Bounty Hunter (4 page)

She started as his chair scraped across the uneven flooring. Kane stood and carried
his plates to the counter. She watched as he primed the small pump by the sink, momentarily
too caught up in the play of muscles in his arm and shoulder to tell him to stop.

He turned back to her before she could look away. “If you’re done, I’ll be glad to
wash these.”

She sensed it would be important to a man like Kane to pull his own weight, but the
kitchen felt suddenly stifling, more intimate than cramped, and she couldn’t see herself
standing close to him, drying dishes as he washed. She quickly stood. “Thanks, but
really, it’s not necessary. I would’ve
been washing these anyway. A few more won’t take much longer.”

He seemed about to say something, then apparently thought better of it, because he
handed her the dishtowel. “Thank you for the meal. Will you be picking berries again
tomorrow?”

“Only in the morning. I plan to cook all afternoon.”

“Won’t it get hot in here?”

“I’d rather be in here cooking than outside in the heat of the day.”

“You were out there today.”

“I know, but I needed to get enough berries to get a head start tomorrow.”

“And I made you dump half of them.”

She waved away his concern. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty more where those came from.”
He started to say something else, but she cut him off. “Really. With what I get in
the morning, I’ll have more than enough to start. I really can’t handle more until
I have more room.”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I make some headway.”

“Fine.”

He paused, and for a long moment, Elizabeth didn’t know what to do or say.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a look in here when you’re out in the fields tomorrow,
see what I can repair.”

Kane. Alone in her house? “I’d really rather have you work on the—”

“I’ll get the barn done. But this house looks as if it hasn’t been lived in for decades—”

“It’s been twenty-five years.”

“Well, if this room is anything to go by, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having a few
things repaired. Consider it thanks for feeding me.”

“But you’re already earning—”

“My room by fixing your barn,” he finished. “I’ll earn the rest in here.”

Elizabeth couldn’t stop the shiver from racing lightly over her skin as images she
had no right visualizing persisted in crowding into her brain. The sensation ceased,
but the mental pictures left her skin damp. She wanted to pluck at her shirt, but
didn’t dare draw his attention to her sudden discomfort.

“Fine,” was all she could manage.

He tilted his head in a brief nod. The next moment, she was standing alone.

Perversely, now that she’d gotten what she wanted, she wished she’d kept him talking
longer. She turned to the dishes with a sigh.

And later that night, when she slid into her grandmother’s lumpy feather bed, she
worked hard to shut out images of Kane wandering through her house.

If dreams were any indication, she was less than successful.

The muscles in Kane’s shoulders burned as he bent his weight against the stubborn
plank. With a loud grunt and a mighty yank, Kane snapped the board off. The resounding
crack echoed throughout the barn.

“Figures the only boards I have to pull are the ones the termites left behind,” he
grumbled as he tossed the scrap in the growing heap behind him.

He’d found a pile of rusty tools in the small shed beside the barn. They were very
outdated, but functional. And thanks to Cloud Dancer and her insistence that, as a
child, Kane learn to function with tools made of his own hand, these would be more
than adequate.

“If she could only see me now,” he muttered. Thinking of the recalcitrant adolescent
he’d been after his mother died, he allowed himself a small sad smile as he yanked
the next board from its moorings.

His thoughts strayed to his “employer,” Ann Fielding. He grunted more than necessary,
and another plank went flying. He should be getting used to it. He’d hardly thought
of anything else since he’d left her in that poor excuse for a kitchen the night before.
And he’d be less than honest if he said his thoughts had been of a strictly professional
nature.

She’d revealed more to him by simply existing out here on this rugged scrap of wilderness
she called a ranch, than by coming right out with the information about her family
and current financial
circumstances. Somewhere between the salad and the stew, he’d forgotten he was subtly
interrogating her and had actually been listening because he was truly interested.

He almost growled as he ripped the next board from the posts in front of him. Because
of that gross error in judgment, he’d spent the night wrestling with his sleeping
bag and his conscience. But now it was a new day, and his head was as clear as the
sky. He was here to do a job. Simple.

His gaze strayed to the door that led to her kitchen and the bucket he’d left sitting
on her stoop. He glanced at the horizon. It was well after seven and there was no
sign of her yet.

What in the hell was she doing out in the middle of nowhere? His instincts as well
as his eyes told him that Sam Perkins knew next to nothing about his wife if he thought
she would crumple without a gold card.

But then again, maybe Sam Perkins knew more about his wife than he’d let on. It wouldn’t
surprise Kane. Especially in light of the fact that Sam hadn’t bothered to mention
he was having him tailed. Kane had managed to lose the hired goon just north of Coeur
d’Alene. At that point, he hadn’t known exactly where the Lazy F was located, but
until he’d figured out Sam’s angle, he sure as hell wasn’t going to lead the guy straight
to it. So he’d traded his pickup for a horse. A horse didn’t have tags and a registration
that could be traced.

Hinges squeaked across the yard behind him.
Kane stilled, willing himself not to look. He knew she was discovering his offering
and suddenly wished he were somewhere else.

“Kane?”

Her soft voice floating on the clear morning air rode his senses like sweet music.
“Damn,” he swore under his breath as his body responded to the sound of her crossing
the stretch of land separating them. This was insane. He should just haul her back
and dump her on Perkins, grab his money, and head out in search of another client
who required his special skills.

“Kane?” she called again from a few feet away.

He didn’t feel too damn special right now. Steeling himself, he looked up at her.
And he knew then that he wasn’t taking her anywhere. Not yet.

On the heels of that decision came the knowledge that the only place he
did
want to take her was to bed.

His gaze skimmed over her plain white T-shirt, stopping briefly at the conspicuous
designer label on her wrinkled pleated shorts. A testimony to her recent change in
circumstances. On someone else, the ensemble would have looked rumpled and mismatched.
On her it was sexy. As if she’d just rolled out of bed and pulled on clothes tossed
carelessly away in the heat of passion.

Passion. Heat. Damn if she didn’t stir both in him.

The final irony was that she was the first to do so
in a very long time. Maybe ever. And she was legally bound to another man.

He pulled his gaze away from her, hating the effort involved. “Yes?” he answered finally.

“You didn’t need to do this.”

Knowing she meant the bucket of raspberries he’d gotten up at dawn to pick, he kept
his eyes trained on sorting the pieces of wood into usable lumber and scrap. “Yes.
I did.”

She didn’t respond right away. “Well, then, thank you.”

“No problem.” He was done sorting and knew he couldn’t go on with his work without
looking at her. He mentally cursed himself for his cowardice. Cloud Dancer would have
been vastly amused to see her stoic grandson behaving like an untried brave, hiding
his face for fear some soft emotion shone in his eyes. That thought alone brought
his head up and his gaze to hers.

Business. This was just business as usual.

“Do you still need to go in the fields?” he asked, his voice more terse than he’d
intended.

“For an hour or so.” She smiled and lifted the bucket a bit. “This will cut at least
an hour of work off my day though.”

He nodded and said, “If it’s okay with you then, I’ll go inside and check out the
rooms.”

If he hadn’t been studying her so closely, he would have missed the slight blush that
briefly colored her cheeks. Was she so used to her wealthy lifestyle that she was
embarrassed for him to see her
humble surroundings? She hadn’t made any excuses the previous night at dinner.

“Is there any part of the house that needs to be worked on first?” She fidgeted with
the bucket handle, and another thought occurred to him. “Or a part you’d rather me
not go into?”

She blushed again. And damn if he didn’t respond. So, she was uncomfortable with the
idea of him invading her privacy. He wondered what in the hell she’d do if he told
her just how privately he’d thought about invading her space. His thoughts must have
flashed in his eyes, because she stepped back.

“Ah, no, you can go anywhere you want.” She laughed a bit dryly. “And as to what needs
to be fixed, take your pick.”

“This place looks as if it’s survived for quite a while.”

She smiled softly. “I guess it has. Grandpa Fielding died just after he and Grandma
had homesteaded this property. That was over fifty years ago. Grandma tried for years,
even after my mom married and moved away, to make it into a working proposition, but
it never panned out. I’d been here only once before. I was about seven. My folks dragged
me and my brother up here to try to convince Grandma to come and live with us. It
took us a few weeks, but she gave in. No one’s been back up here since.”

“Why didn’t they sell it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe my folks never got around
to it, or maybe no one wanted it. After they died, neither Matt nor I really gave
it any thought.”

Until she needed a place to run to. Kane thought about the picture in his saddlebag.
He knew what she’d looked like around age seven. He knew because he’d searched her
brother’s apartment and found an old black-and-white photo of them standing together
under the Lazy F sign that still hung over the entrance to the long, winding driveway.
Elizabeth Ann Lawson, the child, had been all blond pigtails, freckles, and scuffed
knees. He hadn’t known she’d never been back since, but it had been his only lead.

And Elizabeth Ann Lawson-Perkins, the grown woman, had just handed him a golden opportunity
to get a confession as to why she’d run in the first place. Run from a man who was
paying him to bring her back.

“What made you come back here after all that time?” He watched the lovely pink hue
on her cheeks fade to white. He swallowed the urge to apologize for upsetting her.

Instead he silently watched her struggle for control.

She tilted her chin and pasted a spectacular and patently false smile across her face.
“I guess I got tired of the rat race and decided to get back to nature for a while.
You know, get in touch with my feelings and all that.” She glanced around her. “Of
course, I didn’t want to touch nature quite so closely, but this was the only place
I knew to go.”

She’d been all bravado until that last part of her admission, which had come out on
more of a waver.

Kane felt a tug in the middle of his chest which he steadfastly ignored. Just as he
ignored the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and tell her it would be all right,
that he’d protect her.

What in the hell had gotten into him? He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from
reaching for her, his blunt nails digging into his palms. “Did someone hurt you? Is
that why you came here?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and soft. But when she
turned her soft brown eyes to his, he reached up to touch her chin without even realizing
he was doing so.

Her pupils dilated at his touch. Kane swallowed hard. “Tell me, Annie. Who hurt you?”

THREE