"But..." No, dammit! She wasn't going to tell Moss what her instincts had initially been. She'd put them aside just because of him. Besides, now she had something concrete. She wouldn't tolerate a proved liar.
She looked up into her guardian's caring eyes. "Poor Moss," she said dolefully. "What are you going to do with me?"
"Same as always," he said with a crooked grin. It crinkled one whole side of his wind-and sun-worn face. "Same as always." He opened her door, swatting her bottom as she climbed in. "You just use your own good sense. Everything will work out with the new man. You wouldn't have hired him if you didn't think so."
He slammed her door and she rolled down the window. "Thanks, Moss." She wanted to say she loved him but knew from past experience that it would embarrass him.
"Just let me know how things are going." He touched the brim of his hat. "And bring him by to see me," he added.
She waited until he was back up on the sidewalk before she started the truck. Lifting one hand in response to his goodbye thump on the hood, she reversed the truck and drove somberly toward home.
* * *
The strange buzzing Jonna had noticed earlier accompanied the sullen beat of her boots as she clumped across Sam's porch. The noise stopped abruptly with her last step and her fist hung in the air as she listened to the lifeless silence.
She wasn't surprised when he didn't answer the door. His car wasn't by the side of the house where it had been when she left, either.
Almost without thought, she tried the knob. No surprise there, either. The door was locked.
She wandered to the edge of the porch, leaning out across the rail to look around the large yard. No sign of life there, either.
Determinedly, she paced down the steps and toward the barn.
His car was at the rear of the house, she noted as she passed. He'd moved it to the back door leading into the closed-in porch that doubled as a laundry room. She couldn't decide whether to be relieved he was here after all or sorry. She told herself she was anxious to get the showdown over, before she lost her nerve. But if she was truthful, she would have to admit she'd like to forget what Moss had told her and pretend everything was just hunky-dory.
Jonna stopped inside the barn door. "Sam?" Her eyes adjusted to the gloom as the smell of hay and manure, dust and old leather assaulted her nose. The sweet scents were comfortingly familiar.
She walked slowly to the center of the two story room and looked up, turning slowly to check the hayloft. The dim interior was cool, and she wrapped her arms around her waist to ward off the chill.
He wasn't here, though he'd obviously made progress on the task she'd given him. Worn bridles, an open can of dried and cracked leather cleaner and an assortment of debris lay in a pile by the door as proof.
Candy, her buttermilk mare, snorted a greeting from just beyond the corral door. Jonna jumped, then cursed herself for her nervousness. "Hi, girl." She lifted the latch and picked her way carefully through the pen.
Candy met Jonna halfway and nuzzled her soft nose against Jonna's hand. "Sorry, girl, I don't have anything for you." She patted the horse's silky long neck and Candy followed as Jonna went outside to look around. "Where's Murphy?"
Candy stared at her with those big somber eyes.
"Come on. Let's get you saddled." She led the mare back inside.
"I'll get you an apple later if you'll find Murphy for me now," she promised a few minutes later as she mounted and gave the horse free rein. Candy cantered to the worn track that led to the south pasture.
Ten minutes later, Jonna spotted Murphy and Sam sauntering slowly along the fence up the next rise. Sam dismounted and wiggled a post as Jonna lightly pressed her heels against Candy's haunches. The horse eagerly quickened her pace.
Sam cupped his palm over his brow at the sound of her approach, and the breeze lifted a dark wing of hair.
He needs a hat, she thought as he lifted a welcoming hand. No, he didn't. Sam didn't need protection from the sun or wind here. He'd be gone before either could hurt him.
"I felt much better by the time I finished in the barn," he explained as she drew near. "I decided to go ahead and start on this."
Candy snorted as Jonna yanked the mare to a stop and barreled off the side. Jonna gripped the reins. "I'm sorry you went to the trouble." She gazed back into his questioning eyes. She didn't let herself dwell on the way his lips had felt or on the twinge of regret.
Sam's squint into the sun changed to a questioning scowl. "You changed your mind about me doing this?"
Jonna looked down at the ground. "No. I changed my mind about everything. Game's over, Sam. You have to leave."
His halfway pleasant smile disappeared.
"I know the truth."
"Oh?" An ice-hard glint frosted his welcoming eyes. His mouth flattened into a grim, hard line. "And what truth is that?"
She was almost grateful for the gust of wind that slapped a strand of hair across her face. It seemed like some protection from him. "You lied to me about Moss sending you."
He crossed his arms across his broad chest. His razor- smooth jaw clenched. "I didn't lie," he said, his voice as cold and sharp as a winter wind. "You believed what you wanted to believe,'' he corrected.
"You let me believe it. That's the same as a lie," she challenged, meeting his stare. "You... said you were honest."
"I said some people couldn't handle the truth. You're still not ready for it, Jonna."
"What truth? Tell me." She held up her hands, warding off what he had to say. His voice was so low she had to lean closer to hear.
"You don't really want to know."
"The truth—if you really know there is such a thing— doesn't matter. And I think you also lied about being in my house," she added impulsively. "I can still feel you there."
Both his eyebrows rose, and she felt her face burn furiously.
"I had breakfast there," he reminded her blandly.
"I'm tired of your riddles and intimidation. I want you gone."
"What are you going to do for a hired hand while you go to Los Angeles?" he asked.
"The man Moss really recommended is coming today," she said, and hated herself for answering. "Not that it is any of your business."
"He's already been." Sam's voice held steel.
"I'll get in touch with him, tell him there's been a mistake."
"Good luck." He crossed his arms and looked bored. His arrogance was infuriating. "It cost me dearly to get rid of your last man," he told her. "I didn't take any chances this guy would come back."
"What do you mean?" His ominous words crawled through her skin and down her body. "What did you do?" she whispered, aware for the first time that she didn't know him well enough to know what he was capable of.
"Does it matter?"
She suddenly remembered the car she'd seen turning into her drive earlier this morning. Ghastly visions filled her head and her knees went watery. "His wife was with him," she whispered.
"Yeah."
"What did you do with them?"
"Like I said, it doesn't matter. I'm not leaving, Jonna."
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. What was he capable of? Denise... His sheer audacity held her transfixed. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. Candy sidestepped and Jonna's numb fingers tightened shakily on the reins.
The lips that had kissed her moved, but he changed his mind about saying anything else and stood an arm's length away, his feet planted, looking as permanently grounded on her land as the rocks that lined these hills. And all she could think of was her hungry response to him last night and a thousand images of the past two days overwhelmed her, jumbling all together in chaos.
"You're fired, Sam," she said determinedly. "Get your things. Get off my property." She turned to remount her horse.
Sam's fingers clamped over her hand.
She swallowed a whimper.
His grasp loosened slightly but he mainta
ined enough pressure to steer her around to face him. "I'm not leaving, Jonna," he repeated, his voice cold, his eyes sharp and hard.
She cringed. Her unfeeling, frozen body bumped Candy, who protested softly and danced the length of the reins away. "It isn't open for discussion." She forced the words between senseless lips.
"No, it’s not." Sam's humorless chuckle sliced the quiet afternoon, putting a choke hold on her chest. She was sure she would never be able to breathe, her heart would never be able to beat again. It would hurt too much. "It’s just a fact, ma'am, just a fact." Some wild spark edged into his eyes. His jaw tightened and the muscle twitched.
"You have an hour," she whispered, glancing over her shoulder. She'd lost track of Candy. The horse waited patiently several yards away.
"If you want the truth," he said, "you'd better stick around to hear it."
"You wouldn't know the truth if it slapped you in the face." She resented the quiver in her voice. "You're only trying to scare me again—" It's working. God, it's working. She felt limp from trembling.
She didn't see him move but his hands were suddenly on her upper arms. He hauled her to him, breast to chest, nose to nose. Her toes barely skimmed the ground. "I'm trying like hell to scare you, Jonna Sanders. You need me and I'm not leaving."
He released her abruptly. Her hands flayed the air and the whole world seemed out of kilter. Jonna lunged for Candy, stabbing clumsily at the stirrup with her foot. Her lungs battled to pull in air. She shook in anticipation of his strong hands clamping over her shoulders. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him move and choked back an alarmed sob as he emotionlessly watched her stumble, then clamber onto the horse's back.
Candy stutter-stepped sideways as Jonna finally swung her leg over the wide rump. Jonna tossed an agitated look at Sam, and was relieved to see he wasn't coming after her.
"You're crazy, Sam." She wasn't sure she'd said it aloud until the corner of his mouth twitched.
"So I've been told."
His hands were on his hips, his long fingers spread over the pockets of his jeans.
In her life, she would never meet a man whose entire demeanor captured her imagination as his did. And standing there against the backdrop of gray linen sky, she knew she would never meet anyone else who would haunt her the way he would. But his eyes were as unreadable as they'd always been, and his face retained the hard, impersonal determination.
She pulled back on the reins and Candy pranced backward.
"An hour. If you're not gone in an hour I'll call the police," she warned.
One of Sam's eyelids half closed in a semblance of acknowledgment. "The last woman who told me that is dead now."
The words stunned both Jonna and Candy motionless. He moved first, turning to pace resolutely toward where Murphy stood. Then his meaning sunk in.
Jonna's sob finally escaped and she jerked on Candy's bridle. The horse shot forward with an automatic prod from Jonna's tennis shoes.
Candy settled into a graceless gallop and Jonna's heart doubled the beat. The wind twisted her hair, flipping it into her face, then away again. Her terrified tears dried on her lashes.
She didn't waste time when she got back to the house. "Sorry, old girl," she apologized, quickly hitching the horse to the front rail of the porch. "I'll take care of you later."
Candy looked at her sympathetically and Jonna almost burst into tears again. Even the horse knew what an incredible fool she was. The one and only time in her life her intuition had been right, and she hadn't listened.
She hurried to the little pickup that still sat in his drive and drove like a maniac toward town.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He watched her go. His lips thinned into a semblance of a smile. She was terrified. She'd ridden that horse up to that ramshackle old house as if the hounds of hell were after her. What the hell could have scared her that way?
Damn, but she was going to be fun—but almost too easy. At least this one was giving him plenty of opportunity to spice things up a little. He applauded himself for his genius and good fortune.
Denise had been simple—but unplanned, almost an accident. A gift to show him his destiny.
JoAnne Campbell from Connecticut had been a royal pain, but in one way she'd been the best so far. He'd had the chance to play with her a bit. The calls. One nocturnal visit before she'd officially won her award. She'd been arrogant, so sure she was much smarter than anybody else that she'd believed every ounce of it. He still dreamed about the way her eyes had finally widened in comprehension. And the moment before she died, her face had acknowledged his power. His superiority. And she'd given him the idea for The Record.
Too bad he hadn't had the opportunity to hone some of those skills on Leah Thurston Darcy. Just catching her alone with all that family running in and out had taken him almost four days. Four days, and then he had little time to savor his task. But he'd won eventually. And he'd certainly enjoyed the winning.
They all thought they were so wonderful and bright. Just like his mother. Damn women, tricking people into giving them awards that should have gone to wiser, better candidates.
He had no doubt how they'd won. Just as his mother would have to win—if anyone was stupid enough to nominate her for an award, he thought—by sleeping with the judges. He could still feel his rage build thinking about how Denise Barton had stolen his award.
He shook it off, looked around him, admiring the layout of the farm, trying to decide exactly what he could do in the short amount of time he had left. He smiled. Wasn't Jonna Sanders considerate? Leaving like that just when he needed time alone.
And what a display. A nice preview of things to come. With a confident spring in his step, be strode toward Jonna Sander's house a little way up the hill.
The house, the whole layout, irritated him. How arrogant she was, perching a glass castle up here in the middle of nowhere, as if she were queen of the world. She obviously didn't know his mother. Didn't realize she had that title.
Too bad he wouldn't be here to see the look on her face when she returned. "No, maybe not so bad," he mumbled to himself. Just multiply the fright he'd caught on her face by ten times, and he could imagine—yes, he was very good with his imagination—how she would look when she saw his talent for this.
Too bad he'd been so slow in realizing how he could use his wonderful gifts to improve his little competition.
"But better late than never." His grin widened and he went to work, hoping Jonna Sanders would at least be intelligent enough to appreciate his handiwork.
* * *
Jonna screeched to a halt outside the Shop-N-Go. Her heartbeat had slowed from terrified to frantic, but she was so weak, she practically tumbled from the truck. Her knees shook as her legs carried her into the store. She forced her lips up into a casual smile and felt the corners quiver with the effort.
It was lunchtime, and several workers from the paper products factory at the edge of town stood in line, paying for the deli-type sandwiches Moss's employees made fresh daily. Jonna's eyes searched the place expectantly.
Brian Tyler looked up at her as he gave the last man his change. "Oh, hi, Jonna. How's it going?"
"Hi, Brian." Her voice trembled slightly, but he didn't seem to notice. "Where's Moss?"
One corner of Brian's mouth turned down in an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, you just missed him."
Jonna shifted restlessly. "Did he go home?"
"Nah. You know that friend of his from over by Cedar Point?"
Jonna nodded.
"He went over there to look at some kind of wood crafts the guy's been making with his band saw. His wife paints them and he wants Moss to carry them here...'for the tourists,"' he quoted, punctuating it with a silly grin.
Tourists through this part of the country were as rare as any endangered species, and she knew she was supposed to share his humor but couldn't manage the chuckle he expected. Her lips felt tight and dry as she dragged them wi
der in what she hoped looked like a smile.
She wasn't sure what to do next. She felt her shoulders slump. Running to Moss was a habit, a dependency almost as sordid as any addiction. But right now she needed him. This time she really did. What kind of advice would he give her if he were here?
"There anything I can help you with?" Brian asked, glancing toward the door to see who had just come in. She started and looked, too, feeling her pulse slow again when she saw that the new customer was a woman.
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