by Linda Turner
Whatever she was going to say next died on her tongue as she spied the man leaning against her front fender. His own vehicle was parked across the street from hers, but it was hers he rested against, his black hair glinting in the golden glow from the streetlight, totally unconcerned with the fact that the temperature hovered somewhere around the mid-twenties. He looked up, saw her and smiled, and even from a block away, Elizabeth felt the kick of his dimples. Annoyed, she frowned. Why did the infuriating man have to be so attractive?
Beside her, Tina followed her gaze to her car and groaned softly. “Be still my heart. If ever a man looked as if he was up to mischief, that one does. Need some help?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Peter answered for her. His smile indulgent, he took his wife’s hand in his and grinned down at her. “Behave yourself. I met Mr. McBride before the meeting started, and I’m sure Elizabeth can handle him just fine by herself. Say good-night, Tina.”
Not the least bit repentant, Tina obediently said, “Good night, Tina.”
Chuckling, Elizabeth hugged her, then Peter. “Thanks for coming with me tonight, guys. I wouldn’t have wanted to face that crowd alone.”
A former pro football player with shoulders as broad as a boxcar, Peter hesitated and cast one more look at where Zeke McBride waited at her car. “You will be okay, won’t you? Mr. McBride said he stopped and helped you last night when you got stuck in the snow. If you don’t want to talk to him—”
“I’ll be fine, Peter,” she assured him, touched. “I’ll see you both in the morning at the office.”
“I want to hear all about this!” Tina called softly as her husband dragged her away. “Every little detail.”
Elizabeth could have told her right then there would be nothing to tell, but she only waved and turned back toward her car...and Zeke McBride.
Leaning against her fender, his arms folded over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles, Zeke watched in appreciation as she approached. The lady was, he had to admit, one surprise after another. To look at her, a man could be forgiven for thinking she was a cream puff. Soft. It was the first word that came to mind when she’d walked into the hall tonight and he’d gotten his first good look at her in the light. Soft honey-colored hair, soft skin, soft, tender mouth that invited a man to touch, to kiss, to lose himself in. Then he got a look at that stubborn chin of hers and should have known she could handle whatever life threw at her. She certainly had last night. And tonight.
He still couldn’t get over the antagonism that had slapped her right in the face the minute she started the meeting. He’d known Larry Dawson and Jack Jenkins and Thelma St. John and most of the others who had angrily expressed their opinion all of his life, and they weren’t the kind of people to condemn someone for doing their job.
Every other woman he knew would have left the meeting in tears, but not Elizabeth Davis. Oh, no. She was made of sterner stuff than that. She’d lifted that stubborn chin of hers and held her own. And when the meeting came to an end, her head was high, her spine straight. She had spunk, and he liked that
Especially when she had that “don’t mess with me, mister” glint in her eye the way she did now.
She was still steamed at him for teasing her in front of Nick. Grinning, he settled more comfortably against her car and waited for the fireworks to fly as she drew near. He didn’t have to wait long.
Walking straight to him, she lit into him. “I don’t know what you think you were doing in there, Mr. McBride, but you wasted your time. I plan to tell Nick all about my little fib tomorrow.”
Making no effort to hide the amusement he knew would infuriate her, he said, “That’s good. A wife shouldn’t have secrets from her husband.”
“He’s not my husband!” she ground out between her clenched teeth. “I lied. Obviously you already know that, but what else was I supposed to do? It was dark and there was nobody else around, and for all I knew, you were a serial killer. I had to say something to make you go away and leave me alone.”
“It was a smart move. You think quick on your feet,” he said approvingly, and had the satisfaction of seeing her drop her jaw. Chuckling, he nudged her under the chin and gently closed her mouth. “Careful, Mrs. Kincaid, you’ll catch flies.”
Scowling, she jerked back, her green eyes sparking fire. “You can be the most infuriating man. If you’ve had your fun, I’d appreciate it if you’d find somewhere else to sit besides my car. It’s late and I’d like to go home.”
She expected him to give her a hard time, but he was nothing if not accommodating. Pushing to his feet, he took her keys from her before she could guess his intention, unlocked the driver’s door for her and pulled it open. Before she could slip into the driver’s seat, however, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. “People around here are usually a lot more polite to newcomers,” he said seriously. “It’s the government that’s got people’s shorts in a twist, not you. Try not to take it personally.”
Elizabeth knew he was right. The more vocal ones in the crowd tonight were all decent people. They were just mad and frustrated and looking for someone to blame. “I know,” she sighed. “People are angry and they’ve got to vent that anger on someone. Unfortunately, that’s the downside of the job. I’m the only target in sight.”
Just that easily, his grin was back, more wicked than ever. “Poor baby. Feeling used and abused? Why don’t we go over to Ed’s for some hot-fudge cake? What do you say?”
Just that easily, he asked her out and didn’t have a clue how he tempted her. Liberty Hill was barely more than a wide spot in the road, and it had only one restaurant. Ed’s Diner, owned and operated by Ed Randolph, a former prison chef who had a mouth-watering way with anything chocolate. Her first week in town, Elizabeth had walked in expecting meat loaf and home cooking on the menu and found instead the best desserts she’d ever had the good fortune to stumble across. Instantly falling in love, she was a regular there now, just like all the other locals.
But her heart thundered just at the thought of going there or anywhere else with Zeke McBride. How could she even consider it? This was a man who, according to his own friends and neighbors, had betrayed his fiancée with another woman a week before their wedding. He was just like her father, and with nothing more than a smile and a teasing line, he’d made her forget that. And that made him far too dangerous for her peace of mind.
Immediately drawing back, she said, stiffly, “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” And with no more explanation than that, she slipped around him and slid into her car.
Standing in the middle of the road, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket as he watched her drive away, Zeke stared after her, a bemused grin flirting with his mouth. So his brother was right. She didn’t date. He’d just have to see what he could do to change that.
Elizabeth told herself that putting Zeke McBride out of her mind should have been a piece of cake. After all, she had more important things to worry about. In less than two weeks, three months of hard work would culminate in the release of the wolves back into the wild, and it was her job to make sure that went off without a hitch. With a lot of work still left to do before that could happen, she didn’t have time to brood over a man.
But every time she turned around over the course of the next few days, it seemed as if she was tripping over Zeke McBride and his wicked, knowing smile. It was enough to drive a sane woman right out of her tree. Frustrated, she tried to convince herself it was no more than she should have expected. Liberty Hill was hardly bigger than a postage stamp, and in a town that small, a person couldn’t sneeze without someone across the way saying, “Bless you.” If she’d just ignore him, he’d go away.
But she couldn’t. She ran into him everywhere: the post office, the gas station, the drugstore. Then, on Sunday, she took a seat in one of the back pews of the Methodist church, moved to pass the collection plate, and there he was, sitting with his family at the far end of the very aisle she sat on, his smile full of the devil—an
d in church, no less!
Jerking her gaze from his, she snapped her eyes to the front and swallowed a groan. What was he doing here? Zeke McBride was a rogue and a flirt, the kind of man who slept in on Sunday mornings after partying hard Saturday night. He had no business being at the early service with his family, looking for all the world like a choirboy in a suit and tie with his hair slicked back!
Chewing on her bottom lip, she tried to convince herself she’d mistaken someone else for him. But there was no one else in town with those engaging dimples and laughing eyes who seemed to enjoy watching her quite as much as he did. He caught her staring and winked at her, and she wanted to sink right through the floor. Letting her breath out in a huff, she jerked her gaze to the front again and pointedly ignored him. But all through the service, she could feel his eyes on her.
If she hadn’t been so irritated, she might have been amused. She suspected that a man with his kind of charm didn’t get turned down very often. His ego was bruised, poor baby, and he didn’t like it. He thought if he smiled and flirted with her every time fate threw them in each other’s path, he’d eventually win her over. He thought wrong.
Granted, the man had a way about him, a selfdeprecating sparkle in his eyes that always caught her off guard and had her fighting a smile. But she wasn’t looking for a man, didn’t want one. Her stay in Liberty Hill was a limited one, and her work was the only thing she was interested in. Still, it took all her concentration not to sneak a peek to her right to see if Zeke was still watching her from the far end of the pew.
All her senses focused on him, she didn’t even hear the rest of the service. Suddenly the minister was giving the benediction, the organist jumped into a hymn, and people rose to linger and visit. Normally Elizabeth would have stuck around to do the same. But when she saw Zeke standing in the center aisle at the end of the pew, just daring her to come his way, her heart lurched in her breast, and like a coward, she cut out a side door to the parking lot. As the door swished shut behind her, she would have sworn she heard the infuriating man chuckle.
She won that round, but she wasn’t foolish enough to think her luck would hold forever. And it didn’t. The very next day she was in the town’s only grocery store when Zeke walked in and cornered her in the produce section. Trapped, her heart starting to trip over itself, she could do nothing but stand there as he strolled toward her with a male grace she’d have given anything not to have noticed.
“Well, well,” he teased with a broad grin. “If it isn’t Liz Davis hanging out with the other hot tomatoes. What’s for supper, sweetheart? Spaghetti and meatballs? Great! I’ll bring the wine.”
She shouldn’t have encouraged him, but he had a way of surprising a laugh out of her. “Nice try, Romeo, but the last time I made spaghetti and meatballs, it came out of a can. I don’t think you’d like it. And just for the record, it’s Elizabeth. There’s only one Liz and her last name’s Taylor.”
“Hey, no problem,” he said easily. “You’re right. You don’t look a thing like her. But Lizzie? It’s got a ring to it. I like it.” Pleased with himself, he flashed his dimples at her. “So what time do you want to eat tonight, Lizzie? Don’t worry, you won’t have to haul out the can opener I’ll cook.”
Not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, Elizabeth thought he had to be the most incorrigible man she’d ever met. And she had no intention of telling him just how much she abhorred the nickname Lizzie, or she’d be stuck with it for the rest of her stay in Liberty Hill.
Giving him an arch look, she said, “For me? I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You think I can’t cook?”
“I’m sure there’s no end to your talents, but—”
“You’re turning me down,” he finished for her, grinning. “Again.”
She couldn’t deny it—or stop her lips from twitching. “’Fraid so. Are you horribly offended?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over the disappointment,” he said with a straight face. “Sure you don’t want to change your mind? You’re passing up the chance of a lifetime. I’m a darn good cook.”
Elizabeth would have sworn he couldn’t tempt her, but caught in the warmth of his smile, she was stunned by the sudden need to give in, just this once, and say yes. Her eyes searching his, she wondered wildly if she was losing her mind. The man was a flirt. He had the gift of gab and a talent for making a woman feel as if she was the only female on the planet—until a prettier one came along and distracted him. She knew that, accepted it... and liked him in spite of it.
And that scared her to death.
Shaken—God, how could she have let this happen?—she quickly gathered up her groceries “I’m sure you make a mean marinara, but it’s been a long day and I wouldn’t be very good company. Ask somebody else.” Brushing past him, she hurried to the checkout stand.
“Elizabeth, wait! Dammit, I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s talk about this.”
But she couldn’t wait, couldn’t take the chance that he would charm her into changing her mind. Abandoning the items she’d meant to purchase, she rushed outside to her Jeep and sped away like the hounds of hell were after her.
Too agitated to think clearly, she couldn’t have said where she was going. She just had to get away, to think. She would have sworn she just drove aimlessly, but when she found herself pulling into the parking lot that overlooked the holding pen at Eagle Ridge, she wasn’t really surprised. She could spend hours there just watching her wolves.
They weren’t hers, of course. She could keep them penned up for the rest of their lives, and they would never be anything but wild. But she had handpicked all twelve of them from the wilds of Canada, had them checked to make sure they were free of disease, then organized the complicated process of transferring them to Colorado. And wild or not, somewhere along the way, she had come to think of them as hers.
She loved them all, but two in particular tugged at her heartstrings. Napoleon and Queenie. The alpha male and female of the group, they were officially assigned numbers for names, but right from the beginning, their strong, regal personalities had demanded names, and Elizabeth hadn’t been able to resist.
Gray wolves, they were both big and strong and hadn’t liked each other any more than they had her at first. They’d nipped and growled and snarled, warily circling each other like two adversaries in a boxing match. They both bitterly resented their captivity, more so than the rest of the wolves, and never stopped looking for a way out. To this day, they still tried to dig their way out on a regular basis.
But in the process of trying to escape, something magical happened right before Elizabeth’s eyes. Dislike turned to grudging acceptance, then, gradually, to a reluctant trust. And with trust, everything changed. Like two teenagers falling in love, they played and nuzzled each other and even grabbed the other’s snout in a clear sign of affection. And when they slept, they slept closer and closer together, until they finally curled up next to each other as though they’d been doing it all their lives.
But while they had accepted each other, they still had not accepted her or any of their other captors, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful. They would soon be released into the wild again, and if the pack was to survive, the wolves had to be suspicious of humans. That didn’t mean, however, that Napoleon and Queenie hadn’t learned to communicate with her. Waiting at the front of the pen, almost as if they’d known she was coming, they didn’t cower from her as the rest of the pack did. Instead, they glared at her with unblinking disdain and just dared her to come anywhere near them.
She didn’t, of course, not without sedating them first, and that was done only when an animal appeared to have a health problem and needed to be examined. But, Lord, they were something to see. Scowling at her as if she was the cause of all his problems, Napoleon looked right at her and howled mournfully. A split second later, Queenie joined in, then the rest of the wolves, lifting their snouts to the sky in an eerie serenade.
From her years of
study, Elizabeth knew that wolves would come running from miles away for a good howling, but it wasn’t often that she was witness to such a spontaneous songfest. Delighted, she laughed. “I know you want out of there,” she told Napoleon when the howling ended as quickly as it had begun. “I’m just as anxious for you to run free as you are. But you’re going to have to be patient and give it till the end of the week. Then you and Queenie can start your life together.”
In actuality, though, they had already done that. Wolves mated for life, and Napoleon and Queenie were clearly devoted to each other. Pregnant and due to den within weeks of her release, Queenie would soon give birth to the first wolf pups born in that area of Colorado in generations. In the days and weeks to come, when their pups were born and the two of them worked together to ensure the growth and survival of the family unit, the bond between them would grow even stronger.
And Elizabeth envied them that. They were just animals, but they could teach humans a thing or two about loving. Why couldn’t she find a man who was looking for that kind. of commitment?
Because you keeping running into ones like Zeke McBride and your father, a voice retorted in her head. They’re charming and funny and endearing...and they wouldn’t know the meaning of commitment if they tripped over it. If you forget that, even for a second, you’re going to get hurt just like your mother.
That, she assured herself grimly as she headed home later, wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t her mother. She wouldn’t make the mistakes her mother had. She loved her dearly, but she wasn’t weak like her. As much as Zeke had tempted her earlier, she wouldn’t let herself fall for a man who was a flirt. That could only lead to heartache, and that was something she was determined to avoid.
Considering that, she should have been able to dismiss Zeke from her thoughts with a mental snap of her fingers. But when she opened a can of soup and heated it for supper, she could hear him teasing her about hauling out the can opener. All too easily, she could see that grin of his as he tried to wheedle her into letting him cook for her. And despite herself, she couldn’t hold back a smile
