by Lisa Jackson
“Name it.”
“That as soon as we find out that Lee Johnston won’t be allowed out of the mental hospital, you release me.”
His mouth tightened imperceptibly, but he rounded the desk and extended his hand to her. “It’s a deal,” he said, wrapping strong fingers over hers.
“Deal,” she agreed, shaking his hand, then trying to retrieve her palm from his grasp.
But he didn’t let go. Instead he tugged slightly and, lowering his head, dropped a gentle kiss across her mouth. Soft as a whisper, his lips lingered against hers. Tenderness flooded her and she felt weak inside.
“I promise you,” he reassured, lifting his head and staring into her eyes, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Her throat clogged. “I—I don’t need a bodyguard.”
One side of his mouth twisted wryly. “I hope you’re right.” He scooped a felt Stetson from the brass tree near the door and sauntered out of the room.
She touched her lips with her fingertips. Her pulse was thundering, her knees weak. She sagged against the desk and ran trembling fingers through her hair. Oh, Kaylie, girl, you’re in a mess this time! You thought he was out of your system for good, but just one kiss and you melted inside.
She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut, forcing her breathing to slow, her heartbeat to quiet. This would never do. She had to think, be on her toes every minute. Or else she would end up falling in love with him again! “Oh, God,” she whispered, afraid of the pain and heartache.
She heard the back door slam shut. Taking a deep breath, she moved to the window and saw Zane, his stride lazy and sensual, as he walked to the barns.
After watching him disappear into a weathered building, Kaylie pulled herself together. Hauling her bag with her, she climbed the stairs again. She needed to shower, change and think. But being around Zane made rational thought nearly an impossibility.
In her room, she opened the walk-in closet and studied the clothes neatly folded and stacked on the shelves. Once again, Zane had surprised her. Slacks, blouses, sweaters, shorts, skirts and dresses—all in her size! Now it was blindingly clear that the outfits, purchased from upscale department stores in San Francisco, were intended for her. How could she have thought otherwise?
As Kaylie gazed at the wardrobe, her heart sank. There was certainly more than two weeks of clothes here!
She intended to shower and change, then she’d put escape plan A into action.
“And what’s that?” she asked herself as she stripped and stepped under the shower’s steamy spray. But she had no answer. She just knew she couldn’t let Zane dominate her again. She could handle her life by herself, but the thought of Lee Johnston turned her insides to ice.
Lolling her head back, she forced herself to relax. Warm rivulets of water ran down her shoulders and back. She closed her eyes and thought about Zane again, the power of his kiss flooding her senses.
Unconsciously she licked her lips and shivered deliciously at the memory of his mouth sliding seductively over hers.
Her eyes flew open, and she silently cursed her own weakness. Truce or no truce, she had to get out of here and fast. And it wasn’t only because of the way in which he’d shoved himself back in her life. No, she realized fatalistically, she had to get away from him! Because, like it or not, he was right. It wouldn’t take long before she might let herself fall in love with him all over again.
Chapter Six
Two can play at this game, Kaylie thought, buffing her body with a towel. If Zane intended to charm her to death, well, she’d just charm him right back, lead him to trust her enough to let down his guard.
And then she’d make good her escape, somehow leaving him high and dry, his plans foiled. A part of her yearned for that satisfaction; she was just plain tired of him trying to run her life, and yet she couldn’t fault him completely. He was, or so he claimed, only looking out for her own good.
A breath of wind slipped through the window, and Kaylie shivered. Wrapping the towel around her body, she strode into the bedroom and surveyed it with new eyes. It was a prison, yes, but not a horrible place to stay. Zane could have made the accommodations much worse; as it was, she had a little freedom, which, she supposed, she should savor. He wasn’t breathing down her neck twenty-four hours a day, and she wasn’t sleeping with him. Opening the closet, she remembered how much she’d loved Zane in the past, how she’d trusted him with her life. In all truth, he’d saved her once before just as he thought he was saving her now.
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she pulled a pair of stonewashed jeans and a peach-colored T-shirt from the shelf.
“Breakfast’s ready,” Zane whispered from behind her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Clutching the bath sheet around her, she turned to find him in the doorway. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him climb the stairs or push open the door. “Do you mind?” she asked, arching a lofty brow. “I’m trying to get dressed.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” he drawled, an amused smile toying with the corners of his mouth.
“You’re pushing it, Flannery,” she warned.
He lifted his palms. “We agreed to a truce, remember?”
“Ahh. The truce. Don’t you think we should set down some rules to this agreement? And I think the first should be that you quit sneaking up behind me and scaring the living daylights out of me.” She tucked her towel more securely over her breasts. “I’ll be down in a minute. And next time…knock, okay?”
He rubbed a hand around his neck and cast a devilish glance over his shoulder. “And miss seeing you like this?” He shook his head, and a lock of hair fell over his forehead. “No way. If you want privacy, next time lock your door.”
She finished dressing and hurried downstairs where the scents of sausage and coffee wafted through the rooms. The kitchen table had been set for two, and a huge platter of eggs, sausage links and toast was steaming on the counter.
Zane waved her into a chair and poured black coffee into their cups. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where’re you going…?” But he was already out the kitchen door.
A few minutes later he returned carrying a portable television. “Where’d you get that?” she demanded.
One side of his mouth lifted cynically. “There you go again, hoping to get me to divulge my darkest secrets.”
“I thought we had a truce,” she reminded him.
He plugged the TV into the counter outlet, snapped it on, then fiddled with the antenna. “We do. That’s why I’m being so irresistible.”
“So that’s the reason,” she remarked dryly.
“Aha!” he said, finally satisfied with the reception.
Kaylie heard the familiar lead-in music to West Coast Morning.
“Oh, no,” she said, her appetite nearly forgotten as the camera closed in on Alan Bently’s handsome face.
“There he is—your fiancé,” Zane said good-naturedly, though Kaylie thought she saw a muscle tighten in his jaw. “What a guy! Look at that! Even his makeup is perfect.”
“He’s not my fiancé.” Kaylie shot Zane a warning glance, just as Alan made eye contact with the camera.
“Good morning!” Alan said. His brown eyes didn’t blink, and his smile seemed a little forced. “You may have noticed that Kaylie Melville isn’t with us today,” he said half-apologetically. “She won’t be with us for the rest of the week as she was called away from the city for personal reasons….”
“I was what?” Kaylie cried, astounded.
“Sick aunt,” Zane explained, fiddling with the dials at the bottom of the set.
“What?”
“Your aunt. Very ill. Needs care.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” she said, pinning him with a glare that was meant to bore holes through solid steel. “I don’t even have an aunt!” She reached for a piece of toast and thought aloud. “So you must’ve told Margot something else. She wouldn’t buy into the sick-aun
t scenario.”
“Nope. But your sister thought it was romantic that I was whisking you away to a private hideaway.”
“You told her?”
“Of course I told her.”
“Just wait ’til I see her again,” Kaylie muttered, feeling betrayed by her own flesh and blood. Margot might not know it yet, but when Kaylie saw her again, there was going to be trouble. Big trouble! She ripped off a piece of toast and popped it into her mouth.
“Margot will probably defend me,” Zane predicted. “In fact, she said she wished some ‘knight on a white steed would carry her away to some romantic hideaway.’”
“Oh, give me a break!” But Kaylie could almost hear Margot uttering those exact words. Whereas Kaylie had always been sensible when it came to men—well, men other than Zane—Margot had been the dreamer, the romantic.
“Besides, she’s concerned about your safety and she let me know that she doesn’t much like Alan.”
“She knows how I feel about Alan. No two-bit scandal sheet would change her mind.”
As Zane buttered toast and scooped eggs onto his plate, Kaylie turned her attention back to the set. Didn’t Zane know that Alan wasn’t her type? Even years ago, when they’d filmed Obsession together and Alan had shown some interest in her, Kaylie had told him in no uncertain terms to keep his distance. She had been married to Zane at the time, and she wasn’t interested in a steamy off-camera affair with Alan or anyone else for that matter. In fact, she had been so head over heels in love with Zane that she had actually laughed at Alan’s sleazy attempts at seduction. Fortunately, Alan had taken the hint. Long ago.
“Old Alan looks pretty comfortable without you,” Zane observed, taking a bite. “He kind of glossed over your absence, don’t you think?”
“What was he going to say?” she countered. “He’s not exactly dealing with all the facts, is he?”
Zane stopped chewing. “When you and Alan did your last picture together, he was the one ranting and raving for top billing, higher salaries, a bigger dressing room.”
“A lot has changed since we filmed Obsession.”
Zane’s eyes darkened. “Amen.” He shoved his plate aside, half his food uneaten, and touched the tips of her fingertips with his. “So if you’re not involved with Bently, who is the man in your life?”
Her lungs grew tight, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one who seems to know everything about my life.” She wished he’d just drop the subject; she didn’t want to admit that she wasn’t romantically involved with anyone, nor had she been since Zane. The dates and publicized relationships over the past few years had never become serious. She hadn’t let herself become involved with any one man. However, she wasn’t about to tell Zane about her less-than-fulfilling love life. If Zane knew she was entirely unattached, the feelings hovering in the shadows would only intensify the emotions already charging the air between them. No, it was better if Zane thought she was involved with another man.
“There is something more I should tell you,” he admitted, his finger slowly rimming his cup in suggestive circles.
Kaylie’s throat went dry. “What?”
The honesty honing his features disarmed her, his fingers quit moving on the rim of his cup. “I’ve missed you, Kaylie. I’ve missed everything about you.”
“Zane, please—”
“You wanted the truth, didn’t you? Well, you’re going to get it.”
She watched as he shoved his chair back and walked to the window. Staring out, his rigid back to her, he said, “I missed coming home to you at night. I missed hearing you sing in the shower. I missed your lingerie draped in the bathroom, I missed your perfume on the pillows, the feel of your hair brushing my face at night, the way you kicked your shoes into the closet…. I missed…” He turned and stared at her, his expression pensive and tormented. “I missed you, Kaylie. All of you.”
Her throat tightened, and for a second she thought the tears burning behind her eyes might spill. He sounded so sincere and a part of her longed to believe him.
“So…you’ve taken advantage of this…situation. Is that what this is all about?” she whispered, her voice shaky, her hands clenched so tightly around her napkin her fingers ached.
The muscles in the back of his neck tensed. “No.” Without another word, he walked out the door and it slammed behind him with a bang.
Kaylie tried to eat but the food stuck in her throat. Her appetite was gone. Angrily shoving her plate aside, she attempted to think rationally, to tell herself not to fall under Zane’s spell again, but the simple truth was that she still cared about him—maybe loved him.
“You’re the worst kind of fool,” she muttered, blinking back tears. She ran up to her room, snagged a jacket from the closet and struggled into boots that were a little too tight. Clomping back downstairs, she headed out the front door and nearly ran over Franklin, who, upon spying her, growled.
“I hope your bark is worse than your bite,” she said, sidestepping the dog.
The morning air was crisp. Drops of dew glistened on the sun-bleached grass, and sunlight streamed through the trees, warming the ground in dappled patches. Craggy mountains towered over the forests, and a few stray clouds drifted lazily in the blue sky.
This place was a touch of heaven, she thought reluctantly, remembering Zane’s description last night as he hauled her up here. And it did seem heavenly compared to her hectic pace in the city and the job she’d left. “The job you were hijacked from,” she corrected herself. “Sick aunt, indeed!”
She stopped at the Jeep and checked to see if it was unlocked. But the shiny rig hadn’t moved since Zane had parked it and the cellular phone was nowhere in sight. Every door, including the tailgate, was secured. The windows were rolled up and even the hood was latched. “Wonderful,” she sighed, dusting her hands.
She headed around the corner of the house and down a gravel lane to several outbuildings. The first small building was locked, so she balanced on her tiptoes on a chunk of wood and brushed aside the dust that had collected on the windowpanes. Shading her eyes, she squinted into the darkened interior. This particular building was a storage shed of sorts. Bags of feed and drums of oil, wheelbarrows and rakes, chain saws and other tools were stacked against the walls. In her peripheral vision she saw movement—a shadow. She braced herself.
“Find what you’re looking for?” Zane asked, propping one booted foot against the bottom rail of a fence. Franklin had linked up with him again and flopped down in the shade cast by the barn.
“Here, maybe this will help.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a key ring and tossed it to her.
Kaylie snatched the ring in midair. She couldn’t believe he’d give her his keys. Now, if she could make it to the Jeep….
As if reading her thoughts, he extracted a second ring. “These are to the equipment,” he said, jangling his keys in the air. Kaylie watched as sunlight glinted against the sharp piece of metal. “But those—” he motioned to the keys gripped tightly in her fingers “—will get you in and out of most of the buildings on the place. Just be sure to lock all the doors behind you.”
The man was absolutely infuriating! “Oh, yes, master,” she mocked. “And when I leave the room, I’ll bow at your feet.”
“That would be nice,” he drawled, with the hint of a smile.
“You’re insufferable and overbearing—and a bully to boot!”
Zane’s smile disappeared. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, striding across the gravel that separated them and grabbing hold of her wrist.
“Sounds good to me. This wasn’t my idea in the first place!”
“Then you won’t object?”
“Me? Object to anything you say? Never!”
“That’s more like it!”
Insufferable. That’s what he was! But she didn’t protest as he tugged on her arm. Though she had to half run to keep up with him, she let him pull her along the short lane to the
barn she’d spied earlier from the den. The exterior of the old building was weathered, the metal roof rusted in places, but the fenced paddocks still held a few head of white-faced cattle.
Zane shoved on a huge door of the barn, and it creaked open. They stepped inside. The interior was dark. It smelled of horses and new hay, dust and cobwebs.
“Over there,” he said, taking her arm and propelling her across the worn plank floor to the back of the barn where two horses, on the other side of the manger, stood, tails switching, bridled and saddled. “I thought we’d take a ride.”
Kaylie cocked a brow. “And what makes you think I won’t just take off?”
“On Dallas, here?” he asked, nodding toward a rangy bay gelding. “Not much chance. He knows when it’s feeding time and no matter where he is, he hightails it back here.”
The horse looked docile enough. Big brown eyes blinked as the gelding studied her without much interest.
“Unless you’ve taken a few riding lessons in the past seven years, you won’t get two miles from this place on Dallas.” He grinned deviously in the half light. “Besides, even if you try, this boy, here,” he said, hooking a thumb at a muscular chestnut stallion, “will catch you. Meet His Majesty.”
She looked pointedly at him and deadpanned, “I thought I already had.”
Zane’s lips twitched. “He’s second in command.”
“Oh.” Kaylie looked thoughtful. “Let me get this straight. I’m riding a horse named Dallas and you’re on His Majesty?”
“You got it.” Zane opened the stalls and led both animals out of the barn.
“Figures,” Kaylie muttered, blinking against the sudden brightness as Zane shouldered open the door.
They mounted the horses and rode through a series of paddocks holding several other horses and a few head of cattle. The grass was dry, the ground hard, but still the animals grazed, plucking at the few yellow blades, flicking flies with their tails, or standing in the shadows of the nearby forest.
A few spindly legged foals hid behind their mother’s rumps and one feisty white-faced calf bellowed as they passed. Zane, surprisingly, seemed relaxed in the saddle and Kaylie, not much of a horsewoman, pretended that it was second nature to sit astride a huge animal with a mind of his own.
