by Linda Turner
“Are you feeling all right? You look a little pale. You’re not sick, are you?”
He studied her with sharp eyes that missed little. Her gaze quickly dropping to her food, Lise silently cursed her expressive face and tried not to squirm. No! she wanted to cry, she wasn’t all right. Damn the man, why did he have to be so comfortable to be with? In spite of her best efforts to keep her guard up with him, he had a way of sneaking past it when she least expected it. Who would have thought he would like the Flamingo? The men she knew cringed every time they walked into the café, though they had no complaint with the food. And then there were his manners.
The man was a drover, for heaven’s sake. A stockman, a cowboy who bummed around the world in search of work. He could have been crude and rough and boorish, but he was nothing like that. He not only opened doors for her, he did it for every other woman he encountered, and he didn’t even seem to realize it. It was ingrained, as was his flashing smile and the way he carried heavier items for her without her having to ask for help. And she found that incredibly appealing—and far too dangerous for her peace of mind.
She should have brought someone else with her to help her—anyone else. The other men didn’t flirt with and tease her. They didn’t make her constantly aware of the fact that she was a woman. They didn’t make her wonder what it would be like to kiss them….
Suddenly realizing where her thoughts had wandered, she stiffened, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. If he guessed what she was thinking, she’d die right there on the spot. “I’m just tired,” she said stiffly. “This time of year’s always hectic, and I haven’t been getting enough sleep. I’ll be fine once I get my second wind.”
That sounded good, but Steve wasn’t buying it. Over the course of the day, she’d grown progressively quieter and more withdrawn, and he found himself missing the woman he’d ridden into town with. For the life of him, he didn’t know what had happened. Had he said something he shouldn’t have? Something that made her suspect his real reason for being there?
Frowning, he thought over everything he’d told her from the moment he’d met her yesterday, but he wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t think of anything he’d said that she would find suspect. After all, he’d been in the business a long time—he didn’t make those kinds of mistakes. He protected his cover at all costs. Which meant that something else had to be bothering her, something she didn’t want to talk about that had nothing to do with him.
“Maybe dessert would make you feel better,” he suggested. “The chocolate praline cheesecake sounds good.”
He didn’t know another woman who would have turned that down, but Lise was apparently made of sterner stuff than that. Pushing her barely touched beef away from her, she wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. “No, thanks. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
That effectively ended the conversation. He finished his meal. There was nothing left to do after that except pay the bill and head back to the station.
The ride home was nothing like the one to town. There were no childhood stories, no teasing, no laughter. The minute they got in the truck, Lise turned the radio to a news station, adjusted the volume to one that made conversation difficult and kept it that way for the next two hours.
Another man might have been discouraged, but not Steve. Settling back, he took advantage of the fact that she kept her eyes trained straight ahead on the road. Openly studying her, he said loudly, “You know, sometimes it helps to talk to somebody when something’s bothering you. It helps you get a different perspective.”
“Nothing bothering me,” she retorted.
“Oh, really? So you’re always this quiet.”
For the first time since they’d left Roo Springs, she took her eyes from the road long enough to spare him a glance. “Not everyone has to fill the silences with chatter.”
As far as zingers went, it was a good one. Impressed—and not the least insulted—he grinned. “That was good, boss lady. So is that what I’m doing? Chattering? Some women find it quite endearing.”
For a second, he thought he saw her lips twitch, but then she tossed her head and sniffed. “There’s no accounting for taste, is there? I guess that’s what makes the world go round.”
“I heard it was love.”
“You can’t believe everything you hear,” she said with a shrug. “It’ll get you in trouble every time.”
That was the first cynical statement he’d heard her make, and he had to wonder where it came from. Was that really what she thought of love? If so, he couldn’t say he blamed her. Stuck out here in the bush, she hadn’t had very much positive reinforcement when it came to relationships. In spite of the fact that her parents had supposedly adored each other, Simon had virtually abandoned Lise to the staff after his wife died and hadn’t had much to do with her since. What had that told her about love? That she wasn’t good enough? That she couldn’t expect to be loved if she wasn’t small and petite?
That was the biggest load of bunk Steve had ever heard in his life, and if he could have gotten his hands on Simon at that moment, he didn’t think he could have been held responsible for his actions. No one had a right to do that to a child.
One day soon, before his mission was completed and he left, he’d find a way to tell her she deserved someone better than Simon for a father, but today wasn’t the day. She’d already returned her attention to the road. Staring straight ahead, she ignored all efforts on his part to pull her into a conversation. Giving up in defeat, he, too, stared at the road that stretched endlessly before them and let the rest of the drive pass in silence.
Even though there were others at home to unload the truckful of supplies Lise had bought, she and Steve both stuck around to help. A stickler when it came to neatness and proper storage of foodstuffs, Cookie oversaw the grocery items that were brought into his kitchen and made sure everything was put away in the right spot. Then Lise drove the truck to the barn, where the ranching supplies were quickly unloaded and stacked in the storage area until they would be needed for the roundup.
Lise had been telling herself for hours that she couldn’t wait to get back home and put some distance between her and Steve, but now that the day and evening were over with, she was surprised to discover she was disappointed—which only annoyed her all over again. Damn the man, what was it about him that confused her so? No one had ever stirred her emotions so easily, and for the life of her, she didn’t understand why she continued to let him do it.
Frustrated, needing some time to herself to think, she turned to him stiffly as the rest of the men headed to the bunkhouse. “Thank you for your help today. I appreciate it.”
She didn’t look like she appreciated it. In fact, Steve thought in growing amusement, if her frown was anything to go by, she was glad to be well rid of him. And he had to ask himself why. What wasn’t there to like? He was a damn good-looking man. And modest, too.
Swallowing a chuckle at his silent ramblings, he said gruffly, “My pleasure. Any time, ma’am.”
Her eyes narrowed at that, but before she could come back with a quick retort, she obviously thought better of it. “Good night,” she said coolly. “It’s been a long day, so I guess I’ll turn in.”
Closing the door to the barn, Steve watched her walk to the house in the dark and found himself looking forward to tomorrow. He didn’t know what was going on inside her head, but he could count on her to make the time he spent there damned interesting. If the contents of Simon’s study turned out to be just as interesting, he’d be one lucky dude.
As soon as Lise reached the back porch and stepped inside the house, the porch light went out, and Steve found himself surrounded by the all-concealing blackness of the night. The other hands had gone to the bunkhouse, and for the first time in hours, he was totally and completely alone.
The house stood before him like a present waiting to be unwrapped, and as he watched the lights go out one by one, his fingers itched to find a way inside. He could sear
ch the study in the dark, and no one would be the wiser. All he had to do was give Lise and Cookie both time to fall asleep, and he could walk right inside. The door probably wasn’t even locked.
But even as he considered it, he knew the timing wasn’t right. When he’d slipped into the house that morning, he’d had little time to do anything except discover where the kitchen was, and the back stairs. He knew Cookie slept in the house, presumably off the kitchen, but he didn’t know where. If he tried a search tonight, it would be just his luck that he’d stumble across the old cook’s room by mistake, and blow his cover.
Patience, he reminded himself. A good agent didn’t rush the job. There was more than one way to get into the study. With a little help from SPEAR, Lise herself would invite him in. All he had to do was set things in motion.
Pleased with the idea, he slipped through the darkness like a shadow to the far side of the barn. Hidden by the concealing blackness of the night and out of earshot of the house and the bunkhouse, he quickly pulled his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. To the untrained eye, the plastic card he extracted from it looked like nothing more than a credit card that was slightly thicker than normal. Instead, it was a phone that allowed him to keep in touch with SPEAR from anywhere in the world.
All his senses on alert, he peered into the darkness to make sure no one had come looking for him, but the night was quiet and still. Nothing moved, not even the leaves on the trees. Satisfied, he ran his fingers over what appeared to be the numbers of a credit card, activating the phone. A split second later, he was connected to Belinda, his contact with the agency.
Not taking any chances that he might be overheard, he murmured as if to himself, “I wish Mom would call so I’d know how Dad is doing. Lise wouldn’t mind if I got a call on the house phone.”
“Your wish is my command,” Belinda retorted just as quietly. “Expect a call at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Not surprised when she hung up without another word, Steve slipped the fake credit card into his wallet, then headed for the bunkhouse. He’d done all he could do for tonight, and it had taken less than ten seconds. Now all he could do was wait. He might as well get some sleep.
When the phone rang at ten o’clock the following morning, Lise was at her desk in the study writing out the bills she would pay before the roundup started. Expecting a call from her father, she smiled and quickly answered it. “Hi, Dad. I was hoping you’d call this morning.”
For a moment, there was nothing but a surprised silence before a woman finally said hesitantly, “I’m sorry. I obviously have the wrong number. I was looking for Steve Trace. This is his mother. I was told I could reach him at Pear Tree Station.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Mrs. Trace,” Lise said, surprised. “This is the Pear Tree. I’m Lise Meldrum—I manage the station. If you’ll hang on for a minute, I’ll find Steve for you.”
“Thank you, dear,” the older woman said in a voice that seemed to be on the verge of tears. “I hate to put you to all this trouble, but I really need to speak to him about his father. He’s been sick, and I just need to talk to him.”
Lise hated to hear that. “Please, it’s no trouble,” she assured her. “You’re welcome to call here any time. Hang on while I put you on hold. I’ll find Steve as quick as I can.”
The second she put her on hold, she buzzed the equipment shed, where she knew Steve was working on one of the horse trailers that would be used in the roundup. “Hello,” he said on the second ring. “That you, boss lady?”
Since the phone line came straight from the house, she didn’t have to ask how he guessed it was her—Cookie had little reason to call the barn. Normally, she would have reminded him that she didn’t go by the name boss lady, but that seemed trivial now. “Steve,” she said huskily, “your mom called and is on the other line. She needs to talk to you about your dad. If you’ll come up to the house, you can take the call in the study so you won’t be interrupted.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said grimly, and hung up.
He arrived at the front door less than a minute later. Lise had never seen him so somber and subdued. His gray eyes dark with worry and his mouth unsmiling, he greeted her quietly. “Where’s the study?”
“In here,” she said quickly and showed him to the study to the left of the entrance hall. Paneled in dark, rich wood and furnished with man-size furniture that always reminded her of her father, it was one of her favorite rooms in the house. “Take as long as you need.”
She slid the pocket doors shut and never saw the smile that broke across Steve’s face as he turned toward the desk. All right! He was in!
Quickly settling into the big leather chair behind the desk, he reached for the phone. “Hi, Mom. Lise said you needed to talk to me about Dad,” he said, continuing the charade in case someone picked up an extension in another part of the house. “How is he?”
Belinda, as quick on her feet as he, said regretfully, “Not well, dear. Your father’s caught some kind of Turkish virus that the doctors here don’t seem to know anything about. I was hoping maybe you might be able to find out something about it there in Australia, since it’s a different country and everything. Your uncle Wally thought maybe you might try the Internet. Do you know how to do that?”
Searching through the desk drawers as he talked to her, Steve didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. The father Belinda spoke of wasn’t his, but Lise’s. Apparently, Simon was in Turkey, and no one knew why or what kind of trouble he was going to stir up. Uncle Wally—Jonah—was hoping that Steve might find some damning information in the Pear Tree’s computer files.
“I don’t know a lot about the Internet, Mom, or Lise’s computer. I’ve never used it before, but she probably won’t mind. Give me a moment to figure out how it works, and we’ll see what we can come up with.” Knowing that Belinda would understand that he was telling her this was his first opportunity to get in the study, he switched on the computer and quickly began searching the files.
“Damn!”
At his soft curse, Belinda said, “What is it? Bad news?”
“No,” he sighed in disgust. From what he could see, there wasn’t a single file that belonged to Simon. They all appeared to be for the station, though appearances could be deceptive. He’d have to go through every one of them to make sure their contents corresponded with their file names. “I just don’t see anything that would help Dad. Sometimes these things are hard to find, though. I’ll have to do some more checking.”
“I knew you would find a way to help, son,” she said, sighing in relief. “I’ve just been so worried about your father. He’s had quite a fever, and sometimes he feels like the walls are closing in on him. It’s a difficult thing to watch.”
So the SPEAR operatives were closing in on Simon, and he was feeling the heat, Steve thought with a grin. Good. It was no more than the bastard deserved. That wasn’t, however, something he could chance saying aloud. “You know I’ll do whatever I can, Mom, but I don’t know how long it’ll take. We’ve got a roundup starting at the beginning of next week, and everyone’ll be gone for two or three weeks. I’ll try to find something before then, but I can’t make any promises.”
It went without saying that he would try to slip back to the house to search it if he got the chance, and Belinda knew that. “I know you’re busy, honey,” she said. “Don’t jeopardize your job.”
Or your life.
Steve heard the message loud and clear and grinned. “You know me, Mom. I always play it safe.”
When she only snorted, he almost laughed aloud. They both knew nothing could have been further from the truth.
Hesitating outside the closed study doors, Lise told herself she wasn’t eavesdropping when she heard the deep, quiet murmur of Steve’s voice. After all, how could she be? She couldn’t understand a word he was saying. Not that she was trying to, she quickly assured herself. She was just staying close by in case his mother gave him bad news.
And what if she does? Then what are you going to do? a voice in her head demanded. Rush in and comfort the poor man?
No! Mortified at the thought, she hurried out the front door to the porch and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t caught her lingering in the front hall like a starry-eyed teenager waiting to catch a glimpse of the new boy in town. God knows what he would have thought.
Heat climbing in her cheeks, she sternly ordered herself to find something, anything, to do so she’d stop thinking about the man. She didn’t have to look far—only to the flower boxes that lined the front porch. The wilting plants—not even on a good day could she call them flowers—desperately needed a drink of water. Relieved, she grabbed the hose and went to work giving each plant a thorough soaking.
Later, she couldn’t have said what made her glance into the study window. She certainly hadn’t intended to. It was just…there. One second she was frowning at the most pathetic pansies she’d ever seen in her life, and the next, she was looking, straight into the window next to her father’s desk. And there was Steve, at the computer, frowning at the screen as his fingers flew over the keyboard.
Surprised, she stood there for what seemed like an eternity, a frown wrinkling her brow as she watched him talk to his mother on the phone. His back was half turned to her—he had no idea that she’d seen him—and before he could turn and find her at the window, she hurriedly made her way to the other end of the porch. And all the while, she couldn’t help but wonder what the devil he was doing.
It wasn’t that she minded him using the computer, she told herself with a frown. She’d just thought he was the type to ask first. Not only was it common courtesy, but computers were expensive and easily screwed up. She had all the station books on hers, and if he pushed the wrong keys, God knew how long it would take her to straighten things out.
