Cattleman's Honor

“Can I call Dad?” he asked as he carried his dishes to the counter.

“Sure, after you’re done with your homework. Just don’t talk too long.” She hoped, for David’s sake, that Stuart would be home this time, since returning David’s calls didn’t seem to be a priority.

While David stacked their dishes, she began running water into the sink, followed by a squirt of liquid soap.

“When are we getting a dishwasher?” he asked as he put the leftover salad in the refrigerator.

“After I get the bill for remodeling the studio,” she replied. She’d spent a big chunk of her settlement for this place, and she was cautious by nature. “Until then, we do it the old-fashioned way.”

Wrinkling his nose at the sinkful of bubbles, he grabbed a towel. “I’ll dry.”

Two days later Emily was in her office going through the mail when she heard someone knocking. Figuring the contractor must be back from town, where he’d gone to buy more supplies, she hurried through the living room and opened the door without bothering to look out the window.

Standing on her porch was a tall man wearing a black cowboy hat. Speechless with surprise, Emily stared over the top of the reading glasses perched on her nose. His familiar green eyes widened and then his serious expression relaxed slightly. How could the same lines that detracted from a woman’s beauty look so fantastic on a man?

“Ms. Major,” he said, touching the brim of his hat with his fingers, “we meet again. I’m Adam Winchester. We more or less ran into each other at the feed store the other day.”

How had he found out her name and tracked her down so quickly? And why had he bothered?

As he waited with an expectant expression, Emily pulled the door partially shut and blocked it with her foot, suddenly aware of her isolation from the main road as well as her neighbors. This wasn’t L.A., and the man was probably harmless, but he had gone to the trouble of seeking her out, and she wasn’t taking any chances.

“What do you want?” she asked without returning his smile.

His jaw hardened in response to her lack of welcome, and his gaze narrowed, drawing attention to his thick, dark lashes and emphasizing the creases fanning out from his eyes. “There’s something important you and I need to discuss,” he said forcefully.

Some women would undoubtedly find his interest complimentary, his determination flattering, but Emily was merely annoyed by his persistence. In California she’d been surrounded by truly beautiful women, and she’d been married, so men hadn’t been standing in line to flirt with her. Perhaps here in rural Colorado any reasonably attractive woman was fair game, but the last thing Emily had time for was an admirer, especially one who might prove to be obstinate. The best thing for both of them would be for her to make it clear this man was wasting his time.

“I’m sorry you’ve come all this way for nothing,” she said with a dismissive curving of her lips as she shifted the door shut a couple more inches. “It’s nothing personal, believe me.” As her gaze left his to inadvertently sweep over his long, lean body, she felt a tiny shiver of regret. If she’d been in the market… Her visitor was a walking, talking cowboy fantasy, the total opposite of her sophisticated, successful ex-husband.

“I’m sure you’re a very nice man,” she continued briskly, before he could respond, “and you’re certainly attractive, but I’ve just moved in. and I really don’t have the time or the interest in getting to know you better. If you’ll excuse me—”

Before she could close the door the rest of the way, his hand, clad in a worn leather work glove, shot out and held it open. “I hate to burst your bubble, Ms. Major,” he drawled, amusement evident in his eyes, “but I’m not here on a social call.” His gaze touched her body in a way that left her feeling as though she’d been thoroughly frisked. His smile was back, but it was mocking. “You’re an attractive woman, and I hope you won’t take this personally,” he continued, parroting her words outrageously, “but my visit is strictly business. I’m here to buy your land.”

Chapter Two

Adam watched the woman’s cheeks turn pink as she absorbed his last statement, and he wondered whether he should have pandered to her assumption that he’d taken a personal interest in her. She was certainly pretty, even with those silly wire-rimmed glasses perched on her pert little nose and a streak of dust down one cheek, but he would prefer a woman who wasn’t quite so confident of her own appeal as to assume he’d followed her home like some lovesick pup.

“You’re here to buy my land?” she finally echoed, her death grip on the door relaxing enough for him to gently pry it back open. A frown marred her forehead. “But it’s not for sale.”

He’d come prepared to negotiate, and he refused to be distracted by the way her full lips shaped each word she spoke. “Everything’s for sale if the price is right,” he replied. “I’ll give you ten percent over what you paid Ed Johnson. Why don’t you let me come in, and we’ll finalize the deal right now.” He wasn’t sure what her connection was to the previous owner, but the only possible reason for her to buy the twenty-acre parcel, surrounded on three sides by Winchester land, was to turn a quick profit. Why else would she be here?

He’d actually taken a step forward before he realized she wasn’t exactly welcoming him into her home. Nor did she appear the least bit impressed by his offer.

“I might be able to go a little higher,” he admitted grudgingly, “but keep in mind that I’m probably the only interested buyer you’ve got, and my generosity only goes so far.”

“Why are you so determined to buy my piddling twenty acres?” she asked. “From what I’ve seen, there’s enough open land in this state to go around.”

Adam thought fast while he returned her stare. The reason for his interest was no secret. Why was she pretending ignorance? To throw him off guard?

“My brothers and I own The Running W,” he explained, fairly sure he was only repeating what she must already know. “Your land nearly cuts our spread in two, and it’s got water we need for our cattle.” His senses recognized her perfume from their last encounter, but the distraction was more irritating than enticing. “Let’s not dance around the campfire,” he added without bothering to conceal his impatience. “Name your price. I’ve got things to do.”

Removing her glasses and folding them carefully, she drew herself up to her full five and a half feet. The curls on top of her head quivered as she thrust out her chin. In its center was a shallow dent that looked as though it had been put there by a sculptor’s touch.

“What part of no didn’t you get?” she demanded. “My place is not for sale.”

Adam sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “Call me Adam,” he suggested. “And I didn’t catch your first name.”

“I didn’t throw it.”

Releasing his hold on the door, he folded his arms over his chest, lifted his brows and waited, a maneuver that worked as well with his fifteen-year-old daughter as it did with his ranch hands.

It didn’t work now. “Good day, Mr.—”

“Winchester!” he reminded her right before the door was shut firmly in his face. “Adam Winchester.” It took him a full ten seconds to realize he was staring at the painted panel like a fool. Once he’d recovered, he spun on his boot heel with a muttered oath and stomped back down the steps, irritated but undaunted.

Ultimately he’d get what he wanted. When it came to the ranch he usually did. He rarely misjudged an opponent. The little blonde with the big brown eyes might have distracted him temporarily, but she was no match for Winchester determination.

Halfway to his truck, Adam glanced over his shoulder in time to see the front curtain drop back into place. “I’ll be back,” he muttered as he settled his Resistol more firmly on his head. “We’re not done yet.”

Plastered against the wall next to the window where she’d ducked to avoid being caught gaping, Emily pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a groan of embarrassment. What on God’s green earth had possessed her to jump to the narcissistic conclusion that Adam Winchester had tracked her down because he’d been dazzled by her feminine charms—and why had she humiliated herself further by telling him?

What must he be thinking? Thanks to her impetuousness, he’d have an amusing story to tell his cronies around the campfire, or wherever cowboys hung out these days. Perhaps it was the rustic saloon she and David had driven by on their arrival. The only thing that could have increased her embarrassment even more would have been for Winchester to catch her watching his departure with her nose pressed to the window.

Good thing that when it came to men with sexy eyes, a killer smile and great buns, Emily was immune—totally, terminally uninterested, especially when the man was also insufferably arrogant, assuming he could waltz in here and demand that she hand over to him this place she already loved.

If her little section of Colorado was so crucial to her neighbor’s operation, why hadn’t Mr. Johnson sold it to him instead of going to all the trouble of advertising out of state? When she’d bought the land, she’d had no idea anyone else would be interested, but it was obvious now that Adam Winchester would have paid more than she had.

Before accepting Emily’s offer, Mr. Johnson had insisted that she make him an unusual promise. He hadn’t given her an explanation for his request, and she’d been reluctant to pry, but after Adam Winchester’s visit today she was certainly curious. She doubted the promise was legally binding, but that didn’t matter. When she gave her word, she tried her best to keep it.

The whine of David’s motorbike cut through her thoughts like a chainsaw through butter. She opened the door as he pulled up beside the porch in a cloud of dust and killed the engine.

“How was school?” she asked when he’d removed his helmet.

David swung one long leg over the bike. He came up the steps without meeting her gaze, the helmet tucked under his arm. “It was okay,” he said in a flat voice as he brushed past her.

One of the reasons she’d agreed to let him ride his bike instead of catching the bus was that she’d hoped he’d get involved in some after-school activities. Unfortunately, nothing about the new school seemed to interest him so far, not the kids, his new classes or anything else.

“Do you want a snack?” she asked as she trailed after him into the house. Over the last few days, she’d managed to unpack most of their belongings and make the living room presentable, but she had no idea whether her son had even noticed her efforts.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry,” he muttered. Before she could say anything else, he’d gone into his room and shut the door.

A teenage boy with no appetite? Something was seriously wrong. Emily sank onto the leather couch she’d brought from L.A. and stared at the opposite wall, which was blank. The house in Brentwood had been decorated by a big name interior designer Stuart had hired, but Emily planned to fix this one up herself. She’d hoped to enlist David’s help, but unless his attitude changed drastically, she couldn’t imagine him taking the slightest interest in picking out pictures and bric-a-brac.

She hadn’t done anything more about getting a dog, but she wanted to find one before she bought any livestock. She’d need a cat, too, once the remodeling in her workshop was completed. The contractor had promised to send a man out to repair the corral fencing next week. Fortunately, the small stable was sound. It would make a perfect home for the horses she planned to buy.

Emily hadn’t always been a city slicker. Growing up near Sacramento, she’d spent as much time as possible on horseback. Over the years she’d continued to ride on occasion. Stuart had never shared her interest—had even seemed to resent it—but she’d taught David to ride. His enthusiasm had waned in the past couple of years, but she hoped having horses of their own would revitalize it. He had to do something besides e-mailing his friends back home.

Meanwhile she removed the chicken from the refrigerator in order to fix his favorite dinner. It was nearly ready when he finally emerged from his room.