing the neighbors. “Is the offer to go to the ranch still open?” she asked timidly.
If the reason for her change of heart hurt his feelings, he didn’t let it show. “Sure thing,” he said with a crooked grin as more footsteps sounded on the stairs outside.
“Oh, no,” she groaned, her defenses depleted.
“Relax, it’s the sheriff.” Brandon flipped the lock and opened the door to admit Rafe Rawlings.
“Are you okay?” he demanded when he saw Emma. Did Brandon notice the extent of his concern?
Emma folded her arms across her chest. “I’m fine now. I was just caught unprepared.”
Briefly, Brandon described the scene to the sheriff.
He shook his head. “Is there someone else you can stay with for a few days? A friend?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to get her to do,” Brandon replied.
Here was Emma’s chance to ask about Reno, but she was afraid if Rafe agreed, Brandon might start to wonder just why he’d made an exception for the prime suspect in an active murder investigation. “I’m going with Brandon to his family’s ra
nch,” she said quickly.
“Good idea,” Rafe replied. He glanced at Brandon. “Just be careful you aren’t followed. Even if one of those jackals runs your plates, it won’t clue them to the ranch.” He looked back at Emma and his gaze softened imperceptibly. “They’ll lose interest as soon as another story comes along,” he predicted.
“I hope so,” she said fervently. “It was awful, like sharks on a feeding frenzy.”
“Throw a few clothes in a bag,” Brandon said. “We’ll get going before they come back.”
It didn’t take Emma long to pack. They decided to leave her car at the apartment as a decoy, and the sheriff suggested she close the curtains, as well.
By the time she and Brandon finally drove through the gates to the ranch, minus any signs of a tail, she was exhausted. At least she felt as if she’d put the incident in perspective.
“How are you doing?” Brandon asked. He’d been silent for the last couple of miles, but he’d kept her hand clasped in his after calling ahead to let Garrett know they were coming.
“Better than I was,” Emma replied, covering a yawn with her free hand. “I wonder how celebrities cope with the press when they face it all the time.”
“I’m sure it gets old.” He squeezed her hand. “I thought you did very well.”
His comment warmed her. She wanted his approval, and she had worried that all this negative attention she’d been getting might affect his feelings toward her, whatever they might be.
As soon as he pulled the car up behind the main house, Garrett and Collin came out to meet them. Garrett opened Emma’s door as Brandon grabbed her bag from behind the seat.
“I’m sorry about what happened back at your place,” Garrett said after Brandon filled him in. “I’m glad Brandon brought you here. If anyone dares to set foot on our property, we’ll give them a real cowboy welcome.” The chill in his eyes belied his words and made Emma glad she wasn’t his enemy. Would he feel the same—would any of them—when the truth about Lexine came out?
“We’ll take good care of you,” Collin added with a smile.
Emma was warmed by their support. “Thank you,” she said, glancing at Brandon. “I’m glad to be here.”
“The housekeeper left us, but Cookie sent up a pot of beef stew and homemade biscuits from the bunkhouse,” Garrett volunteered. “There’s apple pie and ice cream for dessert.”
His words brought an answering growl from Emma’s stomach that was loud enough to make all four of them chuckle as they trooped up the back steps to the kitchen. The savory aromas of good food welcomed them inside.
“Is there something I can do to get supper on?” Emma asked, glancing around the immaculate kitchen. Although it was old-fashioned, with dark wood and dated appliances, the room was big and homey. She wanted to make it clear from the start that she didn’t expect to be waited on, especially after they’d worked hard all day.
Before Garrett could refuse her offer, Brandon cut in. “That’s a good idea. I’ll help you.”
His offer both surprised and pleased Emma, who’d assumed he was accustomed to full-time kitchen help of his own. Every time she tried to put him in a certain compartment, he managed to surprise her.
“Suit yourselves,” Garrett said with a shrug. “I still need to wash up. There’s salad fixings in the refrigerator, if you feel up to throwing one together.” He pointed at the cupboard. “Dishes in there. Silverware in the drawer. We’ll just be four tonight, so you can dish up whenever you like.”
Emma’s stomach growled again.
“Better make it soon,” Brandon said dryly.
After Garrett and Collin filed out, Emma took a quick survey. The stew pot was in the oven, the biscuits in a covered basket waiting to be warmed in the microwave sitting on the counter. The black appliance looked like a recent addition.
While Brandon made himself busy setting the table and making coffee, she put together a salad of torn greens, cherry tomatoes and grated carrot. They worked in companionable silence until she opened the oven door, mitts on both hands, and reached for the cast-iron pot.
“Let me do that.” In a blink Brandon was beside her.
Emma debated taking a stand, but the pot looked huge and it was probably heavy. “Thank you,” she said, handing him the mitts.
While he uncovered the stew, releasing a wonderful aroma, and set the pot on a metal trivet in the middle of the table, she heated the biscuits. She was about to ask him to summon the other men when she heard bootsteps on the hardwood floor. As soon as Garrett and Collin appeared with their damp hair slicked back and wearing clean shirts, Brandon pulled out a chair for Emma.
Once they were all seated, the biscuits and salad were passed. Like the performers in a well-orchestrated dance, Garrett ladled out portions of stew and Collin poured the coffee. For the first few minutes everyone ate silently.
Emma found the stew to be the best she’d ever had and the biscuits feather-light. She looked forward to meeting Cookie and she wondered how Brandon liked the plain, hearty fare. He’d never struck her as a picky eater and he was doing justice to this meal.
She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her appetite was healthy despite the day’s traumas. “My compliments to the cook,” she said when she’d taken the edge off her hunger.
“I’ll pass it along.” Garrett set down his spoon and put aside his empty bowl. “Brandon told us a little about the investigation,” he said as Emma tensed, a piece of biscuit halfway to her mouth. Perhaps he didn’t really want her here. “How are you holding up?”
His warm gaze and gentle voice were nearly her undoing. She swallowed hard and set down the bite of biscuit. Kindness from the very people her mother had hurt so badly was almost more than she could bear.
“I’m okay,” she replied with a glance at Brandon. “It’s nice of you to put me up, though. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing camera lenses sticking in my windows.”
“This is Brandon’s home and his friends are welcome,” Garrett replied.
Emma wondered if that was how Brandon had described their relationship. Then his hand squeezed her knee under the table, as if he could read her thoughts. He didn’t say anything, though. Well, what did she want, for him to announce they were lovers?
“Let us know if there’s anything we can do,” Garrett added. “If anyone else bothers you, they’ll have the Kincaids to deal with.”
“That’s right,” Collin added quietly.
Their generosity brought another lump of emotion to Emma’s throat and her smile was shaky. “Thank you,” she murmured.
As if he sensed her struggle for composure, Brandon changed the subject. “I want to give Emma a riding lesson in the morning,” he told Collin. “Which horse would be a good mount for her?”
Collin winked at Emma before he replied. “The same old nag you learned on, bro. It’s only been a few months since you lost your greenhorn status, you know.”
While the two men bantered, Emma concentrated on her dinner. Once everyone was done, she served the apple pie and ice cream while Brandon poured more coffee and Collin cleared off the dirty dishes.
“You don’t have to do the KP,” Garrett exclaimed when they were finished and Emma began loading the dishwasher. “This isn’t the Hip Hop.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep busy. Why don’t you tell me your schedule? I could take care of the meals while I’m here. The cook must have his hands full feeding the crew.” She hoped she wasn’t being presumptuous, but she’d go crazy if she had too much idle time.
Garrett and Collin exchanged glances.
“I’ll help,” Brandon offered.
“Cookie packs the lunches and sends over our supper, but you could serve it up like tonight and fix breakfast,” Garrett suggested. “If you’re really sure you don’t mind.”
“That’s settled, then,” Emma said briskly as she covered the leftover pie. “Let me find my way around the kitchen tonight while you men go have your brandy and cigar
s, or whatever it is you do after the meal.”
“It’s usually paperwork or the television,” Garrett corrected her. He slid back his chair. “Gentlemen, I think we’ve been given our marching orders and I suggest we make our escape before she hands us all towels and aprons.”
“I don’t mind helping,” Brandon said quietly after the other two men had thanked Emma again and left the kitchen. “Are you sure you want to tackle this alone?”
“Do you mind?” she asked. “I could use a few minutes to myself.”
He tucked one finger under her chin and lowered his head. “If you insist,” he murmured, “but don’t stay out here too long.”
Emma’s mind went blank as his mouth settled on hers, any reply she might have made swallowed up by the rush of sensation she felt when he took her in his arms and deepened the kiss.
“Oops!” exclaimed Collin from the doorway.
Brandon lifted his head with a frown of annoyance, but he kept an arm around Emma to prevent her from pulling away in embarrassment.
Collin was already backing out of the kitchen. “I wanted a toothpick, but it can wait.”
Brandon muttered an unflattering comment about jackasses and bad timing that made Emma giggle.
“What was that?” Collin demanded.
“Get your damn toothpick.” Brandon’s tone was definitely surly as he let Emma go and turned away, jamming his hands into his back pockets.
Collin crossed to the cupboard and found what he wanted. “If he gets out of line,” he told Emma after he’d stuck a toothpick into the corner of his mouth, “you just holler.”
Brandon snorted with disgust as Emma giggled again. “I’ll remember that.”
“On second thought, I’d better take him with me,” Collin decided. “Come on, Brandon. Cinderella has chores to do.” He folded his arms across his chest and propped his hip against the counter as he waited, a twinkle in his eyes.
Reluctantly Brandon followed Collin from the kitchen, grumbling under his breath. When the two men were gone, Emma breathed a sigh of relief and got to work. Sometimes a simple task and a basic routine were the best way to relax.