by Karen Anders
She watched him, giving him a slightly scandalized look. “Okay, so you’re a hero with delicious layers,” she responded drily. “I’ll give you that.”
He brought his head up, his tone soft, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not now,” she whispered. “I’ve got to get to work. You go. Finish what you were doing. I’ll be all right.”
He was reluctant to let go of her, but this wasn’t about him. This was about her and what she had to do to really, fully lean on him. He couldn’t push that or pressure that.
He went back to the horse he was saddling and got the gelding ready, marveling at the well-behaved animal. Tamara took him, and Alanna walked onto the arena floor. She gave him a warm, tender look tempered with something that looked haunted and bruised, he retreated before he hauled her back to that empty stall.
Patience. He had to have that with her. Wait for her. That was one of the easiest things he’d ever done with horses. Have that staying power.
He closed his eyes, then opened them and prowled out of the arena.
He wasn’t playing with her heart; he was certain about that. When this was all over, it wouldn’t be up to him to decide what would happen between them.
It would totally be up to her.
Whether it was seconds or days, that...that would be the longest wait of all.
*
Jake went to Zorro’s stall and when he got some flak from the stallion, he clipped on a lead line and murmured to him, praising him as he asked him to move back and forth until he settled down. He went outside to the paddock, removed the lead line and replaced it with a lunge as Zorro came easy into the corral.
A couple of hands were at the fence and he noticed one of them was Henry. Clay stood a few feet away, also watching, but not interacting with Henry.
“Hey, horse whisperer,” Henry said. “Why aren’t you riding that stallion yet?”
The guy standing next to him huffed a laugh, but Clay just watched with an intentness that Jake recognized as an openness to learning. That made him smile. Maybe he had gotten to Clay.
“Come on,” he said in a soft, even tone. “Around the ring a few times—let’s see how we’re doing today.”
He let out the lunge line, standing in the center of the ring and working him along the fence. To his credit and Jake’s keen eye, he didn’t balk, which was promising. If anything, he seemed almost eager. That was a positive sign, too.
Even though he really needed to focus on the stallion and be fully present in working the horse, his mind couldn’t seem to get off what was going on with Alanna. What had happened to put that look on her face?
This woman was doing more to him than he should let her. Trying to put everything in perspective was what he needed. He rounded along the far end of the paddock...only to discover Alanna leaning against the fence as they came around the other side.
Well, he hadn’t minded the other audience, but Alanna was heavily on his mind right now.
He smiled at her as he worked Zorro closer to where she stood.
He moved Zorro off the fence slightly, and nodded to Alanna as they passed. She gave him a pointed look, saying his attention should be on the horse.
All of them were still watching as he brought the horse around the ring one more time, his glossy black coat catching the sun and showing its shine.
He started to slow the horse, figuring he’d had enough time on the lunge. He wanted to work with touch and see if he could get the horse to move without the lunge. Show him that the herd leader was this two-footed, determined man.
There was a sudden popping noise and Zorro reared his head back. Jake, too lost in his thoughts to react quickly enough, was a split second too late.
The horse sidled and shoved him hard into the fence where his head bounced off the top slat, momentarily stunning him.
“Jake!” Alanna called, but he couldn’t get his bearing fast enough. Then there was another pop and the horse’s sudden lunge snapped the lead tight in his grip, yanking him forward, off his feet. He landed hard on his knees and hands, then went sprawling in the dirt as Zorro took off. Had he not let go, he’d have been dragged face-first.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Clay clear the fence in one high hurtle and quickly, instinctively, lift his hand to warn him off even as he was scrambling to his feet. Jake took off after Zorro, who was stampeding toward the end of the ring and the stable gate.
He didn’t have time to look to see what had set the horse off, but he suspected Henry had done something to spook him on purpose.
“Please, don’t jump,” he murmured. Then he saw Clay standing his ground while Zorro pounded straight for him, with only the gate between them.
“Move!” Jake shouted, knowing that yelling right now was not a good idea, but having no choice. He was running full-out behind the horse, with no hope of catching him. It was like watching a train wreck about to happen and being helpless to stop it.
Jake had never liked that feeling.
Clay moved, but toward Zorro, not away. He didn’t run, but moved steadily toward the gate, his hands raised, palms out, not waving them around, but holding them steady.
At the last possible second, Zorro seemed to falter and pull up just slightly. Even in his panic, he didn’t see Clay as a threat.
“Good boy, Zorro, that’s the way,” Jake called out, keeping his voice as calm as he could. He slowed as he came up along the fence beside him, keeping well clear of his hind legs.
Clay stopped on the other side of the gate, hands still up as Zorro dug in and tried to slow down, balking now as the gate drew closer.
Jake held his breath as the horse slowed even more, trotting a few steps. Slowed sufficiently, he trotted past the stable gate, then danced sideways a bit into the center of the ring, spooked still and more than a little confused by what had happened.
Clay had already eased toward the horse, talking to him as he drew closer. “Whoa there. Good boy,” Clay said, doing all the right things, approaching the horse slowly, using a calm, steady tone, talking continuously, gauging his reaction so he wouldn’t bolt again. Jake couldn’t be prouder of him. The kid had either been doing some studying, interacting with Zorro, or both.
“Careful,” Alanna called out as she caught up. He calmed a bit more and turned to look at Jake. He ambled closer, head down, eyes not as wild and he nudged Jake.
Alanna stood a good ten yards away and her eyes widened and he could hear her audible gasp. Zorro was still breathing heavily through his nose, but his ears were twitching toward Clay, no longer pinned back, and he was clearly listening to what the kid was saying.
“Jake,” Alanna said, her voice tinged with anger. “I want to talk to you.”
“In a minute,” he said, “I can’t let this training session end on a bad note.”
“Jake—”
“Give me a few minutes, Alanna.”
She narrowed her eyes and turned and marched back to the fence, slipped through the slats. Clay gave Jake a look that said he wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.
“Good job, Clay.” Jake gripped his shoulder and squeezed. “Good instincts.” He picked up the lead line as he felt the trickle of blood slip down his temple. He ignored it, sending the horse into another circle. When Clay tried to retreat, Jake took his hand and set it on the lunge line.
Clay sucked in a breath and a huge grin split his face as he focused his attention on the horse. After a few times around, Jake was totally aware of Alanna’s hot gaze burning the back of his neck. He led the horse over to the water and Zorro drank heavily, snorted in the way that said, Okay, you might be a pretty tough herd leader, but no bad feelings.
He unclipped the lunge and ducked through the slats with Clay right behind him.
“See you around,” Clay said, glancing a little ways away at Alanna. Jake nodded.
“Thanks for the quick thinking.”
Clay leaned over. “I can’t prove it, but I think Henry was the
one who made those noises. I’m not sure how.”
“Yeah,” he said as he met Henry’s eyes and the gleam of satisfaction in them. He laughed, hit the guy standing next to him on the arm. They walked away, laughing.
As Clay walked away, Alanna grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him toward the arena. Once inside the dim interior, she dragged him through the doorway, catching the door with her heel. Grasping his shoulder, she forced him down into a chair, her tone firm when she said, “Sit down.”
She went behind her desk and pulled out a white first aid kit and opened it. She walked over to him, her flat gaze unreadable. Taking out some gauze pads and a brown bottle, she walked back to him and bent over him, the scent of her full of horses, sweat and all woman. She pressed the pad to the open end of the bottle and tipped it.
“Are you seeing double? Do you have a headache? Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
“No, no, and um, no.”
She gave him a sharp look and he added quietly, “Ma’am.”
“Don’t be cute with me right now, Jake,” she said, and he’d only heard that tone once when she’d told him not to argue with her when he’d first gotten there.
“Got it. No cowboy charm.”
She dabbed at his temple and he hissed in a breath at the cut’s sting. She grabbed his chin when he pulled away and held him steady. “Don’t be a baby.”
He winced again, but she cleaned it thoroughly, then pressed a bandage to it. “It doesn’t need stitches,” she snapped.
He nodded.
She paced away and folded her arms over her chest, her back rigid. “You should probably get back to work.”
She looked pissed. She acted pissed, but her voice gave her away. He rose and came up behind her, turning her, but she didn’t unfold her arms or give him an inch.
“I’m all right,” he murmured, trying to pull her into his arms. “He didn’t hurt me that bad.”
But she wasn’t having any of it. She fought out of his embrace and put the desk between them. “What about the next time?” she hissed. He looked into her eyes. What he saw there was what he suspected. He just hadn’t expected her concern to hit him so hard. Raw fear for his safety radiated. This was intimate fear, the kind a woman had for a man she cared about more than she wanted to let on.
That one small realization touched him like little else had. He waited for the feeling to ease, then said, “Alanna, don’t overreact.” His voice was gruff.
It was the worst thing he could have said. Her eyes flashed even hotter and she shook her head. “Don’t tell me how to feel, Jake. Don’t.”
His entire world shifted to some new position, rotating on a completely different axis, with an orbit that was no longer his own to navigate. It should have scared him more. He went around the desk and her look warned him off, but he kept going.
He wished this damn assignment was over. He wished she didn’t have dragons he couldn’t slay right now. He jerked her against him, tightening his arms when she stayed stiff and unresponsive.
Then she abruptly turned her face against his neck and released her arms, slipping them around his waist and he felt her chest expand with a shudder against him. “He could have killed you,” she said with less heat.
Affected by her emotional struggle, Jake drew her deeper into his embrace and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I’m all right,” he said huskily. “I know what I’m doing.”
She tried to pull away, but he held her. She mumbled into his throat, “I have had enough of this. That stallion goes and I’ll tell Fowler to his face.”
“No. Zorro was deliberately spooked to make me look bad. When this gets back to Fowler, he might fire me.”
She stared at him and gave him one of her dry looks. “No, he wants that stallion tamed too badly and he said you were the best, so, Jake, trust your instincts.” She chewed on her lip. “I did hear the popping noises. What do you think caused them?”
“I don’t know, but if I find out...” He bent down and gave her a soft, lingering kiss. She gave herself up to it, but then pushed at his chest.
“You’d better get back to work, but please be careful.”
He backed away from her and exited the office. Be careful? He was already doing the most reckless thing on the planet.
He was falling for the heiress, a suspect no less, one who broke the princess mold into tiny pieces and shattered him to smithereens.
He’d already blasted way past careful.
Chapter 12
All through the next week, Jake backed off. He didn’t push her, he didn’t try to get her talking, and he never asked her why she had that bruised, haunted look in her eyes. And he didn’t ask her why he kept seeing traces of the fear that had surfaced after he’d gotten caught between Zorro and the fence.
He guessed she was wrestling with deep-seated emotions, and he knew she was more vulnerable than she’d ever allowed herself to be. It was just a gut feeling. It was as if she was stranded on a high, narrow ledge. No matter what he did or said, it didn’t matter a damn unless she let go and took that first step. He didn’t care how big a step it was, or how she took it. He just knew nothing would change unless she did.
There were times when he felt as if he was an inch away from going crazy, and then there were times when she’d seemed so damned fragile that he would get her alone somewhere and just hold her. And every time he did it, she would huddle in his arms, almost as if he was a lifeline.
At night, she didn’t want comforting or gentleness. There was a kind of wildness in her, an urgency, and she pushed him to the limit, pushed him until he finally lost it. And then the fire in her would consume him, and he would need her so damn bad and be so desperate to get inside her that there was no room for patience, for gentleness, for comfort.
He’d never had such powerful climaxes. And he’d never been so emptied afterward. Or so hollow. He had never, ever used a woman to satisfy his own needs, but he felt as if he was using her now, and it bothered the hell out of him. He probably would have had it out with her, except afterward, when they lay spent and trembling in each other’s arms, she seemed to need him more than ever. She would hold on to him, her whole body trembling, and even in her sleep, she stayed close.
There were so many times when he came close to asking her what was wrong, but he didn’t. He needed her to take that first step by herself. She had to let go of whatever handhold she was hanging on to and come to him. She had to; it wouldn’t be worth anything if he forced her into it.
In the meantime, there was still no return call from Jeremy Bellows and as the time passed, he worried more about how the investigation would go. There wasn’t a whole lot of evidence to link her to her father’s disappearance, but circumstantial evidence could be used to try to build a case against her.
He had tried several times, but the woman on the other end of the phone kept putting him off. Finally, the sheriff went out to his home and there was no answer. At his office, his receptionist indicated that he was away and wouldn’t be back for a while. She said she’d be happy to contact them when he returned.
It was a few days after Zorro had bolted and Jake got an opportunity to pick the lock to Henry’s room. He realized anything he found in there couldn’t be used in court, but he hoped to find some clue that would at least confirm Henry was a drug dealer. He let himself in just after dinner when Dylan and Henry were busy playing poker downstairs. He moved through the darkened apartment methodically, but found nothing until he reached the bedroom. There on the nightstand was a small bag of balloons. Jake realized Henry had blown up two of them and then popped them when he’d been training Zorro. That bastard had wanted Jake to get hurt. It made him wonder if Henry had somehow recognized him. He did after all chase the perp that night Tim was murdered.
But, no, if Henry knew he was a Ranger, wouldn’t he have hightailed it out of here? Unless he was just biding his time until Jake was finished his job with Zorro.
Later that nigh
t when Alanna came to him, nothing seemed to change in their lovemaking. Maybe she was considering this an affair and didn’t want to take their relationship to the next level. He wanted more and he shouldn’t. Really, he was here to do a job, but her cooperation would make it an easier task.
It was later when he woke up alone in bed that he expected to find her gone, but she wasn’t. She stood at the balcony, her arms folded tightly in front of her, his oversize shirt covering her delectable body. He wished he knew how to reach her, but sometimes problems, deep-seated ones, had to be worked out alone.
Resting his shoulder against the door frame, he said huskily, “You okay, darlin’?”
Her stiffening indicated she hadn’t heard him enter the room. She turned and said, “I just couldn’t sleep.”
He closed the distance between them. “It’s okay. Whatever you’re thinking about, I won’t try to pry it out of you,” he whispered softly.
For a moment she dropped her guard and the knot in his gut eased. She nodded. Not wanting to push her any further, he closed the distance, giving her a reassuring smile as he framed her face with his hands. He held her gaze for a moment, then lifted her face and gave her a slow, comforting kiss. He heard her breath catch, and she gripped his wrists. Moving his mouth gently over hers, breathing in the clean scent of her, he drew her deeper in his embrace. Then he turned her toward the bedroom. Without letting her go, they negotiated the doorway.
He pulled the T-shirt over her and stripped his jeans off, then slid into the bed beside her. When she started to stroke him, he snagged her wrist and brought her hand to his mouth where he kissed her palm, then set her hand against his chest.
“Let me just hold you,” he murmured. He needed it as much as she did.
*
After a week had passed, Alanna still couldn’t get out of her head the terrible image of Zorro almost crushing Jake against the rails. She woke often with a headache, a dull throb that plagued her every movement. She had resisted going to his apartment. She needed to figure something out before she saw him again.