She resisted an alien urge to run from him; then, to her relief, he entered the stables. Hiding her anxiety behind a bright, affable facade, she greeted Bonnie. "Good morning. We'd like to go riding."
Perched atop the corral fence, Bonnie jumped down and replied agreeably, "Sure can. Have you ridden before?"
"Oh, yes," Karen assured him. "We're weekend cowgirls from Chicago."
Bonnie gave a short laugh and Dayna was going to add a jest about her ability when Brand reappeared from the stable, the reins in his hand as he led two horses behind him.
Considering his manner the previous night, Dayna found the politeness in his voice annoyingly hypocritical. "Give the bay to Miss Palmer and the gray mare to Miss Hansen. And make sure they know how to saddle them, Bonnie."
Though his eyes were not on her, Dayna made a face at him. She wished she hadn't when she saw the mischievous light in his eyes. He had deliberately goaded her.
"I'm sure the ladies know how," Bonnie replied, glancing worriedly from Brand to Dayna. "You do, don't you?" he asked, nodding his head as if prodding them to give the right answer.
"Yes, we do," Karen answered.
Dayna remained silent, her mouth set in a thin, tight line as she shifted her attention to the horse. Bigger than Karen's, it was a beautiful animal with a dark brownish-red coat and a white, diamond-shaped mask. If she hadn't noted Bonnie's approving nod over Brand's choice, she would have been positive that the horse was an untamed monster, chosen to give her the ride of her life.
With a haughty lift of her chin, she turned to question Brand. Her eyes widened slightly with surprise. He was gone.
If his silent departure then was disturbing, the next few days were even more unnerving for just the opposite reason. It seemed that wherever Dayna went, Brand was nearby. The most impossible situation, however, was enduring his raking gaze at dinner time. Christy continued to monopolize his time, but whenever Dayna unwittingly glanced his way, she found she was the object of his interest.
A self-imposed isolation all Tuesday morning was more than she could stand. By afternoon, irritated with herself, she left her room. After all, she reminded herself, it was idiocy to waste time on a trip she wasn't enjoying.
Thoughts of finding Karen or Shelly were quickly discarded, as she realized she would be poor company in her present mood. In the lobby, she wandered over to the magazine rack. Perhaps a day of relaxation would lift her spirits. Idly, she leafed through a woman's magazine, but her interest wasn't held by the pages of fashionable clothes.
From lowered lids, she viewed W.R.'s office. Beside the highly polished oak desk in one of the soft leather chairs sat Brand. He swiveled the chair around and rested one arm on the desk. The temptation to eavesdrop was too strong. Dayna chided herself for it, but she remained stationed by the magazine rack as Brand gave W.R. his full attention. "I found another steer on the side of the road. Must have been hit by a diesel last night. I had to fire one man the other day because of his repeated negligence."
"You said they mended the open fence. So where are they getting out?"
Shaking his head slightly, Brand frowned. "I don't know. We've been checking into it for the past two days and found only that one break in the fencing. I assigned five men to ride different sections and look for another break. They all returned an hour ago saying it was locked tight." His gaze narrowed reflectively. "It makes me wonder how many are getting out that we don't know about. I think I'll go out myself." He shrugged but Dayna could see the frown firmly etched on his face. "We're not the only ranch with missing cattle. You know what that could mean."
"Big trouble."
Brand nodded. "The kind of trouble we need to end quick. Is there anything you want me to do before I start?"
"You mean for the guests?"
"Uh huh." Brand looked out at the lobby and Dayna quickly dropped her gaze to the magazine in her hand. "We've got a packed house. Are there a lot more coming between now and the middle of the week?"
"Not too many. Besides those who came a couple of days ago, there's a couple from California, and I think a few singles due to arrive tomorrow. And the Bensons. Remember them?"
A hint of laughter edged Brand's voice. "Two youngsters, right? For their sake I hope they've outgrown switching the salt and sugar. Another prank like that and Charlie will chase them with his meat cleaver."
W.R. smiled. "There'll be about six more arriving next week. The three women who just arrived were last-minute accommodations, but for a friend, there's always a way to make room."
Brand made no comment on W.R.'s reference to his friendship with her father. "So that totals sixty, sixty-five guests. That's more than usual."
"It's the big vacation season right now, and we can easily accommodate them. I'm going to have Charlie make something special for dinner, and you make sure there are plenty of gentle horses for riding. I'm sure some instruction will be needed. We seem to have a rash of tenderfoots this year, so have someone down at the stables all the time who knows what to do."
Brand nodded and drew his long, lean body up. "If there's nothing else, I'm going down to the bunkhouse to talk to some of the hands. Maybe they've seen or heard something I haven't." With a wry smile, he added, "It seems that weekend in Phoenix was a mistake. Since I've been back all I've had are problems."
Dayna set one magazine back on the rack and picked up another as he started to turn toward the door, but W.R. stopped him. "Some of those problems are your own fault. What's all this about you and Miss Palmer?"
Dayna could suddenly feel Brand's eyes on her, but she heard his reply clearly. "She's just got a fiery spirit to match the color of her red hair."
"The lady's caught your eye?"
A soft masculine chuckle answered W.R. Dayna could see Brand's profile, with its soft lines crinkling from the corner of his eye. She just knew those disarming blue eyes were bright with humor. His voice confirmed her thought with its soft amused tone. "Definitely. Now and in Phoenix."
"That's what you meant when you said you'd met someone," W.R. said reflectively. "I can only assume the outcome of your last meeting didn't please you." Brand gave a noncommittal shrug, obviously unwilling to share too much of his personal life with his employer. "Even if that's the case," W.R. advised, "she is a guest. More important, she's a friend's daughter. I know," he said with a warning sound to his voice, "you never could resist the ones that needed taming, whether they were horses or women. Show a little caution, Brand. Just remember all the rough landings that go with it and make sure this doesn't get out of hand."
Brand reached for the doorknob. Even without looking up, Dayna knew his eyes were on her. "I'll remember. But—" he said confidently, "I always get what I want." Dayna growled mentally and quickly started toward the door of the lodge. He seemed so arrogant, she fumed, so sure of being victorious over any female that caught his fancy!
Meandering around the grounds, she strolled beyond the trees and shrubbery of the pool area. Set apart from the guest accommodations, which stood on hilly terrain, was the working ranch. It was as if she had stepped back in time. The original buildings, corrals, and stable had the look of the past. Overlooking all of it, on a nearby hill, was a great white farmhouse. Here was the working part of the cattle ranch, with the ranch hands' quarters, W.R.'s home, and the cookhouse. She strolled the area, stopping in the cookhouse, passing the horse stalls, and acknowledging the ranch hands' amiable greetings.
She wanted to see more, but the heat of the day was becoming uncomfortable. She'd decided to return to the air-conditioned lodge when she heard raucous shouts nearby. Curiously, she wandered in that direction instead. Staying hidden so she wouldn't be noticed by the ranch hands sitting and standing on a mesquite-log corral fence, she saw Brand inside the corral taking a rough, jostling, and bone-jarring ride, his body rocking atop a bucking mustang.
With something between fear and awe, she watched, expecting at any moment to see him plummet to the hard ground. Her heart pound
ed furiously until the animal gave in to his rider's tenacious efforts. Still showing some defiance to the authoritative hand controlling him, the horse circled the corral.
Dayna slipped away. Her breathing was quick, her heart still beating heavily. She blamed it on the fact that she was a city dweller viewing the rough side of ranching, but her mind refused to accept the lie. She couldn't ignore the frightened concern she felt for Brand.
As she reached the top of the hill and the main lodge building came into sight, Dayna saw Christy leaning against an ancient-looking buckboard, talking to one of the ranch hands, a man named John Cutler. Dayna's fine brow arched with surprise. So Christy's interest included someone other than Brand…
Walking down the small incline, Dayna stopped to see Bonnie, who was in the guest corral saddling a horse for one of the guests. Propping one elbow on the fence, she leaned her chin on her hand and watched in silence as his sun-weathered, worn-looking hands performed the task.
Bonnie glanced up, smiled, and then turned his attention back to the straps in his hands. "If Brand caught me doing this he'd chew me out for sure. He thinks if people come to a ranch they should do their own saddling and bridling. But lots of people aren't too good at it and I end up doing it for them anyway." He sent her another smiling glance. "You're pretty good at it."
"I'm a weekend equestrian. I try to get to the stables in the suburbs at least one weekend a month. My father can't ride at all," she said in an offhand manner. "It surprises me that W.R. and he have become such good friends, coming from such different worlds." Trying to maneuver the conversation toward one particular subject, she added, "It was nice they got together for a while in Dallas. Were you in charge of the guest ranch while W.R. was gone?"
"Most of the time it doesn't require a lot of work," Bonnie answered, indicating no self-importance. "Sara handles reservations and Charlie keeps everyone from starving. All I had to do was make sure the guests were kept happy. That's usually easy." Dayna was going to ask a more pointed question, but Bonnie changed the conversation before she had a chance. Drawing the cinch tighter, he shrugged. "You know, life's usually not too cluttered here. Everything is simple and honest. That's what I like about it. I guess it's a lot different from what you're used to."
Dayna nodded. "It is. I didn't really think I'd like it here, but I do. Everyone is very nice." Some people are too nice, she thought wryly.
"Are you looking forward to your first sight of a real live rodeo?"
Dayna laughed. "I never expected to say it, but yes, I am." She leaned back on the fence. "Do any of the wranglers here compete?"
"Sure," Bonnie answered, nodding his head.
"Is your foreman going to take part in the competition?" Bonnie's brows drew together in perplexity. Dayna was already biting her tongue, aware of how much she'd revealed, not just by her simple question but by the unnecessary sarcasm in her tone. She could never remember behaving so badly about anyone before. "I'm sorry, that really was uncalled for."
Bonnie shrugged a reply. "I understand. Sometimes a person just naturally gets under the skin of someone."
Bonnie had been easy to talk to from the very beginning, and Dayna admitted with a self-derisive laugh, "He just ruffles my feathers."
"Well, I can understand that too. He's stubborn and ornery. Always has been. Probably always will be. For the record, he's got enough trophies to line the wall of the fireplace in the lodge. He isn't supposed to compete anymore. A Brahma got him one time, hooked him with his horn, and made a mighty fine rip." Dayna's brows knitted as Bonnie explained, "He was told if he got hooked again like that in the same place and more bone damage was done, the best they could guarantee was a disabling limp, maybe one leg not good for anything more than to be dragged behind him." His shoulders heaved with an exaggerated shrug. "But he's got a stubborn streak in him that would equal a mule's, and that itch is always there to be out riding with the rest of those foolhardy cowpokes. Bull riding gets into the system. Brand's no different than the rest."
"But if it's dangerous, he shouldn't do it," Dayna said, not understanding why anyone would tempt fate like that.
"He hasn't up until now. But he's the kind of man who hankers for challenge. Being told not to do something just makes him more bullheaded." Dayna sensed that they were talking about more than rodeo riding now; he was referring to Brand's attitude toward her. Bonnie considered her another challenge in Brand's life and was offering her advice about what to expect. He paused to deliberate what he was going to say; then he added, "You two didn't start off on the right foot, I guess, and sometimes Brand can be downright ornery, like I said. He pushes and pushes until the other person has to respond. Sometimes he's sweet as honey, and other times he charges like a bull who's had a red flag waved in front of him. He's just that way. Won't back off from anything." Bonnie turned toward her. "I suspect if there's a problem between you two, ma'am, it's because you're the same way—as strong-willed as he is."
"My," Dayna said lightly, "never did I expect to find a philosopher on a ranch."
"Me!" Bonnie snorted. "Little lady, I'm just telling you what's plain as the nose on your face. That don't take much hard thinking to see. I know you haven't asked me. And maybe I'm overstepping politeness," he added, "but I can't help myself from saying something else." He scratched his fingertips over the short stubble of whiskers already forming on the side of his jaw. "It seems to me that if avoiding him is going to make you unhappy as well as him, why keep fighting it?" His honest concern touched her. She smiled in response, feeling affection for the kindly man who was offering what he considered sound advice.
Bonnie chortled, "Might as well just relax and enjoy it. All that fighting and squealing don't do the calves any good when Brand wants to rope them. And, begging your pardon, ma'am, it's not that I'm comparing you to them, but," he said with a smile, "Brand usually gets what he wants."
Not this time, Dayna thought with a confident smile, placing her hand lightly on his arm in a thank-you gesture before she turned and headed for the lodge.
Through dinner that evening every effort Brand made to be alone with her was unwittingly thwarted by other guests, including Mrs. Whitaker, the schoolteacher and bird watcher. Dayna smiled with amusement, watching his expression alter from polite endurance to exasperation as Mrs. Whitaker offered a lengthy discourse on her favorite topic. During the woman's dissertation about a purple sandpiper she had studied during an Arctic trip, Brand began to give up any hope of politely maneuvering Dayna away from the woman. He left with a shrug of resignation, although his blue eyes met Dayna's for a brief second with a look of impatient frustration.
It was close to ten the next morning when Dayna finally descended the stairs to the lobby. Although she had overslept the usual breakfast hour, she was offered coffee and Danish pastry or toast. She ordered only orange juice and coffee and read the paper.
She returned to the room to find a note left by Karen indicating that she and Shelly were at the pool. Dayna changed into her swimsuit, thoughts of a suntan paramount in her mind.
Deck furniture was scattered around the pool, and Karen and Shelly were sitting on pastel lounge chairs under the shade of a yellow-flowered pool umbrella. Wearing a royal-blue maillot that swooped low on her back to reveal a great amount of bare skin at her waist and hips, Dayna laid her towel on a chair and quickly donned a flowered bathing cap. A few of the guests were already enjoying the water, even though it was still morning. It was the beginning of March, and in many other parts of the country people were still battling the cold chill of winter. But even though in this climate light jackets and sweaters might be required in the evening, Dayna had learned quickly how warm the weather could be during the day.
She dived into the pool, making a soft splash. After swimming a few laps she turned over and floated on her back to relax. The area around the pool was like some tropical island. A garden of lush desert plants, pink- and white-flowered oleander bushes, palm trees, and wispy Palo Verde tree
s encompassed the area, making it a paradise of cool greenery.
Drops of water trailed her as she climbed from the pool, her body glistening in the sunlight. Removing the cap, she gave a quick shake of her head and stretched out on one of the lime-colored lounge chairs. Karen handed her the bottle of suntan lotion she had brought along. Dayna became absorbed in smoothing the liquid over her arm and shoulder as Karen commented, "Christy was really working diligently at pursuing Brand again last night." Dayna visualized the winks being exchanged between her friends. She looked up, knowing Karen would continue until she offered some kind of response.
"No comment," Dayna answered with a smile.
"Have you made any deductions about him yet regarding Alexandria Minter?"
Applying lotion to her leg, Dayna shrugged, but a nagging thought slipped out. "If you promise not to make some snide remark, I'll tell you what really bothers me. From personal experience, I just don't think he'd force himself on a woman."
Karen questioned excitedly, "He did make a pass at you, didn't he?"
"I told you what happened in Phoenix. He's even more determined now to prove he's a master at seduction. But," she said thoughtfully, "I've always felt he was letting me set the pace. He said as much."
"So?" Karen queried. "Are you going to let him provide you with some extra activity?"
Dayna didn't comment. Giving her friend an amused look along with a shake of her head, she smoothed lotion over her other leg. As the conversation changed to a discussion of Martin Randolph, Dayna looked up, squinting to see how large a cloud was shading her as a sudden shadow blocked the sun. She viewed instead an extremely masculine body standing over her.
"I have to go to town for supplies," Brand said, "and I thought one of you might like to keep me company and see some of the local sights." His quiet assurance implied he'd already chosen his companion.
Karen and Shelly looked at each other, their silence indicating that they, too, were aware of whom he wanted to join him. Though her eyes were lowered, Dayna could feel the heat of his gaze as he sat down on the lounge chair closest to her.
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