by Lisa Jackson
Denver’s face was covered with dust, but he was grinning from one ear to the other. When he finally pulled the saddle from Frenzy’s back and unsnapped the lead, he couldn’t help rubbing his victory in. “Easy as pie—if you know what you’re doing,” he said.
Tessa felt the perverse urge to ram Frenzy’s bridle down Denver’s throat, but she said instead, “Good job.”
“So, how soon can you get packed?”
Her eyes rounded. “You’re not serious.”
“We had a bet,” he reminded her.
“But I can’t leave!”
“I thought we already discussed this.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and shoved a jet-black lock of hair away from his face. “I have some things I’ve got to take care of here, too,” he said, “but then, you and I are going to L.A.”
She fought back the urge to scream at him. For years she’d been able to hate the city where he’d run. It was easy to blame California for the pain he’d caused. But she’d never reneged on a bet in her life, and now, as she stared at his dust-streaked face, she found herself wanting to go to Los Angeles, to find out more about him, to know every tiny detail of his life. “Give me a few days,” she said, hopping to the ground beside him.
“Okay. But since I have to wait, I think you owe me something.”
“I don’t owe you anything—”
He placed a finger to her lips. “Before you go flying off the handle, just listen. All I want is to spend a little time with you.”
Her heart fluttered expectantly. “We’re together all the time—”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
That much was true. “I thought you wanted it that way.”
“Maybe I did,” he admitted. “But since we’re stuck here together, we should try to get along.”
She laughed. “Impossible.”
“Is it, Tess?” His voice was suddenly serious, his gaze far off, as he stared at the hills.
She swallowed against a lump in her throat. The tender side of Denver had always broken through her resistance. As she stared at him, his face grimy, his hair windblown, the hard edge to his features temporarily erased, she couldn’t say no. “What do you want to do?”
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “I’ll show you.”
“Wait—Denver—” But he was running across the yard, past the house. She had trouble keeping up with him, taking two strides to his one. “Where are we going?” she asked, gasping for breath, as they wound down a seldom used path to the small lake nestled in a thicket of oak and maple.
Blackberry vines crept through the underbrush and high overhead, beneath the tattered clouds, geese flew, their V formation seeming to float over the sun-dappled water. The old dock was gray and beginning to rot. It listed as it stretched into the lake.
“I haven’t been here since I’ve been back,” Denver said, eyeing the lake’s smooth surface.
“It’s low this year,” Tessa remarked, conscious that her hand was still linked with Denver’s.
Glancing down at her, he smiled, then led her to the small stretch of sandy beach. Taking a clean handkerchief from his pocket, he dipped it in the water, then gently wiped her face. “Evidence of Frenzy’s victory,” he chuckled, exposing her freckles and tracing the slope of her cheek.
Shivering expectantly, she took the handkerchief from him. “You, too.” Though her hands shook a little, she pressed the wet cloth to his forehead and cleaned the dirt from his smooth brow. “That’s better.”
She tried to pull her hand away, but his fingers curled possessively around her wrist. His eyes turned dark blue. “You’re a fascinating woman, Tessa,” he said quietly, “the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.”
Slowly, using his weight, he tugged on her arm, pulling her down to the dry grass, half-lying beside her. She knew she should get up, stop this madness before it started, but she couldn’t. Her heart thudded over the quiet lapping of the lake.
“You’re not what I expected.” His gaze delved deep into hers, so deep she was sure he could see her soul, that her love for him was painfully obvious. His fingertips moved leisurely over her wrist, as if they had all the time in the world to get to know each other again. The earth was warm against her back, the sky turning a soft shade of lavender.
“I thought you’d be the same as when I left.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “I grew up.”
“I noticed.” His eyes drifted down her body, his gaze scraping against her curves.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
He traced her eyebrows with one finger and she had trouble concentrating on anything but the warmth in his touch.
“That’s the problem, Tessa,” he admitted, his eyes searching her face. “I’m not disappointed. I wish I was. Things would have been so much simpler.” He pulled her into the circle of his arms and held her close, his lips brushing her crown, his breath stirring her hair. She shouldn’t be this close to him, Tessa thought. She shouldn’t let his kind words in.
“I didn’t think you’d become so . . . determined. You always had a mind of your own but I thought you would change. That after the fire—” His breath fanned her ear and warning bells rang in her mind.
She couldn’t let him do this to her! Not now. Not when so many things were unsettled. Not when his scars on the inside were more visible than those across the back of his hand.
She pushed against his chest. Half of her wanted to stay curled in the security of his arms, the other half knew that lying with him near the deserted lake was dangerous. “If you taught me anything, Denver, it was that I had to stand on my own two feet.” The old bitterness returned; she struggled and failed to get away from him. “Fortunately Mitchell was around,” she added, remembering those first excruciating weeks.
“Mitch?”
“He helped me pull myself together!”
“I thought he went into the Army.”
“Not until he knew that I was okay,” she said quietly, remembering back to the pain of Denver’s rejection. It still hurt—that burning, gaping hole in her heart. “He was here when you weren’t.”
“And now he’s back—hanging around, doing nothing.”
“You just don’t understand, do you?” she scoffed. “He came back here after the Army because he had a few months to kill before he started school. He’s—he’s been a big help.”
“Doing what?” Denver asked skeptically.
“Making fence, feeding the stock, repairing the machinery. Just generally helping out.”
“And all this time I thought he was just sponging off you.”
Tessa’s temper flared. “That’s what happens when you live in California and make rash judgments!”
“Is that what I’ve done?” he mocked, refusing to release her.
Was he laughing at her? “Of course it is!”
“Tell me about life in L.A. As you see it,” he goaded.
She rose to the bait. “I’d be glad to.” Struggling up to one elbow, she shoved her hair from her eyes. “My guess is that you live in your chrome-and-glass apartment with a security guard at the door. Drive a sports car thirty miles an hour in bumper to bumper traffic. Spend vacations in Hawaii or Mexico or Catalina and for God’s sake wear an imported Italian suit!”
He smiled, then, a secret, caring smile. “I live in a house near the ocean, Tessa, in Venice—and a lot of my work can be done at home. I drive an old Jeep and avoid the freeways when I can. This is the first vacation I’ve had in years, and I wouldn’t know an Italian suit if it reached up and said, “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.”
One of her blond eyebrows raised quizzically. “It said what?”
“Literally translated, ‘Abandon hope all ye who are foolish enough to plunge your arms down the sleeves of this overpriced imported jacket.’”
“No!” she whispered, but laughed.
“Well, not really. It means ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here,’ but it’s the only Italian phras
e I know.”
“So what’s your point?”
“That I’m the same man no matter where I live. And you’re the same woman whether you live in Three Falls, Montana, L.A. or New York City. You’ll find out soon,” he said, grinning. “And I can’t wait.”
“Why?”
“I think you’ll love Rodeo Drive, Melrose Avenue and Wilshire Boulevard. I’ll get you on one of those buses that tours through Beverly Hills and shows you the homes of the stars, and then we’ll check out the movie studios—”
“Oh, save me,” she whispered, groaning and trying to hide a smile.
“You’ll love it. I promise.”
She shook her head. “Maybe for you it works,” she said.
“It does.”
“But for me”—she glanced to the lake, where a wood duck was landing on the glasslike surface—“this is where I belong.”
“I can change your mind,” he whispered, his mouth pressing against her parted lips.
“Never,” she replied, her voice caught somewhere between her throat and lungs. A voice inside her mind nagged at her, reminding her that Denver believed that she’d had an affair with his uncle—that her family had been involved in the fire. That the last time he’d been with her at the creek, he’d humiliated her. His words were as false as his love had been all those years before.
With all the strength she could scrape together, Tessa shoved him away and scrambled hastily to her feet. “It won’t work, Denver,” she said, breathing hard, seeing his expression turning from surprise to anger.
“What are you talking about?” he rasped.
Her eyes narrowed, though her heart was still beating traitorously. “I’m not about to give you the opportunity to humiliate me again.”
“I wouldn’t,” he said slowly, standing.
“You’re right,” she said quickly. “Because I won’t let you!” Then, before she could change her mind, she ran back to the house and took the steps two at a time.
Chapter Seven
She didn’t see Denver until the next day at dinner. Seated across the table from Tessa and wedged between her father and Len Derricks, a ranch hand who had stayed with John after the fire, Denver did his best to appear amiable and relaxed. He complimented Milly on the meal and made small talk as if he’d never set one foot off the ranch—as if he’d never accused Tessa or her father of starting the blaze in which his parents had died.
His shirt was open at the throat, his jeans faded but clean, the worn denim hugging his hips. Black hair curled enticingly from beneath his collar. A dark shadow covered his jaw, making his smile, a rakish slash of white, brighter in contrast. His clear blue eyes had lost their hostile shadows, and his thick eyebrows moved expressively as he spoke.
Tessa felt foolish and cowardly. She should never have run from him, and she vowed that she wouldn’t again. Unfortunately, she could barely drag her gaze away from the sensual curve of his lips, or the arch of a skeptical eyebrow.
“Delicious,” Denver pronounced to a beaming Milly.
“It’s only stew,” she replied, blushing in pleasure.
“The best stew I’ve ever eaten.”
Tessa’s eyes narrowed on him as he placed his elbows on the table and turned to Len, asking his advice on purchasing more cattle for the ranch.
“If we add more head, we’ll have to buy extra feed. We’re already goin’ through the hay we cut just two months ago.”
“Can we get more?”
“Don’t know,” Len said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“Everyone around here is in the same fix. Except for Nate Edwards. He’s been irrigatin’ like mad, and from what I hear, he harvested more bales than he expected.”
“Then maybe we can buy from him.”
“Maybe,” Len agreed, grinning at the prospect of adding to the herd.
“I’ll give him a call. Now, tell me what kind of cattle you’d like to see on the ranch. We’ve got Herefords, right?”
“Ever since I can remember.”
“So what about a new breed? Angus or Charolais?”
Len launched into his favorite topic, and to Tessa’s horror, even her father and Mitchell added their two cents worth. Eventually everyone at the table was weighing the pros and cons of adding more beef to the stock. Why did Denver care? Tessa wondered. What was his angle? Wasn’t he going to sell the ranch to her—or had he lied again?
“So when did you get so interested in ranching?” she asked, finally unable to hold her tongue. She felt her father stiffen beside her, but she glared at Denver. “I thought you were leaving.”
Denver leaned forward, pushing his face across the table. “Until I actually sign on the dotted line,” he said slowly, “I intend to take part in all the decisions that affect this ranch.”
“From L.A.?”
“If need be.” His eyes glinted wickedly at the mention of California.
“Tessa—” Mitchell warned.
“Do we understand each other?” Denver asked.
“Perfectly,” she said, meeting the fire in his gaze with her own.
With a smile, Denver turned back to Len as if Tessa hadn’t even interrupted.
Her temper soaring to the stratosphere, Tessa could barely listen. Though she pretended interest in the conversation around her, she couldn’t concentrate. Not the way she should have. Not with Denver watching her through hard, calculating eyes. He wasn’t actually staring—he feigned interest in the entire group of hands and household helpers seated around the table—but Tessa could feel his gaze follow her. When she reached for the biscuits, as she laughed over a joke Mitchell whispered to her, or even while she helped Milly clear the table, she could feel the weight of Denver’s gaze.
“I’d add about fifty head of each,” Len was saying, leaning back in his chair as Milly offered thick slabs of apple pie around the table.
“That’s an increase of a hundred and fifty. I don’t know,” Curtis whispered thoughtfully.
Tessa couldn’t stand the easy camaraderie, false as it was, a minute longer. “I thought you were going to sell the ranch lock, stock and barrel,” she cut in, her eyes trained on Denver’s face.
“I am. But not until the ranch is in better shape.”
“And you think by spending money on cattle and feed that things will improve?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” he drawled, one corner of his mouth lifting.
He was actually enjoying her show of temper! “Then maybe it’s my turn to make something clear. As I said before, I intend to buy this ranch, and I don’t want the added expense of extra stock. Not yet.”
Denver’s eyes flashed. “And I told you I couldn’t sell until the books were straightened out and I found my brother.”
“That could take years!”
He did smile then, an infuriating grin that curved his lips lazily and caused her heart to throb. “I’ve got all the time in the world. Don’t you?”
Her jaw fell open. “I thought you couldn’t wait to get to L.A.”
“I can’t,” he drawled, and Tessa felt a telling flush creep up her neck. She knew in an instant that he was baiting her again—seeing just how far he could push. “I’m looking forward to California,” he said, and for a minute she was afraid he’d tell everyone about their bet. His gaze flicked around the table. “Unfortunately, I might not be able to wait until the place is sold, so I’ve got to make some plans to get it back on its feet before I leave.”
“And do what?” she asked, standing. “Run the ranch from a cell phone while you’re getting a tan at Malibu Beach?”
Denver didn’t react. “If that’s what it takes,” he responded calmly.
Tessa felt everyone’s gaze on her, but she didn’t flinch. Leaning over the table, she smiled sweetly and said, “Don’t bother. I’ve already talked to the bank for the mortgage, and I can come up with the down payment. Now, all that has to happen is for you and me to come to some sort of an agreement. You won’t have to worry about this place
once you’re back in L.A.!”
“You and I already came to an agreement,” he reminded her. “About California.”
Her jaw dropped, and she silently pleaded with him to keep their wager to himself.
“But do you honestly think it’s possible for us to agree on anything?” he asked, returning to the question of the ranch.
Relieved, she said, “If we’re both willing to cooperate.”
“And what about the back taxes on this place?”
“Pay them—or make a provision for that payment in the sales agreement. Lower the price of the ranch by the amount of taxes owed, and I’ll take care of them.”
“And Colton?”
“Find him.”
“Seems as if you’ve got it all figured out,” he drawled, lifting his coffee cup and scrutinizing her carefully over the rim. His eyes became slits.
“Almost. Just as soon as you come up with a reasonable price.” She felt the tension in the air. Everyone at the table had fallen silent. Not one fork scraped a plate. As if to break the charged silence, Milly coughed. Mitchell scooted his chair back, and Curtis fished nervously in his breast pocket for his cigarettes.
“You prove you’re serious. Make a formal offer,” Denver said deliberately. “Then, if you can come up with the money and I can find Colton, we’ll have a deal.”
Tessa couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s all?” she asked, waiting for the hitch—the strings that had to be attached.
“That—and a certain payoff.”
“Payoff?” Mitch repeated.
“It’s nothing,” Tessa said quickly. She wondered if Denver were lying again—tricking her into believing he would sell. She had no option but to call his bluff. “I’ll have everything ready as soon as possible,” she said, her throat suddenly dry at the prospect of buying the place and thereby allowing him to leave. Now that he’d returned, the prospect of living without him again loomed in her future like a gaping black abyss.
Denver grinned, that easy, crooked smile that Tessa found wickedly irresistible. “I’m looking forward to it. Then maybe you could take a break from this place. Find some sun and sand and relaxation.”