by Lisa Jackson
* * *
“Denver?”
He whirled, the old memories fading as he stared into Tessa’s worried eyes. Standing only inches from him, her golden hair catching in the breeze, a small smile quivering on her lips, she whispered, “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he muttered, praying silently that he would become immune to the fragrance of her perfume and the tenderness in her perfect features. The vision had been so real—so ghastly—that once again he remembered how she’d betrayed him. He swiped at his forehead with a shaking hand and noticed the beads of sweat lingering at his hairline.
“You . . . seem . . .”
“I said I’m fine!” he growled. If she would only go away so that he wouldn’t notice the way the hem of her skirt flirted around her knees or the shapely length of her calf. Right now, when his emotions were still raw, he couldn’t talk to her objectively, couldn’t slow the thundering rush of adrenaline in his blood. As much from her nearness as from the horrifying memory, his heart was hammering crazily, pumping blood in a rush that echoed through his brain.
She glanced at the ruins of what had been one of the grandest stables in the county. “It’s not easy,” she said softly—her voice as gentle as a lazy summer breeze. “I know. But it’s over. It was over a long time ago.”
“I only wish to God it were,” he said through clenched teeth. The memory of his parents seared through his mind until he willfully shut the agonizing thoughts aside.
Tessa swallowed hard. “I never said I was sorry,” she said quietly. “About what happened. But I am. You know that I cared for your father and mo—”
“It wasn’t your fault, remember?” His voice was like a whip cracking with sarcasm.
“Empathy has nothing to do with blame!” Her eyes blazed with gray-green fire and her small chin wobbled. “Hide it from everyone else and hide it from yourself, damn you, but don’t try to hide it from me! I know you too well.”
His eyes narrowed maliciously. “Knew me. Past tense. You don’t know me at all anymore.”
“You think not? You think I can’t see past that hard shell you’ve covered yourself with? Think again, Denver. Think back to what we meant to each other!”
“I already told you what we meant.”
Flushing furiously, she jabbed a finger at his chest. “So you did. You tried to hurt me, Denver, and you did one hell of a job at it. But I knew you then, and I can’t believe—no matter what’s happened—that you don’t have one shred of the decency, one ounce of the kindness and moral fiber you once did. I won’t accept that you have become a callous, jaded cynic who wants nothing more from life than enough money to keep him comfortable!”
His skin tightened menacingly. “You’re deluding yourself, Tess.”
“Am I? Then what about last night? Was that all my imagination, my delusions, or was that you?”
“I was drunk.”
“Not that drunk.”
“It was the booze talking.”
“I don’t think so,” she said fiercely. “Tell me, is it just me or the world in general that infuriates you?” Tossing her head proudly, she turned and strode back to the house.
Denver’s fists coiled. He watched her stomp up the steps to the back porch and heard the door bang shut. Swearing angrily under his breath, he slammed one clenched hand into the side of the machinery shed, sending splinters of siding flying through the dry air.
* * *
Flinging her skirt onto the bed, Tessa wondered why she bothered dealing with Denver. “. . . insufferable, arrogant bastard!” She kicked her shoes into the closet. Why had she even bothered trying to reach him? The man was the most temperamental, moody beast on the ranch!
One minute she thought he wanted to make love to her, the next strangle her. “Just the way you feel about him,” she reminded herself angrily.
She’d found him standing near the ruins of the stables, his face drawn with pain, his eyes focused on some private horror that only he could see, and she’d been foolish enough to try to comfort him.
“That’s what you get,” she muttered, flinging herself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and feeling like an utter fool. If only he would leave, end the turmoil, let her life return to its normal state.
But the thought of his actually packing his bags and walking out of her life again settled like a rock in her stomach. She threw one arm over her eyes and whispered, “You’re out of your mind, Tessa!”
How much more humiliation would she let him inflict? “None,” she promised herself, reaching for her jeans and tugging them over her hips. When Denver McLean left Montana again, she vowed silently to herself, she would wish him good luck, then pray that she never set eyes on him again.
Chapter Six
The phone rang. Without looking up from the papers strewn across the desk, Denver reached for the receiver. “McLean Ranch,” he muttered.
“Denver?” Ross Anderson’s voice boomed over the wires. “How’s it going?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He hadn’t talked to Ross since he’d left the attorney’s office nearly two weeks before.
“I thought you were heading back to L.A.”
“I got side-tracked. Your advice.” He leaned back in his chair and waited. Ross wouldn’t be calling without a reason.
“I thought you’d like to know I may have a lead on your brother.”
Denver sucked in his breath. Finally! “You’re sure?”
“Nothing’s sure until we see him,” Ross replied. “But a private detective in New York contacted one of the magazines he works for, and I think we may have gotten lucky. Just three weeks ago, Colton was in Belfast.”
“I’ll be damned,” Denver said, wondering if his luck were changing.
“You and me both,” Ross said with a laugh. “The investigator is flying to Ireland tonight. We should know something in the next couple of days.”
Denver sighed. “I guess I’ll owe you one, Ross.”
“Let’s wait and see. But the editor seems to think Colton is still working undercover, posing as a member of the IRA.”
Denver’s stomach knotted. “He’s lucky to be alive.”
“If he still is.”
“Let me know.”
“Oh, I will. The minute I hear.”
Denver hung up and wondered how Colton would take the news that he’d inherited half of the ranch and Tessa Kramer wanted to buy it. A slow smile spread over Denver’s features. If nothing else could entice Colton back to Montana, the threat of selling out to Curtis Kramer’s daughter just might.
* * *
Nate Edwards was a big, burly man whose dark hair was shot with gray. He’d been a horseman all his life, and his eyes gleamed as he leaned on the fence and watched Tessa lead Brigadier around the paddock.
“A fine-looking animal,” he said, eyeing the stallion. Brigadier’s muscles quivered as Nate reached across the top rail and rubbed the stallion’s muscular shoulder.
“I think he’s the best in the state.”
Nate smiled, exposing one gold-capped tooth. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. What about Black Magic?”
Tessa considered the gleaming black stallion—John McLean’s pride. “It’s hard to compare,” she said grudgingly. “But I’d still put my money on Brigadier.”
Nate’s gaze swung to the two mares, both pregnant, standing head to tail, and switching flies in the next paddock. “You’re sure you want to sell all three?”
No, she wasn’t, but she had no choice. For the past few years, she’d pinned her dreams on these animals, and the thought of selling the two mares and Brigadier hurt. But it was worth it, she told herself, for the ranch. “If I get the right price,” she whispered, as her fingers caressed Brigadier’s sleek neck. It seemed sacrilege to sell this horse. Aside from his value in dollars and cents, Brigadier had become a big part of her life. She enjoyed his feisty spirit and ornery streak. Now, Brigadier minced nervously, rolling his eyes until they showe
d white, as Nate opened the gate and slipped through.
“Careful,” Tessa warned.
Running his hands over Brigadier’s back, Nate moved slowly around the horse and had to jump out of the way when one back hoof lashed out, nearly connecting with Nate’s shin. “Friendly, isn’t he?”
“He can be,” Tessa said wistfully and offered Brigadier a piece of carrot. “But he can be trouble, too.”
“I’ll remember that,” Nate replied, giving the horse’s rear end a wide berth as he eased back through the gate.
Tessa unsnapped the lead rope and gave Brigadier a slap on the rump. The horse whirled, then took off, his long, red legs flashing as he raced to the far end of the paddock, his ears pricked forward to the next field where Red Wing, Ebony and Tessa’s other three mares grazed. The horses nipped grass and switched flies with their tails.
Tessa’s stomach tightened and her heart grew heavy. Selling her favorite horses felt like selling a vital part of her family. She felt a traitor to her own kin. A hot lump formed in her throat as she watched the three horses, ears still flicking nervously, standing quietly in the shade of a solitary pine.
“Tessa?” Nate asked gently. “If this is gonna bother you—”
“I’ll get over it,” she said, though her eyes burned with unshed tears. She hurried through the gate and managed a wan smile.
“Okay. But if you change your mind, let me know.” Nate turned toward his Jeep. “I’ll call you in the next couple of days with an offer.”
“I’ll look forward to it,” Tessa lied, her heart tearing a little. “And tell Sherrie I’m ready to give her riding lessons whenever she can convince Paula she’s old enough to handle a horse.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Nate chuckled, his eyes bright at the thought of his daughter. “If Paula has her way, Sherrie never will get into a saddle.”
Tessa nodded. “I’ll bet Sherrie convinces her otherwise.” “We’ll see. That chestnut mare—” He hitched his thumb toward the barn.
“Red Wing?”
Nate nodded and climbed into his Jeep. “I think Red Wing or that foal of hers will be perfect for Sherrie. Just give me a couple of days to convince my wife.” He slammed the door and started the engine.
Well, Tessa thought unhappily as she watched Nate’s Jeep disappear, the wheels were in motion. As soon as Nate bought the horses, she could make Denver a formal offer on the ranch. Kicking at a clod of dirt with the toe of her boot, she wondered why she didn’t feel happy at the prospect. She glanced again at the paddock. Ebony was playfully nipping Red Wing’s neck and was rewarded with a disgruntled kick. Tessa’s eyes filled with tears. Dear Lord, I’ll miss them, she thought, this small herd that had been the focus of her life until Denver returned.
Denver. He was behind all this. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought the urge to sag against the fence. Could she ever really trust him?
* * *
Two days later, Tessa was working with the most temperamental colt on the ranch. “Easy, now,” she cooed, straining against the lead rope. An ornery roan yearling, appropriately named Frenzy, was on the other end of the leather strap, pulling and bucking and being a real pain in the backside. As usual. The high-strung roan seemed to enjoy giving Tessa fits.
It didn’t help that Tessa had been in a foul mood herself ever since seeing Nate. And her nerves had been on edge since she noticed Denver watching her every move. She’d seen him staring through the study window, known he was in the barn, felt his eyes on her when she was going about her chores. Though they hadn’t said a word, the charged tension between them had been stretched as tight as piano string, ready to break.
Frenzy yanked hard on the rope, tossing his red head and whistling. The leather slid through Tessa’s hands. “Calm down,” she said, soothing the colt with her voice. She inched forward and Frenzy, wild-eyed, reared and bolted. The rope snapped taut and pulled her off her feet. She flew through the air and landed with a smack on the dry ground.
“Oof!” Her bones jarred. Lifting her head, she spied Frenzy at the far end of the paddock. “Ingrate!” Tessa whispered, standing slowly and dusting her jeans. “Stupid, miserable beast!”
Still muttering under her breath, she turned and found Denver standing in the shade of the barn. One shoulder propped against the weathered boards, his arms folded over his chest, he tried unsuccessfully to smother a smile. “I thought you saved all those endearments for me,” he said, chuckling.
Tessa’s temper, already worn thin, snapped. “No,” she said, “I’ve got special names for you.”
“I guess I should be honored.”
She shot him a warning glance. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that!”
“You’re just mad because he”—Denver cocked his head toward Frenzy, who was standing in a corner of the paddock, the lead rope dangling from his bridle—“got the better of you.”
“This time.” She winced and rubbed her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” Denver walked quickly through the gate and touched her upper arm.
She flinched, gritting her teeth.
“Maybe I should look at that.”
His touch was already playing havoc with her mind. “I’m fine,” Tessa said, shifting away. “The only thing that’s bruised is my pride.”
“He didn’t look so tough to me.” Denver surveyed the feisty colt.
“No?” she said. “You think you could do better?”
Denver rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Probably.”
“Good. Have at it.”
Denver’s gaze returned to hers and his eyes had darkened. “Okay. But maybe we should make this more interesting,” he drawled suggestively.
“It’ll be plenty interesting. I guarantee it.” She climbed onto the top rail of the fence for a better view.
“I was thinking in terms of a small wager—”
“I don’t gamble.”
One corner of Denver’s mouth lifted provocatively. “Sure you do, Tess. Unless you’ve changed.”
Her throat constricted for a second, and she looked away. “What’s the bet?” she asked, hating the breathless tone to her voice.
“Simple. If I get him to accept the saddle and walk calmly, I win.”
“And what’s at stake?”
“Name it.” His eyes glinted magnetic blue.
Tessa had trouble finding her voice. The heat in Denver’s gaze was equal to that of the late-afternoon sun still warming the valley floor. “Okay,” she finally said. “If you can get him to take the saddle and walk docilely around the ring, you win. But if he won’t take the saddle, you lose.”
“And my punishment?” he asked, squinting up at her, his sensuous mouth curving suggestively.
Tessa could barely breathe. “If you lose, I—I’ll expect you to work on the ranch the next week—shoulder to shoulder with the hands.”
“And if I win,” Denver said slowly, touching the side of her jaw with his finger, letting his hand slide slowly along it, “I’ll expect you to spend a weekend with me in California!”
“That’s impossible,” she said quickly. The thought of spending a weekend completely alone with him caused her heart to hammer. “I—I can’t be gone that long and—”
“And you’re afraid of what you’ll find out about me and maybe yourself,” he suggested, leaning lazily over the top rail of the fence, his elbow nearly touching her thigh.
“That’s not it! I have work here! Who’ll run the ranch if I leave?”
His face turned hard. “Your father,” he bit out. “After all, Curtis is the ranch foreman. That’s what I pay him for.”
“Dad can’t do it alone.”
“He’ll have Mitch and Len and the rest of the hands.”
“If you win.”
“Oh, I’ll win all right.” A slow smile spread over his face, and with the grace of an athlete, he strode across the paddock and started talking softly to the horse.
Tessa bit her lip and crossed her fingers. She couldn
’t lose—not after she’d promised to go with him to L.A. Come on, Frenzy, she silently pleaded, don’t let me down. Show him who’s boss!
As if he’d heard her, Frenzy reared and shrieked. Head high, nostrils flared, he galloped past Denver at breakneck speed. The ground shook.
Tessa wanted to whoop, but Denver, his eyes steady on the colt, kept after him, talking low, moving slowly. The lathered roan pawed the ground nervously and sprinted past Denver in the opposite direction.
“That’s it—” Tessa said.
“Not yet.” With the patience of a lion stalking prey, Denver kept walking, gradually making his way until he reached the dangling lead rope and slowly picked it up. Then, each move deliberate, he wrapped the leather around his hands, approached the horse and placed a calming hand on Frenzy’s quivering coat.
To Tessa’s mortification, he managed to lead the yearling to the fence where a blanket was folded over the top rail. Denver placed the blanket on Frenzy’s quivering, lathered hide.
The colt shied. He minced away from Denver, but Denver persisted and finally placed the saddle gently on Frenzy’s strong back. He tightened the cinch. The yearling, squealing, took off like a rocket!
Denver braced himself. The lead rope stretched tight, yanking hard on Denver’s arms. “Damn you,” Denver muttered as the colt dragged him forward a few feet.
Tessa grinned.
But Denver dug his heels into the ground. His shoulders flexed and strained. Frenzy bucked and reared, his hooves slashing as he tried to shake the horrid leather beast from his back, but he couldn’t rip the strap from Denver’s hands.
“You’re only going to wear yourself out,” Denver told the horse. Frenzy reared again, shrieking. Denver moved closer. “Come on, boy. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Clucking his tongue, Denver urged the colt forward.
Chagrined, Tessa watched as Frenzy began trotting around Denver. The colt was far from calm, his steps were nervous, his eyes rimmed in white, but he did, in fact, run at the end of the lead in a tight circle.
“How about that?” Denver said, gloating.
Tessa, grudgingly, conceded. “I didn’t think it was possible.”