Cowboy at Midnight

by Ann Major

  Steve gave Ryan five minutes to cool off before he dialed him back, only to get his voice mail.

  Steve apologized curtly and hung up.

  Ryan had Caller ID. Was he gone, or was he just avoiding him? And why had he gotten so angry?

  If Steve didn’t know better, he would have thought Ryan was acting guilty as hell.

  Steve still had Ryan on his mind when he raced into the Shiny Pony half an hour late. Then he saw Amy in a tight, low-cut halter top and skirt perched on a bar stool.

  Wow!

  Even from across the room, she looked so golden and gorgeous, he could get hot from just looking at those long legs of hers, not to mention her face and body. Close up, she stunned him.

  Her eyes lit up the instant she saw him. Her shy, radiant smile was open and sweet and flooded him with joy. She lured him like a siren, yet she had the kind of girl-next-door looks that would have fooled his mother.

  She was sexier than hell. Maybe it was the halter top that fitted her like a glove, causing even her small breasts to spill over the top. She’d slung a demure long-sleeved jacket across her lap. She’d probably worn the jacket all day. He damn sure hoped so.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Traffic.”

  “My plane was late, too. Still, I…I’m glad you got here when you did. Two guys asked me to dance. Jeff had to talk to them.”

  Not for the first time Steve was glad he’d hired Jeff. “Want a drink? How about a Flirtita?”

  “Maybe just some white wine at the restaurant. I was up all night working. If I drink now, I might fall asleep. What restaurant did you decide on?”

  “Chez Marie is right around the corner. Ever been there?”

  “N-not for a long time.”

  Her words hung suspended for a crystalline moment, and he caught the doubt in her low tone. The haunted look was back in her eyes.

  “If you’d prefer somewhere else…”

  “No.”

  He sensed that somehow he’d made a poor choice. Not that she was about to tell him why.

  When he sat down beside her, she hopped up so fast he wondered if she regretted agreeing to meet him.

  “I’m starved,” she said. “A couple of mikes went out during the presentations. I had to work through lunch.”

  “Okay, we can go now. But we don’t have to go to Chez Marie.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Then why did she sound so doubtful? Wishing she felt easier around him, he stood up, too. Hell, they’d slept together. Why were they so damn tense around each other?

  Steve glanced toward the bar and saw that Jeff and the rest of his wait staff were watching them intently, as curious as a bunch of gossipy busybodies in Red Rock.

  Damn. Suddenly he was glad she was edgy. The faster they got the hell out of here, the better.

  The early evening heat felt heavy as they walked over to Chez Marie. Not that Amy seemed to notice. For a woman who’d had a long night and a hard day, she damn sure walked fast. Soon she’d sprinted ahead of him. Not that that was all bad. Her skirt was so tight, he got a thrill from watching her hips wiggle. And he wasn’t the only guy on the block who admired her.

  He was glad when they made it inside the cool, dark restaurant. But no sooner had he started relaxing, because he wasn’t going to have to slug some jerk over her, than her shy eyes grew big and started darting everywhere.

  “Looking for somebody? Old boyfriend, darlin’?”

  Some jerk whose name starts with the damn letter L maybe?

  She whirled, her eyes so dark and huge with misery, he regretted his question. She started to defend herself, but she merely shrugged and avoided his gaze. Long minutes ticked by as they stood in the doorway, neither knowing what to say to the other.

  Finally a young, sunburned waiter rushed up to them. He grinned at Amy a little too boldly, and she smiled too brightly as well.

  “Good evening. I’m Liam,” he said. “Reservations?”

  “Two for Fortune,” Steve answered.

  Liam picked up some menus and led them to their table.

  Liam. There was a name that started with an L. Steve was wondering if that was a bad omen when Amy took his arm and clung. Her touch lightened his mood considerably.

  “This is my mother’s favorite restaurant,” Amy whispered in a low, conspiratorial voice on the way to their table.

  At last a clue. “I picked it to impress you, not to upset you. You know, it’s not too late to go somewhere else. I want you to be able to relax.”

  “This is great.”

  Then they were at their table, which was in a shadowy, secluded corner exactly as Steve had requested. When Liam pulled Amy’s chair out and handed her her napkin, she sat down and took her time daintily unfolding it while Steve ordered a bottle of wine.

  Steve liked watching her long, slim fingers smooth the napkin even though she seemed to fuss with it too much.

  “Amy, are you okay?”

  She let the napkin be, looked up and scanned the room again before daring to meet his eyes.

  “We can still leave,” he said.

  She went still. Then she leaned back in her chair and gulped in a big breath. “M-maybe it’s time I started facing a few of my demons.”

  Not the kind of date I had in mind, but hell, just being out with her again was a start.

  “Meaning your parents?” he said.

  “Just my mother.” She chewed her bottom lip and looked away.

  “I’d love to meet both of them.”

  “And they’d love to meet you. Especially Mother. Believe me, she wants to know every single detail of my life. She would love you.”

  As he watched Amy’s fingers twisting her napkin again, he felt sure that wasn’t a point in his favor.

  “She’s a successful, high-profile trial attorney, right?”

  “Yes. Fortunately, she works nearly all the time. If she didn’t, she’d drive us both crazy. Her excuse for being so bossy and critical is that she has high expectations for me.”

  Steve knew the type.

  Mindful of the fragile stemware glittering on their table, he reached across the white tablecloth and took her hand.

  “Facing demons wasn’t exactly what I hoped we’d be doing together tonight,” he said. “I wanted us to have fun.”

  “But you said no sex.”

  He caught his breath. Just her saying the S word made the air between them sizzle. He couldn’t believe when she smiled at him before looking shyly away.

  “What I really want is to get to know you…and to be your friend. That could be fun, too.”

  She laughed nervously. “If I let the demons loose while you’re here, maybe you can battle them for me.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’d be glad to.”

  He shouldn’t have said that, but it was hard for him to not help someone he cared about.

  When he let her hand go, she picked at her thumbnail. Then she opened her menu and they discussed the night’s specials. When Liam returned to take their orders, they both chose salmon and a salad.

  In the long, awkward silence that followed, Steve finally began to talk because someone had to. She leaned forward eagerly. At first her face seemed too pale and strained in the flickering candlelight. Every time the door behind him opened, her eyes shot to it, widening with alarm.

  Finally he shut up. “I know you had a long day with lots of people. You’re probably sick and tired of talking.”

  “No, please. I love listening to you.”

  When he began anew, she sat ramrod straight, still saying nothing. At least after a few sips of her Chardonnay, she quit looking at the door every time it opened.

  He told a joke, and although she didn’t laugh, she smiled a little.

  Inspired, he embellished the events of his day—the good parts, before Ryan had upset him with the news about the body. When she still didn’t offer to say anything, Steve forced himself to think up more small talk.

  Steve discussed th
e heat, of course, always a favorite topic in Texas during the summer. He went off on an idiotic tangent about how the asphalt was so hot the warm air smelled of tar and seemed as thick and sticky. He stopped himself again.

  Give her a chance to talk, too, you fool.

  “I love that smell, too,” she finally whispered.

  Then she looked away, and he saw that her eyes were sad again. Was she remembering her ghost?

  When she still didn’t say more, he began to tell her about his ranch. To his surprise, her face lit up.

  “I spent most of the morning and the afternoon out in the pastures at Loma Vista, which, by the way, is my favorite way to spend a day.”

  “I loved it out there.”

  “My foreman says we’ve had so much rain the past two years, it looks like we’re going to have a bumper calf crop this fall.”

  “Really?”

  “A lot of my calves are going to weigh at least seven hundred pounds by August.”

  “And that’s good?”

  “Yeah. Really good. Off-the-charts good.”

  Liam brought their salads. Steve waited until she lifted her fork before he did the same.

  She leaned close enough so that he caught the fragrance of violets. Her golden head was cocked at a cute angle, and her eyes shone with excitement as she swirled the golden liquid in her wineglass. She seemed to hang on his every word, as if what he did mattered to her. Suddenly he felt prouder of all that he’d accomplished on his ranch than he’d ever felt before and was bursting to tell her more.

  But not now. He had to get her talking. How else was he ever going to get to know her?

  “So, how was your day?” he prompted.

  She stabbed at a piece of goat cheese. “Okay, I guess. Busy. Did your construction people show up?” she replied, deftly sidetracking him.

  “Around ten. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll ever get the house and barns and outbuildings done in time for the banquet.”

  “If you don’t keep on them, they won’t. Oh boy, how I hate deadlines,” she said. “I could tell you horror stories.”

  “I’d like to hear one.”

  “There’s a lot of pressure these days to plan events without much lead time. If you can meet commitments ahead of schedule, then you have more time to deal with whatever goes wrong.”

  “Do things always go wrong?”

  “Do they ever!” She laughed. “That’s why I get paid. I put out all the brush fires. Take the presenters last night. One of them didn’t e-mail me his presentation until two in the morning, so I couldn’t download it until he did. And then those mikes today. I make decisions, solve those last-minute problems. I stay up all night if necessary. The secret is not to sweat the small stuff. When something goes wrong, you just have to fix it and go on.”

  Her brows crinkled, and she set her fork down and stared past him.

  “How come you look so puzzled all of a sudden?” he murmured.

  “I just realized that if I applied that to my life, I’d—”

  Liam’s arrival with the rest of their meal interrupted her. Steve wasn’t done with his salad, but he shoved it to one side and attacked his fish as soon as she lifted her fork.

  “The salmon is good, really good,” he said after he took his first bite.

  “So good it literally melts in your mouth,” she agreed, tasting hers. “I love this rich honey glaze they drizzled all over it. I’ve used these people to cater lots of events.”

  After that, they ate in silence for a while. He couldn’t help noticing that all the other couples around them spoke to each other more eagerly than they concentrated on their meal. He put his fork down and looked at her, wishing she’d say something, anything.

  She put her fork down and swallowed a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’m such poor company.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Like I told you, I’m out of practice when it comes to…dating.”

  His throat tightened when he realized she saw tonight as a date, too.

  “That’s fine. Even though we started off with a bang, we can go slowly…as slowly as you need us to.”

  “I…I come with a lot of baggage.”

  He thought about Ryan and Lily and their complicated pasts. He also remembered standing at the altar alone while “Here Comes the Bride” played endlessly and no bride came down the aisle. Who didn’t come with baggage?

  “Got any drowned corpses in your closets with birthmarks on them?” he teased.

  As soon as she lifted her head, he saw the grief flooding her eyes. His stomach knotted. He pushed his salmon aside.

  “Sorry. I had this really weird conversation with Ryan earlier. I wasn’t going to mention it, but I guess I can’t get it off my mind.”

  “It’s all right,” she said softly. “How could you know what to say or not say? I haven’t given you many clues.” She hesitated.

  “About yesterday…” She swallowed, looking anxiously at the door again. “I…I got upset because of that drowning in Lake Mondo.”

  “I noticed. I wondered why you ran off.” He stopped, wishing he could give her more than a blank stare.

  Her hands began twisting the napkin in her lap into a tight melon-colored rope.

  “A long time ago a friend of mine drowned in Lake Mondo.”

  He waited, hoping for more.

  “Her name was Lexie,” she said.

  Had he ever heard more sadness in any voice?

  “We searched for her body for days. I…I cried her name until I was hoarse.”

  “So, the tattooed L stands for Lexie?”

  She nodded. “We were still kids when we got those awful tattoos. Lexie got an A over her heart. She did it first, you see. My mother found out and forbade me—”

  “But you snuck off and did it anyway?”

  “Back then Lexie and I did everything together. But Mother was right—as always. I regretted the tattoo the next day. If I’d done everything she told me, nothing would—”

  She stopped. When her eyes widened with shock at something she saw behind him, he tensed. Pressing her lips together, she ducked lower, as if attempting to hide behind his broad-shouldered body.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me you regretted that tattoo, dear?” came a deep, throaty voice from behind his left shoulder.

  “Mother,” Amy squeaked. “I didn’t see you.”

  “Then why are you cowering behind your handsome friend?”

  “Where’s Daddy?” Amy said.

  “Parking the Volvo. You know how I hate valet parking. Sit up straight, dear, or you’ll be big in the gut way before you’re my age.”

  Amy sat up rigidly, but her face was ashen.

  “Introduce me, dear.”

  “Oh, of course. Sorry. This is my, er, client, Steve Fortune. Mr. Fortune is hosting the Hensley-Robinson Awards Banquet that I’m planning for Tom.”

  “Oh! Fortune as in the Fortunes?” Her mother was laughing almost giddily now. She leaned over Steve, staring at him, her sharp black eyes missing nothing.

  When he held his hand out, she pumped it harder than most men would have.

  She was attractive as were lots of rich women of an age, women who could afford good haircuts, makeup, clothes and plastic surgery. A smooth cap of glossy jet hair fell softly against her severe face. Tall and regally slim in a striking black suit, she had the commanding presence of a woman long used to getting her way.

  “So,” she murmured, “how are you related to Ryan Fortune?”

  “Distantly,” Steve answered succinctly.

  “What’s this awful news in the paper about him being involved with that drowning victim?”

  Steve stiffened.

  “Why, there was a terrible story in today’s paper about it. Several stories, as a matter of fact. Simply everybody’s talking about it.” Her throaty voice held a warning, even as her shrewd eyes homed in on Amy’s pale, stricken face. “Did you see the front page, dear?”

  “You know I lef
t the house at five to fly to Houston, Mother.”

  “Well, don’t read it. Not tonight. Not until you call me.”

  Amy looked so crushed, Steve knew he had to get her out of here. Dark shadows under her eyes gave her that haunted look again, and her hands were shaking.

  “It was great meeting you,” Steve said abruptly. “Amy and I both had long days. I think we’d better call it an evening.”

  Her mother took the hint and said goodbye. When she’d gone, Steve leaned closer to Amy. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t look okay.”

  “You said we were going.”

  “So, we’re back to not talking again?”

  “I don’t want to burden—”

  “Just tell me why your mother upsets you so much.”

  “She always takes charge.”

  “Only because you let her.”

  “I can’t forget that if I’d done what she said years ago, Lexie would still be alive. I always feel so guilty when I’m around her. I’ve disappointed her so deeply. I’m her only daughter. She used to be so proud of me, and now I’m this huge disappointment.”

  “Maybe she was screaming so loudly, you couldn’t hear yourself think. You can’t live your life according to other people’s views. Not even your parents’. You’ve got to listen to yourself. Maybe it’s time you give up being who she wants and become yourself.”

  “Whoever that is. Look…I don’t feel very well all of a sudden. I don’t want to talk about her.”

  “Hell, neither do I, but she seems to be at the center of whatever’s wrong in your life.”

  “No, she isn’t! It’s all my fault!”

  “Do you blame yourself for Lexie’s death?”

  Amy lurched out of her chair and threw her tangled napkin in her plate. “I knew this couldn’t work. I’m too messed up. I don’t want to mess you up, too!”

  “Whatever’s wrong, you can fix it.”

  “You really think life’s that easy?”

  “It is if you don’t give up on yourself.”

  “You don’t know anything. You’ve never hurt anyone in your whole life! There are some things you can’t take back!”

  She stumbled toward the door. Without looking at the bill, he tossed two hundred-dollar bills on the table and raced after her. Vaguely he was aware of her parents’ anguished faces. Everybody else was watching them, too.