The Accidental Bride

No chatter. No cues of any sort. Totally reserved. But he looked as if he liked being in command of things around him.

Her brain began to race. Maybe he was a rancher with a few hundred thousand acres, which he personally supervised by Jeep and horseback. On the other hand he carried himself with an almost tangible sense of command. Slow, simmering charisma of a very alpha type.

An actor?

No, not an actor, Jilly decided. His face was too contained. Actors were always on stage, oozing energy and playing to an audience. This man looked as if he could keep his secrets very well. He would give orders, but he’d do it so smoothly you never knew you were being controlled.

Jilly frowned. Where had all that come from? She didn’t know the slightest thing about the man.

The big dog moved closer, nudging her hand for more petting.

“Okay, honey. You’re a big beauty, aren’t you? Want another long scratch behind the ears?”

The brown tail rocked hard and banged Jilly in the face as she knelt. “You love that, don’t you? Sure you do.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Are you from L.A.?”

“No.”

“Las Vegas?”

“No way.” He thought she was from Vegas? Hello?

“So where?” He slid his hands into his pockets, his eyes slipping to a darker shade of navy.

“I’m from Oregon, as it happens.” Jilly stared back at him. “I’ve been working in Scottsdale for the past few years. That’s in Arizona,” she said, feeling a little snide. “South of here.”

“I know where Scottsdale is.” He made it sound like a bad thing.

That cool, assessing way of his irritated her. “What’s wrong with Scottsdale?”

“Nothing. Not that I know of. Never been there.” He rolled his broad shoulders. “Pretty hot in the summer, I guess.”

“So are New York City and Houston and Washington, D.C. And they’ve also got humidity to crush your soul. Your point is?”

“No need to get riled.”

“Who’s riled?” Jilly glared at him. “I’m just throwing out some data here. You should visit Scottsdale before you pass offhand comments. It’s a great town. They have fabulous spas there.”

He tilted back his cowboy hat. “I’m not too big on spas.”

“Well, then there’s the hiking. You look like the outdoors type.”

“Could be.”

“Amazing resorts and world-class restaurants, too. I could name a dozen at least.”

Irritated, Jilly blew out a huffy breath. Why did this complete stranger make her so defensive and flustered? “And one more thing. You should scratch your dog’s head more often. Do it like this. Don’t you know about this little ridge?”

The maybe-rancher looked bemused. “Don’t think I do.”

“Well you should. It’s a great way to bond with your pet. It calms a dog and gives them sheer joy. Any dog.”

“I’ll remember that, ma’am,” the man said dryly.

Oh, sure he would. And the world was flat.

Jilly reached for her suitcase, glancing outside in search of a taxi.

Suddenly a truck backfired. At a terse command from the owner, the dog sat down and went absolutely still in what was clearly part of a familiar routine. All the playful energy vanished. All the good humor disappeared with that low order.

The dog did not move a single muscle, alert for the next command.

Jilly forgot all about her suitcase and stood up slowly. “Wow. How did you do that?”

“Good dog, good training. He rarely takes to strangers though.” The man frowned at the dog. “Odd. Probably it’s because he’s been cooped up for two flights back-to-back.”

“Ugh.” Jilly ran a hand through her hair. “I know just how he feels. Traveling can be hell.”

“I didn’t think you were a local.”

“Don’t get started on that again.” Jilly waved her hand toward the front of the airport. “I guess I’ll go find the taxis. I’m staying at Lost Creek Resort, wherever that is.”

“Not far. You’re too early for skiing,” the man said slowly. “No real snow will accumulate for a month or so. Not that it’s any of my business.” The man started to reach for his heavy duffel bag, murmuring to his dog as he leaned over. Then he swung around, frowning.

His dog was looking at Jilly with an expression that could only be called wistful.

“Winslow? We need to go.”

Ignoring him, Jilly leaned down to scratch his dog’s head and smooth the powerful shoulders. The big dog gave no sign of going anywhere, motionless under Jilly’s stroking hand, soaking up the attention.

“That’s another first.” The man shoved his hat back on his head. “He really does like you.”

There was something about the man that interested as well as aggravated Jilly. She sensed a story here, something that would explain his detached manner and why he didn’t like sharing anything about himself.

She gave a shrug. “Most dogs do. People not so much. And forget about skiing. I’m here for the cooking retreat.”

The cowboy frowned. “Didn’t know they had cooking workshops at the resort. But then I’m way out of touch. I don’t get into town all that much.” He looked away, his eyes on the horizon.

“Why not?” The words just slipped out.

His shoulders seemed to tighten. Then he ran a hand along his arm, almost as if it hurt him. “Lot of reasons.”

As she looked at that tanned, lean face, Jilly felt the little hairs stir along her neck. Probably it was from the cool mountain air. Or maybe it was exhaustion from traveling. But there was no mistaking the sharp sense of awareness that hit her when he turned, reaching down next to her to pet Winslow.

Jilly could almost feel the heat of his body. Or was that her imagination?

Did he feel this weird kind of sensation, too? No way to know. His face gave away nothing. He barely smiled.