by Lori Wilde
That made Matt feel better. He hated being suspicious of her, but his job required him to accept nothing at face value, not even the woman he had once loved.
He hoped to convince Savannah to let him stay on the case. And even though Patrick Jameson had lectured him on maintaining his objectivity, Matt had a pretty good idea who was at the bottom of Savannah’s thefts, and he hated to relinquish control of the case to another detective or even the Texas Rangers. Call it pride or stubbornness, but he wanted the collar.
And he wanted to slip back into Savannah Markum’s good graces. He had to make amends for his inexcusable behavior last night when he’d exercised the poorest judgment of his career and lit out after those robbers with her infant in his car.
Matt slammed the trailer gate shut, thanked the cowhands who’d helped him load the cattle, slipped on his sunglasses and climbed into the cab.
“Geronimo,” he muttered, as he put the Jeep in gear, and left Fort Worth for Sweetwater and the Circle B.
A distant cloud of dust signaled the arrival of an approaching vehicle. Savannah stopped hanging out diapers on the clothesline and shaded her eyes against the bright,
noonday sun beating down on her scalp. She sank her hands on her hips, two clothespins caught between her teeth. She wasn’t expecting any visitors. What else could go wrong?
Her busy day had started at dawn when she’d helped Clem feed the remaining cattle. Then they’d spent the next several hours cleaning up the garden area, littered with debris from the wedding.
But things had gone from bad to worse when the tax assessor-collectors office had called and threatened her with legal action if she didn’t pay her property taxes by the end of next month. A large bill she just couldn’t afford. Not now. Not with all the other problems in her life.
Currently, Clem was in town buying supplies while she took care of the household chores. Cody napped in his playpen under the sheltering mimosa. Gosh, how she missed Ginger.
Taking the clothespins from her mouth, she clipped them to the line and moved to the front of the house. She smoothed her palms down the legs of her cutoff blue jeans, wiping away perspiration from her hands.
Her stomach churned when Matt’s red Jeep flashed into view, and she swore under her breath. Hadn’t she made herself clear enough the night before? Couldn’t the man take a hint? She wanted nothing more to do with him and his harum-scarum police tactics.
And then she noticed the cattle trailer. Her heart lurched with expectation. Was he bringing the Santa Gertrudis home? Did that mean she was no longer a suspect?
Hope surged through her as she hurried over to meet him.
He swung out of the Jeep and tipped his Stetson back on his head, a wide grin crossing his face. Savannah fought an almost irresistible urge to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.
“Got you a present,” he said, jerking a thumb at the trailer.
She moved to the back of the long vehicle and stood on tiptoe to peer inside. Wide cow eyes stared back at her. Relief flooded her, giddy as champagne bubbles. They were her cattle, all right. Eight short, but six was better than nothing. She could sell them and get out of debt.
“Oh, Matt,” she breathed. “Thankyou.”
The fine lines flaring out from his eyes eased into crinkles. “Thought they might cheer you up.”
“Oh, yes.”
“I’ll help you unload them,” he offered. “And then we need to talk.”
“What about?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. She should have known there were strings attached.
“About catching the thieves.”
“I’m no longer considered public enemy number one?” Matt shrugged. “Can’t rule out anybody, of course, but Sheriff Jameson and I both agree you’re an unlikely suspect.”
“But you won’t take my word for it, huh?” His lack of trust stung. Didn’t he know her better than that?
“Savy, let’s not argue.”
“I thought I told the sheriff I wanted you off the case.” She tapped her booted foot restlessly.
“Well.” Matt leaned against the trailer in a cocky stance. “Some stipulations do come with getting your cattle returned.”
“Such as?”
“Working with me on the investigation.” He smirked. She slanted him an irritated glance, crossed her arms over her chest. “And if I refuse?”
“I take the cattle back with me.”
“Why, that’s blackmail!”
“Uh-huh.”
“You—you...” she sputtered, unable to think of words to adequately express her anger.
“That’s right.” His grin widened, encompassed the whole lower half of his face.
“Great. Just great.”
“Is it a deal?” He held out a hand.
She glared.
“Well?”
“Under one condition.”
“Oh, ho. Now you're making conditions?”
“It’s one exception I won’t back down on, no matter what.”
“Let’s hear it.” He held his arms open, palms up.
“You keep my child out of your shenanigans.”
A contrite expression crossed his face. “I concede.” “Good.”
“Savy, I want to apologize for last night. You were absolutely correct. I had no right to drag your son through a chase.”
“Damned straight you didn’t.”
“I regret my lapse in judgment, but I did stop.”
“You’re too intense for your own good, Matt Forrester.”
“Ah, but intensity is what makes me a good detective. And a good lover,” he added mischievously.
She ignored that last part, even though a heated flush flared up her neck at his provocative words. “One day that intensity you’re so proud of is going to cost you your life.” “Probably.”
His honesty caught her off guard. So he admitted he was a blatant risk taker. It was why his job suited him so well and the main reason she’d refused to marry him five years ago. And if his behavior from the night before was any indication, she’d made the right decision.
“Do we have a deal?” he repeated.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope,” he replied cheerfully.
“I guess it’s a deal then.”
He extended his hand again and this time she slipped her palm into his, then immediately regretted her action as his warm touch generated tingles of awareness splintering under her skin like a million tiny needle pricks. Much as she thought she wanted to hold a grudge for last night’s brouhaha, she couldn’t. Not v/hen he smiled at her in that special way of his.
Quickly, she pulled away and stepped back.
“Listen,” he said, “have you had lunch yet?”
She shook her head. “Been too busy cleaning up after the wedding.”
He cocked his head to one side. “I took the liberty of buying some sandwiches. I remembered how much you enjoyed the meatball subs from Parelli’s.”
Her stomach grumbled at the idea of Parelli’s spicy meatball sandwiches. Matt knew her weaknesses far too well.
“What say we unload these cows and then have a picnic?” he continued. “I could tell you about my plans for the investigation.”
Watch out, Savannah, a voice in the back of her head warned. His offer sounds too romantic. Can’t let yourself fall for the big lug all over again.
“I’m pretty busy.”
“Too busy for one of Parelli’s specialties? Oozing tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese?”
Her mouth watered.
“Overflowing with sauteed onions and bell peppers,” he tantalized.
“No fair.” She laughed. “Food warfare.”
“All’s fair in love and war,” he quoted.
“And which is this?”
Their eyes met.
“War,” they exclaimed in union.
Laughing, they put the sandwiches in the refrigerator and woke Cody from his nap before transporting the Santa Gerturdis cattle to the
back pasture to join the remaining herd.
“I don’t know if this is the best place to keep them,” Savannah fretted. “I don’t have a new lock and the thieves removed them pretty easily the first time.”
“That’s the idea,” Matt told her.
“I don’t understand.” She frowned.
“I’ll tell you all about it,” he assured her.
“Am I free to sell them?” she asked, as Matt backed the trailer across the rough terrain.
“Nope.”
“Why not? I’ve got the tax people chewing my behind for overdue property taxes and I’ve got to do something.”
“Stop worrying,” he told her. “If my plan works we’ll have the thieves under arrest before you know it and then you’ll be free to do whatever you wish with the herd. And I intend on getting the rest of them back, too.”
“I certainly hope so,” she said, getting out of the truck and following Matt to the back of the trailer, Cody settled comfortably at her hip.
One by one, they led the cows from the trailer and into the pasture.
“Da.” Cody pointed at the cows and made grasping motions with his hand.
“Cows,” Savannah instructed. She took his hand and rubbed it against the neck of the docile animal. “Moo.”
Cody giggled and bucked joyfully in her grip.
She looked up and caught Matt studying them, a pensive expression on his face. The minute he realized she was watching him, he ducked his head and dusted his hands together.
“Mission accomplished,” he said lightly.
What was he thinking? she wondered. Had he been reflecting on what might have been?
“Let’s head to the house.” He inclined his head. “I’m starving.”
“Me, too,” she concurred.
They returned to the farmhouse and washed up. Savannah packed a picnic basket with the sandwiches, baby food for Cody, fresh fruit and chips. She filled a cooler with apple juice and soft drinks.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“It’s your ranch. You pick the spot,” Matt said, drying his hands on a dish towel.
“Morgan’s meadow,” she replied without hesitation. “By the creek. We can take Cody wading.”
“Sounds great.” He nodded.
She noticed how at ease he looked, and the sight did her good. From past experience with the man, she knew he rarely relaxed or let down his guard. Maybe a picnic wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
“Let’s walk,” she said. “It isn’t far. Just over the hill and down a bit.”
She reapplied sunscreen to her face and arms, then slathered a coating of the thick liquid over Cody’s wiggly little body. After donning a straw hat, she settled a baseball cap on her son’s head.
“Ready?” Matt asked.
“Ready.”
He shouldered the picnic basket and cooler. Savannah picked up a blanket with one hand and Cody with the other. Matt opened the back door and they traipsed out across the pasture.
Mockingbirds and scissortails flitted through the mes- quite and chinaberry trees. Wildflowers swayed in the fields—orange-red Indian paintbrushes, yellow black-eyed Susans, purple prickly pears. Grasshoppers leaped beneath their feet.
The delicious aroma of garlicky meatballs seeped up from the wooden picnic basket. Bees hummed by. Butterflies pirouetted in the air. In the distance, Savannah heard the gurgling creek.
They topped the hill and started down into the valley. A narrow stream ran through a clump of chinaberry trees. Savannah pointed out the quaint spot to Matt.
“Let’s camp here,” she suggested.
After setting the picnic basket and cooler in the soft grass mowed short by grazing cattle, Matt took the blanket from Savannah and spread it on the ground. She eased to her knees, placed the baby beside her on the blanket. Cody squealed with delight and played with his toes.
“Since he seems content right now, why don’t we eat first and I’ll feed him later,” Savannah suggested.
“Whatever you say, you’re the mom.”
“Don’t you forget it.”
“Absolutely not.” Matt sat down next to her, doffed his hat and ran a hand through his hair.
“I’ll warn you right now, moms rarely get through a meal without being interrupted.”
“I can handle that,” he said.
Matt couldn’t help but notice her lithe, graceful movements as she leaned over and opened the picnic basket. Her luscious hair feathered over her high cheekbones. Her vanilla scent invaded his nostrils. Her little bell earrings tinkled softly. A lump formed in his throat, and one in his pants, as well.
What in the Sam Hill was he doing here in this very evocative situation? He closed his eyes and remembered other picnics, other events where they’d stretched out on a blanket. Those occasions had always ended in wild embraces, with arms and legs tangled together, their mouths molded around each other. Matt swallowed hard. This had been a very stupid idea.
“Here you go,” she said.
He opened his eyes to see her smiling at him. The sight took his breath. She tucked a strand of hair behind a petite ear, extended the waxed-paper-wrapped sandwich toward him.
“Th-thanks,” he stuttered, so discombobulated by her beauty he just stared.
“Need a drink?” she asked, seemingly unaware of his response to her.
“Yes,” he croaked.
“Soda or apple juice?”
“Whatever.”
She pulled the tab on a cola and handed him the cold can. He pressed it to his forehead in an attempt to cool the fever raging within him. Wow. He had to get hold of his hormones, and pronto.
Unwrapping her own sandwich, Savannah held it gingerly between her fingers so the tomato sauce wouldn’t drip on her clothes. Her mouth opened. Matt saw a flash of her friendly pink tongue and he groaned inwardly.
She took a cautious bite.
Matt had to look away, his own sandwich growing clammy in his sweaty palm. He tried to concentrate on eating but could think of nothing except Savannah’s mouth, her tongue, her sweet, full lips.
“Arg.” He sighed.
“Something wrong?”
She swallowed the bite of meatball sandwich and stared at him with wide gold-green eyes. A spot of tomato sauce graced the corner of her mouth. Matt fought the urge to lean over and kiss it away, but she saved him by dabbing it off with a napkin.
He shook his head.
Cody scooted across the blanket between them. Grateful for the distraction, Matt turned his attention to the kid. Cody reached for Matt’s sandwich and he complied by breaking off a chunk of tomato-sauce-soaked bread and offering it to him. The boy drooled on the tidbit and grinned.
“Chips?” Savannah held up the bag.
Matt shook his head.
“French onion,” she tempted, gnashing on one herself. “Your favorite kind.”
“You remembered,” he said solemnly.
“I remember a lot of things about you.”
Same here, he thought. Too darn many things, like how her breasts felt pressed against his chest, and the way she loved to have her tummy tickled with a light, gentle touch. Had Markum catered to her secret desires? Matt frowned. He didn’t even want to think about her and Markum together. Even though the man was dead, jealousy still knotted his chest at the intimate images of their marriage bed.
“So,” Savannah said, licking the sauce from her fingers. “Tell me about your plans to catch the cattle thieves.”
Matt laid the rest of his sandwich aside, unable to eat another bite. He stretched out on the blanket, cradled his head in his palms and stared through the tree branches at the cerulean sky overhead. Cody crawled over his belly and sat right on his chest.
“Come here, Cody,” Savannah said, clapping her hands. “Get off Matt.”
“He’s okay,” Matt assured her.
Savannah popped open a jar of baby food, and that got the kid’s attention fast. He slid off Matt, dived to the blanket and r
eached for his mother.
“I thought that might convince you,” she lovingly teased her son.
Matt narrowed his eyes, lazily watching mother and child.
“So go ahead,” Savannah said while angling a spoonful of something green into Cody’s eager mouth.
“I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but I think Clem might be involved,” Matt said.
Savannah frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Think about it, Savy. How did the thieves get in and out so quickly? That west pasture is a far piece from the house. They had to have at least two trailers. How come nobody heard anything?”
She shrugged, wiped Cody’s chin with a napkin. “They still could have managed it without Clem’s help.”
Matt raised a palm. “I have a theory.”
“Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“Let’s say Clem knew about the insurance policy.”
“Supposing he did. So what? How would he benefit from that?”
She glanced at him, a quizzical expression on her face, and his heart jackhammered. Good grief, what was happening to him? Five years ago she’d hurt him so badly he thought he’d never recover, and now one look from her and he felt like a schoolboy on his first date, trying to slip his arm around a girl in the balcony at the movies.
“Clem wouldn’t benefit from the insurance policy, but he realizes you will.”
“Yes?” Her hair swung past her shoulders as she moved, a curtain of antique gold.
“Yeah. It absolves him. He doesn’t feel guilty stealing the cattle knowing you’ll get the insurance money. He knows you’re in tough financial straits. In fact, he might see it as a way to solve both your troubles. He gets a cut on the profits from the thefts and you get a hundred thousand dollars.”
Savannah gnawed her thumbnail. “I can’t believe it of Clem.”
‘‘What about Todd? He drew up the policy for Gary, and yet when you told him your cattle were missing, he never once mentioned it. That’s suspicious, too,” Matt pointed out.
“Todd? No way. He’s so honest he squeaks. He’s been thinking about the wedding, not business. I’m sure it just slipped his mind.”
