by Ann Major
She frowned. Were her feelings for Cole so obvious?
On that note, what exactly were her feelings for Cole?
Kinky took her to the Golden Spurs Research Center, the museum and the horse barn. They talked to experts about environmental research, cattle breeding, quarter horse bloodlines, and wildlife habitat, but during the long day when she became bored and dispirited, she realized she missed Cole.
Oh, God. What was happening to her?
The roar of Cole’s plane’s engine on the flight back to the ranch was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. John sat on his left, but Cole was hardly aware of him. Ahead, a brilliant sliver of burnt orange sun hung above the wild brush country and set it ablaze. Thorny brush that had been sculpted into graceful, flowing shapes by the roller choppers glowed amber, pink and violet and cast flickering dark shadows across the pastures.
Hell, Cole wished he was down there chasing a wild bull. If only his life could be that simple again. But things were getting more complicated by the minute.
What Leo had told him in San Antonio was highly disturbing.
In the hope of coming up with an answer, he relived the meeting.
“There’ve been too many accidents centered around you, Cole,” Leo had said over black coffee as soon as they’d sat down together.
“First, there was the plane crash that took Mia’s life. You and Caesar, not Mia, were supposed to be on the flight,” Leo reminded him.
“So?”
“I’ve got a hunch that you and he were supposed to go down without a trace. Not Mia. Now all of a sudden Caesar’s out of the picture. Very convenient for somebody.”
“You’re not saying that I—”
“Maybe.”
Cole shot out of his chair.
“Maybe not. I want your brain on this, not your emotions. Ever since the plane crash, you’ve been in one hot spot after the other. Ever wonder why?”
“How the hell—”
“You started that burn last January.”
Cole, who had returned to his seat, flushed. He hadn’t told anybody, not even Leo, about his blackouts.
“The piles got too hot for some reason.”
“You nearly died. Maybe you were supposed to.”
Cole didn’t say anything. When he’d come to after starting the burn, he’d been trapped in a firestorm and had had to run for his life. If the creek hadn’t been running, if the fire had been slower, he would have died for lack of oxygen.
“Then there were the two truckloads of cattle you shipped to market that vanished two months ago.”
Leo’s black gaze drilled him. Suddenly Cole felt like a bug in an airless bottle. Pressure built in his lungs until he had trouble breathing.
“What the hell are you getting at?”
“Relax. If I was sure you were behind all this, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Leo paused as if he were choosing his words carefully. “Here’s the real bomb, old friend. TSCRA’s computer system discovered that the brand and tag data sent to them from a cattle auction in Crockett, Texas, matched our missing cattle’s brands and tags.”
“This is great news.”
“Except for the thief.” Leo’s black eyes were so intense again, Cole’s gut clenched. “You’ll never guess who the seller is.”
Cole’s bowels turned to water. “It isn’t me?”
“You got it.”
Cole shot out of his chair again. “You wait just a damn minute—I didn’t steal those cows!”
“No, you wait. Like I said, I need your brain, not your emotion. If I thought you’d do something that stupid, you wouldn’t be here. Still, we’ll need to do an audit of your records, including your bank accounts, as a step toward clearing you. I’ll want to know about any trips to Mexico or anywhere else out of the country you’ve been.”
Cole’s heart was still pounding as he sank back into his chair again. “Sure. Anything.”
“Now the plot really thickens. Yesterday a Houston detective, Joe Phillips, sent a local officer by our offices. He said they’ve run the plates on your truck and they think it’s the one that was seen by one of Cherry Lane’s neighbors before she vanished.”
“That’s bullshit. They’ve got two or three lousy numbers. Why would I go near her?”
“Let’s look at this from another angle? All our trucks are black. Suppose someone switched license plates with you for a spell. Would you have noticed? What if somebody’s trying to set you up?”
“To get rid of me you mean,” he muttered, his voice harsh and cold.
“Maybe you’ve got more enemies at the Golden Spurs than you realize. Mia’s dead. Maybe somebody wanted you dead instead of her. Or maybe somebody blames you because she is dead. A lot of people don’t like the way you got Mia pregnant and forced her to sign over her stock as the price of marriage, either. Now it appears you’re getting friendly with Lizzy again. Maybe somebody thinks you’re becoming too powerful. You’re a Knight, you know.”
“Not to be trusted,” Cole said bitterly. Not that he had much sympathy or liking for the bastard he’d apparently been, either.
“Is there anything you have to add that would help me clear your name?”
Cole shook his head. No way was he about to confess about the blackouts.
“Then watch your back, old friend.”
Usually flying took his mind off his worries. Not today.
Had he gone back to Cherry Lane’s during one of his blackouts? Had he deliberately torched thousands of acres? Had he sold the cattle and put the money in a secret account in another country or something? If he’d done those things, what else might he do?
Who the hell was he really? A monster? He hated doubting himself. One thing he knew—he had to stay the hell away from Lizzy.
As always the sun sank too quickly in this south land. John and Cole were flying low over stubby green mesquite, hackberry, huisache and stunted oak trees. The land beneath them was unremittingly flat and usually so dry and harsh a man needed quite a few acres to run a single cow. Still, Cole loved it, especially from up here where he felt free and could really see it. Prickly pear cactus, spiny yucca, populated with cougars and coyotes and bobcats—he loved it all.
In addition to the blackouts and the mysterious accidents there was his tension about Lizzy. Every time he was with her, he wanted her more. The thought of seeing or not seeing her drove him crazy. Ever since they’d had sex, she was on his mind all the damn time. He was like a rutting teenager, and she wanted nothing more to do with him.
What the hell was sex, anyway? Why the hell couldn’t his fucked-up brain just forget it? Hell, it damn sure forgot everything else.
He’d screwed her, and he still wanted her. She didn’t want him.
So, get over it. Find another woman.
He didn’t want another woman. One of the flaws in his nature was he was stubborn and tenacious. He knew what he wanted.
The self-serving bastard he’d been before the plane crash had always known what he wanted, or so Eli and the rest of the big mouths on the ranch told him every damn chance they got.
His daddy had been a no-good drunk, who’d lost his family’s ranch to Caesar Kemble, and Cole had wanted a stake in the Golden Spurs. A big stake. Fortunately he’d been better at poker than his daddy. He made part of the money to start his own business by winning at poker. He’d married Mia. He’d fathered Vanilla. He had lots of stock in the ranch now. Lizzy had virtually given him full command of the place, as well.
But the Golden Spurs wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted Lizzy.
Forget her. For her own good, forget her. There were grave reasons why he should stay away from her.
He stared down at the land to distract himself, but all he thought of was her. The trouble with empty country was it put a man in touch with his soul—and made him see more clearly.
In cities, which Cole normally detested, a man could go to the theater or out to dinner with friends, or merely roam the streets
on foot or in his truck. He could distract himself. He could visit bookstores or pace in malls or drink in bars. Here, the nearest town of any size was forty-five miles away. Not that Chaparral even approached being a city.
There was a town square with a historic courthouse, a few lousy bars, a movie theater with uncomfortable seats that were falling apart, a grocery store and about ten gas stations and fast food burger places. Forget shopping. There wasn’t even a Wal-Mart.
Why did it always have to be this way for him? All his life he’d been labeled a villain and had had some hunger eating him alive.
There was no future in wanting Lizzy. Maybe she had come home for now, but she wouldn’t stay here. She wanted bright city lights and a sophisticated man like that no-good Bryce character, who’d been dissatisfied with her.
Not that Cole was right for her. He knew that.
He had to leave her alone, damn it—if it killed him.
It was because he had to leave her alone, he’d made a date tonight with a willing woman—Susan Johnson, the sexy secretary who worked at the private airstrip where he kept his plane. Suz was Hal Johnson’s daughter, and she loved the ranching life as much as he did. Suz had lovely dark hair and a sweet smile, and she’d been after him ever since Mia died. She was good with kids, too. Vanilla clapped every time she saw her.
He was supposed to have dinner at Suz’s house at seven tonight. This morning before he’d flown to San Antonio, she’d made quite a point of telling him Hal was away for the whole weekend. No doubt she’d try to entice him into her bed.
Good. Maybe he’d let her. Maybe sex would take his mind off New York and Lizzy.
Two hours later when he got home, Sy’rai told him Walker had shown up and gone down to the museum to check on the progress on the mural.
“Finally,” he told her. “I need all the help I can get with that. I don’t know much about art, but Walker’s a genius in that department.”
“You eating here tonight, Mr. Cole?”
“I’ve got a date.”
Sy’rai raised her eyebrows and smiled, coaxing him to say more, but thankfully she didn’t ask for details. Still, to avoid prying questions, Cole quickly marched upstairs, only to pause as he always did on her floor. This evening, though, it was a mistake because he caught her scent, and it got him hard and hot—and not for Suz.
Storming up the rest of the stairs, he slammed his door, sank against it for a long moment before he ripped off his clothes and headed into the long cold shower.
Dressing quickly again, he strode over to his mirror and ran a comb through his wet, black hair. As usual he wore clean, creased jeans and a long-sleeved, starched white shirt. The only thing he’d done differently was to put on his best boots. He was sliding the comb into his back pocket when he heard the tentative knock on his door.
A soft voice that sent a shiver through him merely said, “Cole?”
But that was enough to make the skin on the back of his neck tighten.
Lizzy? What the hell was she doing up here?
Knowing she was there electrified him. In two long strides he was across the room. His hand went to the doorknob, but then as if he were afraid of her, he just stood there. Damn. Almost angrily he flung the door open so hard it would have banged if he hadn’t caught it at the last second.
At his unexpected violence, Lizzy jumped back from him and then stood in the dark hall, looking white-faced and young and very sexy in skintight jeans and a blue-checkered halter top. Her bluish-lavender eyes were huge and luminous even though she couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. Her shiny platinum hair fell loosely about her shoulders.
Was there anything more attractive in the whole world than a pretty blonde?
“The telephone rang a while ago,” she said. “It was for you.”
Damn if he couldn’t see her nipples under the thin material of that halter. “I must have been in the shower,” he said grumpily, scowling at her.
“Somebody named Suz,” she whispered, flinching a little and backing away from him even more, her hand involuntarily covering the breast he’d been staring at.
He tore his eyes from her. “Thanks.” He tried to shrug carelessly, but his body felt huge and awkward. His manhood hardened. Hell, she had him in knots. “I’ll give Suz a call. First thing.”
“She left a message. Do you want to know what she said?”
Hell no. He wanted to end this impossible conversation before he acted on his feelings and did something wild—like kissing her.
“Shoot,” he said, his low voice cool and indifferent.
“She’s running late. She says not to come over until seven-thirty.”
“Thanks.”
Lizzy stepped closer so that she was standing in the pool of light spilling into the hall from the lamp in his bedroom. It lit up her hair, turned it to silver, made her look so sexy and ethereal…like the wanton creature from one of his wet dreams. With a slim fingertip she began to play with a silken strand of her hair.
Even her hands were gorgeous. And he could smell her. Lavender tonight, he thought. Not roses.
Aware of the bed behind him, he felt a strange pull from her soft form and fought the almost overwhelming urge to move toward her, to touch her, caress her, first her hair and then her body.
She was so damned beautiful, he couldn’t stop staring at her. He wanted to seduce her, to make love to her for hours.
“Walker’s here,” she said.
“I know.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Not yet.”
“He’s having dinner with Mark,” she said.
“Right, the guy, who wears pink shirts and is doing the murals.”
“I went over there to check them out today,” she said. “Mark’s very good.”
“Right. Well, he should be.” Did this conversation sound as stilted to her as it did to him? “He’s got quite a name,” Cole muttered.
Willing her to leave, he assumed a hard, insolent expression. When that didn’t work, he took a long slow breath followed by another.
“Oh, and a sheriff’s deputy, Jay, came out and asked Kinky a lot of questions about your truck. He wanted dates as to when it’s been off the ranch. He wanted to know when you’ve been off the ranch, too. Wanted to know if you ever loaned it out.”
A chill went through him that left him feeling so cold and drained he wrapped his arms around himself defensively. “Do you think I’m a criminal now on top of all my other sins? Do you think I did something to that stripper? Do you?”
“No. Of course not. Why do you even ask?”
“All right. Then do you have something else on your mind?” he rasped.
Unconsciously she bit her lower lip, which seemed to be trembling all of a sudden, maybe from his harsh tone. She shook her head, but she kept standing there just the same.
“Well, then, darlin’?” He leaned down toward her pretty face, his very nearness an unspoken threat that he might kiss her. Lord, he wanted to. He wanted to so much he didn’t trust himself this close to her.
When she didn’t speak or move, he said, “I guess I’d better finish getting ready for my date.”
She licked those swollen, trembling lips of hers and refused to budge. He forgot about the sheriff’s deputy and his date with Suz.
“What do you want from me, girl?” he mumbled. “What the hell do you want?”
“Just to tell you…”
He held his breath.
She couldn’t seem to go on.
“You shouldn’t be up here, you know. I might get the idea you want more from me than you say you do. I might even think I should do something about it.”
Do you want me to do something about it, darlin’? Is that what you want? He took a step toward her.
Tearing her gaze from his, she ran lightly down the hall toward the stairs without another word.
He drew a long breath to try to recover his sanity. His hands shook by the time he closed the door. The ridge of swollen fle
sh against his fly hurt like hell. A full sweat broke on his brow, and he began to pace, swearing under his breath.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was stripping again. Unbuckling his belt, he ripped it out of the loops. He undid the buttons of his shirt and tore his shirt off. Next he yanked off his boots and jeans.
Then he was in the icy shower, jumping up and down and then beating the tiled walls with his fists as blasts of liquid, icy needles stung his overheated skin.
For her own protection, she’d better leave him alone.
Fourteen
“Hello, fantasy girl.” Cole pushed Lizzy ahead of him into the gilded elevator and then grabbed her slim wrist, which he lashed with a red velvet rope to a bronze hook on the wall.
Dry-mouthed and terrified as she stared at the wall, and yet sizzling from head to toe, Lizzy didn’t fight him when he tied her other hand to the opposite wall. Nor did she scream for help before the doors closed, and she was alone with him.
“What have we got here?” he whispered from behind her, caressing her neck with his lips and causing her to feel even more bone-deep heat. “How much is it going to cost me this time, hooker?”
His hands cupped and squeezed her breasts, his blunt fingers burning the tender mounds of plump flesh through the thin silken fabric of her sheer gown. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”
Lingeringly he kissed the hollow of her throat until she begged him to take her. Then he ripped the gown from her body, leaving her naked and exposed. But only for a moment. In the next, his big hands were all over her again, and his tongue was between her legs.
Spreading her thighs wider with his hands, he kissed her there for an endless time before standing up again. Then he yanked his zipper down and plunged inside her.
At that first delicious contact, Lizzy sprang awake, shivering even though it wasn’t cold at all.
“Oh, my God.” She felt shamed to the core. But also she felt a soul-deep emptiness and loneliness that he wasn’t in bed with her, too.
It was 2:00 a.m. How could she dream she was a hooker, selling herself to Cole Knight? Enjoying it? Wanting him still?
