Wild Wyoming Nights

by Joanne Rock

  There were a handful of texts from her mom that she’d look over in a minute. But the one that caught her eye first was from Carson just a few minutes ago.

  You rode like a pro! Celebration dinner under the stars at 7:00? I want to show you a new view.

  The thrill of anticipation that shot through her was like nothing she’d ever felt for another man. The promise of passion was a lure she couldn’t resist. Not with Carson. Besides, she was free from her past—she deserved to seize the moment with a man who treated her well. He applauded her strengths even as he tried to protect her. He gave her the space she asked for, even when he could have used the simmering heat between them to overrule her common sense.

  Continuing to deny the attraction hadn’t made her feel stronger. If anything, it made her worry she hadn’t fully recovered from her past so that she could take this kind of risk. Still, her fingers trembled just a little as she typed out a response.

  Yes.

  She hit Send and barely had time to exhale before his response made her phone chime.

  I’ll meet you in the courtyard of the main house at seven.

  She would be alone with him tonight. Desire smoked through her at the possibilities, yes. But she couldn’t deny that the emotional risk scared her. Giving herself a minute to slow her racing heart, she tried to read her mother’s long, rambly texts.

  Tucking one foot under her, she scrolled through the messages, skipping past some of the drawn-out worries about Austin finding Emma again. Emma had spent enough of her own energy fearing that without allowing her mother to wind her up again.

  Jane Layton had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder after Emma’s father committed suicide, and her mom had been on medications ever since. She’d been in a long depression for much of Emma’s childhood, but the last five years had been full of mood swings, manic episodes followed by prolonged crashes. Emma tried not to add to her mother’s stress, so she needed boundaries for how much she shared about her own life.

  However, she couldn’t remain quiet for too long, or she’d add to her mother’s anxiety. It was a constant tightrope walk to help her mother stay level.

  From what Emma could glean from the long texts, her mom’s latest fear was that the McNeill family was going to take advantage of Emma. Mom had read about the family online and was worried they were entitled and privileged. There was a long rant about how money did not equate with honor. Another text compared the Venturas—the family who’d employed her mother for decades—to the McNeills, with some discussion of how rich people used others for their own ends.

  Emma finally switched off the screen in the middle of reading a text, unwilling to get sucked into baseless fears. She’d been in family counseling more than once, with her mom and by herself, to learn strategies for coping with this kind of thing. And right now, when Emma had just enjoyed a professionally rewarding day, she reminded herself that it was okay if she didn’t respond yet. She would enjoy tonight with Carson, savor the triumph of the race scene and then reply tomorrow. In the morning, she would craft a calming, neutral answer.

  Still, as she walked back to the main house to get ready for her night out, she couldn’t help feeling a sense of foreboding. Because sometimes, at the heart of her mother’s outsize fears, there was something legitimate, which always made it difficult to discount them completely.

  What had her so upset about the McNeills?

  From what Emma had seen, they were generous to allow a film crew so much access to one of their working ranches. She hadn’t met Carson’s brothers or half siblings, but she’d gathered they were a tight-knit group who operated connected businesses. And as for Carson...

  Her heart galloped faster at the thought of their upcoming date. Slipping into a back door of the Creek Spill’s main house, Emma hurried to the stairs to reach her room. Tonight clearly wasn’t about working together to keep her safe on the back of a horse. Carson’s celebration seemed entirely personal.

  And no matter what her mother might think of the McNeill family, Emma trusted Carson enough to be alone with him. That was more than she could say for any man she’d met in the last three years. Was it so wrong to want to enjoy this moment of feeling like she’d made progress in her journey toward healing?

  The door to her suite was open, the way she’d left it this morning. But it was clear someone had been inside. A stack of crisp white boxes rested on the brown leather sofa in the sitting area, the name of an upscale women’s boutique written in block lettering on each one. The smallest of the pile was a thin, flat package, crisscrossed with bright blue ribbon.

  Sticking out from the ribbon at an angle was a card with her name scrawled in bold penmanship. When she flipped it over, there was a message:

  Pulling out all the stops to celebrate. If you want to set aside your boots for a few hours, I picked out some things I thought you might like.

  Intrigued, Emma slid a finger under the ribbons and pulled them off. She opened the box to find a delicate platinum chain, the loops so fine they looked like lace. At the center was a pendant of diamonds in the shape of a horseshoe, the polished stones cut to refract light in every direction. Her finger trailed over the jewelry, hardly daring to believe he would give her such a gift.

  She couldn’t keep it, of course. But she also couldn’t ignore that kind of thoughtfulness. She would wear it to dinner and enjoy the feel of it on her neck. For this brief window of time, she would celebrate the way the McNeills did—with extravagance.

  A thrill shot through as she turned to see all the other gifts stacked up and waiting. Excited to see what each one held, she pulled out one beautiful thing after another. A white crepe top that looked like it would bare her midriff. A full-length black silk skirt with a daring slit up one leg. Tiny diamond hoops for her ears. Bright teal-colored high heels with straps that went around her ankles. A tiny satin drawstring bag to carry her things—black on one side and teal on the other so she could choose which to use.

  There were silver combs for her hair. A designer makeup kit in a travel size.

  Everything she could possibly need to feel glamorous.

  It was perfect. Exciting. And the only cloud hovering over her evening was the knowledge that her mother sat alone somewhere, worried that Emma was going to be taken advantage of by the rich and powerful McNeills. What would Jane Layton say if she saw the way her daughter took her time showering and applying her makeup for a date with her host tonight? The way Emma slid into that black silk skirt and felt like the most sensual creature on earth?

  No doubt, her mother would tell her to run.

  But Emma had been doing that for three years straight. Tonight, she was done hiding. With the thrill of a successful stunt behind her, she hoped she had the courage to take the one risk she hadn’t dared in all that time.

  * * *

  Carson’s breath stuck in his chest when Emma stepped out of the house dressed for the evening. He’d been sitting by the pool while he waited for her, messaging the private investigator and checking in with his sister Madeline about Paige’s condition.

  But one look at Emma’s thigh through the high slit in the black skirt she wore had his brain scrambling like he’d just been bucked off a two-thousand-pound bull.

  He gave an admiring whistle and shoved his phone in the pocket of his tux jacket.

  “Well, thank you.” She tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear, the diamond hoops glinting in the sinking sunlight. “You’ve got some good taste, Carson McNeill.”

  “I only chose the date and the horseshoe necklace.” He edged past a lounger to meet her at the end of the pool deck. “But I agree, my taste in those things is outstanding.”

  Seeing her now, with strawberry-colored gloss slicked over her lips and something shimmery on her eyelids, made him realize she hadn’t worn makeup any of the times they’d been together before. She didn’t need it any more than she
needed silk clothes and diamonds, but she carried herself differently tonight. And he liked that a whole lot.

  Offering her his arm, Carson led her down the wide stone path toward the car he’d rented.

  “Then who chose all these beautiful things for me?” She kicked out a foot to show off her bright blue shoe. Pink toenails peeped through the straps. “And it all fits.”

  “My half sister Madeline runs the guest ranch where you were staying before you moved over here. When I asked her about her favorite boutique, she quizzed me until I told her your name. She remembered you from check-in.”

  “I remember her, too.” Emma paused in front of the limo. “What’s this?”

  “Our ride to the airfield.” He stood back to let the driver open the door for her. “I didn’t think the pickup would cut it.”

  “Airfield?” She bit her lip.

  His gaze tracked the movement, and the desire to taste her became a tangible need.

  “There aren’t many options for fine dining nearby. I thought a night in Jackson Hole would be nice.”

  Plus, taking her away from the ranch and Cheyenne meant a night off from worrying about her ex finding her.

  “A benefit of being a McNeill.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the limousine and slid into the plush leather seat that wrapped around the back corner of the vehicle.

  Carson settled into the seat beside her while the driver shut the door and put the car in motion. He reached for the champagne in the ice bucket.

  “Ready to toast your success?” He spun the bottle so she could see the label to make her decision.

  “Actually, as a personal trainer, I try to walk the walk with what I tell my clients and really limit alcohol intake.”

  “I respect that.” He tucked the champagne back into the ice. “But I can’t let it stop me from making a toast.” Reaching past the silver bucket to the mini fridge, he found a bottle of sparkling water and cracked it open. “It’s important to celebrate milestones.”

  The limo pulled out onto the main road. Carson noticed that traffic was heavier than usual in the other direction. But then, it was Friday night, and there were more visitors in town than normal with the film shooting here. Everyone else was headed downtown for an evening out, making him glad they were driving toward the private airstrip instead.

  “Here.” Emma leaned forward to retrieve the crystal champagne flutes. She held one out for him to fill, then the other.

  Her bare knee grazed his as she shifted on the seat. Her light lemongrass scent drifted toward him, making him want to get closer and find the places on her skin where the fragrance hid. When she leaned back into her seat again, he realized he’d been holding his breath.

  Damn. What a powerful effect she had on him.

  He clutched the base of his champagne glass, the chill of the water reaching the stem as he lifted it. He told himself to keep the focus on a friendly celebration. To give her time to enjoy herself. She deserved that.

  “To you, Emma. To your grit, your daring and your skill. You impressed me all week with your commitment to improving, but I admired you most today, when I saw you ride the stunt over and over again like you’d done it a hundred times.”

  She laughed, shaking her head like she could wave off the praise. “You don’t know how scared I was.”

  “I do.” He’d seen how hard she worked to get better. And he thought he understood the nuances of what drove her to keep this job. It wasn’t just about avoiding her ex, but triumphing over that chapter of her past. “That’s what made it so special. Cheers to conquering the challenge.”

  Her gaze turned serious. “Cheers.”

  They drank at the same moment, gazes locked until Emma glanced away. She set aside her champagne flute as the vehicle turned. Through the tinted windows, he saw a handful of private planes. Two of them were on the tarmac, ready for departure.

  His plane—his grandfather’s Learjet that he’d welcomed the family to use while he stayed in Wyoming—and another that Carson didn’t recognize.

  He did recognize the woman standing near the jetway, however.

  “Isn’t that one of your sisters?” Emma asked, sitting forward while the limo rolled to a stop, kicking up a small cloud of dust on the gravel parking area. “And she’s with Logan King.” Emma’s hand squeezed Carson’s arm lightly. “One of the lead actors.”

  Carson knew damn well who Logan King was.

  And even though his date was the most compelling woman he’d ever been with, it still took superhuman willpower for him not to sprint out of the limo ahead of her to ask the guy just what the hell he thought he was doing.

  Seven

  Of all the luck.

  Scarlett had to resist the urge to chew on her freshly painted fingernail as her brother Carson stepped out of his limousine at the private airfield. Her brothers never went anywhere. What were the odds one of them would suddenly decide to take a Friday night flight at the same time Logan had invited her to Los Angeles for the dinner date she’d promised him?

  Carson charged toward them now, his lovely date having to double-time her steps to keep up. The woman clutched the side slit of a stunning silk skirt with one hand while Carson bore down on them.

  “Do you know that guy?” Logan asked, his arm sliding protectively around Scarlett’s waist.

  His touch—instinctual, automatic—was a pleasant counterpoint to a situation that was going downhill fast.

  “It’s my brother.” She glanced up at Logan while their driver stowed their overnight bags on board the aircraft.

  “Scarlett.” Carson sounded just like their father when he broke out his stern voice. “Going somewhere?”

  “Hello to you, too.” She turned her attention to the tall, beautiful creature by his side, who must have been involved with the movie. The woman had amazing legs and the bearing of someone used to being in front of the camera. “Excuse my brother’s manners. I’m Scarlett, the youngest sister, who will forever be stuck at thirteen years old in his eyes.”

  “Emma Layton.” The woman had a strong, friendly handshake. Warm but no-nonsense at the same time. “Nice to meet you. That’s a great dress.”

  Scarlett would have returned the compliment and gladly swapped fashion notes if her brother didn’t take a menacing step forward, his gaze locked on Logan.

  “Carson McNeill.” He thrust his hand toward Scarlett’s date.

  But Logan appeared prepared. He released his hold on Scarlett to shake her brother’s hand.

  “Logan King.” He sounded relaxed, but Scarlett could see the tension in his shoulders as the two men shook. “I invited Scarlett to dinner in LA tonight.”

  The muscle in Carson’s jaw worked, and Scarlett guessed that she had Emma’s presence to thank for his restraint as he appeared to weigh his words.

  “When will you be home?” he asked, a warning note in his voice.

  Scarlett drew a breath to defend herself and her life choices, but Logan answered smoothly.

  “Scarlett hasn’t decided when she wants to return, but I’m hoping to talk her into staying through Sunday, so she can meet my sister.” Logan turned to Emma. “I saw some footage of the race scene stunt on one of the actor’s phones. Great job.”

  Scarlett laid a hand on Logan’s chest. “Logan, would you and Emma excuse my brother and me for just a second? I know we’re scheduled to take off soon and I just want to give him an update on Mom.”

  “Of course.” Logan squeezed her hip just slightly as he said it. A touch of reassurance. But oh, did it make her remember their night together—and so much more. “I can ask Ms. Layton how she managed to stay upright on that horse.”

  Scarlett smiled gratefully at both of them before she clamped a hand on her brother’s thick wrist and drew him to one side.

  He followed her, his thunderous scowl like a ra
incloud ready to burst. He held his peace as she stalked away from the metal steps leading to the jet door. When they got closer to the nose of the plane, the engine rumbling loud enough to mask their conversation, he stopped and leaned toward her.

  “Are you out of your mind?” he asked, his expression shifting from pure Neanderthal to brotherly concern.

  Her heart softened. “I know you’re worried about me, but you don’t need to be. I don’t buy the theory that he’s the blackmailer, okay? And furthermore—” she put a hand over Carson’s lips to forestall the argument he had ready to roll “—Logan remembers the guy who passed me the note in the first place, and he’s going to help me find him this weekend.”

  When she lowered her hand, Carson retorted, “So he says.”

  “And I believe him. So you’re going to have to go out on a limb and trust my judgment because I’m getting on this plane with him, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Her brother rocked back on his heels a bit. She didn’t think for a moment it meant she’d won her case. Only that he needed to regroup. In that moment, she saw beyond the argument, to the man beneath. She reached up to smooth a wrinkle on his lapel.

  “You look handsome, by the way,” she admitted, adjusting his bow tie even though it was already straight. Her brothers were hard men, but she knew they’d been raised by a demanding father. Her mother had been good to them, but Paige had never been able to shield them from their father the way their birth mother might have been able to. Paige had deferred to her husband on everything where Carson, Cody and Brock were concerned.

  “Thanks.” Carson kissed the top of her head absently. “And blackmail aside, sweetheart, I just can’t help but think this guy hurt you before.”