by Janet Dailey
"Jim's coming over. We're going for an early morning ride." She set the juice pitcher in the refrigerator and walked to the counter. "He should be here any time now."
Stewart Ames frowned at the clock above the sink. "At five o'clock in the morning?"
"Look again, Dad." Brandy sipped hurriedly at her orange juice. "It's half-past five."
"The sky is barely light," he shrugged to indicate that a few minutes hardly made any difference.
The sound of an engine prompted Brandy to look out of the kitchen window. A pick-up truck hauling a horse trailer had stopped in the drive. She reached for the fringed leather jacket she had dropped over a kitchen chair.
"He's here now, Dad." Brandy pulled on her jacket. "The coffee is already made, all you and Mom have to do is plug it in to warm it up."
She started toward the side door, glad that she had already gone out and saddled her horse before grabbing a small breakfast. Her father's voice stopped her at the door.
"You know why it's called the crack of dawn, don't you, Brandy?" he asked in an offhand voice as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair.
"Why?" She tried not to sound impatient, but she really wasn't in the mood for any of his scientific explanations—not when Jim was waiting for her. She heard the clank of the trailer tail gate being lowered outside.
"Because you have to be cracked to get up at that hour." Stewart Ames grinned, a bright twinkle in his eyes. "Or else in love."
A beaming smile spread immediately across her face. "Is that right!" Brandy laughed. Blowing him a quick kiss, she darted out of the door.
The liver-colored sorrel was tied to the outside of the trailer, saddled and bridled, his four white feet clearly visible in the dim early morning light. With ears pricked, the horse turned to watch Brandy's approach.
Jim threw the last bolt to refasten the tail gate in place. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Brandy returned the greeting.
"Are you ready?"
"My horse is saddled and waiting at the stable around the back," she answered. Her heart quickened at the warm way his gaze ran over her. The reins were pulled free of the slip-knot that tied them to the trailer and Jim fell into step beside Brandy, leading his horse around to the rear of the house.
Dawn was streaking the eastern horizon when they mounted and rode off toward the empty desert. The comfortable creak of saddle leather filled the sage-scented air. The gray Arabian Brandy rode pranced a little, tossing his dish-shaped head, showing off in front of his quieter equine partner.
"It's peaceful, isn't it?" she said as the pale golden sunrise reached out to embrace more of the sky.
"Very," Jim agreed.
They rode on in silence, enjoying the quiet birthing of a new day. It came softly, the golden light building to orange, the purpling sky lightening to blue, then the golden sun rising slowly above the horizon. There was nothing about it to resemble the blaze of glory that was sundown.
At the knoll of a hill, Jim reined in his horse. As Brandy glimpsed the panorama of desert spread before her, she did the same.
"I never tire of this," she said, knowing he felt the same affinity for the desert.
Hooking a faded denimed leg around the saddle horn, Jim leaned forward in his saddle, his expression relaxed and at ease. His dark gaze didn't pause in its slow surveillance of the land.
"This land helps keep the right perspective on life. In the desert, man is just a humble creature. Material possessions become immaterial. All the money in the world couldn't duplicate this scene," he stated, then glanced at Brandy, a wry smile tugging the corners of his hard mouth. "In my work, that's a valuable thing to remember."
"Then it's more than just a desire for privacy that brings you out here in the desert," she observed.
Jim shrugged lazily. "I suppose there are a lot of reasons if I ever took the time to think of them all." He unhooked his leg. "Shall we ride on?"
At Brandy's nod, they set off at a trot. "How long will you be filming here in Tucson?" She swerved her horse around a growth of prickly pear cactus, then back alongside the sorrel.
"A month at the most."
"And then?"
"Back to Los Angeles to wrap it up." His dark eyes squinted towards the sun, as if measuring the hour by its height.
The thought that in less than a month he might be gone didn't sit well. It was inevitable that he had to leave some time, but she didn't really want to think about what it would mean to her.
"When the movie's finished, what are you going to do?" she asked instead.
"I've signed to do another movie. Filming will start as soon as this one is completed. It will be the end of the year before I have any free time, and not then if Don has his way." He was silent, the gap filled by the muffled thud of the horses' hooves on the gravelly sand and the creaky moans of the saddles. With a flash of perception, Jim voiced the answer to the question Brandy was just thinking. "None of the movies call for any location shots in Arizona."
"Oh." It was a very tired sound. Determinedly she raised her chin. "You travel a lot, don't you? It must be fun to see so many different parts of the world."
"I've always enjoyed traveling before." His qualifying reply made her glance curiously at him. Jim held her gaze for a searching second, then looked ahead. "I've never had any reason except the ranch to hurry back."
What did that mean? He had accused her of talking in riddles, yet he was doing it.
"And now?" she queried.
"And now I think it's time we were heading back to your house." The grooves around his mouth deepened.
He knew he had deliberately misunderstood her question. Brandy guessed it was Jim's way of saying he wasn't prepared to answer it now. Was it because of her or LaRaine? Confused, and angered by the confusion, she compressed her lips together in a straight line. Without argument, she followed alongside as he made a half-circle to return.
On impulse, Brandy dug her heels in the gray's flanks. "I'll race you back!" she hurled the challenge over the shoulder as the Arabian bounded forward.
She was three lengths ahead, the Arabian at a gallop, before his sorrel broke out of a trot, stretching his white legs to catch them. The desert was flat and unbroken before them. The two horses and riders raced unchecked through the sage, agilely jumping or dodging the clumps of cactus.
Brandy's horse held the lead, the air rushing past her face and ears. No matter how eagerly she urged Rashad onward, the sorrel kept gaining ground until they were running neck and neck.
Then the sorrel's nose was in front, then his head and neck. In the next stride, Jim reached out and grabbed Brandy's reins beneath the gray's mouth. With uncanny balance and timing, he slowed both horses to a plunging walk before he released the reins.
"We had you for a while!" Brandy declared, breathless from the exhilarating run that had momentarily banished her anger.
"You would have had us again," Jim replied with a laugh. "Pecos can catch almost anything at a quarter of a mile. After that your Arabian would have left him behind."
"That's not fair!" Both horses were blowing and tossing their heads. "You stopped the race when you were ahead," Brandy accused.
"So I did." He edged his horse closer to hers. "That qualifies me as the winner, doesn't it?"
There was a wicked glint in his sliding look. Brandy shook her head in mock exasperation and smiled. "Only because you didn't play fair."
"Everything's fair."
His hand curved around her neck, applying pressure to draw her sideways toward him as he leaned out of his saddle. "It's time for the loser to pay the forfeit," he said. Then his mouth closed warm and firm over hers.
The spark he ignited was just flaming to full life when he moved away. For a breathless instant, Brandy gazed at him, her face glowing, her turquoise eyes sparkling. She laughed, a gay, happy sound. "If I'd known that was the forfeit, I would have lost the race sooner!"
"That's a tempting remark," Jim chuckled.
/> Although he nudged his mount into a trot, he didn't suggest a second race. Brandy let Rashad join the pace, a prancing lift to his gait compared to the sedate, reaching stride of the quarter horse.
"Unless something unforeseen happens, I'll have a full schedule this week," Jim said after a time. "I'll be working late every night, so I won't be able to see you until probably the weekend. I'll try to call, though."
"That's all right, I understand." But Brandy wished he had said something definite about the weekend instead of leaving her with the feeling that he would fit her in if he could.
Wistfully she remembered that LaRaine would see him every day. Jealously stabbed at her heart, flashing its green shade in her eyes.
Chapter Nine
"BRANDY, THE TELEPHONE CALL is for you." Karen walked to the counter, smiling politely to the customer Brandy was helping. "I'll take over here for you." In a secretive gesture, she whispered behind her hand, "It's him!"
It took all of Brandy's willpower to walk sedately to the phone, and not race as her heart was doing. After two days, she had almost given up hope that Jim would call.
Taking a quick, calming breath, she picked up the receiver. "Hello."
"Brandy? Jim." He needlessly identified himself. She would have recognized the husky timbre of his voice anywhere. "I hope you don't have any rule against receiving private calls at work."
The warm smile in his voice sent pleasant chills down her spine. "None at all," Brandy assured him.
"Are you free this evening?"
‘Yes." There was a skip of her heart.
"I know this is a short notice, but Tom McWade, one of the stuntmen, and Ginny Baker, a director's assistant, drove down to Mexico last night and got married," he explained. "The cast and crew are giving them a party tonight after the day's shooting is over. Will you come?"
Her first reaction was a definite yes, followed immediately by why hadn't he asked LaRaine, or was she to be used in another attempt to make LaRaine jealous?
"Brandy?" His tone questioned her silence.
"Yes, I'm here." Nervously she twined the coiled telephone cord around her finger. "Perhaps you should ask LaRaine instead. She knows everyone and would fit in better than I do."
It was Jim's turn to pause. "If I'd wanted to take LaRaine to the party, I wouldn't have asked you," he said firmly and with a trace of grimness. "Would you like to come or not?"
"Yes—"
"Good. I'll leave word at the gate to expect you between six and seven," he interrupted tersely. "I'm due on the set, so I'll let you get back to work. I'll see you tonight."
Jim didn't wait for her response as he hung up the telephone. Brandy stared at the receiver in her hand, wishing she had refused no matter how much she wanted to see him again.
A FEW MINUTES past six o'clock, she was parked in the lot at Old Tucson. She sat there with the motor off, wishing she had the strength to leave. But it was no use. She had to take the chance that Jim really meant what he said and he did want to take her to the party.
Still apprehensive that she might be being used, she walked into the entrance building. The same balding man was on duty as on her previous visit. His eyes twinkled brightly when he saw her.
"Hello, Miss Ames," he greeted her by name, "I've been expecting you."
She smiled faintly. "Mr. Corbett said he would let you know I was coming."
"He did that," The man held up his hand, signaling for Brandy to wait. He stepped part way out of the door at the rear of the ticket booth and motioned to someone on the other side. Immediately a security guard appeared in cowboy regalia on the other side of the turnstile. "Troy will take you through to the shindig."
Her escort was an older man than Dick Murphy, who had taken her and Karen through before, but he was just as friendly without being inquisitive. He veered away from the center of the western town, leading her toward an area best described as a back lot. From there, Brandy could hear the sound of voices and laughter.
"The party has started already, I take it," she observed with a smile.
"About two hours ago," he agreed, "at least, for those who were finished for the day."
"Are some still working?" By that Brandy meant Jim, but she didn't have to translate.
"Mr. Corbett was wrapping up a scene. It should be finished by now," was the reply.
As they neared the small gathering of celebrators, a familiar figure separated itself from the group to walk jauntily toward them. Pale blue eyes gleamed mockingly at Brandy.
"Well, well, well. Who have we here?" Bryce Conover demanded in an amused yet jeering tone. "If it isn't the fair-haired little ingénue come to try her luck again!"
"Hello, Mr. Conover." Brandy kept her greeting calm, refusing to react to his baiting words.
"Call me Bryce," he insisted. He flicked an arrogant glance at the guard. "That will be all, Smith. I'll look after Miss Ames."
The man nodded curtly, plainly not liking the autocratic tone. At Brandy's quickly offered thanks, he touched his hat and walked away.
"You didn't have to dismiss him so abruptly," Brandy accused in a low voice. "You could have been more polite."
A sandy brow arched at her censorious tone. "What purpose would it have served?"
"No purpose." Brandy stared at him with frowning astonishment. "It simply would have been polite. Does everything have to have a purpose?"
"Of course." Bryce took her hand and tucked it under his arm, a faint smugness in his smile.
"What purpose is there for you to be nice to me?" Her query was chilled by his insensitivity.
"Ah, it serves a very useful purpose," he assured her.
"Which is?" Brandy prompted.
"LaRaine wants me to keep you entertained."
"Why would you want to do that for her? Are you in love with her or something?" Her hand was clasped too tightly for her to pull it free.
He laughed loudly at the question. "I'm doing it because that raven-haired witch is on her way to the top. Personally I don't think she has the talent to stay there, but she'll make it one way or another. It pays to have friends at the top who owe you. She'll return the favor with interest by suggesting my name for some of the more demanding roles in her future movies."
"That's mercenary," she breathed.
"That's ambition and determination." Bryce smiled down. "Let's walk over to the refreshment bar and get you something to drink."
"I would prefer to find it myself." Brandy tried to pry his fingers from her hand, without success.
"Tonight I'm your shadow. You can't get rid of me, so why not make the best of it?" he cajoled mockingly.
She stopped struggling and glared at him angrily. "No thank you!"
"Are you hoping the rugged James Corbett will come to your rescue?" The sarcasm for such foolish hope was evident in his whispering question.
"He did invite me," she reminded him haughtily.
"Have you asked yourself for what purpose?" jeered Bryce.
At Brandy's hesitation, he laughed and led her toward the small crowd. It had grown steadily since her arrival and they were forced to queue up at the bar. She refused the champagne Bryce tried to persuade her to take, requesting the iced fruit drink instead.
The drink did enable her to free her hand from his grasp, although he didn't budge from her side. Sipping indifferently at the cold drink, she searched the crowd for Jim. As yet there was no sign of him.
"Forget him and enjoy the party," Bryce murmured.
"Why don't you leave me alone?" she muttered beneath her breath, and smiled politely as she and Bryce were
jointly greeted by another couple.
"I couldn't leave you alone and neglected," he chided softly, adding in a louder voice for the other couple's benefit, "Have you met Tom and Marie, Brandy?"
With alacrity he steered her toward the couple, making the introductions when Brandy was forced to plead her ignorance. Bryce made no mention that she was attending the party as Jim's date, and
she found it difficult to assert her true role.
There was consolation that the other couple's presence eliminated Bryce's sarcastically mocking comments, but that relief was nearly negated by his arm that had leisurely drifted around her waist. No matter how discreetly she tried to shift away from his hold, Bryce succeeded in keeping her in reach.
Pressure was applied to her waist to bring her closer to his side. Brandy had been smiling agreement with a comment from Marie, and she kept the expression on her face as she glanced at Bryce, the anger flashing in her eyes expressing her displeasure and distaste for his action.
Before she could subtly twist some space between them, Jim spoke behind her. "I'm glad to see you've been enjoying yourself until I arrived."
Whirling about, she saw the cynical hardness in his dark eyes and guessed at the construction he had made of the preceding minutes. LaRaine was with him, her diamond-black eyes sparking in malicious satisfaction. A combination of anger and embarrassment flamed Brandy's cheeks.
"Really, darling," Bryce chided mockingly, "you shouldn't look so guilty. Jim will think there's something going on."
Brandy longed to slap the arrogant look off his face, but enough interested looks had already been aroused for her to want to draw more attention. She decided the best thing to do was ignore everything.
"Are you all finished for the day, Jim?" she asked as pleasantly and evenly as she could.
"Yes, I am."
"You mean it's finally a print on that love scene between you and LaRaine?" Bryce arched a sandy brow in disbelief.
"Yes," LaRaine flashed an intimate smile at Jim, who was still aloofly inspecting Brandy's tautly controlled expression. "After nearly all day, we finally got it right."
The thought of Jim being in LaRaine's arms all day made Brandy's stomach churn. It was too easy to visualize those two equally dark heads locked in a passionate kiss.
"Excuse us, LaRaine," Jim stated briskly, "it's time Brandy and I found the bride and groom and offered them our best wishes."
His announcement was unexpected. Brandy had not thought he would want to deprive himself of LaRaine's company, or at least not so soon. LaRaine appeared just as surprised and not at all pleased.
