by Renee Roszel
“Am I boring you, Miss Andrews?” came a gruff query, tearing Anna from her thoughts.
“Uh, no, I’m sorry...” She found herself twisting a strand of her long hair and immediately stopped, twining her fingers into a tight knot before her belt buckle.
“I trusted your brother, Miss Andrews, and he turned out to be a crook.”
“My brother is not a crook, Mr. Dare. It’s just that—”
“Forgive me,” Dusty broke in, sarcastically. “I have a quirk about people who steal my possessions. Maybe I should get therapy.”
She felt his ridicule like a slap. “Look, Mr. Dare,” she said, trying to keep her courage from crumbling. “If you’d listen a minute, I’d like to help b-both you and my b-brother, that is...” She stuttered to a halt, staring. He was stalking forward in his anger, and his features were suddenly visible. Watching him come toward her was like watching someone rack a shell into a shotgun and take aim at your heart.
Dustin Dare’s rough-hewn face, tanned by sun and wind, had a palpable impact on her senses. Within dark eyes the color of freshly turned earth, she saw a man ceaselessly driven, a man with fierce pride and little mercy. He exuded a fiery bearing and irrepressible hunger.
His lips, firm yet sensual, were drawn down in a frown, and the tense flexing of his jaw spoke of stubbornness and passion. There was a wildness about him that both beckoned and terrified her, a wildness that she hadn’t detected when he’d stood farther away, backlit by the sun. But now it fairly shouted at her.
She scanned him from the muscular expanse of his chest in the half-buttoned shirt to the shiny cowboy boots he sported in spite of his otherwise formal attire. Dustin Dare obviously lived up to his name. He was a man of daring. A man never to be quite tamed, even disguised in the most elegant garments. As he drew nearer, the room filled with his energy. It pulsed and sizzled around her like a live electric wire—deadly to anyone who ventured to touch. She felt a warning throb deep in her soul. Before her was a man who never accepted second best, who could only be happy in competitive situations, a man who loved the chase but became bored once the capture was made. In other words, Dusty Dare was a fireworks man.
She wasn’t very close to him, but she didn’t have to be to know he was the essence of the volatile kind of male she’d vowed to avoid, and the knowledge made her grow sick inside. The last person she wanted to be around was someone like that. The last thing she needed was to be here, begging him to accept an offer that would require her continued presence. Still, if she was going to keep her brother out of jail, she had no choice.
He came to a halt barely a foot away from her, towering over her, powerful, commanding and devilishly handsome. Something basic and female stirred inside her, and she was shocked at herself.
Fighting this wayward inner creature she’d never known existed, she surged on. “I hoped you would allow me to...to work for you as your stable manager. Let me temporarily take Steven’s place. I thought you might give me thirty days while I try to get him to come back.” She grabbed a quick breath, rushing on, praying he wouldn’t end the interview abruptly by grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and tossing her out the window. “I...you see, my uncle and I, we’ve been running our business alone these past two years. Uncle Bud taught Steven and me a lot.” Babbling from panic, she couldn’t staunch the words once they began to pour out. “Our training stable isn’t on this scale, but I’m good with horses—I’ve trained lots of cutters—and I thought I could help you out while I locate Steven. I’m sure if he knew of your kind, er, offer, he’d return the carving. I—” Her throat constricted at the frigid look that answered her proposal. She hadn’t expected anything else, but she’d still hoped...
“Are you finished?” he asked.
She gathered her poise as best she could, considering his bothersome closeness and inevitable refusal, and nodded.
“You expect me to not only allow your brother to run around free for a month, but you want me to hire you, a pint-size woman who’s trained...what? A few working cutters? And to manage my championship stables?”
The mocking incredulity in his voice made Anna flinch, but she’d come here expecting exactly this. Maybe not from a man quite so painfully handsome, but she had expected to be rejected—at first.
If the fire in his glare was supposed to make her give up and crawl away, then Mr. Dare was about to be hugely disappointed. What he didn’t realize was that this pint-size woman had no plans to slink out with her tail between her legs. For her and her uncle to survive, she’d had to learn to shrug off rejection and charge ahead. “Yes,” she said, braving his anger while trying to ignore the quiver in her limbs. “I believe you’re a fair man,” she told him, “and I believe if you wanted to press charges you would have done so last night. And... and I can do the work. You know Steven could, and we learned from the same teacher.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you crazy? You actually think I’ll go for such a scheme?” He let out a disgusted laugh. “Do I look like Mother Teresa or a complete fool?”
She swallowed. He looked like the most deliciously assembled hunk of male ever created.
Her silence made him smile, but the expression wasn’t friendly. “A fool, I gather,” he muttered. “Don’t count on it, Miss Andrews. I only gave your brother twenty-four hours because my lawyer thought it might convince him to return the carving, considering how hard it would be to find a buyer for such a well-known piece of art. Your brother isn’t a very smart thief, I’m afraid.”
“He was desperate!” she blurted. “And I don’t think your lawyer suggested the twenty-four-hour limit at all. I think you make your own decisions, and I don’t think you really want to send Steven to jail, or you would have reported the theft by now.”
Dusty seemed surprised by her declaration, and his expression eased a little. For the first time Anna felt that he might be willing to listen, so she hurried on. “I’ve already called everybody Steve might contact and told them that you won’t prosecute. As for my suitability for the job, well, even a pint-size woman is better than nothing. And you know it’ll take you some time to locate a new trainer of the caliber you need.” She decided to be completely truthful. “Besides, the guard at your front gate said your brother, who helps manage this place, will be gone a month. With both him and Steven gone—”
“Is that when you conjured up this infernal plan?” he broke in.
“It helped.” She licked her lips nervously. “I really can train horses and manage a stable. My uncle’s not in the best of health, and since Steven moved away, I’ve been doing most of the training, doctoring, handling of bills and such. I’d be working here strictly until you get permanent help, naturally.”
“Naturally,” he repeated, his lips twisting with scorn. “I’m afraid I’d have a hard time hiring another Andrews on anything but the most temporary basis.”
“Then you’ll do it?” she cried, fearful of believing her own ears. “You’ll give me thirty days to get Steven to come back before you call the police, and you’ll let me take over as—”
“Hellfire, Miss Andrews,” he interrupted. “Hire the sister of a thief? You’ve got one sorry résumé.”
“Fine,” she shot back. “Rub salt in my wound if it makes you happy. But let’s get one thing straight. I’ve taken all the insults I can stand from you. I’ve never done a dishonest thing in my life, and it hurts to be made to feel as if I’m the thief. I’m not, you know. I’m doing all I can to help, because I realize you’re upset, and you have a right to be.” Her voice broke. Humiliated that he had witnessed her weakness, she angrily continued, “If what I’ve suggested isn’t good enough, say so and I’ll leave, but I won’t be yelled at one second longer.” As she stared up into a face hardened by anger, her hopes died. She’d lost her temper. She never lost her temper. In her own defense, she wasn’t used to being called a thief—or even the sister of one.
Anything she’d wished to accomplish here was beyond reach now. Resigned, sh
e spun away, mumbling some inanity about not staying where she wasn’t wanted, and hurried toward the door.
“What if he hasn’t returned the carving at the end of thirty days, Miss Andrews?”
She halted, frowning, but didn’t turn. “What?” she asked, not sure she’d heard his question right.
“I said,” he began, nearer this time, “what if he hasn’t returned my carving in thirty days? What then?”
She felt as insubstantial as morning mist. Could he really be considering her proposal? She twisted her head to peer into his unreadable brown eyes. Was he baiting her, or was he serious?
She hoped he was serious; his grave expression seemed to suggest that he was. “It won’t come to that. I can’t even consider it,” she admitted at last.
Annoyance darkened his features. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to consider it.”
She gaped, unable to speak. They both knew the ball was in his court now. All she could do was wait, listen and pray.
“If, at the end of thirty days, your brother hasn’t returned my property, or it’s damaged in any way,” he said, his lips drawn down in a tight frown, “I will not only report him to the police and fire you, I will demand restitution from you to replace my loss. Are you willing to take that gamble for your brother’s sake?”
The blood drained from her face. What was he saying? “You... you mean, if Steven doesn’t return the carving, or if it gets broken or something, you’ll take... take...” She couldn’t go on. All they owned was a fifty-acre ranch and several thousand dollars’ worth of livestock. The whole thing was worth only a fraction of his stolen carving.
“I’ll take everything you’ve got,” he finished for her. “At least everything up to half a million dollars. I wouldn’t want to be accused of cheating you.” He eyed her skeptically. “Do we have a deal?”
It was plain he expected her to back down. He didn’t want her involved, didn’t think the thirty days would make any difference as far as her brother was concerned. But she knew otherwise. She knew Steven wasn’t really bad, just hotheaded. He’d come back as soon as he got word that Mr. Dare wasn’t pressing charges. Making her decision, she said, “I have faith in Steven, Mr. Dare. I accept your deal.”
He scowled, and she guessed he was disturbed that she would agree to such a one-sided bargain.
They stared at each other across a sudden ringing silence, and Anna was appalled to notice pity mingle with the contempt in his expression.
“He will be back, and I can handle the job,” she insisted. “You’ll see.”
He looked away, and Anna saw a muscle flex along his jaw. He seemed to be trying to contain his frustration and was unwilling to say anything until he’d done so.
“I can start tomorrow. Where do I put my things?” she asked finally, if for no other reason than to dispel the awful stillness that hung in the room.
Plunging his hands into his trouser pockets, Dusty presented her with his back, muttering, “Hell!”
That hushed blasphemy was stark proof that, for as long as Steven and the carving were missing, Anna was going to have to cope with a rotten situation and an angry fireworks man! She exhaled slowly, silently, reining in her own emotions.
Honestly wanting to make everything work out, she offered, “I realize hell is where you’d like the entire Andrews family to go, but for now, where do you want me to put my things?”
He shifted to consider her over his shoulder. “Miss Andrews,” he said tiredly, “if you’re half as smart as that mouth of yours, you just might last out the week.”
CHAPTER TWO
ANNA HAD JUST BEEN through the most stressful morning of her life. Not only had she worked like a dog since before dawn, she’d been scared out of her wits that the glowering Mr. Dare would show up and roar at her for not doing something properly. Each time his brutal handsome face came to her mind’s eye, she doubled her efforts. Everything important depended on her staying here. Besides proving herself a good manager-trainer, she had to get the carving back, keep her brother out of jail and save her ranch. Thinking about it was enough to make her queasy.
The stable at Bent River Ranch was the biggest thing she’d ever seen, with twelve stalls on one side and a center aisle wide enough to drive a tractor through. Three oversize reinforced stalls to house stallions were located on the other side, along with five more regular stalls, a feed and tool room, a huge tack room, two foaling stalls and a paneled office. Behind the stable was a wash rack, a round training pen and the most modern indoor arena Anna had ever seen. This morning, as the tentative rays of a new sun began to wash the horizon in gold and pink, she’d feared the job might be too much for her, but she’d forced the notion from her mind. There was too much at stake to get fainthearted now.
After hours of hard work and worry, lunch wasn’t going down well. Her stomach was tied in knots as she sat in the main house’s big kitchen, picking at a cheese sandwich and half listening to Max while he rolled out dough for pies. He’d been telling her about his prize hybrid roses called red baubles or bubbles or something and a pruning technique he was particularly fond of. Apparently Max did more than the cooking around the place; he did the gardening, too. She tuned out, not hearing him, as she anxiously reviewed what she’d done so far today. Had she thought of absolutely everything?
She’d checked the forty quarter horses at five-thirty that morning. They’d all looked fit and healthy. Then she’d made sure Hunky, Flint and Ben, the hired hands, had fed and watered them, each according to the vet’s instructions. She knew champion cutting horses were well cared for, but these animals had better medical care than most people.
The mares not to be worked today were led to the north pasture. While the hired hands mucked out the stables, she’d gone over the books, made a “to do” list, checked supplies and reviewed appointments noted on the calendar for next week. It appeared an interested buyer was coming over tomorrow to check out one of the more promising two-year-olds.
Anna took a sip of water, racking her brain. What have I forgotten? Please let everything be all right! She glanced up, something drawing her from her apprehensive meanderings. “What?” she asked Max.
“It’s somebody on the phone for you, miss,” he said, wiping his free hand on his makeshift dish-towel apron. “Wouldn’t give his name.”
Just then there was a clattering of sandaled feet at the door, and a teenage girl sprinted into the kitchen, holding a tall glass with melting ice in the bottom. “That my mom?” she almost pleaded.
Anna had seen the child moping around the place, and her heart had gone out to her. Nicole, yes, that was her name. Brett’s new stepdaughter. Poor kid, Anna thought, all but deserted by her mother for a month, with only a scowling stepuncle and some servants for company.
“Sorry, little miss,” Max said, holding the receiver toward Anna. “It’s for Miss Anna here.”
Nicole made a face and plopped into a chair, setting the glass down loudly. “Can I have more grape pop, Max?”
Curious as to who could be calling, Anna got up from the long pine table and took the receiver, thanking Max with a nod. “Hello?”
“Annie, kid?” came the whispered reply.
She knew immediately who the caller was. She’d have recognized her brother’s voice anywhere. “Steven!” she cried, pulling inquiring glances from both Max and Nicole.
Lowering her voice, she turned away and whispered urgently, “Steven! Where are you? How could you have done such a terrible thing to Mr. Dare?”
“Look, Annie, kid,” her brother interrupted. “I’ve only got a second. Just found out you were there and wanted to say I’m sorry for getting you in this fix, but it can’t be helped. Got myself into some deep horse pucky this time, and I plan to dig me a hole and hide till I can pay those slime balls what I owe ’em. These guys play rough, and I don’t wanna get my legs busted!”
“But, Steven,” Anna pleaded, “that carving you stole won’t do you any good. It’s too well kno
wn to sell. Nobody will—”
“You let me worry ’bout that. Love ya, kid. Gotta go,” Steve finished abruptly, then the line went dead.
She stood there staring at the receiver, tears welling in her eyes. Steven hadn’t even given her time to tell him that Mr. Dare wouldn’t press charges if he brought back the carving. If her brother had only given her a few more seconds ...
“Don’t tell me—that was your sticky-fingered brother.”
Anna spun around. Nicole peeked tentatively out from behind Dusty’s formidable torso. Anna caught her furtive movement and focused on the child, whose expression was wide-eyed and sheepish. It was clear she’d felt it her duty to scamper off to tell her uncle “the no-good thief,” as Steven was being referred to around the Bent River Ranch, was on the phone.
Unfortunately for Anna, Dusty hadn’t been far away. Probably eating lunch in the posh dining room, though his attire, snug jeans, green cotton shirt and roper boots, was far from posh. Nonetheless, Anna conceded inwardly, posh or not, he exuded virility and was an impressive male specimen.
“Do you speak English, Miss Andrews, or should I try my high-school Spanish?” he asked.
She came out of her stupor and blurted, “Oh, Mr. Dare, Steven, er... I tried, but I didn’t have time...” Something in Anna’s consciousness noticed that his hair drifted in lazy waves across his forehead and needed smoothing back. She floundered around to remember what she’d been saying. “And, uh, I’m...” She bit down hard on her lip. It seemed her mind had turned to mush. Privately she grumbled, It’s not all my fault. Your hateful expression would scare the wits out of savage thugs wielding automatic weapons!
