by Karen Anders
“Oh, right. That would be cruel when Mrs. Morely makes the best King David cobbler and I have crème fraîche to go with it.”
“I don’t know exactly what that is, but it sounds delicious. So, you’re not that much of a tough taskmaster, then?” He gave her a hangdog look.
She nudged his shoulder and smiled. “Oh, I’m tough,” she murmured, “but Mrs. Morely always gives me a generous helping and to keep my hips from spreading, it would be good to share.”
He looked up and met her gaze, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Ah, this is all about you.”
“Pretty much. Does that mean you don’t want any?”
He chuckled and said quickly, “I didn’t say that.”
She smirked and nodded. “I thought so.” She pulled the cover off the cobbler and dished up two good-sized helpings, then dolloped each with a generous blob of crème fraîche. Handing him his portion, she said, “It’s a sour cream base combined with butterfat, by the way.”
He nodded and dug in and then rolled his eyes, a hum of satisfaction rolling from deep in his chest. She took her own bite as they ate the dessert in silence.
Jake looked up, his expression thoughtful. “If your father was here, would he support you? With branching out?”
She chewed and shrugged, then answered once she’d swallowed. “I think so, but if my daddy was here, I probably wouldn’t have to. Fowler would be more focused on Colton Incorporated and I could swing my daddy around to my way of thinking.”
His eyes sharpened as if his attention was piqued. “You were at odds regarding the stables?”
She got a little fission of wariness in her stomach, fluttering like butterflies. “Let’s say it was a push-and-pull relationship.”
“It must be terrible not to know what happened to him” he said, sympathy laced through his deep voice.
“It is,” she said, unable to keep the concern and worry out of her voice. There was a lot of turmoil in her family, but she would never wish her father ill will. She wanted this whole thing solved and him back home. “Without a ransom note we are not sure if he was kidnapped or if he’s...dead.”
He frowned, finishing off the cobbler on his plate. “I hope that’s not the case.” She scooped out the rest of the cobbler and added the topping, handing him the plate. “It seems Zane was cleared of any suspicion.”
“He was.”
“Does that throw the spotlight on other family members?”
She stiffened. It felt too much like he was probing and she was reluctant to continue on with this discussion. “Are you asking me if I think someone in this family had something to do with my father’s disappearance?”
“Do you?” he said solemnly.
Her eyes narrowed and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a mistake. “You ask an awful lot of questions for a ranch hand.”
He looked immediately conciliatory. “Just curious about you, about your family. But more about you. Just piecing together the woman instead of the myth.”
She relaxed into the cushions and finished off her last bite. It wasn’t surprising in the least. Many people wondered about the Coltons. “Ha, yes, I get that.”
“Take this Colton Valley Ranch Gives Back,” he said, changing the subject and she wondered if it was because the other subject of her family was obviously making her antsy. “That was your brainchild, correct?”
“Yes.”
“In the tack room, you were about to tell me why you got interested in troubled teens. I’d really like to hear about that.”
“It all stems from my adopted sister, Piper. She was orphaned and my father took her in. I just couldn’t help wondering what might have happened to her if she’d been abandoned. Would she have ended up on the street? Would she have become a troubled teen? That made me want to do something to help other kids who might not have the advantage of wealth and family ties.”
His voice was very husky and he covered her hand where it lay on her thigh. His hand was so seductively warm and big it swallowed hers. “That’s admirable, Alanna.”
For some insane reason Alanna found herself fighting tears and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the intense feelings that were growing in her.
Turning her hand beneath his, she laced her fingers through his and stood up. “Come on,” she said quietly as she pulled him to his feet. “Time to get moving before we get out of hand.”
He didn’t release his hold on her immediately, and there was something deeply reassuring about that physical link. He gazed at her a moment longer and then let her go, a gleam in his eyes. “Yes’um, boss lady.”
With a lighter heart, she grinned at him. “Just as long as you’re aware of who’s in charge.”
He grinned back at her as he settled the gray Stetson on his head and pulled the brim low over his eyes. “I’m quite aware.”
She opened the door and he stepped out into the balmy night. “Good night, Jake. Thank you for being so kind.”
“It didn’t have anything to do with kindness, Alanna. Good night.”
She so wanted him to kiss her again, even though she knew it was stupid to want it. “Don’t tempt me with that look, Alanna,” he growled. Then he turned and she could hear the jingle of his spurs fading as he headed toward the barn. Her knees went totally weak as she braced her back against the doorjamb. She was hot and cold, and she felt as though she could slide right into a pile of goo on the ground.
Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and weakly rested it against the frame waiting for her pulse to return to normal.
Then that musical jingle was back and moving fast. She opened her eyes and Jake was standing there in front of her. His blue, Lord, so blue eyes liquid in the ambient light from her suite, his expression taut and filled with a heart-stopping tenderness. He was hatless, his inky hair tousled and soft against his forehead. With infinite gentleness he rested his knuckles against her jaw and slowly smoothed his thumb across her cheek, an irresistible half smile pulling at his mouth. “Damn you, Alanna,” he said, his voice low and husky.
Feeling as though her whole body was paralyzed by the magic of his touch, Alanna gazed up at him, her expression soft and misty. “You should have kept walking, cowboy,” she whispered unevenly.
He leaned in and her heart sped up as he braced his forearm against the doorjamb above her head, effectively bracketing her body between the wood and all that hard-packed muscle. With his free hand, he very lightly drew his thumb across her bottom lip, his eyes tracking the progress. “I know, boss lady. I know, but you fight dirty.”
“So do you, Jake McCord,” she said, her hand rising and resting on his hard, broad chest, her fingers aching to touch the tantalizing skin between the open collar of his shirt. He smelled earthy and male, making all her female parts go haywire.
Her pulse erratic, his jaw taut and as though drawn against his will, without saying a word, he jammed his hand into her hair, right at the base of her braid. His fingers tightening, he pulled her head back, a galvanizing charge sizzling between them as her gaze locked with his, and then silently he lowered his head, covered her mouth with a hard, heated kiss. She clutched at his shirt, her fingers slipping against his smooth, exposed skin. His mouth took hers without any charm or grace. Just raw, exciting need.
He hauled in a ragged breath, then murmured against her tingling lips, “I knew you were trouble the minute I laid eyes on you. See you later.” And with that he turned and walked away.
All she could do was try to breathe around the fire in her lungs as she touched her thoroughly kissed mouth.
*
Jake rode away from the big house with a raging hard-on and kicking himself all the way. He’d fallen victim to the woman’s allure, her need for comfort was genuine. There was no doubt in his mind. But he was walking a sharp, lethal edge here. Keeping his professional detachment would only get as hard as his erection if he kept getting close to her. But, unfortunately that was part of the job. He would have to skirt that
fine line a bit. If only he could stop kissing her, that would be a start. Except the more he kissed her, the more he wanted to continue to kiss her and do other things to that tantalizing body.
The fresh shower smell of her and the musky scent of an aroused woman, stuck with him all the way back to the apartment. He took care of his horse and stopped at the entrance to the barn, running his hand over his face. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and just caught the glimpse of a blonde woman sneaking into the apartments.
He started walking, cursing the jingle of his spurs as he stayed on the balls of his feet to minimize the sound. But when he got to the stairs and went up, she was nowhere to be found. Who was she and who had she come to see?
He went up to the third floor and let himself into his quarters. Toeing off his boots, he stripped down to nothing and got in the shower.
He washed his overheated body and then turned the tap to cold only and hissed and gasped as the icy water shocked against his heated skin.
Drying off, he found that even a cold shower couldn’t stop his body from responding to the memory of those soft, moist lips and lithe, tantalizing curves of Alanna’s body. He could only console himself with the fact that he had managed to glean some information out of her tonight. She’d been jumpy when he’d started asking about her father.
That did not give him an ounce of joy.
Alanna Colton had a very strong motive for kidnapping her father.
Or, he closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep, worse.
Murdering him.
Chapter 7
“You missed dinner last night,” Ellen Martin said as she set some bags down on the counter and smiled at the half-filled coffeepot. “Up early?”
Jake returned her smile from the chair at the table. “Got some things on my mind,” he said noncommittally as she took out milk, eggs and bacon, setting everything on the counter. She dropped the bag in the trash. Heavy-duty things, he thought. Alanna Colton things, he clarified as he sipped at the hot brew. He had barely slept a wink, his overheated body and imagination keeping him in a frustrated limbo as he contemplated all the reasons he should give up this assignment. In the wee hours of the morning, tired of battling himself, he’d come downstairs and made a pot of coffee. He was still sitting here with not one answer to all the tangled questions.
She had him damn tangled up all right.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry.” She chuckled softly.
“I ate last night, but thanks for the consideration.” He fingered the brim of his hat that lay on the table next to his hand. “That said, I am starving right now and would definitely not say no to breakfast.”
Feeling boxed in with no avenue to escape, he toyed with the leather of the hat’s band. Alanna was so damn tempting. How was he going to keep his hands off her? All she had to do was give him one of those tender looks like she’d been giving him last night and he would cave.
“Jake?”
He dragged his attention back to Ellen. “Sorry?”
“I said it’s a good thing, because I’m getting ready to cook it.”
Exhaling sharply, he nodded as someone pounded down the stairs and came into view. A teenage girl with the same mahogany-brown hair and hazel eyes as Ellen, her eyes twinkling.
“Mom, can I have pancakes?”
“Did you pick up your room?”
She pulled a rueful face. “It was too heavy, so I didn’t bother.” She plopped down at the table and smiled, offering her small hand. “Hi, I’m Daisy Martin.”
Her smile was infectious and he smiled back, clasping her hand for a quick shake. “Jake McCord.”
“Oh, she’s got some jokes first thing in the morning,” Ellen said without even turning around. She was obviously used to her daughter’s shenanigans.
Daisy glanced at him and grinned, a smile most likely perfected to melt her mom’s heart. “I’d be willing to negotiate for some fluffy, syrupy, buttery goodness.”
“You having a good time laying on that Daisy charm, young lady?” She reached up to a cupboard and pulled out a mixing bowl and Daisy’s eyes lit up. “Now, is your room done?”
“Yes’um.”
“Vacuumed and dusted?”
She licked her lips in anticipation, “So dust-free, Mr. Clean would be giving me a thumbs-up.”
Ellen turned from the counter and narrowed her eyes as she started setting mugs on the table. “Your laundry’s gathered up?”
“Big pile right in front of the washing machine just pining to be washed, folded and squeaky clean.” Daisy gave her a guileless smile.
Ellen set her hands on her hips, her mouth twitching. “Bed made?”
“With hospital corners. You could bounce a quarter off it.”
Jake chuckled and Ellen gave him a don’t-encourage-her look.
“Well, that’s too bad. You know we strip our linens on Saturday.”
Daisy groaned. “Ah, come on, Mom. I forgot. Can’t I get breakfast first? I’m just aching for pancakes,” she said with a dramatic flair to her voice.
She shook her head. “Go ahead and strip your bed. I’m sure you didn’t hear your sheets aching to be squeaky clean, too.”
“Very funny,” Daisy muttered. Her tone registering her disappointment.
“You’ll thank me when you have fresh, clean bedding when you go to sleep tonight. I’ll get those pancakes going.”
Daisy sighed dramatically as only teenagers can do. “She beats me and makes me do awful things,” she whispered to him.
“Do you deserve it?” he whispered back, and Ellen laughed.
“I’m going,” Daisy groused, getting no sympathy.
Ellen still chuckling looked over at him. “You want eggs, bacon and toast or are you aching for pancakes?” she said with the same drama.
Jake chuckled as a deep voice from the right said, “Both for me.” Clay Ford settled in the next seat over and Jake noticed how the kid’s eyes followed Daisy as she climbed the stairs. She gave Clay a bold smile and direct look as she disappeared out of view. A straight-out invitation if he’d ever seen one. The feeling between these two was mutual. He remembered how he’d been a walking hormone when he’d been sixteen. He wondered how much restraint bad boy Clay would have around Ellen’s daughter.
“Hmm, that’s quite a bit of food,” Ellen said.
“I’m a growing boy,” he said, giving her a disarming smile. She smiled back and poured a steaming cup of coffee into the mug in front of him. She went back to the counter, grabbing up and then setting two creamers on either end of the table. There was already sugar in the lazy Susan in the middle. But Clay ignored the sugar and went for the creamer.
“How about you, Jake?”
He glanced at Clay, grinning. “I’ll take both, too.”
Voices drifted down from above and there were footsteps on the stairs as other men entered the kitchen. Dylan Harlow settled in a chair at the head of the table and Mike Jensen took a seat across from Clay. Ellen brought the coffeepot, filling Dylan’s and Mike’s mugs.
Henry Swango came in as she was refilling Jake’s cup and his eyes went over her in an insolent way as he sat next to Clay and shoved his mug across the table for her to fill. “Stuff in this kitchen always looks so tasty good,” he drawled, his eyes going over her again.
Clay’s shoulders stiffened when Henry Swango leaned over into Clay’s personal space and said with a surly tone, “Hey, kid.” Clay nodded. Tension radiated off him. Henry completely avoided Jake’s eyes and didn’t even bother to greet him. There was something menacing about the guy and the fact that he may be the man who killed Tim Preston made Jake’s blood boil.
That brought back the memories of Tim’s pretty wife and the tears on her face, the shell-shocked look of a woman who had lost everything, still round and heavy with their unborn child. He’d never forget the look in her eyes. Every man on that task force would have been ecstatic to see the man who’d killed Tim behind bars.
Before Jake had
come downstairs, he’d called headquarters, but his boss had been adamant. Getting information on the family was his number one priority and going after Henry would blow his cover. He was ordered to lay low until the Colton operation was over, then they could look harder at Henry. He’d argued that Henry could be a potential cop killer. But when his boss asked for something concrete, Jake didn’t have anything to give him. They would run him through the system and see what popped, but in the meantime, his attention needed to be on Alanna.
That didn’t sit well with Jake. While he was pussyfooting around with his covert operation, a murderer and drug dealer could slip through his fingers. As a cop, that rankled and only added to his disillusionment.
Daisy came back downstairs and settled between Clay and Jake along with several other hands who joined them at the long table. Ellen was soon busy cooking and serving them all, but he noticed Henry touch her arm and her draw away from him several times.
Henry, obviously feeling Jake’s scrutiny, turned his head and gave him a level, hostile look behind those shifty ice-blue eyes of his. He said nothing, his gaze flicking away.
The conversation revolved around bar visits and the local ladies, but everyone, except Henry, kept it from spilling over into offensive.
“Let’s keep it clean,” Jake murmured, aware Daisy was looking a bit uncomfortable.
Henry smirked and said, “Who died and made you sheriff?”
“I second it,” Ellen said firmly, giving Henry a distasteful look and Jake a grateful one.
Setting his hands on the table, Dylan pushed up from his chair and stood up. “I guess we should get to work, boys, before we have the foreman in here after us.”
There was the sound of scraping chairs and men started leaving the table. Clay stood up and Jake went to pick up his own plate and cup. Ellen waved him off.
“I’ve got it.”
Henry was near the sink, washing his hands when Ellen came over with an armful of dishes. He sidled close to her and said something too soft for Jake to hear, but whatever the man said made her stiffen and give a shocked, menacing look.