Kiss Me

* * *

C. J. SWANSON REFUSED to look at her husband, Thad. Instead she stared out the window and tried to ignore his words. He didn’t understand...he would never understand. Yes, the problem was with both of them, but somehow she always felt guilty. As if there was something wrong with her.

“They’re just kids,” Thad was saying. “Why would you want to deprive them of this vacation?”

“Why is it my responsibility?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Why do I have to be the bad guy? It’s not my fault that the couple going with them had a death in the family. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“C.J....” Thad reached out and touched the back of her hand.

She turned away again. “I can’t. You’re asking too much. What would be the point? We aren’t interested in them. They were horrible. That boy’s a thief, Thad. Have you forgotten? His sister is just as bad. She might not have taken the money, but I would bet you anything she put him up to it.”

“They’re just kids,” her husband said in his calm, reasonable voice. Normally she appreciated his willingness to see things clearly, without being blinded by emotion, but today he was really getting on her nerves.

“Con artists, you mean.”

C.J. tried not to sound bitter, but she didn’t think she was successful. After so many years of trying, after so many disappointments, she felt as if she had finally reached the end of the road.

She and Thad would never have children. Not their own and not any they adopted. She and her husband loved each other. They had a strong, healthy marriage. That would be enough—she would make it enough.

Beside her, Thad turned her hand over and laced his fingers with hers.

“I like them,” he said softly.

Her chest tightened. Of course he did. Because he was a good man. Because he always rooted for the underdog, whether it was in his personal life or in the courtroom. After fifteen years of practicing law, he’d been appointed to the bench where he could put all his idealistic notions into practice. Her husband, the man whom she had loved since the first moment she’d seen him seventeen years ago, would like a ten-year-old pickpocket and his con artist younger sister.

She turned her head to study his familiar features. The steady gaze of his blue eyes, the thinning blond hair worn in a conservative cut...not because he was conservative, but because he was cursed with unruly curls that made him look like an aging rock star. She visually traced the lines at the corners of his eyes and the firm set of his full mouth. He was a good man. A kind man. A man who loved her and never blamed her. He knew her better than anyone, knew what he was asking. How was she supposed to tell him no?

“All right,” she said softly. “We’ll take Lucy and Tommy on the cattle drive. One week, Thad. That’s all I’m willing to give them. Please, don’t expect to make it more.”

He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed her. “You won’t regret it.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she prayed that he was right. Between the two of them, they already had enough regrets for this lifetime.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_8eed039f-7b96-5d0c-9a39-99201142e82d)

“GOATS?” PHOEBE ASKED as she stared at the array of large, open pens. Several horned goats nibbled on their breakfast of hay and some kind of grain. “Didn’t you say that the Castle Ranch has goats, too?”

“Those are dairy goats. Heidi makes cheese.”

Phoebe shrugged. “And that’s different how?”

“These are cashmere goats,” Chase grinned. “Just imagine the horror of discovering a cattleman raising goats. They’re Zane’s most embarrassing secret.”

She supposed the romance of the Old West didn’t lend itself to goats the same way it did to cattle, but as far as she was concerned, four-legged grazing animals were all pretty much the same.

She’d sure seen plenty on her tour. The Nicholson Ranch was nothing if not huge. As they’d been on foot, she and Chase had only explored a tiny bit of it. She didn’t know the going price of cattle on the hoof, or the per acre value of land in this part of the country, but from what she could tell, no Nicholson was ever going to die poor.

Better than that, the land had been in their possession for generations. Phoebe wondered what it would be like to have roots and a history—a place to belong. Family.

“If he doesn’t like goats, why does he have them?” she asked.

Before Chase could answer, a man on horseback rode over a crest in the property. One minute there had been green grass and blue sky, while the next a tall silhouette appeared. Zane. Phoebe watched, mesmerized. Her lone experience with riding a horse consisted of slow, sedate turns on a carousel. Not exactly the same as cow roping on the open range.

As she watched, he approached. He moved easily on the horse, riding or swaying or doing something so that he and the animal appeared to be one and the same. It was darned impressive.

As Zane got closer, his handsome features became clearer, which made her breathing increase. Chase might be the charming brother, but there was something mighty fine about Zane Nicholson.

Beside her, Chase groaned. “He’s going to make me help Frank put together the kits for the cattle drive.”

“What kits?”

Chase grimaced. “Supplies. Tents, eating utensils, first aid, that sort of thing. We have to take it with us and he’s basically made me Frank’s slave.”

Phoebe wanted to ask who Frank was. She also considered pointing out that if Chase hadn’t taken money from unsuspecting customers in the first place, none of this would have happened. But before she could say anything, Zane reined in his horse and dismounted. From the second his feet touched the ground, she knew it was going to be impossible for her to form coherent sentences.

However, Zane ignored her, instead turning his disapproving expression on his brother. “Frank’s looking for you.”

“I’ll get there.” Chase turned his back on his brother. “I was showing Phoebe the goats.”

“Frank’s waiting now. Folks’ll be arriving tomorrow. We need to be prepared. If we’re short on supplies, you’ll have to head into town and pick them up.”

Chase muttered something under his breath, but didn’t overtly argue with Zane.

“Take Tango with you,” Zane said, handing the reins to his brother.

Chase grabbed them, then turned his attention to Phoebe. Rebellion darkened his eyes and tightened his expression. “Sorry to cut this short. Maybe my brother will tell you all about the goats.” Some of his annoyance faded as a smile pulled at his mouth. “They hold a special place in his heart.”

With that, he left. Zane watched him go, then walked to the edge of the fenced pen and rested his arms on the top rail.

Dinner with Zane hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. They’d started out okay, but early on, he’d gotten quiet. She wanted to tell herself it was because he had a lot on his mind, but in her heart, she had a feeling he simply didn’t find her interesting. Which was too bad, because he was the most compelling man she’d ever met.

“You think I’m too hard on the boy.”

His words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that it took her a second to catch up. “Not unless you’re beating him in secret.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe one corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve thought about it from time to time.”

Phoebe made a quick mental list of Chase’s recent infractions, then admitted the possibility that he’d been a handful all of his life.

“Thinking and acting are two different things.”

Zane’s response was a quiet grunt. She tried to figure out if that was better or worse than a loud grunt. When she couldn’t come up with a decision, she turned her attention to the pen in front of them.

“Tell me about the goats,” she said.

“What do you want to know?”

Like she had a basic “Ten facts about goats” list she needed filled. “Are they friendly?”