Counterfeit Cowgirl (Love and Laughter) (16 page)

“Is that what you think?” she murmured.

The barn was silent for a moment, then he said, “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know why you’re here.”

“I’m here for the job,” she said, able to come up with no better answer with his hot attention turned on her. Able to give nothing away.

“Damn the job!” he swore. “Who are you?”

They stared at each other from inches apart.

“It doesn’t matter who I am. It doesn’t matter what my name is, or where I’m from. For the first time in my life, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you understand that? I’m just me.”

A muscle jumped angrily in his jaw. “Well, it matters to me,” he said. “I don’t like to be lied to, to be used, manipulated like a—”

“I didn’t use you.”

He snorted. “You’ve been making me dance like a damn circus horse. It must’ve been fun watching me moon over you. Seeing me make a fool of myself as you spread your clever lies.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yeah? Where’re you from, Hannah?”

She winced. She didn’t like to lie, but neither did she like the thought of being murdered by a thug who called himself Lucky Lindy. And all because of one rude remark she’d made to the man. He
did
look like a toad. “Colorado,” she said.

“What town?”

“Uh, Aspen.”

“How long have you lived there?”

For a moment she tried to think of another lie, but finally her temper broke. “That’s none of your business.”

“Where’d you get that accent? What does your dad do? What’s your real name?”

“Hannah…Nelson,” she said defiantly.

“Yeah? Let me see your driver’s license.”

She drew a deep breath. “I will not.”

“You must have one. You were driving. Is the Rabbit registered in your name?”

She paused. “Of course.”

“Then who is Stone Gardner?”

She felt her jaw drop. Stone Gardner, her father’s current protégé, and the former owner of the Rabbit. “You’ve been snooping around in my personal—”

“I wasn’t snooping. The registration was in the glove compartment. I saw it when I, uh, hauled it out back.” He sounded defensive and angry all at once. “So who is he, Hannah? Your husband?”

She gasped. “You think I’d sleep with you if—”

“But of course he’s not your husband,” he said, pacing the narrow confines of the stall, “because you were a virgin. But I didn’t know that You didn’t see fit to share that little piece of information with me. So I’m wondering, who could this Stone Gardner be? It doesn’t sound like a real name. More like something you’d see on the credits of a B movie.” He took another step closer. “Who is he, Hannah?” he asked, grabbing her arm.

“That’s none of your business either.”

“Yeah?” He barked a harsh laugh. “According to you none of it’s my business. Call me eccentric, but I like to know who I’m hiring. Hell, sometimes I even like to know who I’m sleeping with.”

“Well, you can rest easy,” she said, jerking her arm from his grasp. “Because it sure won’t be me.”

He stared at her, his eyes hard. “Damn straight,” he said, storming out of the barn.

H
ANNAH LUNGED
the leggy gray around the outdoor arena one more time. And one more time she glanced down the road as the filly circled at the end of the nylon line. Where was Tyrel? He’d been gone since before breakfast.

Not that she cared. He’d acted like a jerk two nights ago when she’d last talked to him, and he could damn well stay gone till hell thawed, which it seemed to be doing.

The sun felt warm on her face. The filly spooked from Sean who sat on the fence watching them with his eerie feline eyes. The lunge line drooped. Hannah snapped it, and the gray swerved away, allowing her handler’s thoughts to drift again.

So what if Tyrel Fox was gone? So what if he was angry? She was Allissa Vandegard.

Or was she? Glancing over the top rail of the arena, she absorbed the wide, rolling country around her. There was something here. Something she’d never had before, something that touched her heart and quieted her soul. But what would it be without Tyrel? Without his smile? His laughter? The way he scowled into his pitch-black coffee as if it held the key to the world’s problems.

She sighed.

The filly started, dragging her attention back to the business at hand. It was then that she noticed Ty’s pickup turning into the yard.

Her heart rate bumped up a pace and her hands tightened on the nylon line. The filly fell to a walk, and Hannah allowed it as she struggled not to stare at the pickup. But she failed. In a moment the Jimmy rolled up beside the fence and stopped.

Hannah held her breath as Ty stepped out He rounded the pickup, his muscular legs hugged by faded jeans, his torso wrapped in a soft flannel shirt, rolled up at the wrists, tucked in at his hard waist.

Without the slightest effort, she could remember how hard, how firm, how fine and sweet and…

“Do you have a minute?”

His voice sent a smoky curl down into her belly. She managed a nod, then unsnapped the line from the halter, setting the yearling free to cavort on her own.

Stepping to the passenger side of the pickup, Ty opened
the door. Hannah ducked between the rails and strode up to him.

Lying on the Navajo blanket that covered the bench seat, was an English saddle. It was German made, the leather soft as a glove, the seat fitted like a spoon.

Tyrel cleared his throat. “The fellow at the tack shop said it was top of the line.” His eyes, when she dared look at them, were as soft as nightfall.

“They had
this
in Valley Green?”

“He, uh…he ordered it in for me.”

Her throat tightened with emotion. “When?”

For a moment she thought he might not answer. Turning his head, he gazed past the arena to the hills beyond. “Well, hell, Hannah, I’m not as big a fool as I seem.”

She didn’t know what that meant, but her throat hurt and her eyes stung with unshed tears.

He glanced back at her. Their gazes caught.

“I knew you wasn’t going to lose that bet. Not you. But it bought me a couple more weeks with you.”

She swallowed. “Thank you.” Her fingers lay against the soft-grained leather of the cantle.

“Yeah, well,” he said, clearing his throat. “This is just for Maverick, you know. It don’t mean you’re going to get out of roping with me. If you still want to.”

“I still want to.”

He remained still for a moment, then finally nodded before reaching past her into the pickup and pulling out a package. “I got you a couple things.” Their arms brushed as his straightened. Hannah held her breath. He paused for a moment, found his line of thought and pulled out a lariat. “Your own rope. A little lighter, three-eighths of an inch. Nate says you’re real quick. But it’ll improve your time maybe.”

She loved him. Dear Lord! How had that happened?

He pulled his gaze away again. “And gloves. To keep your hands from…” He drew a heavy breath. “I may not know
much about you, but I know you got nice soft hands.” The words were barely whispered.

Memories of their one night together steamed through her. Touch, whispers, ecstasy. In his eyes, she saw the same thoughts.

He pulled himself out of the reverie. Yanking the tags off the gloves, he opened one pliable deer hide and held it for her. She slid her hand in. But he didn’t draw away. Instead, he held it in both of his.

“I’m sorry.” The words were very soft, his eyes as deep as forever. “You’re right. Your name doesn’t matter, Hannah. I’m just…I’m scared is what I am.”

Scared? Him? She would have laughed if she didn’t feel like crying. How many times had he saved her life both literally and figuratively?

“If you leave…” He glanced up, over her head. She watched a muscle tighten in his jaw. “
When
you leave—”

“And what if I don’t?” She couldn’t stop the words, couldn’t help thinking the crazy thoughts that drowned her. Here was where she belonged. Right here.

“Don’t say it.” His eyes were intense, hard as shell, yet just as fragile. “Don’t say it unless you mean it.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, and turned his gaze away. “Yeah, you are,” he said, his tone becoming brusque. “And I’m paying you good money. So you’d best get to work.”

B
UT WHAT THEY DID
couldn’t be called work. Oh, he tacked up Lula and Hannah mounted. But as soon as the first steer was let loose, he called her back.

“You gotta let the horse do the work,” he said, motioning her to get down. “Lula here, she’s been roping steers since before you was born. She knows just how it’s done.” Moving past Hannah, he threw up the stirrup and stripped off the saddle and pad. “Hop on up.”

“Bareback?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you a leg up.”

“I’m not a great bareback rider.”

“Really?” They were standing very close. So close she could feel his warmth, hi. otion. “Then I’ll ride with you. Make sure you don’t fall oft.”

Her breathing escalated.

He cleared his throat. “It’s the best way,” he said seriously. “To feel the movement of the horse under you.”

“Oh.” Sure, she could believe that. Tandem bareback. Her heart was thumping.

He pulled his gaze away, and had no trouble mounting without the aid of stirrups. Getting Hannah on in front of him was a little trickier. But finally she was settled between his thighs.

She’d thought she’d felt his heat before. Now the warmth traveled up her body like wildfire.

“Yeah, this is, uh…this is better,” he said, trapping her between his arms as he reached for the reins.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, for teaching you how to gauge the steers.”

“But, Ty,” she said, not turning to look into his face, “there’s no one to let them out.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat as his arms tightened around her. “Well, maybe we’ll just take a ride in the pasture then.”

The afternoon sped by like a summer breeze. The sun was warm against Hannah’s skin. Ty’s voice was deep and low, evoking a thousand feelings that were only enhanced by his touch, the feel of his fingers against her hand, the warmth of his hard thighs behind hers.

By nightfall, she felt as if every nerve ending was made of kindling. She stood in the doorway of her bedroom with him, trying to douse the sparks.

“Good night, Hannah,” he said.

No. Not good-night, her mind argued. Not good-night! Come in. Lock the door. Make love. But despite everything, she was still a Vandegard, and Vandegards did not beg.

“You could come in for a minute.” That wasn’t begging. Just a…suggestion.

He hesitated. “I’d better not.”

“Please.” Okay, that was begging a little. But what did he expect. He’d been driving her mad with his closeness all day. Now just the thought of him leaving made her want to fall at his feet.

Indecision showed on his face. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips.

Every awakened desire in her kissed him back. She slipped her hand quickly behind his neck, answering his caress.

“Her kiss is like summer lightning.” The country lyrics drifted up the stairs, accented by the thumping of a cast and a foot.

Tyrel’s expression was raw with desire when he pulled away.

“Good night,” he said again, and turned stiffly away.

T
HE DAYS PASSED
like water through a sieve. Ty could do nothing but let them go. Every moment with Hannah was a pleasant torment, every day one less he would have in the future, and yet he could not stop himself from being near her.

Allowing her to ride alone was nearly more than he could bear. But it would be difficult to teach her to team rope without doing so. And she was painfully determined to learn. She took his every criticism with sober-faced attention, nodding, leaning toward him, absorbing every word, like a soldier doing battle against failure.

There was no need for her to do this, no reason in the world she must learn to team rope. In his soul, he knew she was not what she pretended to be. And though he couldn’t help but hope it didn’t matter, that she would stay forever, his heart knew better. They were like fire and ice, a princess and a pauper.

The nights were long, for he would not make love to her. Not again. Not until she would trust him with her name, with her identity, with her heart. But during the day, he couldn’t keep from touching her. Every facet of her fascinated him, every word, every glance.

“Yee-hah!” she yelled, copying the halloo that had earned Nate a broken leg. But it was adorable when she did it. Her eyes were as bright as crystal, her smile undimmed. “What’s the time, Nate?” she yelled. Beneath her, Lula kept the lariat tight and the steer trapped between her and Ty’s gelding.

“Seven-point-two seconds,” Nate called from his place
near the chute. “You done good, honey. But if I was you I’d get myself a new partner.”

Hannah laughed and Ty scowled. But he couldn’t disagree. His mind was elsewhere—not on the roping, but on Hannah, on how she held the reins, how she turned just so in the saddle, how her slim thighs hugged the mare. And somehow, he couldn’t help but envy her mount.

He was one sick puppy! Obsessed! Sleepless. He couldn’t take it anymore. And he wasn’t going to. If he was going to lose her, he was going to know why.

“T
Y
.” L
ORETTA
F
OX TURNED
from the kitchen table in surprise. She’d gained a few pounds over the years, but she was still pretty. Delicate, some might think. Her sons knew better. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t the boy just stop by to see us sometimes?” asked her husband, rising from his chair, and going to the stove to pour himself another cup of dark coffee. At fifty-two, Robert Fox had pretty much perfected the art of irritating his firstborn son.

They were too much alike to get along. Ty knew that as well as anyone, but tonight he wouldn’t let his temper get the best of him. Tonight he would get some answers.

“Do you want some coffee?” his mom asked.

“Yeah.” Ty drew out a chair and sat down. “Thanks.”

She poured him a cup. It slogged with tarlike reluctance from the spout Tyrel had come by his taste through honest genetics. “Brownies?” she asked. “I just made them.”

“No, thanks.”

“Jell-O? I’ve got some left from Sunday.”

“No.”

“Oatmeal cookies? A little roast beef?” She was rummaging in the refrigerator now. “We’ve got some ham left over. Or—”

“Loretta,” Robert said, “the boy probably just came by for some advice from his old man.”

Tyrel took a sip of his coffee. It had the kick of a green broke mule. “Matter of fact I do need some advice,” he said, turning toward his father.

“Yeah?” Robert settled his weight against the counter behind him. “Want to know how you can sell that ranch of yours and finally do something with that fancy education I paid for.”

No, Tyrel thought He wanted to know how he could have what his father had built with his mother. It was a realization he had never faced, and it stunned him now.

“Would it be so bad if I wanted to be like you, Dad?” he asked softly.

For a moment sheer surprise and something like pleasure showed on the older man’s face. He hid it quickly away, but not before Tyrel had noticed. Something softened inside of him.

“Well…” Loretta looped the dish towel through the refrigerator handle. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, but as she passed Tyrel, she reached out to squeeze his arm. In her eyes there was an expression that said, “It’s about damn time.”

Had he been such an ingrate as all that?

“So…” Robert settled himself back into a chair across from Ty. “What do you need?”

“It’s about Hannah.”

“Hannah?” Robert’s brows lifted in curiosity, but there was something else there. It almost looked like a sharp spark of hope.

“That’s right.”

“What about her?”

Ty scowled into his coffee, then back at his father. “I need to know who she is.”

“Listen, son.” He settled back into his chair. “I told you when this started that I couldn’t tell you nothing about her. The money’ll have to be enough consolation.”

“I don’t want the money,” Ty said, his voice low.

“Listen, boy, I told you—”

“You didn’t tell me I’d fall in love with her.”

The words reverberated in the silence of the room, and then Robert smiled.

“So you think she’s the one to settle you down—keep you on that no good piece of land of yours? Not that that’s what I want,” he hurried to add. “Farming’s for fools, and ranching is worse.”

“So you’ve said enough times.”

“From what I heard she’s not the farming type,” Robert said, studying his son with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot more to her than meets the eye.”

“I’ll be damned. Old George thought that might be true.”

“George?” Tyrel asked, his heart racing with the promise of any tidbit of information.

“George…Vandegard,” Robert said, taking a sip of coffee and watching him carefully. “He’s an old friend of mine.”

“George…Vandegard…the movie director?” Ty asked.

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

H
ANNAH WAS TENSE
. Tyrel could feel her thoughts as he watched her. She was nervous, worried, taut as a wound spring. Yet grace and elegance exuded from her, and he couldn’t bear to lose her.

“Len Clemens and Toby Carter. Six-point-five seconds. That’s the time to beat,” called the announcer.

But Tyrel didn’t care about the time to beat. He only cared about her. How long would she remain once she learned the truth? How long before she left?

“Are you ready?” Her eyes were as bright as morning, her smile like the flash of the sun through a gray bank of clouds.

No, he wasn’t ready. He would never be ready. But he nodded. They rode side by side to the box behind the barrier.

In the stands, the crowd was silent On the far side of the steer chute, Hannah tipped back her hat—the hat he had given her. Her gloved hands were steady on the reins.

“Ready?” The chute man glanced at Hannah. She nodded once. The gate sprang open. The steer charged out Lula lunged after him, Hannah leaning over the horn.

Her throw was clean, catching both horns. She loped off with the steer moving along behind. Tyrel tossed his loop. It whipped in front of the steer’s hind legs. Ty snapped up the slack, confining the animal between them.

“Six-point-two seconds, folks,” called the announcer. “A new best time.”

Ty and Hannah flipped their ropes off the steer, and exited the arena. They dismounted there, and suddenly Hannah was in his arms, hugging him with ferocious joy.

“We did good,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His heart had stopped. “Yeah, you did good,” he said. It was then that he saw the man in the sunglasses and red shirt. His stomach roiled. “Listen, Hannah…” He gently disengaged her arms. “I’ve got to go see a man about a horse. You stay and watch the others. Let me know how we stack up, huh?”

“Sure.” Her exuberance was undiminished.

He turned away.

“Ty?”

He stopped at the sound of his name and turned back toward her.

“I…” She paused, grinned, and then continued with a shrug. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” he said. Ty hitched Rowdy to the far side of the trailer.

“Tyrel Fox.” A man’s voice made him turn. The speaker was tall, graying, looking theatrical in a red fringed shirt, black jeans and cowboy hat that reminded him of Roy Rogers. He removed his sunglasses with one hand and reached out with the other. “So you’re Robert’s son.”

Ty forced himself to clasp hands with the man. “Mr. Vandegard?” he said.

“Call me George.” He smiled, and in the jut of his jaw,
Ty could see a hint of Hannah’s stubborn tenacity. “This is Stone Gardner. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

Not since reading the Rabbit’s registration, Ty thought, then nodded to the younger man. He was dressed in a floor-length duster and a hat big enough to shade Arizona. Beneath the brim, he had the perfect nose borne of plastic surgery. His beard was close-cropped. “Stone,” Ty said.

“So you’ve been taking care of my little girl,” Vandegard said.

Ty drew back his hand. He felt sick to his stomach. “She really doesn’t need taking care of.”

“Stone here said the same thing after the incident in the parking lot,” Vandegard said.

“She almost broke my arm,” Stone added, sounding sullen.

Vandegard chuckled. “Be that as it may, she’s still my little girl. And I’ve never seen her happier.”

Ty held his gaze. “And what about when she learns the truth?” he asked. “Will she be happy then?”

Vandegard shook his head. “You don’t understand. Allissa has such fire, such talent, but she never used it. She never
had
to use it And her mother thought…Gayle was old European blood you know. So beautiful, like Allissa, and she didn’t want her…soiled. Then when Gayle died…” He shrugged. “I was busy with my work. I had struggled up from nothing, you know. I wanted to buy her everything she wanted. Everything she needed.”

“So you bought her a position at The Lone Oak Ranch, thinking that would be enough.”

Vandegard scowled. “If it’s more money you want—”

“Damn the money. And damn you!” Tyrel stormed.,

Vandegard’s brows rose under his hat, and then he chuckled.

“Why don’t you take the money, Ty?” asked a soft voice.

Tyrel swung about.

Hannah stood there, her expression fragile, her eyes wide.
“Or is it too much of a hardship putting up with me any longer?”

“Hannah.” Her name slipped from him like a prayer.

“Allissa,” Vandegard gasped. “Baby, don’t get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea?” Her tone was strained. She backed up a pace, her fists tight. “And what idea might that be, Daddy? That you lied to me? That you said my life was in danger? That you sent this two-bit actor to accost me in a parking lot? That you sent me away—made me fear for my life—for
your
life. And all the time you were paying Ty to keep me out of your hair. What? Were you afraid I might insult another of your friends?”

“Baby.” Vandegard’s long face had crumbled. “It’s not like that” He stepped forward, holding out his hands in silent supplication. “Don’t you see? I failed you. All those years I spent away—and your mother…” He paused. “I failed you, Allissa. I didn’t want you to grow old without having a chance at what I had. A chance to do something you care passionately about.”

She said nothing, but watched them all, her eyes cold chips of blue sapphire.

“You never had a chance to succeed, Allissa. Never had a chance to
try.
That’s all I wanted for you. You have such life, such talent. But you were becoming…”

“An ice princess?” she supplied.

Vandegard shook his head. “My princess, yes. But never made of ice. I knew better. But others couldn’t see it And I was afraid that maybe you couldn’t, either. Colonel Shelby told me long ago that I would spoil you. That I was ruining your heart.”

She tilted her head slightly. “So you decided to give me heart by having me attacked?” She glared at Stone. He backed away a step, holding his offended arm. “By lying to me?”

“I—”

She cut him off with a harsh laugh. “And all the time I thought I was needed, thought I was doing something worthwhile. ” She flashed her gaze to Tyrel.

His heart stopped cold in his chest. “Hannah,” he murmured.

“My name’s
not
Hannah. It’s Allissa! Allissa Clifton Vandegard! And you’ve known it all along.”

“No.” It was the only word he could find in his shattered world.

“No? But you knew I was rich—just a spoiled child whose own father couldn’t bear to have her around. But you could put up with me—for enough money. Was it worth it, Tyrel? Did he pay you extra to sleep with me?”

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The truth seemed a thousand miles away.

“You slept with her?” Vandegard’s hand closed on Ty’s arm, swinging him around.

Tyrel jerked out of his grasp. “Hannah,” he said, but she was already running away.

“Damn you!” Vandegard stormed.

He was an old man, but he had fury behind his punch. Tyrel reeled sideways beneath the blow. Vandegard came on, large and incensed, but Ty ducked beneath his punch.

“Dammit!” he rasped, ducking again as his own pickup raced from the rodeo grounds. “She’s leaving. For once in your life think of your daughter.”

The fury went out of Vandegard like hot air from a balloon. “Dear God,” he said, his face pale. “Where’s she going?”

Ty watched her leave. “Anywhere we’re not,” he said softly.

T
HEY WERE THE WORST TWO
weeks of Tyrel’s life. The police found his pickup less than twenty miles from the rodeo grounds, parked in front of Duane’s Café. But Hannah was nowhere to be found. He could only assume she had hitchhiked from there. But to where?

Under some duress, Vandegard had given him a list of phone numbers where she might be found. Ty had called each one. No answer. He’d then telephoned every acquaintance she’d ever known. Still nothing.

It was finally dumb luck that helped him find her—old men in overalls, talking over coffee.

Raymond Caliber had hired himself a new hand, one of them had said. A woman! A looker she was. Could sit a horse like a centaur.

And so it was that Tyrel stood in someone else’s barn on the southern border of North Dakota. Inside the arena, Hannah-Allissa rode a liver chestnut in tight circles.