Fionola was pushing with that idea.
It was almost as bad as her suggestion that she should manage his new office while he was in Jackson Hole. That she should be as supportive of him as he was of her. Fionola went on to argue he intended to hire an assistant. In the meantime, how difficult could it be? He’d be home from Wyoming within a few days.
Right.
Tyndal quickly discovered Jared’s office was inundated with calls from prospective students, mostly female, who’d somehow heard that the amazing and “oh, so gorgeous Jared Grant would be teaching classes at Morgan’s Walk. Was that true?”
“Yes, it’s true.” She knew just how that rumor got started too. Jared and Fee had made a joint statement, released it to the press. With little hearts almost oozing out of the phone, Tyndal considered keeping a list of all the times she heard “I think he’s so wonderful,” or, “He’s just the most handsome thing ever.”
Her all-time favorite was, “You’re so lucky being his personal secretary and all, would you know if he’s seeing anyone?”
Seeing anyone? Who cared? Didn’t these women have lives?
It was all she could do to choke off a nasty remark at one particularly desperate claim. “It’s like we’re soul-mates. All he needs is a real woman to love.”
“Okay, real woman,” Tyndal wanted to reply. “You want him? Come get him. I’ll have Mr. Fantastic all saddled up and waiting just for you. What’s your name again? I’ll be sure to put it first on the list.”
It was enough to ruin the rest of her day when Fionola informed her at noon that he’d called. “He’s on his way home, child! Said he should be in by late this afternoon.”
Tyndal murmured something unrepeatable in response.
Fionola laughed. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Now, what shall we have for dinner? It’s got to be special. Anything you’d like?”
“Yeah, but I’m sure the cook would disapprove.”
Ever since, Tyndal’s emotions had vacillated between ugly and worse. Of course she hadn’t missed him. Heart-shaped dreams belonged right up there with pies in the sky. Maybe she was more tired than she’d thought. For sure she was sick to death of being his social secretary. That “fabulous hunk of man candy” could just figure out how to deal with his phone, his fans, and whatever else—for himself.
She’d quit.
****
Jared drove between the stone gates at the entrance to Morgan’s Walk and smiled. Home had always meant either Timberline or here, with here—because of the horses—his usual place. His brother and his Dad loved the cattle Timberline raised. But he’d been horse crazy. And crazy about Tyndal Morgan.
But he wasn’t a kid this time. Thoughts of her burned in his blood in ways no amount of water could satisfy. Another thing he’d learned was that it’d been a mistake, a big one, to have kissed her. Her taste haunted him. Her scent called him. Even knowing full well she’d prefer his head on a stake than his presence in her world, her world was exactly where he intended to be.
Jared went to his office and stood at the window watching the woman circle a pattern inside the small arena, schooling a tall, easy-going Thoroughbred a neighbor wanted her to train for their daughter, talking to him, talking to her dog, and apparently trying to talk herself out of her mood.
It didn’t appear to be working.
Unable to keep from overhearing and given the proximity of his office windows, he listened, laughing only to himself.
“And you can quit moping around too.” Tyndal glowered at Jake.
Jared glanced toward the big dog that’d retreated to the shade. He felt for him.
“Just because you’re bored isn’t a good enough reason to adopt the guy. You and Fionola both act as if he hung the moon or something. All I’ve heard is, ‘oh, won’t it be nice when Jared’s home again.’ Ugh! Enough already.” Tyndal sent the colt in a long graceful arch over a low fence.
Gratifying was hardly the word Jared would choose to describe knowing she’d thought about him. He hadn’t been able to get her off his mind. But then again, he liked thinking about her. Looking at her. Touching her. Even irritating her had its rewards. He thought about an idea for a minute and grinned. Then went out, whistled for Pyralis, shoved open the gate, and strode into the arena.
“Exactly how long do you intend to torture that animal before you decide to let him act like a horse and run for the fun of it?”
“Act like a horse?” She spun the colt in a short turn toward him. Pyralis, standing at his side, tossed his head, all impatience and fire. She looked from one to the other.
“Two of a kind.” She gave a low mutter and lifted her chin, her eyes hot. “Okay, Jared. You want a run, you’ve got one. How long does it take for you to put a saddle on that thing?”
“Since when is one required?” He grabbed a handful of the fire-crested mane and boosted himself onto the stallion’s back.
Sensing Jared’s mood, Pyralis reared and all but flew across the arena, clearing the perimeter fences without breaking stride, turned like a creature of flames into the wind and openness of the prairie. When the buildings of Morgan’s Walk were lost in the smooth curves of the landscape, Jared shifted Pyralis down a notch, allowing Tyndal’s colt to catch up.
“Well, I see you can still ride.” From her tone, he knew it wasn’t a compliment.
“I figured you knew that. It’s more a shame you haven’t learned how to keep up.”
“Oh, be quiet.”
“Your call, sweetheart.” He reined in his horse, let her keep the lead. Did she have any idea that when she sulked, her lower lip could make a man yearn?
They rode in silence for another mile or two. The horses followed a trail that switch-backed its way up a hill. Once they topped out, Jared slid off Pyralis and stood so he faced the wind. He wanted to feel its wild pulse, the cold blast of air that swept across the prairie.
“I forget what it’s like to see nothing, not a single structure or anything else we take as civilization for miles in any direction. Just all this color and space. The wind, with all its sounds, is so much of what’s here.” The wind tangled through Tyndal’s hair, lifting it, smoothing it. Jared imagined his hands doing the same and doubted she’d appreciate that bit of information. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve listened to a mockingbird.”
“Early this morning,” Tyndal’s voice was soft. “I heard one not far from my house. It’s thunder that does it for me. Jake, poor baby, doesn’t like storms, especially noisy ones.” She climbed off her colt to stroke the big dog stretched out on the ground and check his paws for burrs. “I’ll stay up at night listening to the wind, how it moans and sighs.”
Jared kept his eyes on her face as she spoke, watching her eyes, seeing she kept a lot to herself. That hadn’t changed. Neither had her love for these endless spaces.
“I remember us listening to the storms together.”
“Me, too. Sometimes Chase would join us. Jared, I haven’t forgotten.”
“And? What else do you remember? Talk to me, Tyndal.”
She looked down, scuffed the soil with the toe of her boot. “You ask a lot of questions.” She sighed. “Since you’ve been gone, a lot of prayers have been whispered out here. A lot of tears. Maybe it’s all this openness, but I’ve learned the prairie has its own sort of presence. Its own comfort.”
Her eyes said there was more. She led the colt forward, closer to the point of the hill. “Look over there.”
A small herd of pronghorn grazed a distance beyond, their heads lifted in wary caution. “In some ways they symbolize the prairie for me. They’ve survived.”
Jared pulled the bridle off Pyralis, gave the horse his freedom. He wouldn’t go far. The horse moved as he wanted, sampled prairie grass, scented winds that carried echoes of long-silent buffalo, of vanished Lakota villages and their evening fires. With the exception of a few petroglyphs chipped on rocks and prized by those who knew where to look, only one fragrant reminde
r of those days remained. The crisp tang of sage still flavored the air. Another survivor.
Sage, an ancient herb, was burned in small offerings as a prayer, for cleansing, for the restoration of purity, for peace. If the expression in his eyes meant anything, even his great horse was for the moment, calm and at peace.
Jared, though, was neither.
The woman beside him bothered him. That he wanted to touch her bothered him. She had no idea of the effort it required for him to keep his hands feather light, to only stroke and reassure the night he’d come into her room. He stood beside her bed, watched the silvered moonlight play across her face, watched her sleep while rubbing the delighted Jake. In the darkness, it had been impossible not to reach for her, if only to touch a length of her hair curled across her pillow. As the huge dog welcomed him, sensing no danger, she’d sensed no danger. Instead, she turned to him, reached out a hand, welcoming him in her dreams.
He dared not respond knowing if he touched her, it wouldn’t be casual or careless.
And it wouldn’t be simple.
Instead, he’d turned and just as softly as he entered, he left her room. Being welcomed in dreams wasn’t enough.
“Tyndal?”
“Don’t ask, Jared. Not yet. I think these guys have rested long enough, don’t you?”
“Not yet. Not quite yet.” With no more effort than it would take to lift a child, Jared pulled her into his arms. “Tyndal.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I remember too. But what I feel, what I’m coming to believe, isn’t all memories.”
He drew back, tapped a finger to her lower lip, traced its outline. “This, love, is going to get me in trouble. I find I have a particular fascination right here.” He lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, and with far more deliberation. He let his mouth linger, felt her lips warm. Felt her breath slide into him.
“Jared, you’ve got to stop doing that. I mean it. We’re in business together, but that’s all. That’s all it ever will be. Nothing else. Nothing personal. We’ve changed. We’re not who we were. Maybe we can work together, I don’t know. Fionola wanted me to be supportive, so I have been. I’ve kept office hours. I’ve answered your stupid phones…”
“You played secretary? Answered phones?”
Her eyes said she’d done a lot more.
He had a feeling he might not like what was coming. “Go ahead. Make it good, partner.”
“Partner,” she repeated. “We’ll have to see about that.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “But anyway, on your desk is a list of names, all potential students. Though I thought some of the women were more interested in studying you in a more personal way, if you get my meaning.”
“Exactly how would you know of such interest?”
“Because I’ve talked to them. Since you’ve been home, have you even looked at your schedule? I’m asking because not only do you have a lot of work to do, but there’s all the community service you’ll provide.”
“Sorry, community service? I’m not following you.” But she had his full attention. It might have been a mistake not to review that neat stack of notes she’d left on his desk.
“Oh, let’s see.” She laughed. “From what I understand, the report is circulating that you’re living all by your lonely self way out here on the edge of nowhere. You’re suffering through long, solitary nights, existing with scarcely a friend in the world. At first, it was hard to separate facts from fiction, but I think I’ve narrowed the field to the most serious candidates.”
“Candidates? God help me.” He didn’t take his eyes off hers.
“I suppose you could say that. However, three of your potential students are exceptional. One plans to discuss the deep, personal connection she feels with you during a nice, intimate dinner. I suggested she call on your private line to arrange when and where.
“Another, and this one has my vote, is into sensing auras or chakras or some weird woo-woo stuff. Anyway she’s sensed your broken heart and plans to drop by for a visit. She wants to stay all weekend, including a session in what I think she called ‘Consolation Therapy.’ And, Jared”—Tyndal laughed—“it sounded like consoling you was her mission in life. Shall I continue?”
“Oh, please, I’m hanging onto every word.” Remembering it too.
She took a deep breath. “The last one believes all you need is someone warm and compassionate, who isn’t afraid to open up and share her thoughts. Believe me, this gal doesn’t hold anything back. I think she plans to call you”—Tyndal paused, her brow furrowed—“tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. It’s confusing after a while. They all pumped me for information and no matter what I told them, I mean that literally, they bought it. Hook, line, and sinker. So…” Tyndal fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Now you know what I meant by community service.”
While she talked, he heard her words, but more than that, he listened to his heart. The one that knew the decision was right to come back to Morgan’s Walk. The heart that knew it loved Tyndal Morgan. The heart he intended to share with her for the rest of his life—and her life. Which may not be as long as it could have been, considering.
“My, my, Miss Scarlett. You have been a busy little thing.” Jared rubbed at the tension building in his neck and shook his head. “This time,” he said, “if you don’t mind, I need to ride.”
“Fine with me.” She giggled. “Lead on, lover.”
Chapter Three
Sasha Nikolaevna Tarasova stepped off the small jet that landed at a private airport, remote enough to be discreet, yet close enough to gather the news she sought.
“You said Morgan’s Walk is an hour away?” The morning was bright and sharp as her tone. Sasha looked around, decided the prairie was as advertised. Nothing but grass. Even the air smelled like grass.
Climbing from the cockpit, the pilot turned toward his passenger. “Yes, ma’am. You can’t miss it.”
“Countess,” she corrected. She hated, absolutely hated, to be called ma’am. Sounded like somebody’s half-dead relative.
“Sorry, your highness. Countess.”
Idiot. If the local bumpkins were like most she’d met in other out-of-the-way places, she was sure they’d love to talk. And if she still had questions, with the right incentive, most could be persuaded to provide her with whatever information she needed. Especially the men.
She’d heard Jared had returned to Morgan’s Walk.
Why, considering the surroundings, she had no idea. The man always spoke of the place as if were some mystical Shangri-La of the prairies—part fortress and part poetry.
There’d been several times she’d competed against Morgan’s Walk horses. Thus far she’d never met Tyndal, the granddaughter. However, Jared spoke of her often with warmth, and something else. Regret? Wistfulness? Whatever it was that caused the feelings in him, she’d learned to change the subject. Tyndal Morgan was history and she intended the past to stay that way. She hadn’t felt it important to meet Chase’s wife, his widow these days. But Chase? There’d been a time she’d offered him a night most men only dreamed about. It was one competition, one little win. Was that too much to ask? Chase had been the judge, but he’d still given the ribbon to someone else. “Honor can’t be bought,” he’d said. “Neither can I.”
What was she? Some little tramp he could criticize and condemn? It was the disdain in his eyes she remembered. And would never forgive.
“Where’s my car? Didn’t you call before we landed? I’m certain I told you to call ahead.”
“You did. I expect it’ll be along. You staying with Mrs. Morgan? She’s a fine lady, that one.”
“Regarding my accommodations, are they really any of your business?”
“Nope. Can’t say I care one way or the other. Just making conversation.”
“Don’t.”
“Suit’s me,” he said and went back to unloading her luggage. When he finished, she couldn’t believe it when he said, “You have a nice day now. I need to be going.”
“You ca
n’t leave me out here.”
“Yes, ma’am, I can. Your car just turned in. You’re not my problem anymore. In fact, I’m positive you can handle things from here on just fine.”
“You can be sure of that.”
The man had the audacity to turn his back and walk away. When she was through, he was another who’d remember her. As the car slid to a stop, its driver moved quickly to open her door.
“After you finish with my bags, take me to this address,” she said. “But stop at whatever passes for a market or pharmacy first.” She stared out the windows. How could a person live in such a place? Although, considering the lack of houses along the way, it seemed not many people did. Maybe it was a good sign. Not everybody was stupid.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Another ma’am. She closed her eyes. Square little man. Probably had a square little brain. If everyone else proved as tedious, she’d need to learn what she wanted on her own. Which suited her fine. Her smile was thin.
She usually did her best work alone.
****
“Your grandmother is up to something.”
Tyndal only half-listened as Jared read the text from Fionola.
“And that’s news? She always has something going on.”
“Apparently it’s the Classic this time. She’d like my opinion about an event.”
“Goody for you. For once, I’m not on the hot seat.” Tyndal flipped a page on the clipboard, took another look at her schedule. The man lounged cool as a cucumber in one of the chairs by her office window, sitting patiently with that amused grin on his face. He reminded her of Fee’s cat waiting out a mouse. The thing could sit all day—just lick its lips once in a while.
“So why don’t you go on? I wouldn’t mind calling it a day.” Leaning back in her chair, she stretched her arms overhead, and closed her eyes.
Morgan's Walk Page 4
