Every Breath She Takes

by Norah Wilson

  Her eyes drifted to Cal, who had moved away from his student and was walking in small circles as the boy guided his mount in a much larger circle around him. She wanted to file Cal Taggart under the Definitely Not Him category, but even as she tried to do that, she heard Detective Parks’s voice in her mind. “Look close, girl. Look with your eyes.”

  Okay, looking with her eyes. Just as she’d noted yesterday, his carriage seemed looser, more gracefully easy than the killer’s, but that could be because he was relaxed (probably to the point of boredom). Okay, what about his arms? Unfortunately, they were out of sight at the moment. She’d guided Buck along the east edge of the huge fenced paddock, and four other novice riders and their ranch hand trainers now milled between her and Cal. She continued to the end of the long, rectangular paddock, then crossed to the other side and urged the gelding back along the western perimeter. As she drew closer to Cal, she checked out his forearms. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought those forearms looked more powerful than those she remembered from her vision. He was probably about the right height, though…

  “Look with logic now. What motive does he have?” Well, that was a nonstarter. It was too soon to answer that question. Until she knew who the victim was, motive on anyone’s part was impossible to establish.

  “Now forget what your eyes tell you. Forget logic. Just look with your gut. What does your intuition tell you?” Again she heard Hal’s voice in her mind. His favorite speech, in fact. “The body always knows long before the conscious mind figures it out. Your unconscious is absorbing things that might never register on your conscious mind. You body knows, even if your mind doesn’t. Trust it, girl.”

  As she rode past an oblivious Cal, Lauren checked in with her body as the old detective had taught her. Respiration was fine. Pulse might be spiking a little, but that little flutter no doubt owed more to the picture the handsome cowboy presented as he worked so gently and easily with the child. Palms were fine; no sudden sweatiness beneath her riding gloves. No prickling of her nape hairs, no perspiration anywhere. No knot in the stomach. Clearly Cal Taggart passed the gut check.

  Lauren turned her attention to the next candidate. Seth, the young hand who’d shown her to her cabin yesterday, was working with a pretty thirtysomething woman on a sleek bay with gorgeous black points. Lauren concluded the woman must be Jordan’s mother, given how often her gaze was drawn to the boy on the paint.

  Now that he wasn’t burdened with bags, Lauren could evaluate Seth’s gait better. As she’d suspected yesterday, he did have the requisite swagger to his walk. Not the rolling mechanics of the older cowboy or Cal’s fluidity. He was tall too, with muscular arms, but not overdeveloped. He could certainly fit the bill physically, but she really wasn’t reacting to him intuitively.

  She gave each of the remaining two ranch hands the same look-over. Though she didn’t know either cowboy’s name, she knew she could discount one right away. The man had to be sixty-five if he was a day, and he moved stiffly. Probably arthritis. Like Cal, he worked with a kid, this one a young girl of twelve or thirteen. Clearly the girl had some riding experience; that much was evident from her demeanor on the plump chestnut mare. Also evident was the fact that she resented having to wear a helmet instead of a Stetson. When the girl tugged a little too aggressively on the bit, the old man stepped in and corrected her kindly but firmly, “Easy, Miss Madison. This ain’t no spoiled pony with a hard mouth. She’s a well-trained horse. She’ll do what you ask of her, but you have to ask nicely.” The girl mumbled an apology and the old man said, “No harm done, darlin’. She’s a sweetheart. She don’t hold a grudge.”

  The last hand was younger—in his thirties, she figured—and he definitely had the right build and a bit of a swagger. She didn’t get the heebie-jeebies off him or anything, but he would bear watching.

  She’d only just turned her attention to the male guests when Cal announced it was time to form up for the trail ride.

  Yep. A trail ride.

  While she’d initially thought dinner would be the best place to meet everyone, she’d discovered last night she couldn’t very well hang around the dining room until every guest had come and gone. She’d be stuck there for hours at every meal. Besides being unbearably boring, it would arouse notice. So she’d decided the next best option was to go on the trail rides with the other guests. Although it looked like today would be a bust. The woman she was looking for, the potential murder victim, was nowhere in the group. Still, it would give her a chance to see the lay of the surrounding land.

  Finally, after a little organized confusion, the trail ride started. Cal and the four other hands—wranglers, he’d called them—marshaled the group out of the paddock and across the meadow. Her mount seemed anxious to get out in front with the lead horses, but Lauren checked him, wanting to hang back in case new riders joined them.

  The ride was very enjoyable. The path they followed was well beaten and obvious to the eye, and there really was no need to guide Buck. After his initial burst, he seemed content to plod along behind the others. It was kind of hypnotic, actually. All that creaking of leather and clumping of hooves on the ground. Up ahead, a few of the riders conversed in low tones. Occasionally one of the youngsters would laugh or call out in high, excited tones to a parent, but it was remarkably peaceful. In areas where the grass had been especially hard-beaten, a little pall of dust rose.

  An hour later, Lauren was among the last of the riders to emerge from a narrow, well-traveled pass onto a grassy ridgetop. The others blocked her view, but she could see that the sky was already pinking nicely even though the sun still had a way to travel before it set. Then the riders fanned out again and she got a look at the spectacular view they’d been promised. She gasped aloud.

  Foothills rose in the distance, glorious against the magenta sky. And four of them huddled on the horizon like the ridged back of a sleeping dragon. This was it! She was sure of it.

  Clumsy in her haste, she dismounted and led Buck closer to the lip of the canyon, her stomach churning. She knew she should be relieved—was relieved—that she’d found the spot so quickly, but standing here brought the horror home anew.

  “Scared of heights?”

  Lauren whirled to find Cal Taggart behind her. “No,” she denied, pressing a hand to her thundering heart.

  “You don’t look too thrilled with the view.”

  “Oh, no, it’s beautiful. Really.” Then, because he looked skeptical, she said, “Well, maybe I am a bit scared of heights.”

  “Not too scared, I hope,” he drawled. “Sunset Ridge is our nightly destination. You’ll be seeing a lot of it.”

  Tipping his hat, he moved off to caution the others about staying a safe distance from the cliff’s edge. Lauren let her breath escape. If they’d be riding out here often, she’d better get used to it. Tethering her horse, she joined the group.

  Twenty minutes later, legs stretched and muscles soothed, they mounted up and started home. As soon as they cleared the pass and started descending the ridge, Lauren felt her anxiety ease. But no sooner did she relax than Cal, atop a dancing chestnut mare, fell in beside her.

  “So how does Buck suit you?” He took his hat off and raked a hand through his short-cropped, sweat-darkened blond hair, leaving it standing up in a way that should have been funny but which she found very sexy.

  “Oh, we’ll get along fine, I think. He’s very patient.”

  “Yeah, they have to be pros in this business.”

  She cast him a sidelong glance and caught her breath. Oh, but he sat a horse nicely! He looked weightless, settled in the dip of the saddle, his back erect but loose. So natural, he could be an extension of the horse. She’d been a good horsewoman herself, at least in her teens, but nothing like Cal. She closed her eyes and felt for that same harmony, letting her shoulders drop to take the stiffness out of her straight-backed posture. Buck seemed to brighten beneath her, which made her smile.

  “I was thinking, maybe you�
��d like a livelier mount, since you’re obviously a skilled rider.”

  Oh, crap. She appreciated the compliment, but a more forceful mount was the last thing she wanted. Physically she knew she could handle a stronger-willed animal, but the beauty of Buck was that she could almost ride on autopilot, which left her mind free for other tasks. If she’d had her hands full of horse back there in the paddock, for instance, she couldn’t have studied the ranch hands nearly as closely.

  “Thank you, no. I think I’ll stick with slow and steady.”

  His hooded eyes suddenly took on a sleepy, sensual look. “That’s a sensible decision, ma’am. But if you should get a yen for fast and wild, just give me a shout.”

  Before she could react, Cal urged his mount into a gallop. He was a quarter mile away before she thought to close her mouth. Despite herself, a thrill forked through her. There was something about his brand of machismo that worked, dammit. Especially after glimpsing that heated look in his eyes.

  She chewed the inside of her lip. Too bad she wasn’t here for a genuine holiday adventure. She had no doubt this particular cowboy could provide it.

  She was a little rusty in that department herself, not having slept with a man since Garrett. Having the man you thought you were going to build a life with withdraw his proposal and slink away had a way of putting a girl off men. Of course, that had been over a year ago. Now, frankly, she missed sex a lot more than she missed Garrett. Maybe it was time she got back in the game, starting with taking Cal Taggart up on his offer.

  As she let her imagination go down that path, she felt her body swell and respond.

  Oddly, it was that very surge of sweet yearning that brought her to her senses.

  Nice, Townsend. Did you come here to get laid or did you come here to save a woman’s life? She had a job to do. A critically important one. She couldn’t afford to be sidetracked.

  Setting her jaw, she urged Buck forward.

  Cal firmly believed that anyone who presumed to ride a horse ought to be made to care for it. Which was why trail rides ended with the guests grooming their mounts. Fortunately, most guests enjoyed the ritual. Today, with this new group, in the gathering dusk, he demonstrated the basics on his mount, Sienna. Afterward he made the rounds, showing each rider how to signal the horse to raise a foot, how to cradle it, and how to clean it with a hoof pick.

  When he reached Lauren, she was expertly wielding the pick on Buck’s hind right hoof. “Looks like you’ve done this before.”

  She glanced up at him, then back to the task. “Yeah, I’ve done my share, I guess.”

  She dropped Buck’s hoof and stood, pressing a hand to her lower back as though to ease an ache. A jolt went through him as he imagined his own hands on her, kneading the small pain away.

  Damn, what was it about her that drew his eye? She was tall, but not underfed like so many of the stick women who came through here these days. Yet she didn’t have the hourglass figure he usually went for. Her hips were narrow, her breasts small. Even her hair, black as a raven’s wing, was cropped short. She should have looked boyish. Instead she exuded an athletic femininity that excited him.

  And she had a way of meeting his gaze head on. Not necessarily in an I-want-to-jump-your-bones way, though there was definitely an answering spark in her. But more in a way that simply said she saw him, really saw him. In fact, from watching her, he got the feeling that she saw everything more acutely than everyone else. More deeply. And when she turned those blue eyes on him, it never failed to give him a jolt—almost a tingling shock. It was damned unnerving.

  But you must like it, Taggart. His lips twisted in self-mockery. You keep putting yourself in front of those eyes every chance you get.

  “Do you keep a horse yourself, back east?” he asked.

  “Not in a very long time. In fact, I haven’t ridden in years. Not since high school.”

  That surprised him. “You ride very well.”

  She inclined her head at the compliment. “Thank you. I used to do some dressage, eventing, that kind of thing. My parents were part of the horse set, and my sister and I were expected to keep up the tradition.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “So you rode because your parents wanted you to?”

  “Nah.” She raked a hand through her hair the way one of his ranch hands might, but it fell right back into perfect place. “I rode because I was horse crazy.”

  “But you quit partway through high school?”

  “My horse—Caprio—was getting a little long in the tooth for eventing, and I hated to push him. So my parents relented and gave him to a friend of theirs who collects show horses and gives them nice, comfortable retirements.”

  “And they didn’t replace it with a fresh horse?”

  She smiled, and it caught him right in the midsection, stealing his breath. “No, it was too late. I’d discovered boys by then.”

  “I see.” Oh, brilliant, Taggart. Then, because he could think of nothing intelligent to say, he stepped back. “Well, if you’re finished with Buck, just hand him over to Seth.”

  She followed his gesture until her gaze landed on young Seth. Did he imagine it, or did she do that deep look thing on the youngster? A savage emotion knifed his gut, bringing him up short.

  Jealousy. When had he last felt its acid burn? Not since Marlena. And not for long, even then. Anything he’d felt for his former wife had died a quick death in the face of her chronic infidelities. He’d had his suspicions over the years, especially those times when he’d been busted up in a bullriding wreck, laid up and useless to her. But once he’d retired and bought this ranch, those suspicions were more than confirmed. There was no overlooking that kind of conduct.

  But that was ancient history. To experience jealousy in this situation now, to place himself in competition with a kid half his age…well, it was ridiculous. Sure, Seth had that Hollywood face, but he was just a boy.

  No competition, he decided as he moved on to the next guest.

  Unless, of course, she preferred boys.

  Lauren groaned inwardly as she handed the reins over to Seth. Not an hour ago, she’d vowed to have nothing to do with Cal Taggart. But what did she do, first opportunity she got? She’d flirted with him. And he’d noticed. Oh boy, had he noticed! That quick leap in those silver eyes had sent a thrill right down to her toes. She’d had to look away before her own eyes telegraphed an answering heat. Fortunately he’d directed her attention to Seth.

  Not smart, Lauren.

  Yeah, she’d have to keep her lip zipped and give that cowboy with the hot promise in his eyes a wide berth.

  Crushing down an appalling and unwarranted disappointment, she headed toward her cabin to soak her sore muscles.

  Lauren managed to keep to her resolution to steer clear of Cal for four days. Of course it helped that he wasn’t there. He’d taken an all-male group on a wilderness pack ride. Instead she watched the ranch, pumping Delia for information every chance she got.

  And each day, she joined the shorter trail rides, searching for the blond woman from her vision. By Friday, she had a sore backside, but she was afraid if she begged off a single ride, she’d miss her only opportunity to save the woman’s life. On the upside, Sunset Ridge no longer made her so dizzy with anxiety.

  Then Cal returned. Stupidly, her spirits lifted, though she was still determined to avoid him. He let her hide among the other riders for two more days, but the glint in his eye told her he knew she was ducking him.

  Today, however, she couldn’t dodge him. This ride was an overnighter, though nothing like the sleeping-under-the-stars pack ride Cal had taken the macho types on. By comparison, this trip offered the height of luxury. They would ride all morning, stop for lunch, then on to an old cabin where they would overnight, with real beds and, thanks to propane, lights and hot water. Still, she suspected the number of takers would be small.

  She was right. When she reported to the paddock with her canteen and binoculars, there was no one there but Cal. Lou
nging against the fence, one booted foot hooked on the bottom rail, hat brim pulled low on his brow, he looked all cowboy today.

  She blinked. “What? Am I early?”

  “No, you’re right on time.”

  Her pulse leapt. “We’re it? Just you and me?”

  “Does that bother you?”

  Damn right, it bothered her. And excited her too. “Of course not. But it’s hardly a good use of your time, is it?”

  “Depends how you define good.”

  She wasn’t going to touch that one. “But I’m just one guest. If no one else is interested, we should forgo it. The wants and needs of the majority should rule, after all.”

  He dropped his foot and pushed away from the fence, which brought him closer to her. She resisted the urge to step back.

  “Ah, but we’re concerned about the wants of all our guests.”

  His eyes held a mocking light, which fascinated her more than the blatant sexual innuendo. For the first time, it occurred to her that the derision she’d glimpsed in him from time to time might be directed as much at himself as his patrons.

  “You don’t like this gig much, do you?”

  Without moving a muscle, his face turned expressionless. “Believe me, I take this gig very seriously. I put all my energy into it, and nothing will stop me from making it a success.”

  “I didn’t question your commitment to it,” she pointed out tartly. “I asked you if you liked it.”

  “And I gave you the only answer you’re likely to get. Now it’s your turn to give me an answer. Do we go or stay?”

  Lauren was about to utter an emphatic “stay” when Cal cursed. Following his gaze, Lauren found herself watching a woman approaching them.

  It was her! The blonde!