Wanted!

He gave her an impatient glance. “I hope you’re willing to walk into the dining room with me. Or would that compromise your principles?”

“Not at all.” She climbed down from the truck and settled her backpack strap more firmly on her shoulder.

By the time she walked around to the other side, Nick was greeting two medium-size, mixed-breed dogs that had bounded over from the vicinity of the barn off to the right of the house. One was all black with longish curly hair and floppy ears. The short-haired one was tan-and-white, with a snub nose and pointed ears.

The dogs regarded her with curiosity, but Nick had a hand on each of their collars so they stayed by his side, glancing up at him with doggy smiles and wagging tails. Obviously they adored him.

“And who might these characters be?” Dominique asked.

“The tan one is Butch and the black one Sundance. Do you like dogs?”

“Yes, very much.” Herman had talked her out of adopting one, saying she couldn’t afford the drain on both her time and financial resources.

“Go on over and say hello, boys.” Nick released his hold and the dogs approached her with tails wagging. She crouched down and petted both at once. They sniffed her face and her hair, and Sundance gave her a little lick on the nose.

She had the ridiculous urge to gather the dogs in a hug. When she got home, she’d head for the nearest animal shelter and adopt herself one. “They’re great,” she said. “Where did they come from?”

“I found them wandering on the road about three years ago. Our golden retriever had died a couple of months before that, and a ranch needs a dog. Or two dogs. Besides, if I hadn’t picked them up, they wouldn’t have survived. My dad insisted on naming them after his favorite movie.”

She heard the slight hitch in Nick’s voice. Obviously he missed his dad a lot. “They’re great names.”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s go get some lunch.”

She’d just had sweaty sex in the woods and didn’t feel quite ready to face public scrutiny. She gave the dogs a last scratch behind the ears and stood. “I need to stop by my room and freshen up before we eat.”

His gaze traveled over her. “You look great to me.”

She could say the same about him, but both of them bore the evidence of rolling naked on a canvas tarp in the woods. “Thanks, but if you want to go in together, I’ll meet you back downstairs in five minutes.” She ran up the porch steps and into the ranch house.

True to her word, she came out of her second-floor room five minutes later and found him waiting at the bottom of the curved staircase. His damp hair was combed and he’d put on a clean shirt.

As she reached the bottom step, a woman with flyaway gray hair barreled toward them from the hallway to their left.

“There you are!” The woman wore a red cowboy shirt with white piping, and jeans with enough stretch to accommodate her rounded figure. “Jack said you would be here for lunch, but I let everybody else go ahead because the food was getting cold.”

“Forgive us, Mary Lou.” Nick caught her around the waist. “But I’d rather have your cold food than anyone else’s hot meal.” He kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Nicholas. Are you going to introduce me to our guest?”

“You bet.” Nick swept a hand in Dominique’s direction. “May I present Dominique Jeffries of Indianapolis. She’s a famous photographer.”

Dominique rushed to correct that misinformation. “No, I’m—”

“Dominique, this is Mary Lou Simms, the best cook in Wyoming.”

Mary Lou smiled up at him. “Apparently I’m not that good or you wouldn’t be late for lunch.”

“It’s my fault,” Dominique said. “I got carried away by the photographic opportunities.”

Nick pursed his lips and gazed up at the wagon wheel chandelier that graced the main room of the house.

“I love good pictures,” Mary Lou said. “What have you taken so far?”

“Um, I took some pictures of Nick.”

“Aha!” Mary Lou studied the man standing beside her. “Good choice. I assume you’re into people instead of landscapes. I’m an Ansel Adams fan myself, but Annie Liebovitz has done some fine work. Her portrait of John Lennon and Yoko Ono is outstanding.”

“I’m not in that class, Ms. Simms.”

Mary Lou chuckled. “It’s Miss Simms, and I’m proud of it. Never could see the point in marrying a man, although I’ve had my share of lovers. Couldn’t have kids—lousy plumbing—so why tie myself down to a husband?”

“Sounds right to me.” When Dominique had researched her trip to Wyoming she’d learned that it was the first state to give women the vote, and if Mary Lou was typical of the female population, Dominique could see why.

“Enough discussion,” Mary Lou said. “My beef stew and corn bread aren’t getting any better while we stand around yakking. I’ll go make sure there’s something left, but I’ll ask you not to dawdle getting to the dining room.” She bustled back down the hallway.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Dominique called out after her.

Nick lowered his voice as the two of them followed in Mary Lou’s wake. “Now that’s the kind of response I was looking for.”

“Let me put it this way. Mary Lou’s beef stew and corn bread is a whole lot safer option than spending an evening on the dance floor with you.”

NICK’S MOTHER HAD designed the large dining room twenty years ago when the kitchen’s plank table became too small to hold the family and all the ranch hands for the midday meal. Breakfast and dinner were served to the hands in the bunkhouse, while the family ate in a smaller, more intimate dining room, but Last Chance tradition dictated that everyone get together for lunch. Grandpa Archie had declared it was the best way to find out how the day was going for everyone.

The dining room was located at the far end of the left wing and had windows on three sides. Nick didn’t often really look at it, but today, because of Dominique, he tried to see it as she would. He had to believe she’d like the arrangement.

Instead of one long trestle table, Sarah Chance had chosen four round wooden tables, each of which sat eight people. The ranch averaged a dozen employees, so the room was seldom filled, but it could be when horse buyers were in town.

Today about half the seats were empty. Nick chose a different table from the one Dominique picked, but positioned himself where he could watch her. If he’d been concerned about whether she’d feel comfortable walking into a roomful of men, he shouldn’t have worried. She acted as if she sat down with ranch hands every day of the week.

Then he realized she’d have to be good at talking to strangers, both men and women. She took portraits for a living. Part of the photographer’s skill lay in getting the subject to relax.

Nick wondered if she’d be inspired to take pictures of any of the other cowboys in the room. He didn’t want her to do that, which was ungenerous on his part. She had the right to take as many pictures of cowboys as she wanted, and create a one-woman show with those photos in her bedroom back in Indianapolis if she liked.

He needed to accept her decision to have nothing more to do with him. But he couldn’t help thinking that if Jack hadn’t interrupted them, she might not be as jumpy about getting together. Nick could have eased her into the situation rather than have Jack be the black cloud raining on their parade.

Speaking of Jack, Nick didn’t see him in the dining room. But Emmett Sterling, the fifty-something ranch foreman, happened to be sitting at the same table as Nick. Nick unfolded his cloth napkin, a dining room staple Mary Lou insisted on, and glanced at him. “Where’s Jack?”

Emmett, whose salt-and-pepper hair, craggy features and solid build marked him as a man to be reckoned with, put down his spoon and picked up his coffee mug. “Ate fast and left. Said something about checking on Calamity Jane.”

That was damned irritating news. “I checked her this morning. I give her at least another two or three days.” He didn’t appreciate Jack’s behavior.

By announcing that he was going to see about the pregnant mare, Jack was implying Nick wasn’t doing his job. Calamity Jane was Nick’s responsibility and he was on top of it. She wasn’t due for another week and had shown no signs of giving birth in the next twenty-four hours.

“Jack was just looking for an excuse to head for the barn,” Emmett said. “He doesn’t like hanging around during lunch.”

“He used to.” Nick glanced up to thank Mary Lou for putting a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.

“Are we talking about Jack?” Mary Lou plopped another basket of corn bread muffins on the table. “That boy isn’t eating right and he acts like somebody shoved pinto beans up his nose.”