by Lisa Jackson
Denver didn’t say a word—not one comment as Colton continued. But the tension stretching over the telephone wires was nearly palpable.
“. . . So hopefully, none of the other horses are infected,” Colton finished.
“Hopefully? Hopefully?”
“It’s still too early to tell.”
“Damn!” Denver swore long and loud. When he was through ranting and raving, he growled, “And you’re sure Tessa’s horses are okay?”
“I can’t be sure of anything,” Colton admitted, running a hand over his scratchy jaw. “But they’re the least likely as they haven’t been near Magic or Tempest.”
“I guess I should be thankful for small favors.”
“I suppose,” Colton said, feeling defensive. Was this really his fault? Or should someone have clued him in that Magic was lost last year? He leaned a hip against the desk. There was no reason to start pointing fingers anyway. It wouldn’t change a thing.
“Son of a bitch!” Denver was still showing off his rather limited vocabulary.
“Exactly.”
“We can’t leave tonight—but we can cut the trip short by a week.”
“I don’t see why. There’s nothing more you can do.”
“Except wring the neck of the bastard who stole Black Magic in the first place! Obviously Magic caught the virus while he was gone.”
“Looks that way.” Colton heard Denver’s swift intake of breath.
“Do you think it was deliberate?”
“Deliberate?” Colton repeated, his gaze shifting around the room.
“Yeah. Isn’t it possible that whoever’s behind all this is more deadly than you think? Maybe stealing Black Magic was more than just an irritating prank.”
Colton didn’t like Denver’s line of reasoning. “You honestly think someone would infect Black Magic on purpose?”
“Hell, I don’t know!” Denver thundered. “But you have to admit it’s a distinct possibility. In fact, it’s downright plausible!”
“That’s a little farfetched,” Colton said, wondering if his brother were even more jaded than he.
“Is it? No more farfetched than someone stealing the horse just to cause a little trouble! Think about it, for God’s sake! Strangles could cripple the ranch. Not only could we lose livestock and rack up a fortune in vet bills, but the stallions will be out of commission during the breeding season. No one in his right mind would send a mare to a ranch with that virus floating around. This was no accident!”
“No way—”
“It’s happening, damn it!” Denver nearly shouted.
Colton suddenly felt tired. What if Denver was right? He closed his eyes and listened to his brother’s rapid, angry breathing. “Look, I’ll warn Curtis and tell him what you think. I’m not saying you’re right, but I suppose there’s the chance someone’s that vindictive.”
“Someone like Ivan Aldridge.”
Colton didn’t comment. Even he didn’t think Ivan was capable of anything so treacherous. “It’s not Aldridge.”
“How do you know? Has anyone talked to him?”
“I have. He and Cassie swear he’s not involved.”
“He and Cassie? What’s she got to do with it?”
“She’s here now. She’s the one who diagnosed Black Magic.”
Denver’s breath hissed between his teeth. “Why not Fulton?”
Colton’s back stiffened. “He was busy,” he snapped.
For a minute Denver didn’t say anything, but Colton could feel the anger, the unspoken accusations crackling over the thin telephone wires. “Keep me posted,” he finally ordered.
“Will do.” Colton hung up feeling oddly protective of Cassie and her father. Though there was no love lost between Ivan and himself, Colton couldn’t imagine the man intentionally hurting any animal—even an animal belonging to the McLeans. Nor did he think anyone around here would. Ranching stock was looked upon with a reverence that couldn’t be compromised.
He walked through the kitchen and found Milly putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher. “How did Denver take the news?” she asked as Colton reached for his hat and jacket near the door.
“About as well as I expected.”
“That bad?” she quipped, but the joke fell flat.
“Worse,” he muttered, glancing around the kitchen. Nearly everything was put away. “Why don’t you take off?”
“In a few minutes.” She polished the bottom of a gleaming copper pot and looked up to offer an encouraging smile.
Colton kicked open the door and strode quickly down the back steps. Outside, the sky was dark. A few pale clouds drifted across a half moon, and the breeze brushing his cheeks held the lingering chill of winter.
His boots crunched on the gravel as he strode across the yard. Was it possible? Would someone intentionally try to destroy the McLeans—and use the livestock to do it? The ugly thought soured his stomach as he yanked open the door to the old foaling shed.
There he found Cassie with Black Magic. She was talking quietly to the horse, her voice soothing, her hands gentle as they ran along his neck and shoulders. Glancing up at Colton, she forced a thin smile. “His fever hasn’t gone up.”
“Is that good?”
“I think so—but it’s still too early to tell.”
“And Tempest?”
“No change. Neither one has eaten anything.” She slipped out of the stall and washed her hands while Colton observed both stallions. Listless and dull, Tempest barely flicked his ears when Colton walked to his stall. His head was still painfully extended, and his eyes held no spark.
“Hang in there,” Colton whispered, wondering if the once-ornery stallion would take a turn for the worse.
“What did Denver have to say?”
“Nothing good,” Colton evaded. There wasn’t any reason to confide in Cassie—not yet. Denver’s theory was just angry words. When he calmed down a little, he would probably change his mind. Or would he? Uncomfortable, Colton glanced from Cassie back to Black Magic, wondering who was responsible for this mess and coming up with only his own name.
“I want to check the other horses again before I leave,” Cassie said. “Just in case.”
“Right.” Colton led the way through the various buildings. Fortunately all the horses, though disturbed slightly at the unusual intrusion, looked fine. Colton waited for Cassie at the door and snapped out the lights as she walked outside.
Aside from her truck and Colton’s Jeep, the parking lot was empty. Milly and the hands had already left. With Colton at her side, Cassie started for her car, but he grabbed her hand, turning her to face him. He didn’t want her to leave, not just yet. Having her here was comforting. She looked up at him expectantly, and his insides quivered. “If I didn’t say it before, thanks for dropping everything and coming over.”
“All part of my job,” she replied.
He didn’t let go of her hand. “But you stayed. That was above and beyond the call of duty.”
“Not really.” Somewhere in the distance a night bird called plaintively, and a mild breeze caught in her hair and murmured through the trees. Cassie’s eyes were luminous in the pale moonlight. Withdrawing her hand, she wrapped her arms around herself, as if she were chilled to the bone.
“Cold?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Come here.” Before he really knew what he was doing, he reached forward and drew her into the circle of his arms, pulled her close against him, her legs inside his.
Closing his eyes, he blocked out his worries about the ranch, his doubts about his occupation, and even the past. He only thought about the here and now. His heart slammed out of control as he lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers.
“Colton . . .” she whispered in protest. “Maybe we should think about this—”
“Too late,” he murmured into her mouth, and any other arguments were stilled as he pressed his tongue insistently against her teeth. With a soft moan, she parted her l
ips.
Colton’s pulse pounded in his brain. Desire became an obsession, fortifying his blood, numbing his mind to anything but this one, gorgeous woman. She didn’t resist any longer. Her body was soft and pliant as he spread his hands across her back. Her mouth opened willingly, deliciously. He touched her tongue, and it danced with his.
She wound her arms around his chest, her fingers pressed against his back.
He couldn’t stop himself. He groaned, kissing her harder, his lips demanding, hers yielding. His mind forgot everything but Cassie—sweet, beautiful Cassie.
Unbuttoning her blouse, he let the fabric fall open, exposing the swell of her breast, her creamy white skin mounding gently over the white lace of her bra. Beneath the sculpted lace, her nipple was dusky and taut, poking out enticingly.
The fire in Colton’s loins burned hotter, and without a thought to time or space, he slid a silky strap from her shoulder with one hand, while pressing against the small of her back with the other. Her breast spilled over the lace, full and ripe, her tiny veins visible beneath the creamy skin.
Colton wound his legs around hers as he took her nipple in his mouth and pulled gently with tongue and teeth.
“Oh, Lord,” she murmured as he suckled and nuzzled, her sweet, sure femininity enveloping him in a seductive cloud of passion and promise.
His hands shook as he lifted the gentle white swell and licked the dark button to hardness. Cassie’s head lolled back, her throat arched, her hips fit snug against his.
Colton could barely stand as he turned his attention to the other lace-ensnared nipple, and he fanned his breath across the flimsy fabric. Her fingers twined in his hair, Cassie guided his mouth to the sweet, dark bud, and he took her breast, lace and all, into his mouth, leaving the other to be cooled by the chill spring breeze.
He could no longer stand on unsteady legs, and he dragged Cassie to the ground. Oblivious to the grass, he caressed her body, found her lips again and kissed her with an intensity that numbed his brain. “Stay with me,” he whispered against her ear, feeling her tremble beneath him.
“I-I can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
“Oh, Colton . . .” Knowing she was courting disaster, Cassie felt herself giving in. She’d simply have to find some way to explain her absence to her father ... and she was old enough to make her own decisions.
Colton moved his hands seductively against her skin, and her mind spun in crazy, delicious circles. A liquid warmth deep in her center swept through her blood, carrying her away on a moon-kissed cloud of passion.
The cool night air touched her bare breast, then Colton’s hot lips followed, dipping lower to her abdomen, his fingers finding the waistband of her skirt.
“Make love to me, Cassie,” he rasped, his voice sounding far away. “Make love to me and never stop. Don’t stop.”
Where had she heard those words before? she wondered vaguely. Then, with searing clarity she remembered that it had been she who had pleaded with him to make love to her, to take away her virginity, to love her.
She froze, and the desire burning so bright only moments before cooled. “I—I think I’d better leave,” she said, squirming under his insistent caress.
Colton lifted his head, and her heart constricted. His features, washed in the pale moon glow, seemed more clearly defined and angular than usual. His eyes, as silver as the moon-washed land, burned with passion. “Why?” he asked, his voice so low she could barely hear it.
“I’m not ready to make the same mistake twice.”
“This is not a mistake.”
“Then it’ll wait,” she said, swallowing back the urge to tell him she loved him. She sat up then to adjust her bra and, afterward, forced her hands to her sides when all she wanted was to place her palms against his cheeks and kiss him.
“What happened, Cass?”
“A severe case of déjà vu.” Straightening her blouse, she was glad for the shadows in the night, thankful he couldn’t see the blush burning her neck and staining her cheeks.
Colton pulled himself into a sitting position and jammed his fingers through his hair. “We’re not kids anymore.”
“Then maybe we’d better stop acting like them!”
His eyes blazed. “All right. Let’s start again—more mature this time. I want you to stay with me, Cassie,” he said, his gaze piercing hers with an intensity so powerful, she couldn’t look away. “Stay here. In my bed. Spend the night with me.”
Oh, God. The temptation was almost too much. Alone with Colton—for an entire night! “Sorry,” she replied, hoping to sound sophisticated, though her voice was strangled. “I’m not into one-night stands . . . Ooh!”
As quickly as a cat, Colton shoved her back onto the ground, pinning her shoulders against the earth. “I wouldn’t call eight years a one-night stand.”
“Eight years?” she repeated. “Eight years? When were we together in the past eight years? And where were you? Who were you with?”
Some of the anger disappeared from his eyes. “There weren’t many, Cass,” he admitted with a sigh. “And none of them held a candle to you.”
Her throat burned, and she wanted to believe him. Oh, God, how she wanted to believe him.
The fingers forcing her down became gentler. “What about you?” he asked quietly.
“You want to know about my lovers? All of them?” she asked, and was surprised at the pain in his eyes.
“No—that’s your business, I suppose.”
“Well, there were none. Not in college and not here,” she admitted, suddenly wanting him to know, to understand just how important he’d been.
“None?” he hurled back at her, disbelieving.
“Nada.”
“Oh, Cass,” he whispered, releasing her. “No wonder your father hates me.”
“He doesn’t—”
“Of course he does.” Standing, he dusted off his hands, then offered one to her.
She took his hand, and he pulled her up but didn’t let go of her fingers. “You know,” he admitted. “I’ve always cared about you. Always.”
The lump in her throat swelled, and she could barely get out her reply. “S-so you said.”
He kissed her forehead so tenderly she nearly broke apart inside. “Please,” he whispered, “stay.”
“Not tonight.” Pulling her hand away, she shook her head. “Not yet. Before I sleep with you, Colton, I want to think things through.”
“That sounds a little cold and calculating.”
“No. It sounds smart.” Placing her hands on his shoulders, she lifted herself to her toes and kissed him on his forehead. “Last time I thought with my heart, this time I’ll use my head.”
Before she could draw away, his arms circled her waist. “Tell me,” he asked, “just how much does your father hate me and Denver?”
“Denver I’m not sure about, but he detests you.”
Colton was silent, his expression unreadable.
“That isn’t a surprise, is it?”
“No.” He lifted a shoulder as if he didn’t care, but Cassie felt there was something he was holding back—something he wasn’t telling her as he released her.
He walked her back to her pickup, but he didn’t say another word. And as she drove away, she saw him standing in the moonlight, his shoulders rigid, his back ramrod straight, his fists planted on his hips.
Chapter Ten
“Confounded things!” Ivan yanked on his boots, grimacing until his foot slid inside. Seated near the wood stove, he glared up at Cassie. “You got in late last night.”
Cassie nodded. “I was at the McLean place. Two of their horses have come down with strangles.”
“Strangles?” His booted foot clattered to the floor. “Around here?”
“Looks that way to me.”
“Which horses?”
“Black Magic and another stallion—a sorrel named Tempest.”
Glancing at his watch, Ivan straightened and massaged a kink from h
is back. He crossed the kitchen and filled a blue enamel cup with the coffee warming on the stove. Was it her imagination, or had he paled slightly? “The rest of the herd okay?” He offered her the mug.
“As far as I can tell. But I was going to stop by on my way into town.” She took a sip of the bitter coffee and made a face. “Why can’t you learn to make a decent cup of coffee?”
“It’s fine,” he grumbled, “you’re just picky. I sent you off to college, and what did you come home with?”
“A degree,” she teased.
“That and some ‘refined’ tastes,” he kidded back, but the familiar spark in his eyes didn’t appear. “You gonna be late again?”
“I don’t know,” she said, thinking of Colton and Denver McLean’s ailing horses.
Ivan dashed his coffee into the sink, then grabbed his jacket. “I’ll see you later,” he said. “I’ve got to feed the stock, then run into town to order some parts for the John Deere.” Whistling to Erasmus, he sauntered outside.
Through the window, Cassie watched him cross the yard. He stopped to pet a few of the mares’ muzzles and laughed out loud at a skittish colt’s antics before he disappeared into the barn. He’d been good to her, she thought as she slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder and pushed open the screen door. She was greeted by the dewy scent of morning and the obtrusive whine of a motorcycle engine shattering the crisp air.
Ryan Ferguson was on his way to work. His employment shouldn’t bother her, she told herself as she tossed her purse into the cab of her truck, but it did. She waited until he’d brought the cycle to a stop, switched off the engine, yanked off his helmet and swung off the bike. His hair stuck out in uneven blond tufts, and he smoothed it with the flat of his hand.
“You nearly ran me off the road the other day,” she said as he lifted interested brown eyes to hers.
“Didn’t mean to.”
“You should look where you’re going.”
“I do.” One side of his thin mouth lifted cynically. “You shouldn’t hog the entire lane. There was room enough. Besides, Ivan gave me enough of a lecture.” He glanced around the yard. “Is he here?”