She stood
there, all legs, eyes, and lips pouting down at him. A picture of beauty,
polished and gleaming like Sunday silver. Her long legs--he noticed every inch
of them as his eyes trailed the length of her--would do better wrapped around a
man's waist. Even hidden beneath her smooth fitting jeans he could tell those
legs were much too refined and delicate to take the hard living of trailing
through Wyoming wilderness. Her red manicured nails shone bright in the
mid-day sun and matched the vibrant shade of her full lips. Her eyes, a soft
shade of cinnamon brown, held a determined fire that told him she wasn't going
to back down, no matter what he threw at her.
Something was
seriously wrong with this picture.
“Gerald Hammond
from the General Store said that you were the best guide in the area. I want
the best.”
He saw her jaw
set as a gentle breeze blew a wisp of hair over her forehead. She quickly
brushed it away with an air of grace that spoke of money. Lots of it. Family
money that paid for the designer clothes caressing every curve and valley of
her body.
Pulling himself
up to a stand, he stretched out the ache in his leg and his shoulder. That
nagging ache was a constant reminder of the long days he now spent working the
family ranch. And why he'd quit rodeo over a year ago.
“Old man
Hammond said that, did he?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he was
mistaken. There are plenty of guides on the reservation that can take you
safely through the Wind River Mountain Range.”
Her chest
heaved with an impatient sigh. “Yes, I know. But I need something a little
more than what they’re offering. Much more, in fact.”
She didn't
blink, even when he shifted closer. He had to admire that she didn’t appear
intimidated by him, seeing how he stood a good ten inches taller than her.
Lord, but she smelled good, all sunshine and fresh rain mixed with a hint of
vanilla. Bailing hay and stringing barbed wire didn’t afford him much
opportunity to be in the company the likes of this pretty little eyeful
standing before him. It was just one more thing to remind him of what he was
missing now that he was off the road and home for good.
“I don't think
you understand, Miss...?” He flipped his hand, palm up and waited for her reply.
“Ms. Summers.
Melanie Summers. And I understand perfectly. I understand that I am in need
of a guide for the next four weeks.” She sucked in a deep breath as he moved a
step closer.
“What you're
asking for is impossible at best.” He shook his head at the absurdity of her
request. “Have you ever been in the wilderness? Have you ever even saddled a
horse?”
She lifted her
chin defiantly, the spark in her soft brown eyes fired up like the heat of the
sun beating down on them. Her voice was sure. “I know perfectly well how to
ride, Mr. Buxton.”
“I'm not
talking equestrian jumps that a poodle could land at the country club. I'm
talking wild terrain where you are no better than the animals that consider you
their prey. Have you ever had eight hundred pounds of snarling grizzly
breathing down your neck? Ever felt a hungry mountain lion's eyes on your back
as she stalks you?”
She gasped
softly, a small flash of uncertainty creeping into her sun filled eyes.
Stoney
sputtered. “Just as I thought. Lady, roughing it isn't staying at the local
motor lodge-”
Her eyes flew
open in sudden surprise. “Wait a minute. The local motor lodge? My father
got to you.” She said the words as a statement, he noticed, as if she was
already convinced that it was fact.
Stoney arched
an eyebrow.
“This just
stinks!” Balling her fists, she spun on her heels, muttering something
unladylike under her breath as she took a few steps along the corral he'd been
repairing in the feed yard. Her soft red cotton shirt clung to her back,
defining the lines of her slender figure as she took each labored breath. He
couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to run his hand along her small
back.
As she turned
to face him again, he saw that her determined fire was back. “No matter. This
isn't between you and my father; it's between you and me. If you're holding
out for more money, then fine. Whatever it is that he promised you for turning
me away, I'll top in return for getting me safely through the next month.”
“Look, lady, I
haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. But my refusal has nothing to do
with money.”
She cocked her
head in disbelief. Her anger had vanished with the dust and was replaced with
blue-blooded charm. “Oh, it’s always about money, isn't it?”
His jaw tightened.
Yes, there was something definitely wrong here. And money had nothing to do
with it. It had everything to do with this beauty standing in front of him,
who was clueless about what she was getting her pretty little hide into. “No,”
he replied tersely.
“Mr. Buxton, I
need your help.”
“Tourist season
is in full swing. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding someone else.”
He turned his
back to her and began walking along the fence toward the barn, almost
forgetting... Abruptly, he glanced up and saw the charred remains of the
barn. The place where all his troubles had started just one year ago. It
hadn't taken but a second for him to hear her boots digging into the dusty
gravel behind him, jarring him from his thoughts.
“Then I'll do
it myself,” she said to his back.
His whole body
stiffened. He angled back to read her face, to see if she was just being a
spoiled rotten rich kid, trying to get her way, or if she was actually
serious. Seeing her head held high and her arms crossed in front of her, he
realized she was dead serious.
And dead she'd
be if she stepped one boot into those mountains alone.
“You'll do no
such thing.” Frustration flaring, he lifted his dusty hat and forced his
fingers through the thick crop of black hair before returning the hat to his
head. “You just don't get it, do you? You're not asking me to take you on a
theme park ride where you'll get to see the wonders of the world at a nice safe
distance. This is God's country. The creatures that live up there don't know
civilization, and you are no better than them. You could--probably will--get
killed if you go out there alone.” His lips twitched, taking a good long
appraising look at the woman in front of him. “You might even chip a nail on
that pretty hand of yours.”
The
condescending bastard! Melanie fumed inwardly. If there was one thing she
didn’t need right now was an overblown ego for a guide. Unfortunately, she
knew it was foolish to venture out in the wilderness on her own, given her
medical needs. She exhaled, feeling a prickly heat, caused by the sun and jet
lag, settle along her spine. “I’m not exactly a babe in the woods, Mr.
Buxton. In fact, I probably know more about those wild animals you fear will
eat me alive than you do.”
He tilted an
eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
Okay, he was
kind of cute, she admitted to herself, in a primitive sort of way. She
probably would have thought more about it if he didn’t smell so much like a
barnyard. Lord only knew how long he’d been baking out in the sun, gaining
steam. But then again, cowboys in the rough and tough real world held little
resemblance to the glamour that Hollywood gave them. “I’m a zoologist. I’ve
studied all about animals and the wilderness-”
“Yes, but have
you ever ridden that kind of terrain before? Met the beast face to face?”
He had her
there. The only beast she’d ever encountered was him! Leading the sheltered
life she had--albeit with protest--she hadn’t had the chance to venture into
anything more dangerous than a walk through the Bronx Zoo. But she was
determined to change that starting now. The deal she’d made with her father
held only one requirement. She needed to stay one month in the wilderness, and
he’d keep the funding for the Kenya project alive. Now that her dreams were
within reaching distance, she wasn’t going to let some arrogant cowboy keep her
down.
She answered
honestly, with reluctance. “No.”
His mouth
twitched, then gave her a half grin that made her insides stir and her mouth go
dry. “Just as I thought.”
“But that
doesn’t mean--”
“After I’m done
here, there’s a long line of fence to repair before the weekend, Ms. Summer. I
don’t have the time to waste baby-sitting some city girl with romantic notions
about experiencing the wilderness. I’ve got work to do.”
Her blood
burned through her veins. His dismissal of her may have signified the end of
the conversation to him, but she was far from through with this overbearing
cowboy.
Melanie
followed his skinny little butt past the corral and all the way down a row of
barbed wire rolled out on the ground along the fence, ignoring the reason she’d
taken notice of his behind at all. “So do I. That’s why I need to hire you.”
He stopped
short, and she almost plowed right into his back. Dust from the ground heaved
up in a cloud, choking her. He twisted around and with his hard body mere
inches from her, she had to crane her neck to look up at his face.
Immediately,
she was sorry she’d taken a closer look. His rugged good looks and appeal were
all too evident now. His shoulders seemed as wide as he was tall, giving him
the kind of strength and power that had a woman longing to be wrapped in his
arms. His thick dark hair, sweaty from working in the heat of the sun, curled
around the edges of his cowboy hat. His features were sharply defined and his
jaw was square. Although he’d yet to give up more than a quirk of a smile, she
had the feeling that deep dimples marked his cheeks when he laughed.
He touched his
hat by the brim and adjusted it on his head. “Look, there are more than a
handful of outfitters in this territory. Any one of them would be more than
willing to give you what you need for the right price.”
Sure they
would, Melanie groaned inwardly. And then all it would take would be a quick
phone call from her father, promising a hefty deposit to the bank account of
their choice and the deal would be over. She’d be on a plane back to Long
Island before her lipstick wore off her mouth.
No, she needed
Stoney Buxton. From what Gerald Hammond had said, he was good on a horse and
solid in the range. Most of all, he was invisible. No matter how hard her
father tried or what kind of money he tossed around, he’d never find Stoney
Buxton. That was the only way she’d get a fair shot at proving herself.
Melanie snapped
her gaze back toward the house on the opposite side of the corral with the
sound of the screen door slamming. On the front porch she saw a man sitting
tall in a wheelchair, glaring down at Stoney. “What in tarnation has got hold
of you, son? Why don’t you bring the girl in for a drink of something cool?
Don’t leave her baking out there with the animals.”
“That’s what
she wants,” she heard Stoney mumble under his breath. When she glanced up, his
dark blue eyes met hers, and he grew flush. “Leave it to Pop to keep me in my
manners. I’m sure Ma saw your car drive in and has something already set out
for company. That is if you’d like something.”
Well at least
she wasn’t getting hauled off the ranch like she’d suspected she would. It
gave her more time to work on convincing Stoney to take her up on her offer.
“That would be nice.”
They walked to
the small farmhouse in silence. When she’d arrived, she’d noticed the ranch
was smaller than some of the others she’d passed in the area. But the
farmhouse had a nice welcome feel about it that put her at ease. She hadn’t
noticed the ramp leading up to the front entrance when she’d pulled onto the
property earlier. Stoney had been working by the corral, and she’d zeroed in
on him as the point of contact.
A woman Melanie
guessed to be Stoney’s mother greeted them at the door and welcomed her with a
wide smile. Melanie suddenly felt completely out of place in a world she’d
never known. The house was simply decorated with a mix of Indian rugs, beaded
crafts and old furniture that had seen years of wear. As simple as the home
appeared, with its lace drapes and braided rugs, it felt warm and cozy, like
the Velveteen Rabbit who’d been loved a lot. A lump formed deep in her throat
and she didn’t know why.
“My name is
Adele,” the woman said warmly.
“It’s nice to
meet you and...” Melanie swung around to greet the man in the wheelchair. She
was caught by his overt appraisal of her, not quite sure it she met with
approval or with censure.
“Wally Buxton,”
he said, finally rewarding her with a wide smile, revealing deep dimples.
Melanie returned the smile, again wondering if Stoney had inherited the same
gene.
“It’s nice to
meet you.”
Stoney stood at
the kitchen door, filling it completely with his height and bulk, holding his
hat in one hand, his hammer in the other. “Well, if it’s all the same to you,
I’ve got some barbed wire that’s been needing my attention.” He put on his
black hat and tipped it cordially before spinning through the door. Adele did
nothing to hide the disappointment of his dismissal. Melanie fought to keep
hers in check.
“Why don’t you
come into the dining room?”
Still looking
at the empty doorway, she said, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“Oh, don’t be
silly. It’s no trouble at all. I rather enjoy having the company. Since my
daughter, Delia, got married and moved away, I don’t get the opportunity to
entertain much, except for these sweaty cowboys and they’re not fit to be in my
dining room half the time.”
Melanie was
raised with the finest that life had to offer. That included attending the
best finishing schools that had groomed her to polish and shine herself for the
world to see. What was expected of her all her life and given her parents
pride at the many social functions she was forced to attend had always been the
bane of Melanie’s existence. Still, in unpretentious company, she was glad her
good manners and grace were something she could draw on to put her hostess at
ease. She only hoped that when she was finished visiting with Stoney’s mother,
Stoney himself would still be around for her to deal with on her own terms.