by Judy Duarte
Her questions changed the kiss even though she hadn’t voiced them.
He pulled away but didn’t take his gaze from hers. “What are you thinking?”
“You make me feel as if I’m the only woman in the world. Do you do that with all the women you date?”
Slowly he leaned away from her and shifted back into the driver’s seat. Staring straight ahead, he admitted, “You’ve gotten under my skin, Emily, and I don’t know what to do about it. Because I’m not what you need.”
“What do I need?” she murmured, almost afraid of his answer.
“You need a man who knows how to commit himself to one woman. You need a man who wants a gold band around his finger as much as you do. I spent my adult years doing everything I could do to stay disentangled from a woman’s life. You need a man who will become totally involved in yours.”
“You never want to get married? You never want children?”
When his gaze swung back to hers, she saw his answer. He made it definite when he responded, “It’s never been in my game plan.”
“You might already have a child,” she reminded him.
“That’s the thing, Emily. You can’t even believe me when I tell you I’m not the father of Suzette’s child. So I’m definitely not a man you want in your life.”
He was deciding what she needed and what would be best for her life. That hurt her, and her hurt turned to anger. “I think it’s more than that. I think I’m not the caliber of woman your father would approve of and that bothers you.”
His jaw clenched. “That has nothing to do with this.”
“I think it has everything to do with this. You’re the boss and I’m your secretary. You live in a high-rise condo, ride in limousines and travel wherever you want. I’m just a nobody from Chicago who’s never even been on a camping trip.”
“You’re mistaken.”
She kept silent because she knew she wasn’t.
A police SUV turned onto the access road, its lights flashing, and pulled up beside Brad.
Turning to Emily, Brad repeated, “You’re wrong.” Then he exited the SUV to tell the policeman what had happened.
Tears came to Emily’s eyes, and she simply didn’t know what to think anymore.
After Brad finished a brief but thorough conversation with the lawman, the officer drove toward the mine. Brad passed a backup police car zooming toward the mine and he wondered if Emily was ever going to talk to him again that afternoon. Whatever attraction they felt for each other was at an all-time high. As he headed toward Old Town, the life he’d led up to this point seemed to play in front of his eyes. He wouldn’t give Emily false hope that his opinion of commitment and marriage would ever change.
All that said, he wished she’d talk to him. He wished they could recapture their earlier camaraderie.
To try to start dialogue between them once more, he mentioned, “This best friend of Annie’s might shut the door in our faces.”
“You said her name’s Renée?” Emily responded stiffly.
“Yes.”
Silence once more pervaded the car until Brad parked at the curb. As they walked up to the brick stoop, Emily kept her distance from him. No matter. His lips still burned from their kiss and his body hadn’t altogether recovered. At the door there was no bell, but Brad let the brass knocker thump twice.
A teenage girl answered the knock. For the most part her hair was brown, but there was a circle of red on the crown of her head that looked chemically induced.
She was tall and thin and her green eyes glanced from him to Emily quizzically. “My mom doesn’t have any more of those tin cups to sell,” she said, assuming that’s what they were there for.
“Tin cups?” Emily asked.
“Yeah, you know. With the prospector painted on the side. It’ll be another week until she has more done.”
Apparently Renée Bosgrow’s mother was making an item tourists liked to buy. “We’re not here for tin cups,” Brad said. “Are you Renée?”
Now the teenager’s eyes narrowed and she grew wary. “Who wants to know?”
He extended his hand to her. “I’m Brad Vaughn, and this is my assistant Emily Stanton. Tess Littlehawk asked me to find her daughter, and since you were her best friend, I need to talk to you.”
“I was her best friend before she took off. But I told you on the phone I don’t got nothin’ to say.”
“Even if you don’t, I’d like to speak to you for a few minutes.”
Renée took a step back. “Why?”
“Because I want to explain to you how it feels when someone you love goes missing.”
Her expression changed a bit, only a bit, but Brad saw it and took advantage of it. “Renée, Tess Littlehawk has a hole in her heart because a child she gave life to can’t be found. I don’t know why Annie left, and I don’t need to. I only know her mother needs to hear her voice. It’s been three years, and she has the right to know whether she’s alive or dead.”
“Dead? Annie can’t be dead.”
Emily’s quiet but steady voice asked gently, “Do you know that for sure?”
After a long pause, Renée shook her head. “No, I don’t. I don’t know where she is now.”
“But she told you where she was going when she left?” Brad guessed.
As the wind played with Renée’s hair, both the brown and red strands, she crossed her arms, plucking at the red sleeves of her sweater. “I promised not to tell anyone where she went. We were like sisters. I can’t break my word to her.”
“It’s been three long years,” he pressed. “You said you don’t know where she is now. She’s probably not anywhere near her destination of three years ago.”
The logic of that seemed to sink in. “Did Mrs. Littlehawk tell you why she ran?”
Tess had written pages for him, revealing all. “She told me Annie hated being a cleaning woman’s daughter and that she was dating boys Tess wasn’t comfortable with.”
“Comfortable with? She grounded her when she snuck out to see Ronnie.”
“She didn’t believe she should be dating yet,” Brad said, standing up for Tess.
“Annie was a looker. She had boys all around her. Dating isn’t something you suddenly decide you can do because you’re old enough.”
Brad realized that if he had a daughter that’s exactly what he would do. He’d keep her locked up until a boy finally met his approval. However, he wasn’t going to argue with Renée about when girls should date. “Tess was afraid she’d get in trouble.”
“You mean her mom was afraid she’d get pregnant.”
“Yes, I imagine she was afraid of that, but she was also afraid she’d get into a car with an older boy who had been drinking. Annie had done that and that’s why she was grounded.”
Staring down at the toes of her sneakers, Renée mumbled, “Annie wanted to be a model or an actress.”
Now they were getting somewhere. That usually meant a trip to California. “She went to Los Angeles?”
Renée’s eyes widened as if he’d just caught on to what made the world spin. “What makes you say that?”
“Give me a little credit. Isn’t Hollywood the land of dreams?”
Looking across the street to a row of houses that was similar to the one she lived in, Renée admitted, “She didn’t go to Hollywood.”
When it seemed she wouldn’t give them more information, Emily found a way to touch her on a different level. “Tess just wants to find out if she’s alive and well. Think about your mother. What if she didn’t know where to find you for three years.”
Renée suddenly said again, “She didn’t go to Hollywood.”
“Then where did she go?” Brad asked, realizing again how good Emily could be in investigative work.
Minutes seemed to tick by until Renée shuffled her sneakers on the stoop and jammed her hands into her jeans pockets. “She used the computer at school and went to this chat room that a modeling school in L.A. set up. She couldn’t a
fford the fees to go to the modeling school, but she got to be friends with another girl there—in the chat room. That’s when she started making plans.”
“Plans to go to L.A.?” he prodded.
“No. This girl—I think her name was Lena—lived in San Jose. Annie saved every penny she could for a year, and Ronnie took her to Bozeman. She bought a bus ticket to California.”
“You know this for certain?”
“Yeah. Ronnie told me after he got back that day. He said she was crying and laughing all at the same time and couldn’t wait to leave.”
“Is this Ronnie still in town?”
“No. His brother lives in Portland. He went up there to live with him after he graduated.”
“You don’t know this Lena’s last name?”
“No. I don’t even know if Lena is her real name. You know how chat rooms go.”
Unfortunately he did. He just hoped Lena was a girl who wanted to go to modeling school and not a predator preying on teenagers with dreams.
“Thank you, Renée. You’ve helped us a lot.”
“You’re probably right and Annie’s not still in San Jose.” That thought seemed to salve Renée’s conscience. With that, she shut the door.
“What do you think?” Emily asked, looking up at him now.
“I think she told us all she’s going to tell us. After three years, there’s a possibility Annie’s not in San Jose. But there’s also a fifty-fifty possibility that she is. I have a place to start.”
When a strand of Emily’s hair blew across her cheek, he couldn’t keep himself from brushing it away. His thumb on her cheek sent a jolt through him. “Emily, look. About what happened in the car—”
She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Brad. I know where you stand. I won’t misunderstand anything that happens between us.”
In other words, she accepted their attraction to each other for what it was—chemistry.
Why didn’t that make him feel better?
Chapter Ten
That evening, Caleb wouldn’t take no for an answer and neither would Adele. The Montana Mustangs, a band they both enjoyed, were playing at the Hitching Post this one night only. They insisted Brad and Emily shouldn’t miss the event.
As Brad rounded the SUV and opened Emily’s door, she wondered why this felt like a date when it wasn’t. Caleb had decided to drive his own car, but she wished he hadn’t. Conversation would have been easier with the four of them.
“You just don’t see a sky like that in Chicago,” Brad said with appreciation as he helped her down from the SUV.
He was still holding her hand, and she didn’t let go of his as she looked up at the black velvet sky, the almost full moon and the thousand pinpoints of stars. “The sky might be the same in Chicago. We just forget to look at it.”
His gaze dropped to hers, and when he studied her lips, they both knew what he was thinking. Instead of kissing her, however, he slammed the SUV door, then he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked up the street and then took a step up onto the wooden promenade.
The Hitching Post sported a wild-west-style false front and looked like an old-time saloon. After Brad opened the heavy wood door, Emily could see that the floor was hardwood and at one end of the restaurant there was a long curving bar. Framed photos from the 1880s hung on the walls. The Montana Mustangs were set up near the bar and dance floor at the far end of the room.
After they hung their coats on a long rack, Brad leaned down to her ear and his breath whispered across her cheek. “Caleb said this used to be a saloon. It was renovated many years ago and turned into a restaurant, but you can see the history all around.”
Emily saw history all right. There was a painting above the cherrywood bar, and the woman looked almost nude! She was a voluptuous blonde with a wicked grin, wearing a gauzy fabric draped over her breasts so that she wasn’t entirely indecent. The effect definitely did not portray a proper lady.
A cash register stood at the end of the bar, and a matronly woman with silver-streaked hair worn in a topknot sat on a stool there. Almost smack-dab in the middle of the dance floor stood a contraption Emily didn’t recognize.
“What’s that?” she asked Brad.
As he eyed it, he grinned. “That’s a mechanical bull.”
“What do you do with a mechanical bull?” she asked almost to herself.
Just then the band member on guitar stepped up to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, our bull-riding competition is about to start before our first set.”
“There’s Caleb.” Brad’s hand went to the small of her back as he guided her toward a table near the wall.
Caleb was grinning from ear to ear. “What do you think, Brad? I may be too old to get my bones shaken up, but you aren’t. The prize is three hundred dollars.”
Placing a restraining hand on her husband’s arm, Adele shook her head. “Don’t let him goad you. That machine’s not much safer than the real thing.”
“Adele, honey, you worry too much.”
“If I remember correctly, when Riley was eighteen, he broke his arm falling off one of those things,” Adele maintained with a stern look.
At the thought of Brad getting hurt, Emily gazed up at him. “You’re not going to try it, are you?”
“Don’t you think I’m in shape?” he asked with another grin that made her feel tipsy even without a drink. Remembering his naked body all too well, she decided his good shape wasn’t part of this equation.
“You might be in shape, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt.”
“A bit of risk spices up life.”
“A little risk can put you on crutches.”
Laughing, Brad pulled out a chair for her. After she sat, he lowered himself onto the chair next to her.
“The Montana Mustangs bring that thing along for entertainment value,” Caleb explained. “The bartender’s always glad because he sells more drinks while the clientele work up the courage to go for the money.”
Emily knew if Brad rode the mechanical bull, he wouldn’t be riding it to go for the money. In fact, she wasn’t sure why he would do it. Just for the thrill?
As the Mustangs played lively country music, one by one men with Stetsons, snap-button shirts and boots tried the mechanical creature. Most only lasted a few seconds. One or two almost made it to the end of the ride. A lean young man in his early twenties took his turn, and Emily winced as he was tossed onto the straw-strewn floor and landed on his shoulder.
He was slow to get up and she shook her head, muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Brad’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood. Leaning close, he rested a hand on her arm. “Watch how this should be done.”
“Brad,” she called as he strode toward the man-made machine that she believed should be declared illegal.
The band started a new tune as everyone clapped and Brad climbed onto the “bull.” With a grinding whir it started slow and then sped up until Emily was clenching her hands together, her knuckles white. She couldn’t believe Brad was holding on!
At least, one minute he was holding on and the next…he was on the floor, facing the stage rather than the bull!
The whole room applauded because he had stayed on a fair amount of time. But as he rose to his feet and seemed to be unharmed, Emily’s relief was short-lived because he motioned to the bull again, indicating he wanted another go-around.
He was out of his mind. That was her verdict.
However, when Brad climbed on board again, Emily realized she shouldn’t be surprised. Brad Vaughn was a man who conquered his mountains and always got exactly what he wanted. She didn’t like the idea of him getting shaken sideways and backward and upside down again, but she had to admire his courage. His ride started again, and this time he not only stayed on, but as he raised one arm over his head, his body seemed to move in rhythm with the machine. To everyone’s amazement, he lasted on the bull until the ride wound down and the machine
turned off.
Most of the patrons in the Hitching Post got to their feet and applauded, including Caleb and Adele. Emily joined them, clapping as loudly as she could.
Returning to the table with a wide grin, Brad accepted the slaps on the back, the offers of free drinks and the praise for a ride well-done.
Emily was about to add her kudos to the rest when a woman in tight black jeans, a bright red shirt with buttons open to show cleavage and a white cowgirl hat approached Brad at the table. “You’re new around here, cowboy.”
“Just visiting,” Brad answered nonchalantly with a smile.
“How about the first dance? Now that you’ve conquered that thing, they’re going to move it away so everyone can have some real fun.”
The fun this woman spoke of made Emily see green. She’d never realized she had a jealous streak. When she and Warner had been dating, they’d kept it low-key, secluded, away from the public. She realized afterward he’d wanted their relationship kept secret because he hadn’t wanted to be seen dating a secretary in the firm. Even so, when she’d seen women with him in the law offices, she’d never felt this desire to scratch their eyes out. This woman in the cowgirl hat was entirely too bold, brazen and proprietary as she laid her hand on Brad’s arm and stared up into his eyes with a coy look meant to lure him to dance with her.
Emily simply couldn’t stand it. “He’s dancing the first dance with me,” she blurted, amazed at what had come out of her mouth.
At Brad’s amused expression, she wanted the floor to swallow her up.
“Is that true?” the cowgirl asked, giving Emily the once-over. She eyed the white western shirt with embroidery, the ironed blue jeans, the flat leather shoes.
“That’s true,” Brad admitted as the bull was wheeled away, straw was swept up and the band started up again.
“Maybe I’ll just have to cut in,” the cowgirl stated.
“I’m not sure you want to do that,” Brad responded with a wink at Emily. “She might look delicate, but I hear she boxes in her spare time. It would be a pleasure to dance with you,” he said with a consoling smile, “but I promised I’d dance with Emily tonight, and I don’t break a promise.”
