A Cowboy in Manhattan

by Barbara Dunlop

  “That’s nice.”

  Mandy glanced at her watch. “If you wait until afternoon to leave and take the river trail, I can meet you at the Terrells’ and drive you home after dinner.”

  Katrina hesitated. She wasn’t wild about spending more time with Reed. The man made her jumpy and self-conscious. But Mandy was the closest thing she had to a buffer against her other siblings. If Mandy wasn’t around, she feared her brothers would try to railroad her into something uncomfortable, like riding a horse.

  “Sure,” she found herself saying. “I’ll meet you up at Terrells’.”

  Two

  Reed couldn’t seem to get his father’s voice out of his head. As he had when Wilton Terrell was alive, he got up every morning focused on an ambitious list of jobs around the ranch. Then he worked as hard as he could until the end of the day. And if something went wrong, if he made a mistake, did less than one hundred percent, he’d reflexively brace himself for Wilton’s anger.

  Obviously he knew he’d never have to deal with his father’s anger again, but his emotions were taking a while to catch up. He couldn’t say he was sorry the obstinate old man had died, though he was beginning to recognize what a powerful impact Wilton had had on his life.

  His brother Caleb told him it was crazy to keep up the breakneck pace. Caleb was searching for a full-time ranch manager to add to the foreman and ranch hands that helped with the day-to-day work. But Reed couldn’t switch gears that easily.

  Now, he returned the cleaning supplies to the tack room, hung up his saddle and emptied the combs and brushes he’d used on his horse, replacing them in their respective drawers and closing the cabinet before shutting off the light and exiting the room.

  The sun was hitting the horizon in an orange ball, decorated by pink clouds above the snowy peaks of the distant Rockies. He crossed the wide driveway turnaround, heading for the house. A truck pulled up, and he caught sight of the Jacobs’ ranch logo on the door. Before he could stop it, a hitch of excitement shot through him. But then he saw that only Mandy was inside the cab. No Katrina.

  He lengthened his stride, coming up to the driver’s door and pulling it open for her. “Hey, Mandy.”

  She smiled a greeting as she slid out of the cab, reaching back inside for a baking tin sitting in the center of the bench seat.

  “Brownies,” she offered, waving it in front of his nose.

  “Sounds great. Caleb’s probably inside.”

  “With Katrina?”

  Reed felt another small shot of adrenaline. “Katrina’s here?”

  “I sure hope so. Mom left her a box of things to sort through in the attic, then she was coming up here.”

  “I’ve been in the barn for a while.” He might have missed Katrina’s arrival. Then again, he didn’t see another Jacobs’ pickup anywhere, so perhaps Mandy was mistaken.

  “Hmm.” Mandy’s gaze searched the yard.

  “What?”

  “She rode up here on a bike.”

  “You mean a horse?”

  Mandy gave an eye-roll as she started for the front door. “Yeah, because I usually mix those two things up.”

  Reed automatically fell into step and lifted the tin from her hands. “Katrina rides a motorcycle?” He simply couldn’t picture it.

  “A bicycle. She wanted to get some exercise.”

  Okay. Weird, but okay. They mounted the stairs, and Reed pushed the door open, waiting for Mandy to go inside.

  “I don’t see how they could possibly make it any more complicated,” Caleb was saying into the phone as he paced from the living room into the entry hall. He lifted his chin in a greeting to them both. “I don’t think Danielle wants to fly all the way down to Brazil.” He paused. “In person? Really?” He braced his hand against the end of the archway and gave a disgusted shake of his head.

  Mandy moved down the hall to the kitchen, glanced inside, then came back.

  “Katrina here?” she stage-whispered to Caleb.

  He narrowed his eyes in confusion.

  “Is Katrina here?” she repeated.

  He gave her a shrug of incomprehension. “Tell her to take the jet,” he said into the phone. “We’re going to have to give that woman a huge bonus.”

  Mandy turned to Reed, her forehead wrinkling in worry. “She was going to ride up the river trail. She should have been here by now.”

  “On it,” said Reed, moving immediately back to the door and heading outside.

  Katrina was probably stuck somewhere along the trail. Or maybe she’d grown tired and was resting. There was a slim chance she gotten herself into real trouble. But the river trail was well-marked and relatively smooth and safe. The odds were definitely on the side of a delay rather than a catastrophe.

  He strode back across the driveway, hopping onto an ATV that was parked next to the barn. He turned the key and the machine roared to life beneath him. He glanced at the sky, judging he had at least an hour before dark. It should be plenty of time, but he wasn’t going to waste any of it.

  He drove about four miles down the trail before he spotted her. The bike was tipped at the edge of the trail, and Katrina was crouched over it, looking small and forlorn in the midst of an aspen grove. She stood as he approached, and her shoulders relaxed as she obviously recognized that it was him. He saw the chain was off the bike, and her small hands were black with oil.

  He’d give her an A for effort, but a failing grade for actual accomplishment. He knew six-year-olds who could reattach a bicycle chain. He brought the ATV to a stop and killed the engine as he dismounted.

  “Looks like you’ve got a problem,” he opened, struggling not to smile at her rather adorable helplessness.

  She gestured to the bike. “I came around the corner, hit a bump, and the chain fell off.”

  His smile broke through as he checked out her blackened hands. “Any luck putting it back on?”

  “Are you mocking me?”

  He moved on to inspect the broken-down bicycle. “I’m making small talk, Katrina. Quit being so sensitive.”

  “I’m not being—”

  “You’ve got a chip a mile wide on those skinny little shoulders.”

  “I’m not an auto mechanic,” she harrumphed.

  “And I’m not a ballerina.”

  She didn’t seem to have a response to that.

  “There’s no point in getting my hands dirty fixing it here,” he noted, lifting the bike by the frame and carrying it to the ATV. “Unless you’re set on riding it the rest of the way.”

  “In the dark?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it.” He balanced the bike on the wide front rack, uncoiling a bungee cord to fasten it down. “But it’s up to you.”

  “No,” she responded tartly. “I don’t want to ride a bike the rest of the way.”

  “You okay?” he asked belatedly, wrapping the cord around the bike frame and hooking the end to the rack. She didn’t appear hurt, but he supposed that should have been the first question out of his mouth. That was a miss.

  “I’m fine,” she huffed.

  He glanced up, taking a more detailed look at her. “You didn’t fall or anything?”

  She shook her head. “The chain came off.” She held up her hands. “I stopped and I tried to put it back on.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I didn’t just sit down and wait for a knight in shining armor.”

  “That’s a relief. Because you got me instead.”

  She blinked sheepishly, seeming to remember her own manners. “Thank you,” she offered.

  He couldn’t help but grin at her discomfort. “That wasn’t what I was fishing for. But you’re welcome.” The sight of her looking so vulnerable in the vastness of the landscape tightened his chest. “Anytime.”

  “I guess these things come in threes.”

  “Threes?” He glanced around, wondering if he’d missed something.

  “I had that ballet shoe come apart on me,” she offered ruefully, glancing
at her ankle. “And I almost took a tumble over some cables near the stage because they were partially hidden by a curtain.”

  He sure didn’t like that mental picture. But he kept his tone easy. “You do seem to be accident-prone.”

  “Ironic.” She sighed. “Because this time I was purposely attempting to stay out of trouble.”

  “Admirable,” he acknowledged.

  “Mandy wanted me to go horseback riding,” she continued. “And my brothers wouldn’t let me say no, and I knew I’d just slow the whole process down. And I thought…” She gestured to the disabled bike. “Bike-riding is one of my favorite exercises.”

  Surely she didn’t ride a bike in the bumper-to-bumper traffic of New York City. “Through Central Park?” he hoped.

  “In my gym,” she admitted. “A stationary bike.”

  He wanted to tease her about that. But the truth was, he was glad to hear it. Better to be inside a building than fighting for road space with delivery vans, buses and taxis.

  “I can set this one up as a stationary for you,” he found himself offering. “In the barn. On a stand. It wouldn’t be high-tech, but I can add a little resistance, and you’ll stay safe and sound.” Even as the words poured out of this mouth, he asked himself what the hell he thought he was doing? He had a million more pressing jobs that needed his attention.

  She moved toward the ATV. “Wouldn’t my brothers have a laugh at that.”

  He watched her grow close, transfixed by her beautiful face, the depths of her eyes, the motion of her deep pink mouth.

  “We can keep it our secret,” he offered.

  She hesitated, watching him closely. “I’d jog, but I can’t because of my ankle. And I have to do something.” She drew a deep sigh. “I spent all day yesterday sitting on airplanes. I was going to warm up on this ride, and then get in some stretching. But now, my muscles are cold.”

  “You’re cold?”

  “Too cold to stretch.”

  He quickly unbuttoned his shirt.

  “What are you—”

  He stepped in and draped it over her shoulders. “Put it on,” he said gruffly. It was going to get even colder once they got up to speed on the trail and the wind hit them.

  “I don’t need—” Her gaze caught and held on his bare chest. She blinked twice, then looked away, wordlessly slipping her arms into the sleeves. They hung about six inches past her fingertips, so she rolled them up to a thick band around her forearms.

  She fastened the shirt buttons, and her cute black tights and pink T-shirt disappeared beneath the voluminous cotton.

  She glanced down at herself. “Lovely.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “I think it’s the spring tent collection from Dior.”

  “You know Dior?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “It’s a fashion-design house.”

  “No kidding,” he drawled.

  “It’s just—”

  “We do have satellite television out here.”

  “And you use it to watch fashion shows?”

  “Hardly,” he scoffed. “But they make the occasional pop-culture reference during professional bull-riding.”

  “Did I insult you?” she asked, looking genuinely regretful.

  “I’m not living under a rock, Katrina.”

  “I never thought you were.”

  He swung his leg over the wide seat of the ATV. He wasn’t insulted. He couldn’t care less what she thought of his television-watching habits.

  Truth was, he didn’t know why she’d struck a nerve. Maybe it was because she pointed out the vast differences between them, and how far she was out of his league. Not that it mattered, he ruthlessly reminded himself. No matter how sexy Miss Katrina Jacobs might appear, he was keeping his hands and his thoughts to himself. His life was complicated enough.

  “Hop on,” he told her gruffly, sliding forward to give her room on the seat behind.

  She approached the ATV with caution, obviously sizing it up.

  “You need some help?”

  “No,” she flashed.

  “Hand on my shoulder,” he instructed.

  After a long hesitation, she touched him tentatively.

  “Other hand.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Left foot on that peg.”

  “Okay.”

  He captured her forearm to steady her. “Step up and swing your leg over the seat. Grab my other shoulder if you need to.”

  She did. Her slight weight rocked the ATV, and her butt came down on the seat, her breasts brushing his back and her thighs coming up against his.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “You’re going to have to hang on to me,” he warned.

  “I know.”

  He turned the key, and the ATV rumbled to life.

  “Katrina?” he intoned, waiting for her to follow his instructions.

  “My hands are filthy.”

  “I can take it.” He reached back and grasped each of her wrists, wrapping her slim arms around his waist and anchoring her hands to his bare stomach.

  Her breasts pressed tighter against his back, her cheek rested between his shoulder blades, while her inner thighs cradled his hips. Raw, painful desire rocketed through him, and he wondered how long he could reasonably take to drive back to the house. He wanted her to stay wrapped around his body for hours and hours.

  In the shower on the second floor of the Terrells’ house, Katrina’s skin still tingled where she’d been pressed up against Reed’s body—which was pretty much everywhere, from the inside of her knees to the hairline above her temple. The ATV had rumbled between her legs, while the heat from Reed’s bare back had seeped its way through his shirt, her T-shirt and right through her bra.

  Mandy had brought along a change of clothes for Katrina. In fact, she’d brought along Katrina’s entire suitcase. She’d drawn Katrina aside and confessed she was plotting to have them spend the night at the Terrells’, so she could be with Caleb. Katrina had easily agreed to stay. Away from her family’s ranch was good for her state of mind. And it was less emotionally draining to be here with Mandy than interacting with all of her siblings. Caleb had been warmly receptive to the plan. Reed was best described as neutral.

  Now, Katrina pulled back the blue-and-green-striped shower curtain and carefully climbed out of the deep tub. The bathroom was neat but compact, with little counter room around the sink and only a couple of spots for hanging clothes and towels on the back of the door. While she dried off and wrapped a white towel around her wet hair, she realized the error in her planning.

  Her sweaty clothes were in a heap on top of the hamper, while her fresh clothes were still folded in her suitcase in the guest room. She was going to have to cross the hallway wrapped in nothing but a towel. There wasn’t even a robe she could borrow hanging anywhere in the bathroom.

  Resigned, she wrapped the biggest towel firmly around her body, tucking in the ends between her breasts. She rubbed a spot in the steamed mirror, turning and coming up on her toes to make sure the towel covered the necessities, just in case she met someone on the way. Then she gathered her wrinkled exercise outfit and her underwear, rolling them into a neat ball before cracking the bathroom door to make sure the hallway was all clear.

  She listened carefully but couldn’t hear a sound. The guest-room door was about ten feet down the hallway in the opposite direction of the stairs. It was open, and it would only take her about five seconds to make it there.

  She took a breath, opened the bathroom door wide, listened one last time, then scampered across the hardwood floor, scooting safely into the guest room, quickly closing the door behind her. She closed her eyes with a heartfelt sigh, and leaned solidly up against the door.

  “Katrina?” Reed’s voice made her eyes fly open.

  She gave a little shriek. The towel slipped, revealing her breasts for a brief moment until she grasped the corners, struggling to form a coherent word. “Wha—”

  “So
rry.” He quickly averted his gaze. “Mandy asked me to bring you some fresh sheets.”

  “I…” She could feel her face flush hot. The rest of her body flushed, too. Desire zipped from one extremity to the other, settling in a slow burn at the base of her abdomen.

  She swallowed. She had to say something. But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what that might be.

  Reed moved toward her, keeping his gaze studiously on the floor in front of him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

  She told herself to move, unblock the door so the man could leave already. But her feet were glued to the floor, her heart pumping deep and slow inside her chest.

  He came closer and closer, and all she could do was stare.

  A knock on the door behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin.

  “Katrina?” Mandy called. “You in there?”

  The absurdity of the situation suddenly hit her. And Katrina recovered her sense of humor. What was she expecting Reed to do here? Make a move with Mandy and Caleb downstairs? Ridiculous. She quickly found her voice.

  “I’m naked in here,” she called out to Mandy. “And Reed’s remaking the bed.”

  There was a stunned silence on the other side of the door.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Reed intoned. “Get out of the way.”

  Mandy stammered from outside. “I’m… Uh…”

  Reed snagged Katrina’s bare shoulder, moving her off to one side. His warm, callused palm left a distinct tingle in its wake. He quickly swung the door open.

  “Mix-up,” he told Mandy. “Your sister thinks she’s funny.”

  “He was lying in wait for me,” Katrina countered, still feeling breathless.

  “I thought you’d take longer in the shower,” Reed protested.

  “Why? Because I’m from New York City?”

  “Because you’re a girl.”

  “I’m a woman.”

  Mandy’s attention was flying back and forth between the two.

  Reed’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “And now you have fresh sheets.”

  “Thank you,” Katrina returned breezily.

  She was scrambling to tamp down her powerful sexual reaction to him. It was strange and more than a little unsettling to have her hormones run amok like this.