by Joanna Wayne
“Right after the chapter about why you don’t need a woman.”
“I never said I didn’t need a woman.” He pulled a saddle from the rack. “I said I’d make a lousy husband.”
“And I think you’re a coward, Matt McQuaid, afraid the woman you chose would run out on you and leave you here to explain your predicament to all of the McQuaid admirers.”
“Oh, it’s not the explaining I’d mind. But you’re right about the fear. I’d be scared to death of letting a woman like you crawl into my bed, set me on fire and then go running back to the bright lights of the big city. I don’t relish the idea of putting out that kind of flame with cold showers and lonesome nights.”
He saddled two horses, then called her over to mount the chestnut. She stopped in front of Matt, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close and nestling his mouth in her hair. “But even a coward gives in to temptation occasionally. So you better keep that bedroom door locked at night.”
With that, he boosted her up and into the saddle. Her heart raced, but this time it wasn’t the size of the horse but the mystique of the cowboy that had her gasping for breath. Edna’s words echoed tauntingly in her mind. A good man like Matt McQuaid doesn’t come along every day of the week.
It was time to act, to stop playing it safe. Tonight she’d make sure Matt knew the latch on the bedroom door was off.
Chapter Ten
Heather lay in her bed, staring at the shadowed ceiling. The afternoon ride had left her breathless, dizzy with excitement and hungry for more. This time, at Matt’s coaxing, she’d grown comfortable in the saddle and taken Maverick through all the stages. A slow walk, a fast walk, a lope, and for a few glorious minutes, a full gallop.
She’d seen the land from the back of a magnificent animal, feeling as if she owned the world. No matter that her world was riddled with problems and spiked with danger. The romance of the West was creeping into her blood, invigorating her with its spirit.
But she knew part of the thrill this afternoon had been due to her riding companion. For once, Matt had shed the tough armor that usually kept her at arm’s length. When they’d dismounted by the creek, he’d pointed out every plant, cut off a bite of pear from a cactus and given her a taste of it, even playfully splashed cold water on her when she’d teased him.
For a few glorious minutes, they’d behaved like new lovers, frolicking in the late-afternoon splendor of a perfect day. But all that had changed the minute they’d walked back into the house. Matt had dug into the stacks of files with a vengeance, as if he expected them to disintegrate in front of him if he didn’t scrutinize every one before he moved from the spot.
She’d puttered in the kitchen and come up with pasta, flavored with ground beef, carrots, onions and sweet peas. But dinner had been quiet. Matt had avoided eye contact and answered her questions in his typical one-word style.
He’d given no reason for the abrupt change in their relationship, leaving Heather to conjure up her own theories. The man was either scared to death of involvement, or else there was someone else in his life back in San Antonio.
So now she was lying here wide-awake, the victim of her own poor judgment. She’d known it wasn’t wise to get emotionally involved with Matt, but her heart had jumped ahead of her, seeing the side of him it wanted to see.
She wasn’t sure if she was falling in love with him. All she knew was that she ached to crawl into his arms, that she longed to have him here beside her, sharing the rustic wooden bed. Knew that her insides trembled just remembering the taste of his lips on hers, the feel of his breath on the back of her neck, the sound of his voice, all husky with desire, when he’d whispered in her ear at the corral.
Heather kicked away the sheet that bound her legs. She refused to lie here like a virgin in heat. Matt wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. No matter how he tried to deny the sizzle between them, it burned its way into every second of their time together.
If she was wrong about that, he could tell her so, get it all out in the open. She slung her feet to the floor and marched across the room, wrapping her fingers around the knob, only to have it turn in her hands without her moving it.
She stepped back as the door swung toward her. “Matt.”
He didn’t answer, but his hands were shaking as he locked them behind her and drew her close. Her surprise heightened to hunger as he claimed her lips, and Heather rose up on tiptoe, pushing her body against his.
“I was just coming out to talk to you,” she murmured, when he pulled his lips away and leaned against the door.
“What about?”
“This.” She caught his bottom lip with her teeth, nibbling and then sucking until she was lost in another kiss. She was clutching and grasping, digging her fingers into his flesh, her body so hot, she couldn’t think. Weak with desire, she fell against his chest.
“What about this?” Matt asked, his hands kneading her shoulders, his thumbs riding her neck, to her earlobes and back down again in mesmerizing motions. “That you wanted it or that you didn’t?”
“That I wanted you. That I had to know if you wanted me the same way.”
His lips found hers again, kissing her until she gasped for breath. “Is this answer enough?”
“It’s getting there.”
He swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her atop the rumpled sheet. “I’ve wanted you since the night I found you in the brush, spunky as hell in spite of having just taken a beating.”
“That’s a rough way to catch a man.”
“You could have saved yourself the trouble. One look at you across the breakfast table in that T-shirt of mine would have done the trick.”
His lips found hers again, quick but thorough, and then left them to seek new places, each new touch driving her wild. Below her ear, down her neck, just above the ribbon that held her gown together. He caught the ends of the tie and tugged the front open.
“Without desperate measures,” she reminded him, though her breath was so jagged she could barely whisper, “I’d never have gotten to your breakfast table. You practically pushed me away in the restaurant where we met.”
A moan swallowed the last of her words, as her body responded to Matt’s mouth sliding down her stomach, his hands still cradling her breasts, kneading her nipples, coaxing them to attention.
“I knew you were trouble even then,” he whispered, his breath hot on her flesh. “I just didn’t know how much, or how sweet the danger.” Words got lost in the passion, reason swallowed up in shivers of anticipation as his fingers dipped inside her.
Heather writhed under his touch. Her body ruled now, soaking up pleasure as if it might never come again, knowing it had never been like this before. Finally, she cried out in ecstasy, the passion so intense she could hold nothing back.
Seconds later, when the first glorious waves of climax had passed, she started her own exploration—kissing, stroking, reveling in Matt’s maleness. “What about you?” she whispered, her voice rough with desire and her heart racing in the aftermath.
“I’m still here.” He took her hand, guiding it to him. She wrapped her fingers around him, and he shuddered.
“Take me, Matt. I want to feel you inside me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
HE TOOK HER THEN, his own head swimming as his blood rushed and his body caught and matched the rhythm of Heather’s movements. He’d never wanted a woman like this, never even suspected that he could. It seemed now as though every second of every day since he’d met her had been leading to this moment.
His willpower over the edge, he exploded inside her before he was ready, a shaking, overwhelming experience that left him weak and disoriented. But still he knew the moment had been all the sweeter because Heather had skyrocketed with him.
He rolled to his side and held her close and wished the world could always be this wonderful. But even now, doubts were edging out his contentment. He forced them aside as Hea
ther snuggled against him.
Every man should have one night like this, and he wouldn’t be robbed of his.
“HOW WOULD YOU LIKE to go to a party tomorrow night?”
Heather looked up from her nearly empty plate of pancakes. Matt had been up and on the phone by the time she opened her eyes this morning. Stomach growling, she’d hopped out of bed and scrounged in the kitchen for flour, milk, oil and eggs while he finished his conversation. She’d never known making love could make one so ravenous.
“What kind of party?”
“Logan Trenton doesn’t need an excuse to throw a party, but his reason this time is that his stepdaughter just received her Ph.D. Word is this will be a shindig of magnificent proportions.”
“Does that mean music and dancing?”
Matt grimaced. “There’ll be some boot scooting. Unfortunately. But there will also be good food, and most important, the chance to talk to a lot of local people at once. This investigation is going dry faster than a watering hole in August, but someone in this town knows something. You can bet a prize steer on that.”
Heather. considered the prospect of attending a party with Matt. He’d be off talking cattle with every male in the place, of course, digging for clues in the process. Meanwhile, she’d be odd woman out in a group of people who had all known each other from birth.
She slid a bite of pancake through a river of cane syrup. “Why don’t you go without me? I didn’t bring clothes for a shindig of magnificent proportions.”
“You’d outshine everyone else even if you went in your jeans.”
She beamed at his compliment. It was the first time this morning he’d given any sign that last night had happened, that he was actually aware of her as more than an inconvenient aspect of his job.
“Or...” He slid his chair back from the table. “We can stop at Ridgely’s feed store this afternoon and you can do some shopping.”
“A feed sack? No thanks.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but if the bag were skimpy enough, it might work.” He smiled with his lips, though not his eyes. Heather recognized the signs now. Something worrisome was brewing behind his façade of pleasantries. He finished off his milk and took his empty dishes to the sink.
“Actually, Ridgely’s wife has a clothing shop in the front of his feed store,” he continued, as if there had been no pause in the conversation. “Lots of the ladies around here shop there. You could pick up some boots while we’re at it.”
“And a hat.” The idea was growing on her. The party would provide another chance for her do what she’d come to Dry Creek for, to question people about Kathy Warren. That simple task was getting lost in the search for Ariana’s killer, and so far they had no proof the two mysteries were even related.
“Will Rube and Edna be at the party?”
“Probably not. Now that Logan’s playing with the financial big boys, he doesn’t fraternize as much with his cronies from the old days.”
“Do we know for certain now that it wasn’t any of the guys from the dude ranch who kidnapped me the other night?”
“I’m not sure of anything, but they all had alibis, supported by their friends.”
“Friends might lie.”
“Exactly. That’s why I had a check run on every last one of them.” Matt picked up a fistful of faxes from the counter and dropped them to the table beside her. “Gabby brought these by this morning while you were still sleeping. They came in during the night from Ranger headquarters in San Antonio.”
“What did you find?”
“Dan Granger, age twenty-one, was arrested in Dallas last year for passing a couple of bad checks. Merle Fitch, age thirty-five, has a battery charge against him. He got into a fight with a man in a bar outside of Carrizo Springs. Apparently, they both wanted to sleep with the same woman. In both cases, the charges were dropped.”
“And there’s nothing else?”
“Everyone else is squeaky clean, just wholesome young boys wanting to grow up to be cowboys.”
“What about fingerprints?”
“We found a set in the motel and on the sandals that we couldn’t identify. We’re checking them out now. The watch had been out in the elements a while, so it was apparently not from the night of the attack. John says it looks like one he lost last summer. The car was clean, as we expected it to be.”
Frustration dragged at Heather’s spirits. “And I guess it’s the same no-luck pattern with the files you’ve been scrutinizing.”
Matt’s face screwed into hard worry lines. “Not quite. I’ve found a pattern of missing files. Two weeks’ worth of reports from right around the time your mother was reportedly in Dry Creek, and scattered missing files for months before and after that period.”
“You didn’t mention that last night.”
“No, I wanted to wait until I’d gone through every box of files that Gabby had found in the attic. I finished that about daybreak and ran a computer analysis with the dates of the missing files. The pattern emerged. Before and after that year, there are no missing files.”
“And the missing files are from the period of time when your father was sheriff?” The reason for his concern took shape in her mind.
“The inimitable Jake McQuaid. The man who never left a crime unsolved, at least never a record of one.” He spit the last words out, as if he hated the taste of them in his mouth.
“But you don’t know that there was a crime involving Kathy Warren.”
“No, but I know there was one involving Susan Hathaway. Somebody beat her to a bloody pulp and left her for dead on the side of the road. If my brothers and I hadn’t shown up when we did, she wouldn’t have lasted the night. That’s a crime, no matter who’s sheriff. And there’s no mention of it in any record I could find.”
“Your dad must have tried to find out who did that to her.”
“I’m sure he did.” He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, his eyes dark and impenetrable. “Unless he already knew. Unless there was some reason he decided to cover it up.”
Heather leaned against the counter, watching him in consternation. “You shouldn’t think like that about your father, Matt, not without good reason. It’s not healthy.”
“A man can’t help how he thinks.”
“That’s not true.” She moved toward Matt, but he turned away. She stepped behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. “Whatever’s between you and your dad is eating you alive. You have to let it go before it destroys you.”
“You know all of that in six days?” The sarcasm in his voice punctured her resolve.
“Maybe not. Maybe I don’t know you at all, Matt McQuaid. I know the man standing in front of me right now is not the man I made love with last night.”
He turned back to her, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen them, grim and brooding. The lines in his face were deep and drawn. “About last night...”
She put up her hands. “No, don’t start that routine where you tell me you’re sorry and it won’t happen again. I don’t buy it. Making love to me was right. It’s this pretending you don’t need anybody, not even your own family, that’s wrong. So, your dad was human and not the perfect legend everyone thinks. Get over it. At least you have a dad.”
She was shaking now, fighting back tears. She didn’t care. With all she’d been through in the last few days, she didn’t need this kind of garbage from the man who’d moved heaven and earth for her a few hours ago.
“I’m sorry, Heather. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.” He grabbed his hat from a hook by the door. “Be ready in thirty minutes. We’re going into town.”
The need to cry subsided as she washed the last of the dishes. She couldn’t solve Matt’s problems. He’d nurtured them too long, clung to them as a baby might a favorite blanket, taking a strange kind of comfort from his simmering resentment.
And he’d never even explained exactly why he resented his dad so much. B
ut if Heather had to guess, she’d bet it had to do with Susan Hathaway.
Susan Hathaway and her mother, both with histories that touched Dry Creek at the same time, a period when criminal records had never existed or else had disappeared. There had to be a tie there somewhere, but what would they have to do to uncover it?
She headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, the gentle ache in her thighs the only reminder that last night had been the most wonderful of her life.
MATT MADE A LIST of necessary chores for his neighbor’s son to take care of that day, things he’d originally planned to do himself while on vacation in Dry Creek. Instead he was spending his days working a puzzle where all the edges were jagged and nothing slid into place.
His nights... They were his biggest problem. Last night, to be specific. Heather saw this as a simple problem of a rift between father and son. Hell, if that was all it was, it wouldn’t have been a big deal. He’d have gotten on with his life, forgetting he even had a father. Until Heather had fallen into his life, he practically had anyway.
The problem was not bad blood that stood between them but the blood that ran through their veins. He was like Jake McQuaid in too many ways, in all the ways that counted. His brothers Cy and Cameron were the lucky ones. They were different, always had been.
A human thread ran through them that had bypassed Jake and Matt. They had felt the same way he did about their father once, at least they’d claimed to, but they had never crawled inside themselves the way he and Jake did, didn’t have trouble showing emotion, talking out their concerns.
Maybe that’s because their mom had died. She hadn’t chosen to leave them the way Matt’s mom had, walking away from her son just so she didn’t have to put up with the dark moods of Jake McQuaid or the sterile life he gave her.
Not that Matt remembered that. He’d figured it out from the little bit his dad and brothers had told him when they thought he was old enough to understand. The truth was he had no memory of his mom at all, and he blamed Jake McQuaid for that. Jake had robbed him of ever having known the woman who gave him birth.
