Dinner with the Sloan family was like getting on a roller coaster at Six Flags, Grace decided. An exciting, fun, adventure-filled ride that took your breath away.
Rand was the only one that held back, she realized. Not that he wasn’t at ease with his family. He was. But there was something about Rand that Grace couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was subtle, but he was different somehow from his brothers.
He was watching her now, she knew, ignoring his brothers’ shenanigans and focusing his attention on her. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver. The worst of it was, she couldn’t look away.
“If you want that chocolate cake,” Mary said to her sons, “you boys best get your elbows off that table. I taught you better manners than that. And, Rand, stop staring at Grace. You’re embarrassing her. Just look at her, she’s all red in the face.”
Grace dropped her gaze. She hadn’t been embarrassed, she’d simply been hot and extremely bothered. But she couldn’t very well tell Mary that.
The meal finished in relative peace—relative being a very broad term when it came to the Sloans. Sam and Matt flirted shamelessly with her, plus there were more wisecracks and insults between the brothers. Even Rand jumped in a time or two, but for the most part he was silent and thoughtful, as if his mind was somewhere else.
When Mary rose to get the cake, Rand told her to sit right back down, then looked at his brothers. Matt and Sam went out the front door, with Mary wanting to know what all the fuss was about. The two younger Sloan boys came back in a few moments later, carrying a large, blanket-covered box. They set it down at their mother’s feet and pulled the blanket back.
“Happy Birthday, Mom,” Sam said quietly.
It was a thirty-five-inch color TV with remote control and picture-in-a-picture feature.
Mary stared, then blinked furiously, got up without a word and walked out the front door.
Bewildered, Grace watched while the brothers all looked at each other and smiled.
It seemed that Rand wasn’t the only Sloan family member who wasn’t inclined to show emotion, Grace thought.
“Let’s set it up,” Matt said, then he and Sam carried it into the living room.
“It’s your mother’s birthday?” Grace asked Rand.
“Sort of,” he said cryptically and looked at the door his mother had walked out. When he glanced back at Grace, there was a grin on his face. “She just might need a little ‘feminine balance’ right about now,” he said. “Would you mind?”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but if Mary needed company, then Grace would be happy to sit outside with her. She looked at all the dishes on the table, but he took her by the arm and led her to the front door. “Never mind the mess. We’ll take care of it.”
It was the second time he’d put his hand on her today, the second time her body reacted with a mind of its own. Grace opened her mouth, but hadn’t time to speak before he’d opened the door, gently shoved her outside, then closed the door again.
The light from the living room window illuminated the front porch, but beyond the porch railing, it was pitch-black. Grace could see Mary on the porch swing, staring out into the dark. Grace waited, not certain if she was intruding or not.
“Come sit by me, Grace,” Mary said.
Grace sat and together they listened to the loud er-rick-er-rick-er-rick of an army of crickets and the rhythmic squeak of the swing. Inside the house, the sound of Mary’s sons talking and laughing in the living room drifted out into the warm night air.
“Rand doesn’t mean to be rude,” Mary said after a few moments. “He’s having a tough time right now.”
“You mean because of his father?”
“Heavens, no. There was no love lost between Rand and my late husband.” Mary sighed. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about or why I wanted you to stay.”
“Why did you want me to stay?”
“Rand needs a woman like you right now,” Mary said.
Grace missed a beat on the swing, then picked it up again. “Excuse me for saying so, Mrs. Sloan, but I don’t think your son needs anyone, especially me.”
Mary laughed softly. “That’s where you’re wrong, Grace. I know my boy and I know what I see. He might not even know it yet, but believe me, he needs you.”
“Mrs. Sloan—”
“Mary.”
“Mary,” Grace said, shaking her head. “I came here because I need Rand’s help. He turned me down flat. The only reason I’m still here is because you asked me to stay.”
“And I’m glad you did.” Mary patted Grace’s hand. “It was refreshing to have another woman around. Sometimes living out here, without any woman friends stopping by for coffee or cookies, makes me forget I’m a woman myself.”
The sound of a baseball game blasted from inside the house, and Mary’s eyes lit up. “Well, I suppose I should go take a look at what they bought me,” she said matter-of-factly. “Wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings.”
“Would you mind if I sat out here for a while?” Grace asked. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been away from the city lights.”
“Take your time,” Mary said. “I’ll make sure my boys save a piece of cake for you.”
“No easy task, I’m sure,” Grace teased.
Smiling, Mary went back into the house. With a sigh, Grace settled back in the swing and mentally went over the events of the afternoon and evening. The Sloan family perplexed her. The sons had buried their father, Mary her husband, but Edward Sloan’s name had not been mentioned once amongst them. Mary had plainly said that Rand and his father did not get along. Then the boys had given their mother a television for her birthday, only it really wasn’t her birthday.
Rand needs a woman like you.
That comment from Mary had to be the most perplexing of all. Though there was no question there was chemistry between herself and Rand, Mary certainly hadn’t been speaking of need in a physical nature. She’d been speaking of something else, something on a deeper, more meaningful level. Grace couldn’t imagine what Mary meant, but it really didn’t matter at this point.
Grace couldn’t put it off any longer. It was almost nine and she needed to leave in a few minutes. It was a long drive back to San Antonio. She’d need to find a place to stay for the night, then catch the first flight back to Dallas tomorrow.
She knew she was leaving her last hope behind her, but she refused to think about that right now. Grace knew that she was still foolish enough to believe in miracles, and she also knew that it would take one now to save those mustangs.
Three
When Rand first stepped out onto the porch, he thought that Grace had fallen asleep on his mother’s swing. With her eyes closed and her hands resting lightly on her knees, she looked completely at peace.
He told himself to go back into the house, to leave her alone and let her enjoy the quiet. But he quite simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Long strands of soft, auburn hair tumbled around her serene face. Dark, thick eyelashes rested against pale, delicate skin. There was a regal quality to her straight, sculpted nose, angular eyebrows and bow-shaped mouth. He could picture this woman in a past century, smiling and waving to her loyal subjects as the royal carriage carried her through the cobblestoned streets of her dominion.
It amazed him that after a day of airplanes and cars and the hot San Antonio desert, she stilled looked so fresh and neat. Her white suit had no smudges or wrinkles. Even those low heels of hers appeared as if she’d just taken them out of the box.
He had a strong, sudden desire to put his hands on her and muss her up.
She opened her eyes, smiled at him as she stretched, and he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than simply muss her up.
Desire slammed through his body. Pure, primal passion. He struggled to get a grip on it, to wrestle the beast down. But even when he did, he felt it pulsing, breathing inside him. Waiting for him to let down his guard even the tiniest fraction.
“I brought you some cake.” He clenched his jaw when she stretched again, wished to God he’d stayed in the house.
“Thank you.” Her voice had a low, throaty quality to it. “But it wasn’t necessary. I was going to come inside in a minute.”
When he moved in front of her, Grace’s eyes widened at the huge slice of cake he handed her.
“Good grief,” she gasped. “I can’t possibly eat all that. I already had to loosen the button on my skirt after that meal your mother served.”
The thought jumped into his head that he’d like to loosen more than a button, then slide that skirt down those long legs of hers. Or better yet, shove the skirt upward and save time.
He felt the beast jump inside him again, and he fought it down. “Well, if you don’t want it…”
Her hand snaked out and snatched the plate. “Mister, men have died for lesser evils than depriving a woman of chocolate.”
She took a bite, closed her eyes and groaned deeply. The pleasure on her face bordered on sexual. Rand groaned silently.
Damn this woman.
“Will you sit with me for a minute?” she asked when she opened her eyes again.
Bad idea, Rand, he thought.
But he sat, anyway.
“I like your family,” she said. “They’re…”
“Obnoxious?” he supplied when she hesitated.
She shook her head and smiled. “Bigger than life.”
“That’s a new one.” Rand settled back on the swing, watched Grace slice another piece of cake onto her fork. He followed that neat little bite all the way to her mouth and instantly went hard.
He dragged his gaze away, forced himself to stare into the darkness. It had been a long time since he’d sat out here on this swing, the first time he’d ever sat here with a woman other than his mother. He caught the faint scent of Grace’s perfume, something light and exotic, then cursed himself when he dragged the fragrance deep into his lungs.
Annoyed with his wandering thoughts and overactive libido, Rand turned his attention to the sounds coming from inside the house. His brothers arguing over who got the bigger piece of cake and his mother reprimanding both of them. Just like the old days, he thought with a smile, only better.
Much better, now that Edward Sloan was six feet under.
His smile faded as he thought about the letter he’d tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. He’d been carrying the letter since he’d opened it this morning. He hadn’t read it again, he’d just wanted it close….
…Seth Ezekiel Blackhawk and Elizabeth Marie Blackhawk…were not killed in the car crash that claimed the lives of their parents
…not killed…not killed…
He heard the sound of Grace’s voice, but it took a moment for her words to register. She’d asked about the television set.
“It was Sam’s idea,” Rand said absently. “We all figured it was about time she had one. When my brothers and I were little, we’d go into Maiman’s Department Store and we’d see her staring at all the televisions on display, watching whichever show happened to be on. She always had a look of such longing on her face.”
“You mean she’s never had a television before now?”
“Not for twenty-nine years.” Rand rocked the swing into motion with the heels of his boots. “To quote Edward Sloan, ‘They weaken a man’s mind and spew propaganda.”’
“So your father—”
“Not my father,” he said sharply. “Edward and Mary adopted me when I was nine, after my real parents were killed in a car accident, but he was never my father.”
The tone of Rand’s voice alone spoke volumes, Grace thought. Mary had said there was no love lost between Rand and Edward. Grace was beginning to see more than a glimpse of that.
“Sam and Matt,” she said carefully. “Were they adopted, too?”
Rand shook his head. “Sam came along a year after they adopted me, Matt a year after that. Quite the joke, isn’t it?” he said dryly. “The doctors told Mary she could never have children, so she and Edward adopted me, then right away she has two kids of her own. Just goes to show you can’t believe a damn thing people tell you.”
Grace had the distinct feeling that Rand’s last comment wasn’t directed at the doctors. That there was something else behind that dark, mysterious mask of his, something that had nothing to do with Edward and Mary or being adopted.
Something that was none of her business.
In the dim light, Grace watched the play of shadow on Rand’s face. She had to resist a sudden and overwhelming desire to reach out and touch that handsome face, to run her fingertips over the hard set of his jaw and lay her palm on his smooth-shaven cheek. The thought alone made her pulse skip; she couldn’t imagine actually doing it. Not only were she and Rand practically strangers, she was certain he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture at all. Rand Sloan did not strike her as being the kind of man who wanted, or needed, comforting.
“You wasted a trip here, Grace.”
Her hand hesitated on the bite that was halfway to her mouth. Well, now, that was certainly to the point, she thought. No, “I’m sorry,” or, “It’s too bad,” or, “Wish I could help you.” Just, “You wasted a trip.”
“Hardly,” she said lightly, then slid the cake into her mouth and licked the frosting off the fork. “This cake alone made the trip worthwhile, not to mention that dinner your mother made. She should open a restaurant when she gets to Vegas. She’d make a fortune.”
There was a light in Rand’s eyes Grace hadn’t seen before. When he turned that light on her, she felt her breath catch.
“What makes these horses so important to you?” he asked.
He wasn’t the first person who’d asked her that question. Her father had, her mother, every person she’d ever hit up for a donation. She’d never been quite sure how to answer. Wasn’t certain herself that she knew the answer.
She looked out into the night, heard the distant howl of a coyote, felt the loneliness there.
“Was there ever something you felt,” she said softly, “something that went so deep and was so important, that words simply fell short?”
When he said nothing, she went on, “My uncle has a ranch in Austin and I used to spend three weeks every summer there, riding and taking care of his horses. I’ve been riding since I was eight.” She stared at the plate in her hands and shrugged. “Starting this foundation just happened. One morning I was sitting at my kitchen table, drinking orange juice and eating cinnamon toast, trying to decide what to wear to my mother’s hospital charity luncheon that afternoon. If my pink pumps would look better with my floral skirt or my leather dress sandals.”
Rand lifted a doubtful brow. “Pink pumps?”
“Hey—” she pointed her fork at him and lifted her nose “—these were serious decisions in my life. A girl can never be too careful about her footwear.”
Grace could swear she saw a smile tug at the corners of Rand’s mouth. Shaking his head, he drew in a slow breath, then said, “Somehow I’ve missed the connection between shoes and wild horses.”
“While all these important things were going on, I was watching the television, too,” she said. “A documentary about an organization in Nevada that was formed to save a band of wild horses outside of Reno. I ended up calling the number asking for donations and spoke to a man named Mitch Tanner. He invited me down to see what their group was doing. I accepted, then came back and started my own foundation. The rest,” she said, stabbing another bite of cake and popping it into her mouth, “is history.”
Rand’s gaze rested on her mouth. That light she’d seen in his eyes a moment earlier turned dark and sensuous. There it was again, that heat simmering between them. Grace felt her pulse stumble, but she steadied herself before she did anything foolish.
“Why are you here?” he asked, leveling his gaze back with hers. “Why me?”
“These horses—” she hesitated “—this roundup, is a little more complicated.”
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“Why?”
“The horses managed to break off from the main herd we’ve already rounded up and disappeared into Black River Canyon, a canyon that’s notorious for flash floods. If they are still alive and we don’t get them out soon, they will either starve or drown.”
He stopped rocking and looked at her. “You’re telling me you want to go into a dangerous canyon after a bunch of horses you aren’t even certain are still alive? How many horses are you talking about?”
She swallowed hard. “Four or five, maybe six.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He sat up straight now, his brow furrowed. “You’d risk your life, or someone else’s, to maybe save maybe six horses?”
“If they are there, and they are still alive, they haven’t got a chance if we don’t go down there and get them out.” Grace closed her eyes. “Everyone else has turned me down. Told me it was a waste of time.”
“They were right.”
She opened her eyes again, narrowed them at him. “I refuse to believe that. You could do it. You’re probably the only one who can. I’ve got two volunteers waiting to hear from me, two good horsemen who are willing to go down into the canyon with you and help.”
“Mother Nature can be brutal. Life is that way sometimes and there’s no way around it.” He sighed, then added more gently, “Some things are best let go, Grace. Accept it.”
She shook her head, not certain if her overwhelming disappointment was that Rand wouldn’t take the job, or that he didn’t believe in it.
Whichever it was, the bottom line was that he wasn’t going.
He was right, she thought sadly. She had wasted her time coming here.
As much as she wanted to, she wouldn’t cry. At least, not now. Later, after she checked into her motel room and crawled under the covers, maybe then she’d give in to the pain in her chest.
Forcing a smile, she stood and looked down at him. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. I’ll just say goodbye to everyone and be out of your hair.”
Taming Blackhawk Page 3
