Every Breath She Takes

by Norah Wilson

  “Nice seeing you, Harvey. I expect you’ll want to be moving along. You got a fair piece to cover before you reach McLeod ground again, and daylight’s burnin’.”

  Harvey’s smile was a slash of white in his tanned, handsome face. “So it is, Taggart, so it is. Ladies.” With a nod to the ladies, he jammed his white Stetson back on and galloped off.

  “What a charming man.” This from Marlena, whose gaze was glued to McLeod’s retreating back.

  “He’s a bastard. And a vulture,” pronounced Brady. “Just waitin’ for another cattleman to go down so he can swoop in and pick the bones.”

  Cal wished he had a cigarette, an indulgence he rarely allowed himself. “He’s waiting for his chances all right, but he does pay a fair price. Can’t fault him there. And at least he’s a rancher, of sorts.”

  “Yeah, the sort that puts men out of work,” Brady scoffed.

  “I don’t get it.” Marlena wrinkled her nose. “How can running a lucrative operation put people out of work?”

  “Technology.” Cal lifted his hat and let the breeze cool his sweat-soaked hairline. “You don’t need a branding crew, for instance, if you can staple a computer chip in a newborn calf’s ear.” He squinted against the sun, then replaced his hat. “But it could be worse. They could have sold out to a developer for a helluva lot more money.”

  Marlena snorted. “What’s wrong with development? I’d sell in a minute if it was mine.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Cal muttered under his breath.

  “What is wrong with development?” asked Lauren. “Don’t you have to accept a certain amount of it?”

  He shot her a sharp look. Oh Christ, she was just like the rest of them, knowing nothing about this ancient ecosystem and caring less. And she wondered why he hated this gig. The rawness of his disappointment surprised him. Somehow he thought she’d share his position.

  “What’s wrong with development?” His disappointment lent his voice a sharper than usual edge. “How about because this is one of this freaking planet’s last intact bioregions? How about because we need agricultural balance for clean watersheds, wildlife, even weather? Developers would throw up fences, and the big game would disappear overnight. There’d be more recreational vehicles and people disrupting things. Few years, it would be ecological disaster. California North.”

  “He must be awfully rich,” Marlena said.

  Cal suppressed a sigh, not because his rant had flowed around his self-absorbed ex-wife like so much prairie wind; he’d expected nothing less. No, he sighed at Brady’s reaction, a reflexive fisting of the reins. His mount jumped at having her bit bumped for no good reason. Christ, why’d Marlena have to pick herself a kid? Especially this kid?

  “Harvey McLeod can likely afford everything from the prairie grass to the Rockies, but he’s not getting this piece of Alberta.” Cal spat, but he couldn’t quite get the taste of fear out of his mouth. “Let’s go.”

  Without looking back to make sure they followed, he urged Sienna into a ground-eating gait.

  It was midafternoon before they got back to the ranch. Lauren felt limp as soggy lettuce, and Marlena looked worse. Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren watched the other woman tend to her mount. Cal was right. She was a good horsewoman, and even in her hungover state she didn’t stint on the rubdown. The mare gleamed by the time she was done. Afterward, to Lauren’s surprise, Marlena stopped to talk to her.

  “I’m not suicidal, you know.”

  “I didn’t imagine you were. Most overdoses are accidental.”

  For an instant, it was as though a curtain lifted and Lauren could see the depth of Marlena’s loneliness, the breadth of her fear. Then the veil dropped again. “I’d have been all right.”

  Lauren nodded. “I think so too, but I was following protocol, and I’d do it again.”

  By the time she got the words out, she was talking to Marlena’s back. Lauren watched the other woman go, her stride exuding confidence and sexuality so at odds with the haunted look Lauren had glimpsed so fleetingly in those green eyes. For just a few seconds, Marlena had looked more like a little girl than a siren.

  Lauren shook her head to dislodge the notion. Geez, she must be more tired than she thought. There was nothing remotely childlike about Marlena. Besides, she had more important things to think about—like saving Marlena’s life. And how about the way both Cal and Brady had reacted to the appearance of Harvey McLeod? Was McLeod the wild card here? Would he be the catalyst to set the violence in motion?

  Brady had been fiercely jealous. Automatically, Lauren’s gaze sought him out. He was still in a sulk, working it out with long strokes of the finishing rag. The horse’s coat shone, but Lauren didn’t need psychic talent to feel the animal’s anxiety. The mare’s ears were laid back, a sign anyone could read.

  Biting her lip, she approached the nervous mare carefully from the side. Brady’s motions slowed when she came into his peripheral vision.

  “I think she’s done, Brady. You’re going to wear her hide off at this rate.”

  He stiffened at her words, then dropped his hands in defeat. “You’re right. Sorry, girl.” He gave the mare’s neck a scratch, his fingers finding the spot where horses nuzzle each other. Lauren could see the horse relax under the soothing caress. She couldn’t say as much for Brady, who still appeared stiff.

  “Brady, if you want to talk sometime…”

  “No!” His face reddened in obvious mortification. “I mean, no thank you, ma’am. I can handle myself.”

  “Of course.”

  As she watched him lead the mare away, a sense of helplessness assailed her. Why me? Why did I take on this stupid job? Her hands fisted at her sides. She wasn’t up to this, had no idea how to go about trying to defuse these strong emotions.

  “Best leave the kid alone.”

  Lauren glanced up to find Cal watching her. “I guess you’re right. But he’s so upset.”

  “Upset?” He hefted his saddle and gathered up the bridle in his free hand. “He’s like a bronc with a burr under his saddle.”

  She shifted her attention back to Brady’s retreating figure. “I thought if I could distract him, he might cool down.”

  “There’s no distracting a man in his condition. Once you’ve climbed on and that gate swings open, you just gotta ride it out. Anyone can see he’s in for a gravity check, but there’s no point telling him. He’ll know it soon enough when he hits the ground.”

  “A rodeo reference. How apropos.” He was right, and she knew it, which made her words sharper than she intended.

  Cal regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I know what you’re up to, you know.”

  Her heart jumped. He knew? How could he? Heart pounding, she gathered up her own tack. “Really? And what’s that?”

  Without waiting for his answer, she headed for the tack room at the back of the barn. Brady passed her on his way back to the house. Averting his eyes, he acknowledged her with a nod.

  Cal fell in beside her, shortening his stride to match hers.

  “You’re a fixer. You can’t stand all that conflict and riled-up emotion, so you run around putting everything right.”

  His words hit too close for comfort. It had taken some doing, but she knew she came across as confident and self-assured. And for the most part, she was. She’d had to develop a certain amount of assertiveness to forge her own path against the wishes of her parents, who’d had visions of her becoming a doctor, and then something highly specialized like an electrophysiologist, and then head of the cardiology unit, and then a hospital CEO, and then a senator. Okay, that was probably exaggerating, but they’d had ambitions for her beyond a small veterinary practice. So, yeah, she’d come a long way, but there was truth in what Cal said. She still hated turmoil. Hell, she’d been almost glad Garrett had resorted to texting her that withdrawal of his proposal. It had allowed her to respond in kind. Clean, bloodless.

  Well, almost.

  “What’s wrong with a little
peace and harmony?” She surged ahead of Cal, exasperation fueling her strides. “Why do people have to be stirring things up all the time?”

  Her momentum carried her into the relative gloom of the tack room, where she stopped up short. Her arms ached with the weight of the saddle, and she longed to dump the damned thing, but the sudden darkness after the blinding sunlight had stolen her vision. Cal didn’t seem to be hampered—the squeaking and jangling told her he had stowed his own tack. Of course, he probably knew every inch of these barns in the dark anyway.

  “I can’t see a damned thing,” she groused.

  Suddenly he was next to her in the gloom. Her heart started to thud again in her chest, this time in awareness as he took the heavy western saddle from her. Her tired arms wanted to levitate of their own accord as soon as the burden was lifted, which made her want to laugh hysterically. Instead she clamped her arms firmly to her sides.

  When he turned back to her, her eyes had adjusted enough to make out his face. He’d taken his hat off, and her pulse kicked again at the sight of him. Belatedly she realized she should have turned and walked back into the safety of the sunlight while he dealt with the tack. But it was too late now. He was wearing that hungry look again. And so, she feared, was she.

  He closed the distance between them with a step.

  “Stirring things up doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

  He was close enough that his breath stirred a tendril of hair on her forehead. In her heightened state of awareness, it felt like a caress. She registered, too, the dust motes that danced behind him in a shaft of sunlight and the smell of horse and oiled leather combined with the sharper odor of the pine tar.

  Four heartbeats, five, six, but still he didn’t kiss her, though she was all but straining toward him. Then he brought his hands up, but instead of cradling her face as she expected, he tipped her hat off, then touched her hair gently.

  “I want to stir up a few things with you.” His gray eyes bored into hers. “Starting with that composure of yours.”

  She closed her eyes as his fingers tunneled into her hair. She wanted to deny his effect on her senses, but there was little point if she were going to stand here and let each new sensation wash over her. “You’re doing a pretty good job of that right now,” she breathed.

  “Mmm, but I want to do more.”

  She resisted the urge to lick her lips. “Like what?”

  “Like this.”

  Her eyes sprang open at the first contact of his mouth to hers, then fell shut again as he kissed her hotly. Of their own volition, her hands skimmed up his sides, finding purchase in the belt loops of his jeans. Too soon, he broke the kiss, leaving her panting, yet he didn’t pull back.

  His hands dropped to her shoulders, then brushed down her arms to grip her elbows.

  “I want to stir your imagination,” he said, lifting her arms until they circled his neck. “I want to stir your blood.”

  Her answer was to pull his head down and kiss him blindly. He responded with a ferocity that thrilled her, backing her up against a wall. It was just like the other time on the ridge. Desperate. Frantic. The need to surrender to the wild sweetness, to him, grew urgent, building intolerably with every second.

  Then, without warning, he stepped back.

  His solid frame no longer supporting her, she stumbled forward in confusion.

  Cal swore to himself as the chatter of children drew closer.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Couldn’t she hear them? “Kids. Quick, this way.”

  Grasping her hand, he pulled her to the back of the tack room and through a door to the stable area. He muttered another curse when he spotted a stable hand at the far end.

  “In here.” He opened the first box stall and gestured for her to precede him. She stopped abruptly when a big bay gelding lifted its head to contemplate them curiously.

  “Cal! It’s occupied,” she hissed.

  He laughed. “I wasn’t proposing anything kinky,” he said, guiding her inside. “It’s just that I’ve got a bit of a problem below the belt that I’d rather not explain to Earl over there. Maybe we could visit with Cosmo here until it passes.”

  At his words, her gaze immediately dropped to the telltale bulge in his jeans. When her wide-eyed gaze finally climbed back up to his face, he groaned laughingly.

  “Come on, Lauren, have a heart. Don’t look at me like that. You gotta help me out here.”

  Her lips quirked. “It is a pretty big problem.”

  He stifled a laugh, then shot a look toward the end of the stables. “Save your compliments, sweetheart, and ask me something about this nag. Earl’s working his way toward us.”

  With a smug smile, she turned to look at the gelding.

  “Oh, this is the guy no one rides, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. He hasn’t been worked in a while, which is downright criminal. He’s a Tennessee walker with a gait as smooth as butter.”

  She held out a hand to be nuzzled. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Head shake. A couple of months ago, he started tossing his head continually. Now he couldn’t pay mind to a rider’s signals if he wanted to.”

  She slid a hand up the bay’s neck and stroked him. She didn’t pat or thump, he noticed, as so many weekend warriors did in the mistaken belief they were communicating approval. Rather, she scratched and stroked in a way that had the gelding delirious with pleasure.

  Cal knew how he felt.

  “I think I can stop his head shaking.”

  Her words jolted him back to the subject at hand. They also astounded him. “You think you can cure him?”

  “Not cure, exactly. He’ll probably always be susceptible. But I’m pretty sure I can curb the behavior.”

  “And how long would that take?”

  “I could do it tomorrow.”

  He snorted. “Sweetheart, this is the worst case I’ve ever seen. You’ve got horse sense, I’ll give you that, but no one’s gonna cure Cosmo in a day.”

  “Want to make a bet?”

  The gleam that had come into her eyes made him suspicious. Could she have some fancy English riding school trick up her sleeve? So what if she did? He couldn’t lose, could he? If he won, he might just get what he wanted. If she won, he’d get Cosmo back.

  “Sure, I’ll bet you, if you’re not afraid of a real wager.”

  Her eyes widened. “A real wager? What’d you have in mind?”

  He moved closer, lowering his voice so his words wouldn’t carry beyond her ears. “If your cure doesn’t work, you’ll invite me to share your bed—tomorrow night.”

  Her breath hitched, but he wasn’t sure whether it was his words or the desire that thickened the air between them.

  “That’s where we’re going to wind up eventually,” he said. “This way, it’d be sooner rather than later.”

  Those pale blue eyes went wide but she didn’t deny his assertion. “What if I win?”

  He grinned. “Name your wager.”

  She touched her lip with her tongue as she considered her options. In the background, Cal could hear Earl moving closer.

  “If I win,” she said at last, “you’ll tell me how you wound up in the guest ranch business.”

  Cal felt a muscle flex in his jaw. Damn the woman for her curiosity! With effort, he unclenched his teeth and smiled. “That’s not much of a wager. I could tell you that right now.”

  “Oh, I don’t want the pat answer.” She moved even closer. Close enough for him to inhale the clean shampoo smell of her. “I want the real story. I want to know how a man like you got into a business like this.”

  Under her unwavering gaze, he let his smile broaden, as though the idea of talking about himself didn’t cause his stomach to knot. Didn’t matter anyway. She couldn’t win. “Darlin’, you got yourself a bet.”

  “Great! When can we do it?”

  She stepped back, and his breathing eased a fraction. “Well, I’ve already put my money on tomorr
ow night,” he drawled, then watched as she blushed.

  “I meant the test with Cosmo.”

  He paused to consider. “I’ve got some new folks coming in tonight. What about right after lunch tomorrow, while the new crop of cowboys are resting their backsides?”

  “High noon?” Her brow pleated in a small frown. “It’ll be a tough test.”

  “What? You want to back out already?” He half hoped she did. Chances were good he could talk her into bed tonight, and to hell with waiting for tomorrow.

  “No, noon is fine. Now I’d better go rescue my hat before someone steps on it.”

  He opened the stall door for her and watched her go, those long legs of hers inspiring erotic ideas. Twenty-four hours, he reminded himself. Twenty-four hours and she’d be his.

  Across the way, the stable hand backed out of a box stall with a wheelbarrow full of dirty straw and manure. “Hey, Earl,” he called, then set off with a distinct bounce in his step.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lauren skipped the morning trail ride the next day. She had work to do. As soon as Cal left with the excited group of riders, she went out to the barn. A quick word with Earl, and she knew who could help her—Cal’s trail boss, Jim Mallory. She found the old man cleaning tack, surrounded by the gentle odor of saddle soap.

  “Jim Mallory?”

  He glanced up from his labor and smiled. “Miz Townsend.”

  “Lauren.” She returned his smile.

  “What can I do you for, Miz…Lauren?”

  “Earl tells me you’re quite skilled at leatherwork.”

  “Naw, I’m just a mender.” Lovingly he touched the cantle of the saddle he’d been cleaning. “Now this is skill.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Lauren fingered the intricate design.

  “So what do you need in the way of leatherwork?”

  “Blinders,” she said, lifting her gaze from the saddle.

  Jim’s mouth fell open. “Blinders? You mean, like we slap on the Percherons when we harness them up?”

  She nodded. “Same concept, but we want to shield more of the eye, like so.” She showed him a rough drawing she’d done.