by Debra Dixon
“Yes, you did. But my father, who is an expert on the subject,” Zach assured her with a humorless smile, “subscribes to the theory that you can only believe half of what a woman says.” Zach pulled the saddle off Dap and led him away. “And sometimes I agree with him.”
“Then you and your pop have been listening to the wrong women,” Niki said flatly, watching Zach stop dead in his tracks before he continued across the camp toward one of the double-size tents. She jumped down from the wagon and turned her back on him, calling, “I have dinner to finish.”
As she chopped onions for the chili gurgling in a huge vat on the gas stove, she tried to let go of Zach’s last words, but she couldn’t. They troubled her. Not that he’d said them, but the tone of his voice when he’d said them. It wasn’t snide or teasing or cynical. Niki had the distinct impression his words were spoken with disappointment and regret, and she wanted to know why. She wanted to know who had disappointed him and what he regretted.
Disappointment and regret were two emotions with which she’d learned to live. Disappointment in herself for being too young and too naive to know that the football captain’s promises of undying love and devotion did not apply outside the perimeter of his pickup truck. But the disappointment could never compare to the aching regret and guilt that she still carried in her soul for wishing the pregnancy would go away. Every night she’d gone to sleep hoping for midnight magic that would “fix” her mistake and stop the whispering, put an end to the stares.
Careful what you wish for.
She remembered it all so clearly. The sharp pain that she knew was wrong. The realization that she didn’t want the baby to die. Fear that she’d done something that caused the pain. She’d been six months pregnant, and no one would answer her frantic questions as the ambulance rushed from Laramie to a state-of-the-art prenatal unit in Cheyenne. They patted her on the hand and told her not to worry.
Zach’s concerned voice interrupted her thoughts. “What’s wrong?”
The baby died. Niki wanted to shout the words, but instead she dropped the knife onto the cutting board and raised eyes brimming with tears to Zach’s face.
When she caught her breath in a ragged gasp, Zach did the only thing he could. He pulled her into his arms.
THREE
Zach cradled Niki in his arms, trying to comfort her. What had shaken her so badly? She melted against him, trusting him with her tears. He wanted to erase the sadness he’d seen in her eyes, but he felt helpless. All he could do was hold her, rock her, and whisper soothing reassurances. Niki aroused protective feelings that startled him with their intensity.
For the first time in his life Zach didn’t know what to do with a woman in his arms. He knew how to seduce, how to play, how to tease, but he didn’t know how to be needed or how to comfort. His relationships had been brief and limited to surface attraction, with everyone parting company on the best of terms. The women in his life simply hadn’t cried. They’d checked their emotions at the door.
Niki Devlin wasn’t like other women. She didn’t cry for an audience, dabbing gracefully at her wet eyes. Instead, Niki cried without fuss and fury. She buried her face in his chest, quietly spilling tears that dampened his T-shirt. Finally, her arms crept around his neck, and she sniffed loudly. Zach felt as if he’d been paid the ultimate compliment.
Even as her hand tangled in Zach’s hair, Niki knew she should pull away. That she’d already made a fool of herself. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave the warmth of Zach’s embrace. He held her close enough to assure her that she was safe, but not so close that she felt smothered. She wanted him to go on holding her while she pushed the old feelings that threatened to swamp her into a far corner of her mind.
His heart beat against her cheek, and his scent, all masculine and leather, filled every breath she took. When she lifted her face, Zach’s gray eyes, shadowed with concern, met hers. Without conscious thought, she touched her lips to his, intending it as a gentle thank-you for his kindness.
Zach caught her face between his hands and searched her eyes. The butterfly kiss had shattered any hope he’d had of walking away from this intriguing woman. She was soft and real and honest. No stammered apology for the tears, no casual jokes, just a tender thanks. Slowly he began to lower his lips to hers, knowing that what he was about to do flew in the face of logic and reason. But how could a man hold Niki Devlin in his arms and not kiss her?
Each passing moment brought him closer, and Niki couldn’t pull away—didn’t want to pull away. She ran her tongue across her bottom lip. The way Zach’s hungry gaze followed the gesture left no mistake about his intentions. Every inch of her body pressing against his was alive with sensation. When his lips claimed hers, Niki stopped worrying about anything other than the warmth stealing through her abdomen, and the heady pleasure of being thoroughly and expertly kissed.
Zach teased her bottom lip with his tongue before dipping into her mouth and sampling its velvety texture. He slid his hands down to circle her waist and caress the small of her back. Each tiny adjustment of her body settled her more firmly in his embrace, and as he deepened the kiss, his urge to comfort faded and was replaced by a more primitive urge. Instinct took over as anticipation surged through his body. The feel of her against him as she shifted in the cradle of his thighs set off an explosion of desire in his loins. Suddenly, holding her, kissing her, wasn’t going to be enough.
The explosion restored his sanity. Using every ounce of willpower he had, Zach pulled his lips from hers and backed away. He had no intention of losing control with her. And that’s exactly what would happen if he didn’t step away. This was the wrong place and the wrong time. Even if it is the right woman, whispered a traitorous voice in his head.
The abrupt removal of his support almost sent Niki sprawling, but his hands on her shoulders steadied her. She knew she ought to say something witty and snappy, but she didn’t feel witty and snappy. She felt breathless and completely kissed. All of her senses felt ragged, as though they hadn’t been used in a while and protested the sudden workout. Worst of all, she felt unprotected, incomplete, and just plain wrong now that she wasn’t in Zach’s arms.
“What was that?” she asked when she could talk. It was as close to witty as her befuddled brain could manage.
“I don’t know. You tell me.” He dropped his arms, unsure what he wanted her answer to be.
“Confused male reaction?” she asked, beginning to feel more normal, especially now that he wasn’t touching her.
“Excuse me?”
“A confused male reaction. A pity kiss. It was very sweet. Thanks, but don’t do it again.”
“Lady, I don’t know where you got your definition of pity, but I don’t think we’re using the same dictionary.”
Zach swept his hat off his head, revealing almost black hair, flecked with premature silver at the temples. “And just so you’ll know. There wasn’t a confused bone in my body. I knew exactly what I was doing. And so did you.”
Niki had no answer for him. After all, he was right. She’d kissed him back. What could she say? Nothing he’d believe. The onions had started the tears, and once the tear ducts had begun to work, she hadn’t been able to turn them off—as she’d never been able to turn off the emotional memories that surfaced every time she came home. Wyoming turned her upside down, and so did Zach’s incredibly direct gaze that promised he could see into her soul.
The onions had started the crying, but her quirky hormones were to blame for the kiss. She’d kissed Zach Weston, no denying it, but as long as she stood on Wyoming soil, she wasn’t about to admit she enjoyed kissing Zach Weston.
“All right. It wasn’t a pity kiss, but it wasn’t a first kiss either. It was our only kiss. In my line of work, I don’t want to be accused of ‘kiss and tell’ journalism.”
“Good. Because the last thing I need right now is a trail romance.”
“Fine.”
“Great.”
“Then it�
�s settled.”
“Completely settled.”
“Hello, the camp!” John’s familiar voice interrupted their heated agreement.
“John!” Niki practically shouted with relief at being rescued from any more intimate conversation with Zach.
Two dogs trotted beside John’s horse and kept turning anxiously in the direction of the cattle. The dogs looked like mongrels, almost like wild dogs, with prick ears and pointed noses. In the fading light their dark blue-gray coats seemed to be speckled, and they had tan markings on their legs and chest.
Questions tumbled out of Niki even as she walked toward them, trying to see them better in the light of the gas lantern she’d hung on one of the awning poles. “You’re back. With dogs? Those are dogs? Of course they’re dogs. What else would they be?”
Niki knew she was babbling and tried to get a grip on her conversation. One kiss had reduced her to an incoherent, nervous wreck. “Is this what you meant when you said the truck forgot to leave something, and you charged off after it? I thought you meant salt or something for the cattle. Are they yours?”
“They’re Zach’s.”
“What great dogs! I love dogs, but I can’t have one in the city. Come here, boy,” Niki coaxed and patted her leg, but the dogs wouldn’t budge from their position beside John’s horse.
“That’ll do.” As John gave them the release command, the dogs streaked past Niki, aiming for Zach at a dead run.
“Ssst,” hissed Zach with an affectionate smile.
Niki watched in fascination as both dogs skidded to a halt and dropped to the ground in a flash. Neither of them moved once they hit the ground, not so much as a muscle or even a quick tail wag. However, both of them had managed to stop with every sinew taut and every muscle bunched, ready for action. They were crouched, Niki realized, with their heads lowered and eyes glued to Zach as if waiting for a signal.
“What are they doing?” Niki whispered as John came up beside her.
“Playing,” John shook his head. “Of course, any other man who owned a farm dog would give his eye teeth to have his dogs work as well as Zach’s dogs play. I guess I’d have to put Brass and Snicker on my list of things I envy the boss.”
“Don’t let him fool you, Niki,” Zach said as he sailed his hat out into the meadow over the heads of his two dogs, who didn’t take their eyes off him. “He’s got a little bitch out of Snicker’s last litter that is going to leave these two in the dust as soon as she gets a bit older.”
Niki frowned, glancing over her shoulder at the disappearing hat and then back at Zach. “Litter? You mean you breed these dogs? They’re not mutts?”
John choked and looked scandalized. “Lord, no. These are Zach’s two champion Australian Cattle Dogs.”
“Rustle it up,” Zach ordered, grinning as the dogs bolted straight up, turned in the air, and raced to find his hat.
Niki scooted out of their way. “Now, how are they going to find it in the dark? They didn’t even see where you threw it.”
Tapping his nose, Zach said, “Nature’s flashlight.”
“Well, spit,” Niki said as the dogs came racing back with the hat, one on each side, carrying it gingerly by the brim. Finding the Stetson hadn’t taken more than ten seconds. “Do they walk on water too?”
“Just about,” John griped. “Wait until you see them work cattle.” Rolling his eyes, John turned away. “I’ve got to feed and water my horse. Zach, you want me to bed down Dap for you?”
“Thanks, John,” he answered and reached down to take his hat from the dogs. “I’d appreciate it. Put a few lanterns around the camp too.”
When John left, Niki felt suddenly uncomfortable about being alone with Zach, who once again was staring at her. She certainly didn’t want to reopen their discussion about the kiss, and she didn’t want him to ask about her crying jag. Damn! Niki couldn’t believe she’d actually cried on his shoulder. Twenty-six years old, and she still couldn’t come back home without getting emotional about the past.
The man must think she was a nut case. She’d fallen in the mud, cried real tears all over his chest, kissed him, and referred to his champions as mutts. What on earth would she do for an encore? Your job, she told herself. After all, you are the chuck wagon cook, so act like it.
“I’ve got more onions to chop,” she said briskly, turning toward the wagon. “And I’d better get back to the chili before it burns.”
Once again Zach sailed his hat out into the darkness. “You okay, Cookie?”
Even though he appeared to be absorbed in following and pinpointing the exact location of his Stetson as it landed, Niki could feel his attention riveted on her, feel him waiting for her answer. Cowboy Zach was a gentleman. He didn’t ask her why she was upset, only if she was okay. His use of the nickname oddly touched her, and Niki said, “I’m all right.”
He nodded and sent the dogs after his hat.
The night was dark and chilly by the time the pretend cowboys came staggering into camp. Staying awake long enough to eat dinner was the only thing on their minds. Niki ladled up the aromatic chili and handed each man a spoon and enamel cup. “Coffee’s by the fire.”
“I see you’ve circled the tents,” teased Murray, the seafaring accountant from Seattle. “Are we expecting Indians?”
“No, the circle helps keep out bears and wolves,” John answered from behind him.
At the startled look on the accountant’s face, Niki said, “He’s only kidding, Murray. Elk, coyotes maybe, but no bears or wolves. Go pull up a rock and eat your chili.”
“Spoilsport,” John accused Niki when Murray left.
“Do you ever stop fooling around?”
He held out his tin plate. “Only when Zach’s in the vicinity. You should have seen him last year when I put rattlesnake meat in the chili.”
Niki stopped in the middle of raising the ladle to John’s plate. “You didn’t.”
“Unfortunately, I did.” He grinned. “Zach caught on right away. Stopped in mid-chew and shot me one of those looks of his. You know, the kind that can set your hair on fire from across the room?”
“Yes, I believe I do,” Niki said, not bothering to mention that Zach could probably set more than her hair on fire with a look.
“You should have seen him nonchalantly inspect his chili by firelight.”
“How’d he know it was you?”
“It’s always me.” John sighed with mock regret. “Where I made my mistake was that I cut the pieces too big. I should have used the meat grinder from the chuck wagon, then all he would have had were suspicions.”
“What did Zach do?” asked Niki.
From behind John, Zach’s strong voice supplied the answer. “Assigned him two shifts of night watch and made him follow the herd for two days, worrying the stragglers. The guests didn’t eat nearly as much rattlesnake as he ate dust.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” John took his plate, winked at Niki, and left.
“People always tell you things, Cookie?” asked Zach, a curious expression on his face.
Niki thought for a minute before she answered. “People do tend to tell me things. Odd things. Little things.” Niki held out her hand for his plate and asked, “Got anything you want to tell me, Cowboy Zach?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
Intrigued, Niki crossed her heart and said, “Wild horses couldn’t drag a secret out of me.”
“In that case …” Zach glanced over one shoulder, then the other before leaning toward her, enjoying the way her eyes widened as she also leaned toward him. “Rumor has it that when the Dodge City coroner opened the Boot Hill graves, some of the skeletons still had their boots on.”
Zach picked up his cup and a spoon, eased the plate out of Niki’s hand, and left: her staring at him.
“Cute, Weston. Real cute,” Niki said to his back. Can you keep a secret, indeed!
Grinning at her comment, Zach found a spot in the sputtering shadows of the fire. Around the warmth o
f the fire, the guests sat cross-legged and complained good-naturedly about contrary horses and sore muscles. However, Zach’s attention wasn’t on the dudes. He was totally focused on Niki, She fascinated him. When Niki joined the group, Zach leaned back and watched her work. Less than two minutes after she sat down, the first victim was spilling his guts.
“All I ever wanted to do was ride horses and sleep under the stars,” confessed the brown-haired lawyer.
“So why’d you go to law school?” Niki asked.
“I didn’t go to law school. I settled for law school,” he admitted. “Rodeo wasn’t going to pay the mortgage. My law practice does, with enough left over to come out here every year.”
“You rode in the rodeo?” she asked in surprise.
“I wouldn’t say that.” He pushed his wire-rim glasses up his nose. “It was more like the rodeo rode me. I spent a lot of time in the air and the rest of it flat on my back on the ground.”
While everyone laughed, Zach stared at Niki, acknowledging that the rest of the men seemed to be as drawn to her as he was. She flipped her braid over her shoulder and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins. Whether it was a trick of the firelight or amusement, her eyes sparkled. Zach imagined what it would feel like to have those arms wrap around him, feel her legs slide against his—
This is ridiculous, Weston! You need to be concentrating on your future instead of making imaginary love to a woman you’ve only just met.
Since he’d purposely sat slightly away from the fire, he couldn’t blame the uncomfortable increase in his body temperature on the flames. Nor was the chili—undoubtedly the worst he’d ever eaten—guilty of making him so hot. The only thing hot and spicy about that chili had been that Niki had served it up.
Zach resigned himself to the fact that the slow burn in his loins had been kindled by Niki. Damn! He was a thirty-two-year-old victim of chemistry. And chemistry couldn’t be reasoned with, threatened, or ignored. At least not now that he’d held her in his arms.
