The Consummate Cowboy

“Yeah, I am. I want some answers from you.” His direct gaze disturbed her, and she was again acutely conscious of him. The urge increased to push past him, but there was a forcefulness about him that held her immobile. And something more held her in place; her heart raced with a visceral awareness of his appeal as a male.

“I don’t see how I can be in danger or bring any jeopardy to you. No one is interested in me. And if someone is after my sister, I haven’t had any contact with her since the one phone call—and no one could know about that.” Emily answered in a clipped tone, annoyed that she was responding to him in an elemental way.

Zach gazed down into thickly lashed green eyes that were wide and guileless. He had told himself over and over to stay out of her problems. He didn’t need more worries. He had the children’s safety to think about. He didn’t need to take someone else under his wing. And never would he want to be involved with anyone who had the slightest connection to Amber. Stop questioning her, he scolded himself. Take the woman to her car in the morning, get her to the nearest motel and tell her goodbye.

And maybe he had developed a gut instinct for trouble. Somehow he felt she might jeopardize his life and the children’s. If Amber was involved with the wrong people, Emily could place herself in peril by asking questions about her sister. He didn’t want any part of the problem. He had no interest in seeing Amber again. He was starting to get his own life together, trying to get some stability into the lives of the kids. The last thing he needed was to bring danger to them. He looked down into innocent eyes and caught a scent of lilacs and spring flowers.

“I have to try to find Amber,” she said.

“You could get hurt badly—” he seemed to have a thought “—when did you get here?”

“I took time off work and drove. This afternoon I arrived in San Luis, met with Sheriff Nunez and talked to people in town. Why?”

“I just wanted to know who you’ve talked to, what you might have stirred up. If someone was following you, you wouldn’t know it.”

“Why would anyone follow me?”

“You don’t know what your sister was involved in.”

“No, I don’t.”

Satisfied with her answers, he moved away and got a pitcher of tea from the fridge. He poured it over ice in a tall glass and handed it to her. “Sugar or lemon?”

“No, thanks,” she answered in a subdued voice, watching him warily. He knew she was afraid of him and that suited him fine. He didn’t want to get too close to her. Drink a beer and go to bed and get rid of her in the morning, he silently told himself again.

But should he tell her about Jason? It was only a matter of time until she learned the truth.

Zach uncapped the beer, grabbed a chair and sat down facing her. She wasn’t the knockout beauty her sister was, but Emily was pretty. And she was sexy. He suspected she didn’t realize the latter, but he could feel electricity between them when he got close to her.

Amber had been incredibly sexy, but she had known it and flaunted it. He remembered seeing her last week in the bar in her low-cut, clinging red blouse, dyed blond hair piled high on her head, pouty lips. No man would forget her. Damn few could resist her. Heaven knows, he hadn’t been able to. But that was a long time ago.

He took a drink and then lowered the bottle, glancing across the table into Emily’s eyes. He was ensnared. She didn’t have the faintest idea how to search for her missing sister, and she didn’t seem to believe him about the danger.

Leave it alone, he reminded himself. Yet her eyes were focused on him with an intentness that made him uneasy. She might get hurt and that worried him—and it annoyed the hell out of him that it worried him.

“You’re not married?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Regular guy in your life?”

“No, there’s not.”

“I find that a little hard to believe.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—I’m entirely different from my sister. I don’t date a lot. I’m very busy with my work.”

“Where do you work?” he asked, thinking about what she had just told him. She didn’t date, hadn’t dated much. In spite of her direct gaze and sincere tone, he didn’t believe her. She was too poised, attractive and sexy to spend evenings alone.

“I work for Chicago Charities. It’s a privately funded organization that does charity work for families. We provide counseling, handle adoptions, and maintain a home for battered women. We work closely with city agencies.”

Zach stared at her, realizing she had been telling the truth when she insisted that she was different from her sister. Amber could never have held a job like the one Emily just described, nor would Amber want to. He began to see Emily in a whole new light. And he realized how dangerous that might be. The last thing on earth he wanted to feel was an attraction to a relative of Amber’s. His ex-sister-in-law, for Pete’s sake!

“Your title?”

“I’m executive director and I oversee the counseling, decide which families we will help, work on the adoptions, check on the women who are in the shelter. The executive committee and I decide how the money will be dispensed when there is a catastrophe and donations come in.” She added, “I love my work.”

He could imagine her in the kind of job she described. She looked soft, caring. A small light above the sink was the only illumination and it made a halo of her red-gold hair. Locks of it were still pinned to her head, but tendrils had fallen and curled around her face. He imagined all of it free and tumbling loosely over her shoulders.

“What did you do—take a few days off?”

“Yes. I haven’t taken a vacation since I started working there, so I have a lot of time coming—more than I plan to take.”

She looked much younger than Amber, he found himself thinking. At first he would have guessed Emily’s age at about twenty-three, but she had to be older to hold the job she described. He took another drink of beer. Stay out of her problems and get her on her way home, he reminded himself. His gaze swung back to her and worry was plain in her expression as she bit her lip and gazed beyond him.

He needed to avoid her dilemma, to keep to himself—to build a home and a haven. He had a ranch to run. And there was already a crowd. He had the two kids to protect and care for. And there was the retriever he had found near the highway. Plus the two mutts that had been abandoned, and the cat that had appeared from nowhere. He thought about Nessie who stayed with the children. He didn’t need to take another living thing under his roof, especially one so desirable.

“There’s a possibility your sister is with someone of her own choosing. She didn’t act like a frightened woman when I talked to her. Or like a woman on the run.” Before Amber had sat down beside him, he had seen her flirting with other men in the bar. “My advice would be to go home and wait a while. She’ll call. Believe me, she wasn’t frightened that night. Far from it. She was having a good time.” He felt like swearing as Emily’s dainty chin raised defiantly and her eyes blazed with determination.

“I talked to the bartender at the Red Rocket,” she said, “and he gave me a list of names of men who were there that night or who frequent the place. I want to ask them about Amber.” She ran her fingers across her forehead. “Do you have aspirin? My head is pounding.”

He stood and crossed to a cabinet to get a small bottle and bring it back to her. As she shook out two aspirin and took them, he pulled his chair around the table. “Turn around. I’ll massage your neck. Sometimes that works better than aspirin for a headache.”

After a momentary hesitation, she turned her back to him.

He spread his legs and moved his chair close behind her, again catching the faint scent of flowers in her perfume. Wisps of red hair curled against her nape as he began to massage her neck. He could feel the tension in her shoulders. Her bones felt delicate and as he kneaded her shoulders, she leaned her head forward and began to relax. Her flesh beneath his hands was warm and soft. He wanted to touch her, and he knew he was playing with fire by doing so. He removed a remaining pin from her hair and the last locks tumbled down.

She turned to slant him a frown over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” he said, amused that she was so bristly. “I’m giving you a massage. You feel better already, don’t you?”

She turned around without answering. He worked his hands into her hair, rubbing her scalp, massaging her slender neck. As he stroked her head, he heard a soft murmur from her, and a few minutes later a long, pleased sigh. With every sound of satisfaction she made, he felt his temperature rise. She wiggled slightly beneath his touch, stretching her back.

He worked his hands down her back until she twisted away from him.

“I hurt on my side.”

“From my tackle?” he asked, feeling a stab of guilt for being so rough with her.

“Yes,” she said, touching the ribs on her right side lightly.

“Does it hurt to take a deep breath?”

“A little.”

“Maybe I should take you to an emergency—”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice becoming softer as his hands moved across her shoulders and neck. “That does feel good. And the aspirin is working.”