“Only if you choose to go on the trail ride.” Jack’s voice sounded mechanical, every bit of emotion banked. “You may elect to walk away, thereby avoiding the search.”
“And thereby get fired,” she said, looking over her shoulder again, desperate to spot a familiar face.
“Maybe.” Jack spoke a little too agreeably. “Your employer agreed to all our privacy and security conditions. But you have the option to request that another agent search you.”
“Is there anyone else but him,” she asked, glancing at the sullen Kessler.
“No,” Jack said.
“You do it then.” She pulled in a fortifying breath.
Jack’s hands were quick but highly efficient. He found her tiny red pocket knife in less than five seconds. “I have to take this jackknife,” he said. “You’ll be provided with utensils at camp.”
“Is everything all right here?” Sharon Barrett’s exasperated voice sounded from the doorway of the barn. “Monty and Kate are my most trusted employees. Is this really necessary?”
Kate shot her boss a grateful look. She appreciated being labeled as one of the ranch’s most trusted employees, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She was a relatively new hire, still fighting for steady work.
Jack didn’t seem to give Sharon Barrett’s words much credence either. “Yes, it’s necessary, ma’am,” he said, busy pulling granola bars from Kate’s pockets.
He studied the ingredient list then carefully scrutinized each end, checking that the seal was intact. “You can keep these,” he said, after a moment.
“I have to insist my staff, not yours, pack the mules.” Sharon had stepped from the barn and was addressing Kessler. “That’s our protocol.”
“No,” Kessler said. “We’ll do it.”
“It’s okay,” Jack said, his attention momentarily shifting toward Kessler. “That’s a valid request. I’ll oversee them.”
Kate peeked at Jack. So he was some sort of bodyguard. His hair was close cropped beneath that cowboy hat. Probably she should have picked up on the haircut, as well as his sheer confidence. Certainly he’d swung her around the dance floor like he owned the building, as if everyone should give them room. When she’d met him by the pool, she’d been hit by a moment of breathlessness, a sense of danger. And Allie had thought him aloof.
But he’d given no indication he was anything but a guest, even when she asked how long he was staying. It was clear he’d purposely duped them. And most especially her. She was the one who’d been dancing with him all night, clinging to those muscled shoulders. And now he was pretending they’d never met. While she’d been obsessing over him, enough that he’d crept into her dreams.
She averted her eyes when he resumed the body search, staring stoically over the table, hoping the barn lights didn’t spotlight her flaming cheeks. But when he crouched down, his face close to the zipper of her jeans, it was impossible to ignore her rush of awareness. And when his thumbs brushed the juncture of her thighs, she gave an involuntary flinch, resenting the violation, resenting that she’d actually considered sleeping with this man. And that his impersonal touch still made her pulse kick.
He must have done this a lot. Obviously it wasn’t his first search. His stony eyes probably made even the most hardened criminal throw up their hands in surrender. What would he do when he found the big knife in her boot? Maybe she should confess before it was discovered.
But she didn’t like to imagine his displeasure. Or Kessler’s. And her boss was standing only fifteen feet away. Sharon would be annoyed that her rules hadn’t been followed. Kate might never be entrusted with any more trail rides, forever stuck in the kitchen and dance hall. Or worse, let go.
So she stood stock still, pretending to be composed while she agonized about what to do, just praying he wouldn’t find her boot knife.
Jack’s hands moved lower, skimming now over the sensitive spot at the back of her knees. Her skin itched; her muscles tightening beneath her jeans. It was hard not to wiggle, harder still to accept that her traitorous body was responding to his touch.
His hands slowed, lingered, feeling almost like a caress. Was it her imagination? Or perhaps he wasn’t quite as cool as he pretended.
“Not even dinner before groping, Jack?” she whispered, trying to distract him. She made sure to lower her voice though. Because even though she resented this man, she didn’t want to get him into any trouble with Kessler. And for some reason, Jack wanted to pretend they’d never met.
Jack’s head lifted, a hint of emotion flaring in his eyes. He dropped his hands and straightened.
“We’re finished here,” he announced. “You’re free to join Monty in the clearance area.”
“The clearance area?” She gave an exaggerated sigh, concealing her relief. “You mean the barn?”
“Exactly,” he said, and now there was definite amusement coloring those eyes. “The washroom in the barn is also cleared, should you wish to use it.”
She nodded, repacking her bedroll and zipping her bag, conscious of her big knife burning a hole in her boot. And she hadn’t escaped yet. She could still feel his watchful eyes. Seconds later though, her skin stopped tingling and she realized he was gone. It was as if both he and Kessler had faded into the dark, and only her boss remained.
“Sorry about that,” Sharon said, shaking her head in apology. “I wasn’t allowed to reveal any details. But it’s over now. Monty is in charge once you hit the trail, except in matters of security. Just be patient with them. Make it a fun ride.”
“Of course,” Kate said. “I assume those are the bodyguards. But who are we taking? A pop star? A paranoid actress?”
“No, just two seventeen-year-old girls.” Sharon gave a strained smile, one that looked torn between triumph and concern. “But one of them is the President’s daughter.”
CHAPTER SIX
KATE TOOK ANOTHER CURIOUS peek at the two girls. She’d seen pictures of Courtney, looking extremely polished, posing beside her father in front of the White House. But close up, the President’s daughter seemed like any other teenager. At least she appeared genuinely excited about riding in to see the wild mustangs. Her friend, Tyra, wasn’t quite as enthused. In fact, the last twenty minutes the girl had been sitting on her horse, doing nothing but complain.
“My stirrups are still too long,” Tyra whined. “It’s impossible for me to ride like this.”
“I’ll shorten them some more,” Kate said, noting Monty’s irritated expression. The three Secret Service men—Kessler, Jack and a stocky man named Logan—were more difficult to read. They were probably accustomed to constant demands, but surely they must be impatient as well.
It had been hours since Kate’s bag had been searched. The horses had been saddled before dawn. Even so, the sun was far over the horizon when the girls finally arrived, giggling and unapologetic about their tardiness.
Kate stepped back up to the left shoulder of Tyra’s horse. “A western saddle is going to feel different than riding English. But you’ll appreciate the longer stirrups by the end of the day.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Tyra snapped. “I’m an experienced rider. So shorten them another inch. I didn’t realize these horses would be so small.” She wrinkled her nose, not even deigning to look down at Kate.
Kate kept a diplomatic smile. In fact, Slider, the palomino gelding Tyra rode, was one of the ranch’s tallest horses, almost sixteen hands high. She’d overheard the girls talking about riding warmblood hunters over fences in Washington, and those sport horses were huge. And while most horse lovers naturally had a breed preference, by the end of the day guests were usually impressed with their mounts, grateful for the ranch horses’ ability to carry them safely and willingly over challenging terrain.
“Smaller quarter horse types are handier on the trail,” Kate said.
But Tyra didn’t answer. Didn’t seem to even be listening. She hadn’t spoken directly to anyone but Courtney, not even to Sharon Barrett w
ho was holding the mules and anxious to see them off. Usually obnoxious riders were asked to tone it down, or politely pointed toward alternate activities. But this was a different situation.
Monty was making no effort to hide his impatience, mounting and dismounting twice, and Kessler kept scowling at the dining hall where early rising guests were beginning to appear. It wouldn’t be long before someone wandered down to the paddocks, potentially recognizing Courtney and sparking a media frenzy.
Kate tried to hurry. But Tyra’s leg was clamped against Slider’s ribs, making it impossible to reach underneath to adjust the stirrup. And the horse was fidgety, unaccustomed to the leg pressure or the unusual delay. Kate edged Tyra’s boot a little further toward Slider’s shoulder, then used both hands to work the thick leather from the buckle. This was the fifth time she’d adjusted Tyra’s stirrups—on three different saddles—and if the goal was to ride out before sunup they’d already blown it.
“Can’t you hurry it up?” Kessler snapped. “The plan was for no one to see her.”
“This saddle is worse than the second one,” Tyra announced, looking at Courtney. “Don’t you think I should switch again? We both know how awful it is to ride in cheap tack. Anyway I like the color of the first saddle better.”
Courtney shrugged with indecision. She hadn’t been nearly as hard to please, but the girls had already been at the barn an hour and it was obvious she deferred to her more vocal friend. Of the two, it was clear Tyra needed more coddling.
Kate felt Jack’s presence seconds before he leaned over her shoulder. He grabbed the stirrup, his fingers brushing her hand. He jammed the buckle in, not even pretending to adjust the length.
“All set,” he said, his voice implacable. “You’re ready to ride now.”
Tyra looked at him, then did a double take. It was as if she’d never seen the bodyguard before, although Kate couldn’t understand how she hadn’t noticed a man like Jack.
“Does it really look okay?” Tyra asked, but her pink cheeks made Kate realize the girl wasn’t quite as confident as she pretended.
Jack nodded, the corners of his mouth actually lifting in a gorgeous smile. “Yes, that saddle is perfect. And the light color matches your horse’s mane, along with your hair.”
It was the same charm Kate had experienced last night, the same smile Jack had bestowed upon her—the one she thought so special. Obviously this man could turn it on and off at will. Clearly he wasn’t just a fake, he was color blind as well. Slider was a palomino with a white mane and tail. While Tyra was most definitely a brunette, with hair almost as dark as Kate’s.
Kate turned and strode toward the mules. Tyra remained silent, apparently flattered by Jack’s attention, not even questioning why he hadn’t adjusted her stirrups. There was no more talk about her cheap saddle or the too-small horse. In fact, Tyra quietly fell into line beside Courtney, still darting peeks at Jack.
“Let’s go,” Monty called, guiding Banjo toward the trees.
Kate took the reins from Sharon, pausing to give her patient mule an apologetic pat. “Thanks for holding the mules so long,” she said, placing her foot in Belle’s stirrup and swinging her leg high to avoid hitting the bulky saddle bags.
“I wanted to see her off,” Sharon said, her gaze following the riders who were already forty feet away. “I still can’t believe someone from the First Family is riding here.”
She shook her head and turned back to Kate. “Please help Monty as much as you can. Tyra might be difficult but the girls need to have a good time. This visit will put the ranch on an entirely new level. No matter their behavior, I know I can trust you to take care of them in a responsible and discreet way.”
Kate fought a spike of discomfort. She definitely would be discreet but she also lacked any real authority. What if the girls were totally wild? Drugs weren’t allowed on the trail, but these two were seventeen. Judging by the way they’d been giggling when they arrived, this ride represented freedom, an adventure far removed from the public eye. And from their friends, their teachers, their parents.
“Were the girls’ bags checked as well?” Kate asked. “You know, for...drugs or alcohol?”
“Oh, I’ve been assured there won’t be a problem like that.” Sharon waved her hand in dismissal. “But you know how impatient Monty can be with frivolous demands. You’re more diplomatic, and people respect you. Just keep them happy.”
“Okay,” Kate promised, giving Belle’s neck another pat. The three mules had been standing for over an hour, fully packed and loaded. That was irritating and unnecessary. But Sharon owned these animals, not her, and if her boss didn’t mind, she shouldn’t either.
“Once we’re away from the ranch,” Kate said, “they can’t get into much trouble. I’m sure Tyra will relax. And it must be hard, dealing with that many hovering agents.”
“They’ve set up a command centre in the Look-Off,” Sharon Barrett said wryly. “So we have six more agents there. I assured them no one else at the ranch would even know Courtney’s identity. You and Monty were very composed through the search and everything. Sorry I had to keep everyone in the dark. That was one of their stipulations. You better leave now,” she said, stepping back, “or you and the mules will never catch up.”
Kate turned the ever-patient Belle toward the receding line of riders. She tugged on Gus’s lead rope, checking that the two pack mules were following. Gus was directly behind Belle and the third mule, Bubba, was tied to Gus’s tail with a breakaway knot. Both pack mules were moving but they didn’t look happy about leaving. They stretched their necks out, keeping their steps as slow and unhurried as possible.
But that was all right. Staying a careful distance behind the string of riders was her preference anyway. She wouldn’t have to make conversation, wouldn’t have to hide her growing aversion to Kessler, and best of all she wouldn’t have to see Jack. And be constantly reminded that he’d charmed her every bit as easily as he had a seventeen-year-old girl.
CHAPTER SEVEN
KATE RELAXED IN THE saddle, savoring the fresh forest breeze. They’d only been on the trail for half an hour but already she felt more at peace, any lingering worries about misbehaving children, vulnerable animals and job security melting away. Riding at the back of the line also gave a delightful amount of privacy, something she rarely experienced at the ranch. Horses were always in more of a hurry than her mules, so sometimes she was so far back she lost sight of the other riders.
On those occasions, Belle’s ears shot forward and the mule quickened her walk, reluctant to lose sight of her equine companions. Earlier she’d tried to trot to catch up, but Kate had quickly checked her. The two mules following Belle were heavily loaded and there was no sense banging the packs around and possibly chafing their backs. Besides, the three mules had each other for company, and Kate knew she’d have plenty of time to talk to the girls in camp.
The order of the ride was now established. Monty led the way on Banjo, followed by Courtney and Tyra, and then the three protective men. Earlier Kessler had ridden second in line. But Courtney had asked to ride closer to the front where there was a better chance of spotting wildlife. The girls’ excited voices every time they flushed an animal—deer, rabbits and most recently, a noisy partridge—made Kate smile, and it was a relief to be around guests who didn’t want to kill everything that moved.
She guided Belle around a protruding branch on the trail, checking over her shoulder to make sure the pack mules skirted the obstacle. It was impressive how fast they learned the size of their loads and the necessary clearance needed to avoid scraping. Mules were the perfect pack animal, strong and smart about not catching their packs or getting hung up on a tree branch. They weren’t as flighty as horses either and didn’t have such a tendency to bolt when scared. Belle certainly wouldn’t shy at a slipping saddle and tumble off a cliff.
Kate stiffened, ever so slightly, but it was enough that Belle took it as a signal to trot. The two mules behind her immedia
tely followed suit, their packs thumping with the increased speed. Kate let Belle trot for a moment, by way of an apology, sorry that she’d given her mount such mixed signals. She was usually a quiet rider...or at least she used to be.
Ahead of her, Jack turned his horse and waited on the trail. “Everything okay back there?”
“Yes,” she called, hoping he’d turn and ride on.
He didn’t. He kept his horse stopped in the middle of the trail, waiting for her to catch up.
“Mules can be hard to handle,” he said, as she approached. His gaze flickered over the pack train and then back to her face. “But you look like a pro.”
“All the ranch animals are well trained,” she said.
“Yeah, everyone seems happy with their horses. And their saddles.” His mouth didn’t smile but something resembling mischief sparked in his eyes, making him look more like the man she’d been so entranced with last night. And completely removed from the granite-faced bodyguard who’d frisked her this morning.
He was definitely a good actor, an ability he’d no doubt honed with his job. But she wasn’t fooled by this new attentiveness. They both knew it wasn’t her well-being he was checking. It was the mules. Not only did they carry all the food, but the agents had also loaded their communication equipment into the panniers, apparently intending to make regular status reports.
“I appreciate you checking,” Kate said, her voice cool. “But your food and supplies are quite safe. And you don’t have to worry. I won’t let Kessler know we met last night.”
Jack turned silent. However his reins tightened and it was apparent he was holding his horse back, forcing Dusty to walk alongside Belle.
“I wasn’t sure how to play it,” he said. “That was my mistake. I thought you worked in the kitchen.”
“I help out there sometimes. What does it matter?”
He didn’t speak, and she glanced sideways again. His face was stiff, his expression almost apologetic. And she remembered how his questions had centered on Monty, the wranglers, and any new guests.
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