Rancher's Wife

by Anne Marie Winston

  After she’d put the mare away and cleaned up her tack, she walked slowly toward the house. Day was going to be madder than that old bull on a rampage when he learned that her movie persona had followed her here.

  Walking into the house, she saw him leaning against the counter. His expression was unsmiling and her heart sank.

  He knew.

  How could he?

  Beth Ann went skipping to him, reaching up in an unspoken plea to be lifted into his arms, and the darkness in his gaze vanished. “Hey, filly. What have you been up to?”

  The little girl snuggled against him, chubby fingers toying with the snaps on the front of his shirt. “Me an’ Ang—Mommy took a ride out to the mailbox.” She drew back and stared earnestly into his eyes. “Daddy, when am I gonna be old enough for my own pony?”

  Day grinned and lightly kissed the end of his daughter’s nose. “Soon. I guess you’re getting big enough to start learning how to sit a horse.” He set the child on the floor. “Want to watch your favorite shows until dinner?”

  “Yeah!” Beth Ann wasn’t permitted to watch much television and she happily scampered into the living room and settled herself on the couch while Day turned to a popular children’s show.

  In a moment, he returned to the kitchen. “We have to talk.”

  “I know.” Puzzlement colored her tone. “You already know that our marriage has been leaked to the press? That somebody figured out who I am?”

  “Yeah. The phone rang awhile ago while I was in the barn. When nobody picked it up at the house, I grabbed it.” He scowled and she cringed inwardly.

  “I’m sorry.” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know how they found—”

  The ringing of the telephone cut off her words.

  Day snatched up the receiver. “Red Arrow Ranch.” He listened for a few seconds, then slammed the instrument back into its cradle. She could see him practically snarling. “Another one.”

  Before she could say anything, they heard the cough of an unfamiliar engine as it ground to a halt before the house. Day’s eyebrows rose, then he was striding to the front door.

  Angel was right behind him. When Day opened the door, she got a good look at a shaggy-haired young man loaded with camera equipment coming across the dusty yard. Shoving her back into the house, Day muttered, “Stay out of sight.”

  Stay out of sight! She instantly rebelled at the autocratic male tone, but a moment later she had to admit that he was smart. The last thing Day needed were photos of her at his ranch to confirm the stories. Racing into his office, which looked out over the front of the house, she peeked through the blinds.

  The guy with the cameras was being herded steadily toward his car. Day appeared to be doing all the talking, a forceful finger stabbing repeatedly into the guy’s chest, sending him stumbling back a pace at a time.

  As he pushed the man into his car, two of the ranch hands came riding up. Day gave them some terse instructions in a voice too low for her straining ears to hear and they wheeled toward the barn. The small car bumped down the road away from the house and then she saw the two hands on horseback setting out in the same direction. Across their saddles lay rifles.

  Frantically she bolted out onto the porch. “Are you crazy?” she shouted at Day.

  “If I wasn’t,” he said, taking the steps two at a time to stand beside her on the porch, “this will do it.”

  “You can’t just let them shoot people! Why did—”

  “Whoa, hold on.” Day grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “They aren’t going to shoot anybody. They’re just escorting a trespasser off our land and making sure anybody else who’s aiming to try it thinks twice.”

  His voice was tolerant and mildly amused, but she saw the black remains of rage in his eyes. He must have been livid to hear that news of their marriage had gotten out. Privacy was important to him, more so because of Beth Ann and who her mother was.

  Guilt rose. It was her fault. She should have known this wouldn’t work. She still hadn’t figured out how the press had learned of her location, but she hadn’t been exactly hiding. A diligent digger getting a few lucky breaks could have done it.

  As they reentered the house, the telephone rang.

  If Day’s expression could grow any blacker, she couldn’t imagine how. He snatched up the phone and barked, “What?” Then he held out the receiver to her. “Karl Graines. He says he’s your agent.”

  She took the instrument as if it were poisonous. “Hello?”

  “Angelique, how could you have done this to me? The press is hounding me for details about your wedding and I didn’t even know about it!” A melodramatic baritone rolled across the wires.

  She smiled despite herself, twining the phone cord around one finger. “Hello, Karl.”

  He steamrolled right over her greeting. “Oh, darling. How could you have done this?”

  “Done what?”

  “This...this marriage. Without confiding in me. As if it isn’t bad enough that you’ve been out of touch for ages—”

  “Only a few weeks,” she interrupted. “And you had my number for emergencies. You know good and well I needed the rest.”

  “Rest? You’ve obviously been doing more than resting,” he said. When she made no comment, he went on. “Yes, well, now that you’re rested, I have a couple of things I’d like you to look at and—”

  “No.” Her response cut short enough to make Day’s eyebrows rise. “I told you I’m not sure I want to take on anything else.”

  “But, darling, these are good. One in particular would be perfect. Just let me send them down and you can take a quick glance. I got one yesterday that looks simply divine....”

  But she wasn’t listening. Day had reached into the cupboard and pulled out a glass, which he’d filled with cold water. He lifted the glass to his lips, and the smooth muscles in his tanned throat worked as he drained the contents. When he set the glass in the sink, she saw that his lips were wet and gleaming, and instantly her mind went winging back to those dark, sweet hours in the night, hours when he set those lips on her body and played her like a finely tuned instrument until not another note would come.

  What would she do without him? He’d made no pretense. Right from the start, she’d known her time as his wife would be limited. Maybe she should read the scripts, she thought with weary resignation. True, she didn’t want to go back to the public life she’d led, but if she couldn’t be with Day, what did it matter? There were going to be a lot of empty hours in her days. Too empty. She had to make plans to do something; it might as well be another role.

  “I don’t know,” she said to Karl, her gaze still on the man before her. “Send the scripts to me. If I get a chance, I’ll look them over.”

  Day’s head came up sharply at the last sentence. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, saw the helpless attraction she couldn’t hide.

  As she gave Karl the ranch’s address and rang off, Day crossed the kitchen. She barely had time to set down the receiver before he was pulling her into his arms, kissing her without finesse but with a deep, aching hunger that made her toes curl and her body sag against him.

  It was the first time since they had married that he’d shown his desire for her in the middle of the day like this, and when he lifted her to the counter and moved between her legs, she didn’t even think to protest. He explored her breasts through her soft cotton shirt, his fingers moving until her nipples were hard peaks....

  The telephone rang again.

  There was bad timing and then there was bad timing.

  Reluctantly releasing Angel, Day stepped away from her and lifted the receiver. The way he felt right now, whoever was on the other end should be glad they weren’t within reach. He was going to call the phone company as soon as he’d dealt with this and have the damned number changed.

  “This better be good,” he barked.

  The silence on the other end of the line was exactly what he’d expected. But when his
ex-wife’s shrill voice demanded, “Day? Is that you?” he let out his breath in a frustrated groan.

  Hell. The last thing he needed right now was another unproductive argument with the woman who—unfortunately—was the mother of his child.

  With the same wary caution he reserved for sidewinders and scorpions, he said, “It’s me, Jada.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angel’s involuntary movement, but as she turned to leave he pointed to the stool at the counter. “Sit,” he mouthed.

  Jada’s voice grated in his ear. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you? You think that just because you have a wife now you’re going to hoodwink some local judge into awarding you custody of my daughter.” The venom in her voice was unmistakable.

  “She’s my daughter, too,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t care!” Her voice rose, high and sharp and hateful. “Do you think that bringing a slut like Sumner into your house is actually going to help your case? Let me tell you, I’ve heard things about that woman that make my hair curl. How you could allow a woman with her reputation—”

  Fury bit at him. He tamped it down and forced mockery into his voice. “It’s amazing to me that you, of all people, would be concerned about somebody else’s reputation.” Then the rage that fanned his temper tested its bonds and broke free. “Let me tell you something, Jada. Angel has more integrity than you can even imagine. Her soul isn’t rotten like yours.”

  As the words echoed down the wire, he realized they were true. Jada could have been a postal worker, a computer operator or a doctor, and she still wouldn’t be a decent person. The rot that ate away at her went too deep to excise.

  She was nothing like Angel. Other than a superficial connection through similar careers, the two women were opposites in every way there was.

  And Angel was the one he wanted.

  “Just keep pushing me,” he warned Jada. “You want to keep playing games? Try this one. If I get one more phone call, you try one more legal maneuver stalling my bid for custody, I’m going to the papers. I’m sure they’ll be more than mildly interested in my version of your Lady Bountiful act. Your child cries when she thinks you’re going to take her back. She’s terrified of the dark and of getting dirty or making noise. She once begged me not to make her sit in the closet. You want to explain that to the press? Come to think of it, maybe I’ll just let them talk to Beth Ann herself.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Her voice was low and furious.

  She was right. He wouldn’t. Not out of any concern for Jada, but because he loved his child. He refused to allow Beth Ann to be traumatized any further. But Jada had no such scruples, and she would believe any threats he made.

  “Just watch and see,” he promised. “If I don’t have signed custody papers in my hands within seven days, I go to the press.”

  He had to hold the phone away from his ear at the vituperative eruption of filthy language that next spewed out of her mouth. “You son of a bitch—I’ll ruin you!” she screamed. “I’ll make you sorry—”

  He set down the receiver, cutting her off.

  Angel was still sitting on the stool. Her eyes were huge and he realized Jada had been loud enough for her to hear most of the exchange for herself.

  “I wouldn’t really put Beth Ann through that,” he began.

  She waved a hand impatiently. “I know that. But she doesn’t, and if it helps, it will have been worth it.” Her face grew thoughtful. “I thought maybe you were wrong, you know,” she said, addressing the top of the counter rather than meeting his gaze. “I just couldn’t imagine that anyone could resist that sweet little girl—” Her voice broke, then firmed again. “I don’t want to take any chances that might cost you your daughter. I couldn’t bear it if Beth Ann ever went back to that woman. If my presence here is going to cause problems—”

  “No.” He took her hands and she looked up at him for the first time. Her eyes were so full of pain he could hardly bear it, and he wondered what she was thinking of. “I married you because you can help me keep my daughter. Don’t worry about Jada. As for what you thought—Jada doesn’t love anyone except herself. When Beth Ann was a baby, she was too much trouble—Jada couldn’t be bothered. Now that she’s a little older, Jada sees a publicity opportunity. And the reverse is true, too. Losing custody of her child won’t look good.”

  “Why don’t you have your lawyer suggest to hers that you’re willing to be very quiet about the custody thing?” Angel looked thoughtfully at their joined hands. “Maybe even plant the idea that Jada is giving up custody voluntarily in Beth Ann’s best interests, because she’s concerned about her growing up in the Hollywood environment.”

  What a woman! He was already nodding in agreement as he dropped her hands and reached for the phone. “Great idea. I’ll make the call right now.”

  * * *

  Beth Ann took a late nap the following day. Angel was afraid of photo hounds near the main road, so she asked one of the hands to ride out to pick up the mail. Since Day had turned on the answering machine, the house had been blessedly quiet. By late last evening, Day had unplugged the phones to prevent any more reporters from intruding into their lives.

  She smiled to herself as she mixed the filling for cherry pies. Over and over again, she heard Day telling Jada that she had integrity. Finally he had recognized that she wasn’t just like Jada simply because they shared a common profession.

  The porch door banged and she looked up with a smile, hoping it was Day, but it was only Smokey coming back with the mail. The redheaded cowboy brought it in and laid it on the kitchen counter, drooled over the pie filling and beat a hasty retreat when she flicked a dish towel at him.

  Distracted by the crust she was making, which was turning out to be tougher than she’d expected to work with, Angel didn’t glance through the stack until just before dinner.

  A large overnight package caught her eye first. She already knew what it was. Scripts. Karl had been as prompt as he’d promised. She felt like reading them as much as—as she did leaving the Red Arrow. Idly she glanced through the rest of the mail. Mostly bills for Day.

  It was the third envelope from the bottom.

  She felt the shock slam into her, felt herself sway as she recognized the familiar envelope. Deep breath. Take a deep breath.

  She did. Groping for the nearest chair, she sagged into it. Dear God, she’d thought that whoever had been writing these had forgotten her.

  She’d wanted to forget, that was for sure. The ranch had been a haven, a new beginning, and she’d been so positive that she wasn’t interesting enough to merit this obsession outlasting her disappearance.

  She’d been wrong. Whoever was—was stalking her must be crazy. Really crazy. Not just a little nutty like some of her fans. The sounds of trucks and men coming into the yard galvanized her into action. Taking the letter from the stack, she sprinted up the stairs to the bedroom she now shared with Day.

  She couldn’t worry him with this. Not now, when he was already half-crazed by the changes her presence had made in his life. Threats from his ex-wife, a custody suit, the loss of the privacy he so valued...no, she couldn’t. She’d just send it to the L.A. police like she had all the others.

  Carefully she opened the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper with a letter opener. Unfolding it with the same instrument, she studied the short message it contained as if she could learn something from it.

  I can’t wait to see you again.

  She shuddered. Even here, she wasn’t safe. She wondered how he’d gotten her address. It didn’t matter, because now he knew where to find her.

  She slipped the letter into her lingerie drawer, but as she prepared to close the drawer, the postmark on the envelope caught her eye.

  Deming.

  Nine

  Angel had been different ever since those damned scripts had arrived. Day had noticed at dinner that she’d seemed subdued, upset about something. Later, when they were watching television t
ogether, she’d opened a package she’d apparently received with the day’s mail. He’d seen scripts when Jada had lived with him, so he knew instantly what these were.

  But she never mentioned them. Was she thinking of accepting another role? Making another movie? Dissatisfaction tore through him and he ruthlessly squashed it. He’d known when he asked her to marry him that it would be temporary, that a woman like her didn’t belong here on the ranch.

  Was she sorry she’d married him? He was positive she genuinely loved Beth Ann. And heaven knew, the passion that flared between them every night wasn’t a problem. Unless you counted the fact that neither one of them was getting enough sleep because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

  Still...the danger from whoever had been stalking her appeared to have vanished. Even though her name and location had been splashed all over the news for the past few days, there had been no contact, no threats of any kind. The guy had probably fixated on some other unlucky woman by now.

  She’d said she didn’t want to return to an acting career. Still...it looked to him as if that’s exactly where she was headed. With as little delay as possible.

  Well, it was no skin off his nose. With any luck, he would soon have custody of Beth Ann, which was the only reason he’d married her.

  Soon he wouldn’t need her anymore.

  Of course he wouldn’t.

  “Day?”

  Her voice intruded into his dark thoughts. How long had she been trying to get his attention? “Sorry,” he said, mentally filing away all thoughts of her leaving. She was here now, and he might as well take full advantage of it.

  He got up out of the recliner he’d been sitting in and moved to sit beside her on the couch. She’d laid her package aside, and when he looped an arm around her and pulled her onto his chest, she lifted her face to his and they shared a slow, deep kiss.

  When he raised his head, his voice was hoarse and his body was throbbing. No woman had ever been able to make him so hot with only a single kiss. “Let’s go to bed.” It wasn’t a suggestion.