by Lisa Jackson
“What’re you going to do, Cassie? Shoot me?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” She lowered the rifle.
“I’ve been used for target practice before.” His teeth flashed beneath his beard, and her stomach knotted as she remembered the rumors she’d heard about the shooting in Northern Ireland—how he was lucky he hadn’t been killed.
“How’d you get in?”
“The door wasn’t locked.”
“So you just waltzed in and made yourself comfortable?”
His lips twisted. “Believe me, Cass, I’m not comfortable.”
“But you had no right—”
“Probably not.” His cold gaze slid slowly up her body before resting on her face. She felt stripped bare.
Several heart-stopping seconds ticked by before she found her voice. Her hands were clammy; her voice threatened to shake. Colton McLean was the last person she’d expected to find in her kitchen. Though he’d been back in Montana for nearly six months, he’d been reclusive and, according to the rumors circulating in town, hadn’t been seen much. Cassie hadn’t run into him once. “Don’t you believe in knocking?” she asked.
He glanced at the open door and the unlatched screen. “Don’t you believe in locking your doors?”
“Dad lost his key—oh, never mind!”
“I knocked. Twice. No one answered.”
“I was in the—”
“I can see where you were. I heard the shower running.”
Suddenly aware of her damp hair, her towel-buffed skin and her naked body protected only by a ragged terry robe, she clenched the rifle more tightly. She wasn’t afraid of Colton McLean, not really, but the sight of him brought back too many memories—dangerous memories—of a love affair she’d rather forget.
“You knew I was upstairs taking a shower? And you came in anyway?”
“I knew the water was running. That’s all.”
“Nervy of you.”
He sighed and rubbed his jaw. “When’s Ivan coming back?”
“I don’t know, but you can’t wait here for him.”
“Why not?”
“Take a wild guess,” she invited, her temper flaring.
“I couldn’t begin to,” he drawled.
“Try.” At first she’d been surprised that he’d landed, dripping and ready for battle, in the middle of her kitchen, but as she slowly recovered, her shock gave way to anger. It had been over eight years since she’d seen him, eight years since he’d walked out the door of this very house! And now he had the nerve to straddle one of her kitchen chairs as if he owned the place!
“Why don’t you just tell me?” he drawled.
“Because I don’t want you here! I’ve had a long day and all I want to do is curl up in bed with a good book!”
“Don’t let me stop you,” he taunted.
“I’m in no mood for games, Colton.”
“Neither am I.”
“I’ll tell Dad you stopped by and he’ll call you.”
“Sure he will.”
She clenched her teeth. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s dangerous to bait a woman holding a rifle?”
He laughed, a short derisive sound that conjured up half-forgotten images of a warm summer filled with young love. “I remember how good a shot you were, Cassie. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
“I’ve improved.”
He cocked one dark brow, and his eyes glinted. “Have you, now?” he asked, his voice low, almost seductive.
“Get out, Colton!”
“You haven’t even heard why I’m here.”
“I’m not interested.”
“No? Not even if I told you Black Magic was missing?”
“Black Magic?” she repeated.
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Of course I have—the whole county has,” she said, remembering the fiery charcoal stallion with the jagged white blaze running the length of his nose. “I treated him once last year.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re a veterinarian now,” he jeered, his lips twisting.
“And you’re a famous photojournalist, right?” she threw back at him, agitated. He had no reason to mock her career, no right to barge into her house and badger her! He’d left her life in shambles, and she’d managed to pull herself back together. Alone. “So what are you doing hanging around here?”
“Marking time,” he replied, never taking his eyes off her. She set the rifle against the wall and forced a thin, impatient smile.
Colton watched her. “I just want to ask Ivan a few questions.”
“About Black Magic?”
“Yes.”
Cassie frowned. “You think Dad might know where your horse is?”
“Denver’s horse,” he shot back.
“That’s right. You’re not into ranching, are you?”
“Never have been.”
“Neither was Denver. He changed,” she flung out, hoping to wound him a little, though any hope she had that Colton had mellowed over the years died when she noticed the hard angle of his jaw.
“I won’t.” His eyes were steely gray as he scrutinized her. She saw the room as he did—peeling paint and scratched counters, worn, overwaxed flooring, blackened kettles hanging from dusty ceiling beams. His eyes were restless, and there was a wariness about him, a hard edge she didn’t remember.
“Why’re you here? Why not your brother?” she finally asked.
“Denver and his wife are in Los Angeles.”
She remembered now. In her work as a veterinarian, she’d overheard snatches of conversation at the surrounding ranches. Denver and Tessa would be away for another few weeks. “And you’re stuck with the ranch,” she taunted, unable to resist goading Colton. “So how did you manage to lose the most valuable horse on the spread?”
“I didn’t lose anything. He was stolen.”
Finally she understood why he was sitting in the middle of the Aldridge kitchen, his expression hard with unnamed accusations, his bearded chin jutted in fury.
Her voice, when she found it, was barely a whisper. “You’re not here to suggest that Dad had something to do with Black Magic’s disappearance, are you? Because if you are, you can just haul your self-righteous backside out of here right now!”
He didn’t move.
Cassie advanced on him. “Dad would never—”
“He’s made threats.”
Her lips twisted. “That was a long time ago, Colton.”
“Feuds have a way of smoldering—then flaring when you least expect them.”
“Not this one!” She poked a finger at his chest. Her skin collided with rock-hard denim-clad muscles. “You’d better leave. Now! Just get in your truck or Jeep or car or whatever it is you’ve got parked outside and take off, before I decide to start the feud all over again by strangling you!”
“Strong words, Cass,” he chided.
“Strong accusations, Colt.”
He eyed her speculatively. “You’ve changed.”
“Thank God.”
His gaze lowered to the hollow of her breasts displayed all too vividly by her gaping robe. “But in some respects, you’re still the same—”
“Get out, Colton.”
“Not until I talk to Ivan,” he said with infuriating calm.
“He may not be back tonight.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“You can’t.”
Colton didn’t budge.
Emotions, old and new, roiled deep within Cassie. She hated him—hated the very sight of him. Or at least that’s what she’d been telling herself for eight years. “Dad doesn’t want you here—don’t you remember?”
His eyes narrowed. “How could I forget?”
“Then take a hike and do it fast! Or I’ll call the sheriff’s office.”
“Go ahead.” With a jaded half grin, he motioned toward the phone. “I know a deputy there, Mark Gowan. You’ve probably heard of him.”
She had. Mark was one of
the best the sheriff’s department employed.
“Go ahead. Call him. When Gowan gets here, I’ll explain about Black Magic and the fact that the fence was cut—the fence between your property and mine. Then I’ll repeat every threat Ivan’s made against the McLeans to the good sheriff!”
Cassie blanched.
“And if that isn’t good enough, I’ll tell my tale to the local press—I’ve got connections, you know. Friends in high places. It comes with the territory.”
“You bastard!”
He winced a little.
“You wouldn’t!” she whispered, grasping at straws. “You’d look like a fool!”
“And your father would look like a criminal,” he growled.
He was bluffing! She knew it. He couldn’t risk another scandal with the McLean name. Not after the last one—when John McLean had seduced Cassie’s mother! She reached for the phone, but he caught her wrist. The receiver clattered against the wall. “This would be a whole lot easier, you know, if you let me take a look around myself.”
His fingers were hot and hard against her flesh. “Dad’s never stolen anything in his life!”
“So prove it.”
She glared at him indignantly. Why bother explaining? The stern set of Colton’s jaw told her he’d already tried and convicted her father, just as he had her, years before. “Let go of me, Colton.”
He didn’t.
She tried a new tack. “This happened before—right? Last year. I heard it from Milly Samms, Denver’s housekeeper. The horse was missing, then just showed up. This is probably the same kind of mistake.”
“This is no mistake, Cassie. Someone took Black Magic. I want to know who.” His grip tightened, the warm pads of his fingers playing havoc with her pulse. She tried yanking her hand from his, but he wouldn’t let go. “Come on, Cassie. Here’s your chance to prove me wrong.”
Her gaze burned into his. “One of your ranch hands just got careless.”
He dropped her hand. “Then you won’t mind if I walk through the barns and stables?”
“Are you crazy? I’m not going to let you go poking around, disturbing the animals—”
“After I see what I came to see, I’ll leave.”
She wavered. She wanted him to leave, and the opportunity to prove him wrong and put him in his place was tempting. “Okay—but this isn’t going to take all night. We check out the stables and that’s it.”
He nodded.
“It’ll take me a few minutes to change.”
“Don’t bother. I can find my way around—”
“No way!” she sputtered. “You can’t march over here with ridiculous accusations and then start tearing the ranch apart board by board! Your stallion is probably just lost, and I’m not about to let you turn this place upside down just because you ‘suspect’ Black Magic was stolen. If that’s the case, go to the sheriff! If not, just give me five minutes to change.”
He spread his palms, and an ingratiating smile stole across his bearded chin. “By all means . . .”
Goaded, she stomped out of the room and took the stairs two at a time. Her mind was spinning as she tied her hair away from her face and yanked on a pair of jeans. Cassie didn’t believe Black Magic had been stolen—not for a minute. The cut wires were just an accident. Most likely someone had been repairing the ancient fence earlier in the day. As soon as she spoke with her father, the downed fence would be explained. And Colton McLean would have to eat crow!
Smiling at that thought, she pulled a wheat-colored sweater over her head and hurried back to the kitchen.
Colton was leaning against the door, one booted foot propped on the seat of a chair as he stared impatiently through a rain-spattered window. Thick brows converged over his eyes, and his face was a hard, rough-hewn mask. He’d matured in the past eight years. Living a dangerous life as a photojournalist who snapped pictures of war-ravaged political hot spots had stolen any trace of boyishness from his face. Even his coffee-colored hair had a few strands of gray at the temples, and his skin was lined near the corners of his eyes.
“You won’t see anything from here,” she pointed out.
He swung his gaze back to hers, and for just an instant she remembered him as he had been, handsome and warm. He’d smiled often then, his irreverent grin spreading from one side of his tanned face to the other. There had always been a dangerous side to him—his temper was infamous—but there had been a kind side, too, and she’d loved him with all of her naive young heart. There had been a few other boys she’d had crushes on while growing up, but deep in her heart, from the time she had turned fourteen, she’d harbored a love for Colton so deep it had kept her awake at night. But that was years ago, she reminded herself.
“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.
Without a word she swept past him. On the back porch she snatched her faded jacket and a flashlight from the cupboard, then tugged on her boots.
Outside, the wind slashed at her face. Rain peppered the ground and slid down Cassie’s collar as she followed her flashlight’s unsteady beam. She half ran to keep up with Colton’s long strides.
“Don’t upset the horses,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good.” She reached for the door. “Several mares are due to foal, and I don’t want anything disturbing them.”
He slanted her a hard glance. “I’m not interested in your mares. I just want to find Black Magic.”
“Then you’re going to be disappointed.”
“It won’t be the first time,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. For an instant she hesitated, lost in his stare. Her throat felt suddenly swollen and hot.
Giving herself a mental shake, Cassie strode inside. The familiar smells of oiled leather, warm animals and horse dung mingled with the dust. She snapped on the lights.
Cobwebs clung to the rafters, and a fine layer of grime covered the windows. Horses snorted and rustled the straw scattered over the floor of their stalls. Inquisitive dark heads poked over the top rails, and a few mares nickered at the sight of Cassie.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, petting each velvet-soft muzzle thrust her way.
Colton’s gaze swept the boxes, taking in every detail, each swollen-bodied mare and shifting, nervous stallion. One wild-eyed gray pawed anxiously in his stall, tossing his head at the unfamiliar scent of Colton. “Friendly guy,” Colton observed dryly.
“Like you,” she shot back.
Colton’s boots echoed against the concrete floor. “Black Magic’s not here,” he muttered under his breath. His face was drawn, his expression clouded.
Cassie felt like smirking. “Satisfied?”
“Not yet.”
“Come on, Colton,” she jibed, unable to hide the sparkle in her eyes. “Admit it. You were wrong.”
“Aren’t there any other barns?”
“Just for the cattle—”
“Let’s check them.”
“No!” She reached for the door, wrenched it open and flipped off the lights in one swift motion. “I put up with this—this stupid idea of yours, just to prove that you were wrong about Dad. But I’m not about to let you rip apart every blasted building on the ranch just to prove my point!”
He moved swiftly, curling his hand around her upper arm. “I’d like to think that your old man is as honest as you claim he is,” he said slowly, his eyes glittering dangerously in the darkness. “But I’ve got to be sure. Your family has a history of lying.”
She thought her heart would break. Though she’d told herself he could never hurt her again, she’d been wrong. Struggling against the old wounds, she whispered, “I never lied to you, Colton.”
“Ha!”
As she tilted her chin up defiantly, her gaze collided with the naked cynicism in his. “Believe what you want, but I swear by everything I believe in, that I never lied to you.”
A muscle worked in his jaw, and for a second, indecision flashed in his eyes. His expression became gentler as he ga
zed down on her, and Cassie sensed he was wrestling an inner battle. “Maybe you just twisted the truth.”
“And maybe you did,” she whispered as his breath, warm and familiar, filled the air between them. Her throat went dry at the nearness of him.
If only she could forget how much she had loved him, how much she had cared....
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, his uncertainty vanished. His jaw slid to the side, and he surveyed her through narrowed eyes. “I played the fool for you once, Cassie,” he admitted, his lips thin as he tossed her arm away in disgust. “Believe me, it won’t happen again.”
“You arrogant bastard,” she cried, stepping away from him. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. . . .” Knowing she was fighting the inevitable anyway, she led him to the barn across the yard. She barely felt the rain and mud as she marched into the tall building and switched on the lights. A few white-faced Herefords lowed and shoved their heads through the manger, hoping that she would toss some more feed in the trough.
Colton followed her inside. He noticed the challenge in her eyes and the pride that stiffened her slim shoulders as she waved her arm in a wide arc. “Be my guest,” she invited caustically.
“I will.” He strode through the building, searching it from one end to the other and found nothing, not one bloody trace of Black Magic. Swearing under his breath, he wended his way through the bins of feed, oats and loose bales of hay to the door where Cassie leaned insolently against the dusty frame. Her arms were folded under her breasts, and her generous mouth was curved into a fair imitation of a smirk. “Find him?” she asked, pretending interest in her nails.
“No.”
“You’re sure?” she drawled.
“Positive.”
She cocked her head to one side and glanced toward the ceiling. “Better check the hayloft,” she suggested sweetly, savoring her revenge. “Dad could have used the grain elevator to lift your precious horse up there.”
Unexpectedly Colton grinned. He eyed the loft, a platform built some ten feet above the wooden floor. Tightly stacked bales were piled to the apex of the roof, where a small round window reflected the beam of Cassie’s flashlight. “You’ve made your point, Miss Aldridge.”