“Make the most important calls first,” he advised. “Your phone will only last about thirty minutes—if you’re lucky.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look around you, Miz Powell. This ain’t Atlanta. People come here to get away from it all. Which is a good thing, given how the mountains are such an effective barrier to outside communication.”
Nikki took in her surroundings for the first time. She’d arrived last night in near-blackness, but now the sun was rising, casting rays of pink, yellow, and orange over a majestic backdrop that stole her breath. There were no skyscrapers marring the horizon or blocking the sun—only the wide open sky and countless snow-capped mountains. The September air was crisp, clean, and invigorating. She inhaled in deep appreciation. “It’s incredible.”
“Yellowstone is eighty miles in that direction.” He pointed south. “Barely more than twenty as the crow flies. You need to see it.”
“I’m not a tourist, Mr. Knowlton. I don’t have time for sightseeing.”
His gaze narrowed, the morning light revealing crinkles at the corners of his fascinating crystal-colored eyes. “Some things, Miz Powell, are worth making the time for. This is God’s country. It’s unique. There is a lot here you may never get another chance to see.”
“We have mountains where I come from too, you know. Atlanta is only fifteen miles from Stone Mountain.” She sounded more prickly than she’d meant to, but everything about him seemed to elicit an overreaction from her. She wondered why.
“Just like an Easterner,” he mumbled with a deprecating head shake. “Always making mountains out of molehills.”
Nikki bristled. “What about the Appalachians? I hiked a segment of that trail when I was in college.”
“Darlin’, you ain’t seen a mountain until you’ve been to the Rockies. Come on now. Time’s a-wastin’. At least you can admire this scenery all the way to Virginia City.” He put the vehicle in gear and pulled out onto the highway.
“Virginia City? I thought you were taking me to Sheridan? I have to see to—”
“Sweetheart, you won’t be able to see to anything until you get your ID. I can promise you that. You might not want to hear this, but you’re in a bit of a catch-22 pertaining to your father.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“By Montana law you can’t authorize disposal of his remains without a certified death certificate, and can’t obtain the death certificate without proper ID.”
“You’re kidding! I came all the way up here and can’t even bury him?”
“’Fraid not.” He shook his head. “But I’ll do what I can to help you get it straightened out. Just be aware that this is likely to take some time.”
“How much time? I don’t have time!”
“I can’t rightly say. Do you by any chance have a passport?”
“No. I’ve never traveled out of the country. Until now, I’ve never even been north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Not that I haven’t wanted to travel. I’d love to go to Mexico or take a cruise someday.”
“That’s mighty unfortunate.”
“That I haven’t a passport or that I haven’t traveled?”
“Both.” He cast her another sideways look. “It seems you need to broaden your horizons, Miz Powell.”
She wondered what he meant by that remark. He was obviously trying to help her, but everything he said put her on edge. She could only conclude her churlish reaction to him was caused by a feeling of dependency that she despised. She wasn’t used to relying on anyone for anything, but now she had no choice.
“My horizon seems pretty broad at the moment,” she shot back, jerking her head toward the wide open landscape.
“You’d better start making those calls,” he advised. “I suggest you begin with the airline to see if your wallet’s been recovered. If it hasn’t, you’ll need to notify the Denver police.”
“I’ve already called the airline,” she replied, “but why the police? It wasn’t stolen.”
“Should anyone get their hands on your credit cards and ID, you’ll want to have a report on file for fraud prevention. You should also alert the credit reporting companies.”
“Thanks.” She offered a grateful smile. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”
“My office in Virginia City is on the way to Sheridan. You can use the phone there while I get showered and changed.”
“You have a shower at your office?” she asked with a hint of longing.
“And a pullout sofa. I’ve been known to crash there. At one time, more often than I preferred,” he added dryly.
Was that a look of regret? “Are you a workaholic?” she asked.
“Something like that,” he hedged. “You’re welcome to the office, the shower, and the pullout, at least until we get things sorted.”
“Thank you. That’s generous…but where will you stay?” she asked warily.
“I’ve no shortage of options. I’ve got a place in Bozeman where I live most of the time. On my few court days in Virginia City, I crash at the office if I don’t feel like driving, and most weekends I spend at the family spread outside Twin Bridges.”
“Spread? You mean a ranch?”
“Yeah. My family has had a working cattle outfit since the Civil War. It was a profitable operation for four generations, but the past decade it’s been more like a sinkhole. I’ve been trying to persuade them to sell out, but my obstinate brother is convinced he can save things.”
“How?” she asked.
“Thinks he can create a superior cattle breed. Ever heard of Wagyu cattle or Kobe beef?”
“No, but that doesn’t say much, I don’t know jack about cattle.”
“Wagyu cattle come from Japan. Kobe is one of these Japanese varieties and is the most highly prized beef in the world—goes for up to fifty dollars an ounce at the better steak houses.”
“Over five hundred bucks for a T-bone? Holy cow!” Nikki exclaimed.
“No, that would be India,” Wade corrected with a grin.
“So what does this have to do with your ranch?” Nikki asked.
“Dirk seems to think breeding a hybrid Wagyu-Angus herd is the answer to all our troubles.”
“Why? What’s the big difference between the Japanese and American cattle that they command such a high price?”
“Dirk could go on ad nauseam about it, but suffice it to say there’s a difference in the composition of the meat, mainly in its marbling, that makes it more tender and gives it a different taste. There are a handful of ranches in the U.S. producing what they call American Kobe by crossing the Japanese breed with our own cattle. Dirk has jumped on that bandwagon.”
“Sounds like a great opportunity,” Nikki remarked. “So why are you opposed to the idea?”
“Because it could take years to establish a herd, and there’s no guarantee of the payoff. Maybe the market is hot now, but all that could change. I’m not willing to forfeit my entire future for something so chancy. My brother sees that as disloyalty. He accuses me of lying down without a fight, but I just see things differently. I don’t believe ranching is viable anymore, but my brother’s as bullheaded as his damned stock.” His gaze appeared focused on the horizon and his hands looked tight on the wheel. “’Sides, I always wanted to do something else with my life. Maybe leave something behind besides my blood, sweat, and tears in the ground.”
“But you’re still here.”
“Yeah. I’ve stuck around. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“If you feel so strongly why do you stay?”
“I dunno. Wish I did.” He shrugged. “Probably obligation mixed with guilt.”
“But you resent it?” she suggested.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “I want to live my own life. I’m damned tired of playing second fiddle to big brother.”
&n
bsp; “I find it really hard to imagine you playing second to anyone.”
“Why thank you, ma’am. That sounded damned near complimentary.”
She wished he’d stop flashing that irresistible crooked grin. “Regardless of your differing opinions, it still sounds like you hold your brother in pretty high regard.”
“Does it?” he asked.
“Yeah. It does.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Maybe I do,” he confessed. “But Dirk’s always been a tough act to follow. He won a full rodeo scholarship to the Ag College at MSU. Won overall Champion at the collegiate rodeo finals and could have gone on to pro rodeo but joined the Marines instead. He did two tours and lost half his right leg.”
“Wow. I can’t even imagine what that must be like.” Nikki shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he added dryly. “Dirk’s sorry enough for all of us. And his disability hasn’t slowed him down much.”
“Really?” she remarked in surprise. “What does he do now?”
“He runs the ranch.”
“By himself?”
“Not completely. The ol’ man does what he can and I still help out when hands are short.”
“But you said you hate ranching.”
“It’s a damned hard way of life, thankless, and never ending. What’s not to love?” He smirked. “I don’t really hate it, but it doesn’t run thick in my blood like it does with Dirk.”
“You talk more about your brother than about yourself,” she remarked.
He shrugged. “Not much to tell. Raised here then studied law at the University of Colorado.”
“That was surely the Reader’s Digest condensed version,” she remarked dryly.
“What else do you want to know?”
“Why did you choose law?” she asked.
“Seemed practical…and more profitable than ranching.”
“Has it been?” She wondered given the vehicle he drove.
“I do all right.” He shrugged. “But I would have done a lot better had I stayed in Denver or gone east. I was offered a job with a big firm in Boston, but like an idiot, I came back home.”
“Why did you turn the job down? Were you homesick?”
“Dirk’s injuries had a lot to do with it, but I s’pose you can take the man out of the mountains but can’t take the mountains out of the man.”
“But you’ve just said you want to sell out. If you didn’t wish to settle here, why’d you come back at all?”
He stared straight ahead and seemed focused elsewhere. “Not all folks are meant to settle down.”
True enough. In her experience cowboys were notoriously unreliable, generally unfaithful, and rarely capable of settling at all. Wade was past thirty and she hadn’t seen a ring, or sign of one on his left hand—not that she had any interest. Looking was simply a habit she’d formed after a nearly disastrous mistake. His name was Clint. Tall, lean, and swaggering with piercing gray eyes like his Hollywood namesake. They’d lived together for six months before she’d discovered he had a wife and kids. Cowboys seemed to have a franchise on two-timing.
“Besides,” he interrupted her mind’s ramblings, “there’s no reason for me to stay here once I’ve convinced them to unload the ranch.”
“What then? What do you want?”
His gaze left the road and roamed over her with a look that heated her insides. “Right now? I can think of lots of things. Unfortunately, none are compatible with driving.”
She scowled. “It was a serious question.”
“What makes you think I’m not serious?” His gaze returned to the road.
“What makes you think I’m interested?” she rejoined, intently studying his profile.
His mouth tugged up at the corner. “You are. I feel it and you do too. It’s why you’ve been so riled up from the very start. You don’t like that you’re attracted to me.”
“Keep on dreaming, cowboy.”
He laughed, a warm sound that reverberated through her.
Nikki snorted. “I don’t go for players.”
His smile vanished. “I’m not a player. A flirt maybe, but not a womanizer. There’s a huge difference.”
She set her jaw. “I’m neither convinced nor interested.”
“Give me time and I’ll change your mind. You’ll see. No woman can resist my charm. I’m a legend.”
She snorted. “In your own mind maybe.” He was pretty hard to resist—except that he knew that too. His presumption served to shore up her defenses.
“You’re just fighting yourself right now, which only makes the prospect even more enticing. Men always like a challenge.”
Her throat felt suddenly thick. He was right. Taunting him was reckless as hell but for some reason he made her feel a bit reckless. “This conversation isn’t going anywhere.”
“We can take it wherever you want,” he replied. “I aim to please.”
Given that cue, Nikki abruptly changed the subject. “You still didn’t answer me. If you don’t want to be here, what do you plan to do?”
“That’s a damn good question that I’m still trying to answer. I don’t know. I may move back to Denver. There’s an expectation that I’ll eventually take over the firm there.”
“You mean from Evans?”
“Yeah. He only practices part-time in Bozeman, commuting as needed for the biggest clients. He only comes up for the big ranch deals his daughter reels in. I hold down the fort here the rest of the time and handle the smaller stuff. He’s looking to retire altogether in a few years.” He glanced in her direction. “Hungry?”
The mention of food made her stomach growl, an embarrassing reminder that she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before. “I am as long as you’re buying,” she replied with a cheeky grin.
* * *
They pulled into a truck stop on Highway 287 just into Madison County. Wade stopped her as Nikki reached for her door. “No, wait, Mama would have my hide.”
“And they say chivalry is dead?”
“Not if your mother’s a Southerner born and bred.”
“I promise you’d still be a novelty where I come from.” She laughed as he helped her step down from the truck, but secretly luxuriated in his attentiveness.
He gave her that heart-stopping grin. “Are you referring to my old-fashioned manners or my legendary charm?”
She didn’t reply, but couldn’t suppress a half smile. Wade’s conversation was easy and his boyish grin was disarming. Gradually she began to relax. They made more small talk inside the truck stop during a hastily scarfed egg and hotcake breakfast.
When they got back into the truck, Wade reached over her to open the glove box, brushing his shoulder against her breasts. Although accidental, the sudden intimate contact made her breath catch and her nipples pebble against her bra. Their gazes met, intense physical awareness once more electrifying the air between them.
“Sorry.” He broke the sudden tension. “You know that wasn’t intentional, don’t you? I was just hunting a notebook for you.”
“Yeah.” She gave a nervous laugh and willed herself to breathe again. “You hardly seem the type who needs to resort to covert tactics to cop a feel.”
He retrieved a small pad and pen and closed the glove box. “Thought you might want to jot some things down while we drive. There’s much you’ll need to do when we get to Virginia City.”
“Right. Thanks. That’s thoughtful of you.” She was glad he’d shifted the conversation back to a business level.
“By the way,” his husky voice broke into her thoughts, “if I was inclined to make a move, you’re right that I’d do it without pretense.”
“So you aren’t inclined?” She bit her lip the moment the words were out, wishing she could pull them back. He learned toward her, bracing his arm on t
he back of her seat, studying her face with an intensity that made her shift in her seat.
“I was always taught that a gentleman waits for an invitation.”
She fixed on his mouth, wondering what it would feel like. Would his lips be firm or soft? How would his tongue feel? How would he taste? She wet her lips, telling herself it was just a nervous reaction.
“That’s close enough for me,” Wade murmured and made his move.
Cupping her face, his mouth came over hers with smooth and well-practiced confidence. His kiss was an unhurried exploration, his lips sliding warm and firm over hers. Slanting his head, he added tiny, teasing flicks of his hot tongue and then toe-curling nips of his teeth until he caught her lower lip between them. He slowly released, staring into her eyes as if waiting for her to protest, but Nikki was too overcome to make any sound.
When she made no sign of resistance, he claimed her mouth again, but this time he was more demanding, his tongue probing the seam of her mouth until she parted her lips. The first contact of his tongue jolted her senses. Shutting her eyes and stifling a moan, Nikki curled her fingers in his hair, losing herself in the sensation of their tangling tongues. Holy shit! This man knows how to kiss. Too well. It took all she had not to melt into the seat beneath him.
That thought was enough to jar her brain and kick her protective instincts back into gear. She pressed her hands against his chest, but he was first to break the kiss.
“I didn’t invite that,” she insisted, knowing it was a lie.
“I think you did, but don’t worry. I won’t do it again until you ask.”
“What makes you think I will?” she challenged.
He turned the key and started the engine. “Because you enjoyed that every bit as much as I did. I dare you to deny it.”
She couldn’t. The kiss promised dangerous things. It had been a long time since she’d felt attraction this strong. Maybe never, but Wade Knowlton was everything she’d sworn off—all in one big hot cowboy package. Shit. Very bad word choice. Her gaze instinctively drifted southward to his crotch. She shifted it quickly away. She definitely didn’t need her mind to go there.
Another silence ensued, longer and less companionable than the ones before. “Do you mind if I turn on some music?” she asked, eager for any distraction.
Slow Hand Page 3
