Come Fly With Me

From the corner of his eye, he watched her climb the stairs, kicking himself for torturing himself so. He shook his head. I’ve got too many things to do as it is without an attractive woman to distract me. “Dinner will be ready at six sharp.”

“Fine, I’ll see you then,” she said cheerfully.

When she was well out of earshot he muttered, “Everything was fine, before you showed up.”

“Boy, that was telling him, Lisa. ‘Set him straight once and for all,’” she mimicked her own words as she walked down the hall. “What’s gotten into me?” She framed her warm face with her cool hands. “Adam MacIntyre is no more than an assignment. An assignment I can’t afford to botch.”

Lisa turned into the third room on the right and found her luggage in the middle of the floor. She glanced at the window and forced herself to ignore the sound of Adam chopping wood. Without thinking, Lisa moved her clothes into the beautifully refurbished oak dresser and set a fresh outfit on the dusty blue plaid bedspread. The six-foot-high mission-style headboard matched the frame of the vanity mirror. A pair of armchairs and a table sat in front of the window.

The rhythmic sound outside was like a lariat around her, pulling her toward the bay window. She eased the coordinating tab-top curtains open, feeling like a teenager peeking at the boy next door. I thought it was just the tux. I never dreamed Adam would be this handsome in everyday clothes.

Toby was tied to a fence post, well out of danger from flying wood. And wood was flying. Each swing of Adam’s ax went straight through to the stump below. He neatly stacked the split logs, then repeated the motions.

She recalled Adam’s strong arms guarding her from the playful pup. His fingers gently untangling her stringy hair from the button of his shirt. She felt her cheeks flush again and forced away thoughts of romance. She was here to do a job. Nothing more.

Adam was the subject. She was the journalist. Oil and water. And the two did not mix. Lisa had learned that lesson long ago, along with a few others. There wasn’t time to meet, let alone develop, any sort of meaningful relationship when your life was on the road.

That was what had drawn her to Dale. They were both wanderers—lured by adventure for nothing more than adventure’s sake. They were a team. He was the photographer, she the journalist. Now she was both. Alone and on her own.

Which was just the way Lisa liked it. It was much less painful that way. She’d come too far in the past year to let anything or anyone slow her down. Especially not the last available MacIntyre brother. Nothing against her sisters’ husbands, but she wasn’t interested in making the Guinness Book of World Records for most sisters to marry into the same family.

Now she knew why they’d been so anxious for her to come visit. It had nothing to do with seeing them. They wanted to set her up with Adam. Nice try, gals.

Francie’s words taunted. “Romantic Getaways. Loveland. Valentine’s Day—get it?” Lisa again admired Adam. “Gullible and naive—that’s me.” How had Emily and Katarina managed to convince her editor to arrange this?

To Francie’s credit, she had been there when Lisa was at her lowest. She’d been a friend when Lisa was trying to pick up the pieces of her life and struggling to find work. Francie didn’t give up hope that the managing editor would find a place for Lisa on the staff. The woman was a dreamer. Lisa was a realist. It would never happen. But Lisa didn’t care. She wasn’t quite ready to forego traveling anyway.

Not even her sisters understood Lisa’s career choice. Of all people, she’d thought they would understand.

Emily had broken her engagement to pursue her desire to become a doctor. Yet after eight years apart, Emily had her career, the man she’d left behind and two adorable children.

Katarina had turned down a lucrative business offer in order to keep her own dream alive. An answer to her prayer, according to Katarina. She had spent the past year expanding production of her exclusive doll designs. She was now happily married, CEO of a successful company and soon to be a new mother.

Yes, every dream has its price. Lisa’s happened to mean constant traveling, digging up stories and hoping each assignment would be the one to open her own door to success. Opportunity rarely knocked more than once in this business. She had to be ready when that time came.

Lisa took a deep breath and gazed into the purple and fuchsia sky. In the distance she could see the very top of a sawlike ridge silhouetted against the fading sunset. All around, trees and red rock formations added to the allure of the remote ranch. Lisa didn’t need to wonder what motivated Adam to stay here. Even in the middle of a dry winter, it was beautiful.

Secluded.

Peaceful.

Comforting.

Yes, a place like this could grow on a person—enough to bring one back after years in the city. She smiled at the immediate warmth she’d felt for Adam’s mother. According to Meg, Millie Carter was lured away by love, and drawn home for the same reason. She’d grown up on this ranch, and it was no surprise that Whispering Pines had called her back.

Despite Millie’s kindness, something his mother had done obviously wore Adam’s patience thin. To Adam’s defense, Lisa knew it had to be difficult to have a life of his own with his family living so near. Had he, too, been lured away from Whispering Pines for love? And what had brought him home?

Being the youngest child, she wondered if Adam hadn’t yet cut the apron strings, or if he felt obligated to take care of his mother after his father’s death. From personal experience, she knew how difficult that last child leaving home was on a mother, especially a single mother.

Her stomach growled and Lisa looked at her watch—5:40. She barely had time to freshen up. Adam had stopped chopping wood and was probably preparing supper, just daring her to be late.

Chapter Three (#ulink_5881b621-c8c5-562a-8d9f-2599d74f338c)

Lisa rushed through the great room in search of the kitchen, hoping Adam wouldn’t notice the time. Following the distinct aroma of sautéed onions, she found him.

She paused silently to admire the damp-haired, barefoot cowboy again. Adam looked as much at ease in the kitchen as he had outside chopping wood. The navy blue T-shirt stretched across his powerful shoulders and the Levi’s hugged his slim hips perfectly. Where’s the camera when I need it?

“Evening. Beautiful sunset, wasn’t it? Of course, probably doesn’t compare to those you’ve seen.” Without looking up, he knew she was there.

There was no hope of denying she’d been watching him, as he’d obviously seen her at the window and already made his own assumptions. “Yes, it was. When my editor called this morning, I wasn’t very pleased that I had to miss a photo shoot of the Pacific, but tonight, I have no regrets. Colorado’s sunsets are truly among the most beautiful in the nation.”

“A mover and a shaker. One day here, there the next,” he snapped. “If God had meant for such a frantic pace, He wouldn’t have created such beautiful sights to be appreciated.”

Lisa didn’t understand what had upset Adam, but she couldn’t afford to let it continue—she needed this story. Lisa glanced again at her watch. She was only five minutes late. Surely that wasn’t what he was mad about. Nevertheless she apologized.

“No problem.”

The lack of conversation echoed through the room as Adam worked, whisking the white sauce to a velvety smooth texture. He combined onions, white sauce, potatoes and chunks of soft cheese in silence.

“Can I help?”

He sprinkled seasonings into the pan and shook his head. “It’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Listen, Adam, I don’t know what I’ve done to trouble you. I’m here to do a job, which I hope ends up helping you as well as myself. Is there a problem?”

He set two soup mugs by the stove. “Liz suggested advertising in a national magazine. I didn’t approve of the idea then, and to be honest, I still don’t.”

Perplexed, Lisa shook her head and leaned against the counter across from him. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? First of all, this isn’t an advertisement, it’s an article. Secondly, I received an assignment this morning which called me away from the beauty of the Pacific Ocean—migrating whales, white-capped waves, deep blue water.” She paused, realizing her sisters couldn’t have had anything to do with her coming here. “I left a personal trip to do this article, and you’re telling me you don’t know a thing about it? Nor do you want it done at all?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

His remorseful gaze met hers and she was struck with a sudden unexpected longing to make Adam understand how important this was to her. In her life, this was more than just another stop. It was a chance to start over. In Adam’s, it was a major interruption to the peace and quiet he took for granted.

“I’m sorry, Lisa. I’m sure there’s something more important for you to cover than a small-town guest ranch’s grand opening.” He looked away. “Truth is, it’s not a good time. As you can see, this place is nowhere near ready for a celebration, let alone impressive enough for national exposure.”

Lisa looked at the empty diagonal wood-plank walls, the bare windows, the kitchen cabinets waiting for knobs. “We don’t have to focus on the kitchen. My suite looked beautiful. Coordinating towels and bedding, gorgeous antiques—”

“Your room is the only one finished,” he interrupted. “Apparently my mother was expecting you.”

Was she imagining the emphasis he’d put on the word you? Was he upset that she was assigned to the story? “No, Adam, your mother may have been expecting the Greens, but I didn’t even know I was coming until this morning,” Lisa insisted. “And I had no clue it was to your ranch.” She leaned over the counter and sniffed the homemade soup. Her eyes drifted closed with contentment. “The timing couldn’t be more perfect. What could be more romantic than a February grand opening in Loveland, Colorado?”

“Romantic? Who said anything about romance?” Adam ripped open a pouch of saltines and dumped them into a small basket, then chopped through the chunk of cheese as if it, too, had done something wrong. “What magazine are you with, anyway?”

“I’m a freelancer. I don’t work for anyone exclusively.” Why did that sound so much more impressive than it was in reality? “This is for a bed-and-breakfast magazine.”

“Number one…I own a guest ranch, not a B and B.”

“That’s okay. The column is on romantic getaways. There’s no need to refer to bed-and-breakfast.”

“Number two…it’s not a romantic getaway. It’s a guest ranch. You know, horses, cows, rustic.” Adam pulled a stainless-steel ladle from the hook over the stove and filled the two mugs. “I hope you like potato soup. It’s my specialty.”