by Gail Barrett
“Stay in the house,” he said, his voice rusty. “It’s a bad idea to go out.”
So was this. But she couldn’t move to save her life.
He stroked his thumb down her throat. She trembled, the soft touch making her quiver, desire skidding and streaming through her veins.
His Adam’s apple dipped. He slid his hands to her shoulders and hauled her upright, pulling her body to his. She closed her eyes, the hard, hot feel of him sparking a torrent of need.
And then he lowered his head, fused his mouth to hers, and everything inside her went wild. Pleasure curled inside her. A craving throbbed deep in her womb. She ran her hands up his arms, glorying in the muscles bulging under her palms, shuddering at the splendor of his kiss.
He shifted and widened his stance, pulling her hips against his. His mouth ravaged hers, making her senses whirl, the thick, potent feel of him weakening her knees.
This was madness. Perfection. Bliss. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do more than yield to the staggering need. Urgency uncoiled inside her, the intense desire to strip off her clothes and feel the heaven of his hands making her moan.
“Cole, dinner’s ready,” Hannah called from the hallway.
He jerked up his head. His breath sawed in the air. His eyes burned into hers, almost angry in their intensity, and for one raw, unguarded moment, she saw the same naked yearning she knew he could see in hers.
But then a shield fell over his face. He dropped his hands and stepped back, his expression carefully blank. And she couldn’t deny the truth. He was fighting this attraction. He didn’t want to desire her. Whatever he’d once felt for her was gone.
Hurt twisted inside her, followed by regret. She’d caused that distrust. She’d ruined something special when she’d left. She’d caused pain to the man she’d loved. “Cole, I—”
“We’d better go. Hannah doesn’t like dinner to get cold.”
He was right. This wasn’t the time to rehash the past. He started to stalk from the room.
“I really do need to go to Bozeman tomorrow,” she said.
He stopped, stood with his back to her for several seconds, then swore and strode away.
She inched out a tremulous breath. Her hands trembling, she gathered the papers she’d printed out and clutched them to her chest.
She’d just confirmed one thing. Her father was right. She’d wounded Cole badly when she’d left.
But how she could repair it, she didn’t know.
Chapter 9
He’d screwed up again, big-time.
Cole paced across his front porch in the darkness, battling to get his wired-up body under control. He never should have touched her. He’d caved to a moment of insanity and once again broken his vow. But the seductive fragrance of her skin, the fire flashing in those temptress eyes had been too much to resist.
Pulling away from her had been torture. Keeping his eyes off her during dinner had tested the limits of his self-control. The husky purr of her voice, the alluring sight of her kiss-swollen lips had kept him painfully aroused. He’d bolted down his meal, sure he’d offended her when he’d rebuffed her attempts to talk. But he’d had no choice. He either had to get out of the house or drag her back to his bedroom and finish what they’d started with that kiss.
He reached the end of the porch, then started back toward the door. He didn’t need this distraction. Not now. Not when killers had captured his sister. Not when they’d threatened Bethany’s life.
So what if they had chemistry? So what if she fueled his erotic fantasies—and always had? He couldn’t let down his guard, couldn’t allow her to burrow beneath his defenses—a surefire path to pain.
The low rumble of an approaching vehicle caught his attention, and he stopped. He aimed his gaze at the gate, welcoming the distraction. Headlights swept the yard, illuminating the mounds of charred rubble that comprised his former barn, and then the sheriff’s SUV came into view. It neared the house, its tires crunching on gravel. The sheriff cut the engine and climbed out.
“Evening, Cole.” Wes Colton stomped up the porch steps, rubbing his hands. “Cold night to be standing outside.”
He nodded. He’d needed a blast of frigid air to cool his blood. “Yeah, that front’s moving in fast.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, but I can’t stay. I just wanted to update you on what we’ve found out.”
“Did you find any evidence? Any idea who killed Garrison?”
“No, it’s still too soon for that. Those tests will take a couple of weeks. I ran the background check on your ranch hands, though.”
Cole folded his arms and steeled himself for the news. “What did you find?”
“Not much, unfortunately. Tony Whittaker had a juvenile record, minor stuff—breaking and entering—but he’s stayed out of trouble since then. Earl Runningcrane got into a bar fight a few years back and was arrested for disturbing the peace. He pleaded guilty and paid a fine. The rest are clean.”
So they’d come up empty. “I guess it was worth a try.”
“It doesn’t mean they’re not involved. I just don’t have any evidence to indicate they are yet. I’ll keep looking. I’m going to check their bank accounts, credit reports, see if any unusual activity pops up.”
“I appreciate that.” Cole paused. “Sure you don’t want to grab a beer?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to do a loop around your ranch and head home. I’ll let you know when I’ve got news, though.”
“Thanks. By the way, I’ll be gone for a couple of days. I still need to bring down some cattle from summer pasture. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.” Assuming nothing else went wrong.
The sheriff nodded. “I’ll increase our patrols. Let me know when you get back.” He tramped down the porch steps and got into his SUV.
His thoughts on his ranch hands, Cole stayed on the porch as the sheriff drove off, the low whine of his engine fading into the night. No matter how many ways he examined it, his conclusion was always the same. One of his hands had to be involved—someone who knew the ranch’s daily routines. Someone who’d known when his men were gone. Someone who could move around freely—shutting down sprinklers, disabling the security system—without anyone catching on.
Someone who’d betrayed his hard-earned trust.
He crossed his arms, his mind veering back to Bethany—and the flickers of guilt he’d glimpsed in her eyes. But that was nuts. Bethany had nothing to do with the problems on his ranch. And he needed to keep it that way—which meant convincing her to forget the library. She needed to stay in the house where she’d be safe.
The cold wind gusted, hastening him into the house. Unable to put off the confrontation with Bethany any longer, he headed down the carpeted hall of the guest wing, then rapped on her bedroom door.
She opened it a second later. Her cheeks were flushed. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her temples and neck. His gaze dropped from her full, sensual mouth to the loose T-shirt that stopped halfway down her thighs. She clutched a towel to her chest.
His breathing suddenly uneven, he forced his gaze back up. But her sweet, feminine scent curled around him. Her straight black hair gleamed like silk in the hazy light. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by the memory of her soft, supple body, the delirium of her mouth.
Did she have anything on underneath that shirt?
He cleared his throat. “We need to talk about tomorrow.”
Her eyes turned wary. “What about it?”
Still trying not to imagine her naked, he kept his gaze on her face. “I know you want to go to the library in Bozeman, but—”
“I don’t want to go there, I have to. I can’t sit around here doing nothing while my career gets destroyed. I have to fight back, Cole. I can’t take this lying down.”
She raised her chin—a gesture he knew well. And a sinking feeling took hold inside. He’d never make her stay in the house. The minute he left to load up his cattle, she�
��d hop in a car and go. And he couldn’t blame her. In her place, he would do the same.
“Then how about if we compromise?”
“Compromise how?”
“You’re probably right about the library,” he conceded, although the idea still filled him with misgivings. “You’ll be safe with people around. We just need to get you there and back.”
Her forehead crinkled. She chewed her bottom lip, the move drawing his gaze to her lush mouth, bringing a jolt of heat to his loins. “What do you suggest?”
That you strip off that shirt right now.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to banish the thought. “We should finish loading the cattle by noon. I can go with you to Bozeman while my men return the trucks.”
She shook her head, and her long, silky hair slithered over her slender arms. “I can’t wait that long. The research could take all day. And it’s a terrible waste of time for you.”
That was true. He already had enough to do to get ready for the trip. “So I’ll help you do your research.”
“You can’t. I don’t even know what I’m looking for exactly. And there’s really no need. I can drive myself.”
“It’s too risky. What if someone follows you there?”
She tapped her bare foot. Frustration brewed in her eyes. “Then how about this? I heard Gage say he was going into Maple Cove for breakfast. How about if he follows me to the highway and makes sure there isn’t a problem? Once I’m out of town, no one will know where I’ve gone.”
Cole turned that over in his mind. It still made him nervous, but it was better than letting her head off alone. “All right, providing Gage approves the plan. And call me when you’re ready to come back. I’ll meet you at the highway and escort you back to the ranch.”
“Fine, but I have a condition of my own.” She paused. “I’m going to the mountains with you.”
“Forget it.”
She huffed out her breath. “Cole, come on. That front’s moving in. You’ve seen the reports. You’re going to need help up there when it starts to snow.”
She was right. Driving a hundred head of cattle down the mountain during a snow storm was no mean feat. Horses and cattle could slip. Conditions could turn deadly fast. And even if they managed to get the cattle loaded without a mishap, the trucks could roll on the icy roads.
But he had no business involving her in his problems. Bad enough that his sister was in danger. He couldn’t risk Bethany’s life, too. And if one of his men really was involved and followed them into the hills…
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
“You’ll handle it better if I’m there to help. Besides, you said you don’t want me going anywhere alone, so I’ll go with you. Then you can keep me safe.”
Safe? He snorted. She had no idea the effort it was costing him to keep his hands off her. And working—sleeping—in close quarters for days on end would strain his self-control.
But the bodyguards had their hands full trying to keep his father in line. He couldn’t ask them to ride herd over Bethany, too.
“I’ll be careful,” she said. “I’ll carry a gun. And you need the extra hand.”
A feeling of defeat seeped through him. “It’s not going to be a pleasant trip.”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve camped out.”
Their eyes met. Awareness coursed between them. And he knew she was remembering the same thing he was—the cattle drive they’d made with his uncle Don.
Only they’d done things far more interesting than rounding up cows.
Heat bolted straight to his groin. His breath turned shallow and fast. He devoured the feminine swell of her lips, the pulse point at the hollow of her throat, her nipples pebbling under her shirt.
She moistened her lips. Her erotic scent twined around him, reeling him in like a siren’s song. And it took all his strength to keep from ripping off that shirt, hauling her naked body into his arms, and sating the heavy urges laying waste to his self-control.
“Cole,” she whispered, and the soft sound flayed him like a whip.
“Close the door,” he ground out. His voice sounded dragged from a cave.
Her hot gaze stayed on his. For an eternity she didn’t move.
“Bethany, close the damned door now.”
“Right.” A dull stain flushed her cheeks, and she stepped back. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” She shut the door in his face.
He stayed rooted in place, his blood bludgeoning his skull, so aroused he couldn’t move. He braced his hands on the doorjamb, wrestling with the need to shoulder open that door and finish what they’d started with that kiss.
But he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t surrender to this primitive hunger, no matter how hot she made him burn. He’d already learned the hard way that she would cause him nothing but pain.
But as he stalked slowly back to his bedroom, he knew one thing. That trek with her into the mountains would be the longest ordeal of his life.
She’d seriously lost her mind.
Bethany hunched at a computer terminal at the Montana State University library the following afternoon, so wound up she wanted to scream. Instead of concentrating on her research, her mind kept gravitating to Cole—his rumbling voice, his hungry eyes, the incredible ecstasy of his kiss. She’d spent the entire night reliving every sound, gesture and move he’d made, so on fire she couldn’t sleep.
And it had to stop. She had too much work to do to be acting like a lovesick fool. So Cole was hot. So the man could incinerate steel with a kiss. There were plenty of attractive men in Chicago willing to take her out, and she wasn’t obsessing about them.
But pitting those men against Cole was like comparing a vintage black-and-white movie to high-definition TV. They weren’t even in a similar league.
But no matter how masterfully Cole kissed—even if one carnal look from those dazzling blue eyes sent her into a torrent of need—she couldn’t blind herself to the facts. They hadn’t resolved the past. They had vastly different goals in life. And Cole didn’t want her. He’d closed right down after that torrid kiss, firmly shutting her out.
She sighed and massaged her eyes, gritty from staring at the computer all day, and tried to subdue her traitorous mind. She had to think about Cole later. She had to focus on her research and figure out why Frances Bolter had died. This could be her only chance.
Forcing her attention back to the computer, she scrolled through another dissertation on an experimental drug. She skimmed through the technical jargon, decided it wasn’t what she needed, then skipped to the next one on her list.
Still struggling to focus, she glanced at the abstract, which looked promising, then paged down to the summary at the end. The drug was similar to Rheumectatan, the one they were testing. But it had been linked to renal failure, causing the researchers to abandon the trials. That side effect had been even more pronounced when the patient had a history of alcohol abuse.
She straightened, her interest suddenly caught. Returning to the start, she read the article slowly, her excitement mounting with every word. She minimized the screen, skimmed through reports on the effects of renal failure, convinced she was on the right track. Several articles later, she came across a study linking kidney dysfunction in post-menopausal women to sudden cardiac death.
Her heart racing, she sat back. Frances Bolter was the right age. And if she’d been an alcoholic, the drug could have damaged her kidneys, leading to her sudden death. But then why had Adam approved her for the trial? Unless he hadn’t known…
Bethany tugged on her lip, trying not to jump to conclusions or overreact. It was just one study. The drugs involved might not be as similar as she thought. Or outside factors might have influenced the results, voiding the conclusion she’d reached. But if she was right…just maybe she could clear her name.
She closed her eyes, dizzy with relief. But then another thought occurred to her, and she sat bolt upright again. If this study applied to Rheumectatan, ot
her conditions besides alcoholism could trigger the same results. They needed to halt their trial before another patient died.
She paged through the article, checked the copyright disclaimer, making sure it was legal to copy for educational use. Then she emailed a copy to Adam at his private address. That done, she tossed on her jacket, gathered her papers and purse and hurried to the exit, feeling as if a boulder had been lifted from her back. She couldn’t get too excited—the research might not pan out—but for the first time in a week she had hope.
She pushed through the library doors, then paused, surprised that it had turned dark. She glanced at her watch. Nearly seven. She had to hurry. She’d spent more time in the library than she’d thought.
A cold gust of wind blasted past. Shivering, she zipped up her jacket and raised the collar, then started toward the visitors’ parking lot where she’d left her dad’s truck. A group of students scurried by, squealing when the brisk wind hit their backs.
Anxious to tell Adam about her discovery, she dialed him on her cell phone, hoping that he’d pick up.
He did. “Hey, Bethany,” he said. “I’m on another line. Can I call you right back?”
“Sure, but make it quick. I just discovered something you need to hear.”
“Give me ten minutes.”
“I’ll talk to you then.” She disconnected the call, shuddering when a spattering of icy raindrops hit her face. She jogged across Grant Street to the parking lot. Halogen light gleamed off the vehicles, the silver sheen a reminder of the coming snow.
Hurrying even more now, she closed the distance to the truck. Once inside, she cranked up the heater, blowing on her hands while she waited for the engine to warm.
She’d just backed out of her parking space when her cell phone rang. “Sorry about that,” Adam said.
“That’s okay.” She shifted into gear and left the lot. “Listen. I’ve got great news. I did some research today at Montana State University and found a dissertation that might explain Mrs. Bolter’s death.”
“How so?”
Maneuvering through campus and back toward the highway, she summarized what she’d found, including Mrs. Bolter’s possible alcohol abuse. “I just emailed you a copy of the dissertation,” she added. “I need you to look it over and see what you think. They did the study here at Montana State, so I can contact the advisor if you’ve got questions. I can’t do it for a couple of days, though. I’m heading to the mountains tomorrow to help round up some stranded cows.”
