Rocky Mountain Miracle (5 page)

“I still might have had it done,” he pointed out. His hands traced the contours of her back, slid down to her waist and over her hips.

“It was wrong of them. I felt bad for the boy. What is he? About fourteen, fifteen? He just lost his father, and they want to spread gossip about his guardian. It's malicious, and it makes me angry.”

“He's fourteen, and he hated the old man.” Cole heard the contemptuous words come out of his mouth. He never revealed anything private to anyone, least of all a complete stranger or a woman he had sex with. What the hell had gotten into him?

They weren't even dancing anymore, just holding one another and swaying, their bodies moving in a perfect
rhythm. His arms tightened around her, and he drew her hips closer to him. The rest of the room seemed to have fallen away, leaving them wrapped in a world of two. Maia looked up at his face. Something fluttered in her stomach. His head began to descend toward hers, inch by slow inch. She could see lines etched into his face, the shadow on his jaw, his long eyelashes and the intent in his hungry eyes.

“Don't you dare.”

“I have to.”

“I said no. Very decisively.” Maia pulled her head back to keep his lips from touching hers. She'd be lost if he kissed her with his sinful mouth. She was taking no chances.

“You are a such a coward. You're running.”

“Like a rabbit,” she confirmed.

“You haven't asked me why I was in jail. Is that the reason you won't take me home with you?”

His hands were making slow circles along her spine. His erection was pressed tightly against her stomach. She ached in places she didn't know could ache. “I haven't asked why because it isn't my business,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief when the song ended. “I have to play.”

Cole let her slip out of his arms because if he held her any longer, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and take her out of there to any place he could have her to himself for a long, long time. He managed to make it back to his seat without breaking anything. He took a long pull on the beer. It was warm and did nothing to cool the fire racing through his veins.

Cole watched her through half-closed eyes, already staking his claim on her, making certain the other men in the bar knew she belonged to him. No woman had ever
gotten to him before. She seemed lost in her music, unaware of him when he was burning for her.

His cell phone beeped, and, scowling, he glanced down to identify the caller. “What is it, Jase?” Cole demanded, his eyes on Maia. If she smiled one more time at the lunkhead in the front row, he was going to have to smash his beer bottle right over the man's head.

For a moment there was silence, then a harsh, tearing sob. “I trusted you. You knew I cared about him. You knew Celtic High mattered to me.”

Cole went still. “What are you talking about, Jase? Calm down and tell me what's going on.”

“The bay. He's all torn up. What'd you do to him?”

“I didn't do a damned thing to him,” Cole bit the words out in anger before he could stop them. “I'll have the vet there in an hour.” It was over an hour's drive to the ranch, but he could shave off minutes. He couldn't blame Jase for accusing him. The kid had been taught not to trust anyone, but it still hurt. Much worse than that, Cole couldn't help his own suspicions. He'd investigated the kid's past, looking for red flags, cruelty to animals, anything that might indicate the old man had passed on his sick genes, but he'd found nothing. Still, the doubt crept in.

“He's in too much pain,” Jase said. “He'll have to be put down. I can't do it. I tried, but I can't do it.” He was sobbing openly. “He went through a fence and he's really torn up. There's wood sticking in his chest and stomach, splinters buried in his belly and legs. Some of the cuts are down to the bone. I can't put him down, Cole.”

“Listen to me, Jase. I'll be there in an hour with the vet. Get Al and the other hands to help you. Take Celtic High to the big barn where all the equipment is. The vet will
need light to work on him, and that's the most sterile environment we have. Tell Al to keep that horse alive.”

“But, Cole,” now Jase sounded like a young child seeking reassurance, “he's suffering.”

“I didn't do this, Jase. I wasn't even there.”

“I found your work glove in the snow by the fence.” Jase sounded apologetic. “I don't know what I was thinking. I knew you went to town.”

“I'll be there in an hour,” Cole repeated. “Get Al and stick close to him until I figure out what's going on.”

Maia watched Cole's face as he talked on the phone. He gave very little away with his expression, but something was wrong. She saw the way his hand tightened around the neck of the beer bottle. He'd been absently stroking it, almost seductively, and now he gripped it as if he wanted to throttle something. Cole abruptly broke the connection and shoved the cell phone into his pocket, stood up and looked directly at her.

At once her heart began to accelerate, pounding in her chest. His gaze was cold, hard, and very direct. He began to walk toward her with long strides, a ruthless stamp on his features and purpose in every step. For the first time, she faltered in her playing, losing the rhythm that was so much a part of her. The band ground to a halt. There was a sudden silence in the bar.

“Come on. I need you out at the ranch. Let's go.” Cole's voice brooked no argument.

Maia studied his harsh expression. He reached out and caught her arm, nearly pulling her off her stool. “I said now.”

A murmur of protest went around the room. It didn't deter Cole in the least. He crowded closer to her.

Maia glanced around the bar, a quick appraisal of the situation, then her gaze was back on his face. Implacable resolve. He didn't care that others might come to her rescue. He was perfectly prepared to fight, and worse, he might win.

His fingers tightened around her arm. “You don't want me to carry you out,” he warned.

“You don't want me to slap your face either,” Maia said, her gaze flicking coolly over his face. “Let's go.”

“D
ON
'
T EVER DO THAT AGAIN
,” Maia warned. She paused just outside of the bar to take a deep, calming breath of the night air. “I know something upset you, and believe me, that's the only reason I'm out here with you right now. I am not the kind of woman you can order around.”

Cole looked down at her, at the smoldering anger he saw in her eyes. It was snowing large flakes, falling softly and mutely between them. He reached out, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck, and pulled her toward him, his mouth taking possession of hers before she could protest.

She expected his kiss to be as wild and dominating as he was, but it was just the opposite. His mouth was incredibly gentle on hers, soft but firm, a whisper of fire, his lips brushing at hers with a disarming tenderness. He lifted his head, his blue eyes nearly dazzling her.

Cole could feel his heart thudding hard, too hard. There was a curious melting sensation in the region of his stomach, and his body reacted instantly to the close proximity of hers. He knew immediately he had made a big mistake. Maia Armstrong was no ordinary woman, and he
was going to get burned if he didn't regain some control, and fast. His fingers massaged the nape of her neck, brushing caresses in her soft hair. He was renowned for his control, yet she seemed to turn him inside out. His careful defenses didn't work with her.

Maia managed to pull away from him. “If this emergency is some sham to get me to your ranch for more of
that . . .
” She glared at him and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, desperate to remove his taste. His kiss had felt like a brand, making fire race from his lips and tongue to her belly, lower still, so that she'd felt her body go liquid with desire for him.
And he'd barely touched her.

“That
was an apology. And stop trying to wipe it off.” He caught her wrist, pulling her hand away from her mouth, satisfaction mixing with something else in his eyes, something that could have been alarm. He led her across the parking lot. “I'm used to giving orders and getting things done. We have to get to the ranch immediately and telling you to come seemed like the fastest way to accomplish that.”

Maia bit down hard on her lower lip. She should have stopped him, slapped him, done anything besides participate. She touched her mouth. It was still burning. She'd definitely participated. Where was her pride? Her outrage? The man was more dangerous to her than she'd realized. With an effort, Maia found her voice again. “You might want to give me the particulars.” She sounded a little husky. “What type of animal, and what's the injury?”

“A horse. Jase's favorite horse Celtic High, although he won't admit it. Unfortunately, there's a blizzard coming, a bad series of storms that could hang you up for days. I
can't trailer the horse out during the storm, so I'll need you to come with me now. I can only promise that if it's at all possible, I'll have the roads cleared for you to return.”

Maia glanced upward at the rapidly falling snow. “I thought the storm wasn't supposed to hit for several hours.”

“It's early. We've got to move fast to stay ahead of it.”

“I'll need my rig. I can follow you out,” Maia said, switching directions, the professional taking over. “I have the drugs and everything I need in the sterile packs. I have to call the service and let them know and get Dr. Stacy to take over while I'm gone. He's able to work on an emergency basis. If we're lucky, we'll beat the storm.”

“I'll drive. We keep the road to the ranch plowed, but it can get rough in spots,” Cole said, easily keeping pace with her. “And there's no way to plow during a blizzard. Jase said the bay went through a fence and that it has multiple injuries, gashes down to the bone and splinters of wood embedded in it. He said he thought the horse was suffering and should be put down, but he couldn't do it.”

“And you want me to save the horse even if it can't ever be ridden again?” Many ranchers put down a horse that was no longer a working animal.

“Absolutely. Whatever it takes, as long as the horse isn't suffering,” Cole said. “We've got a big ranch. He can live out his days there.”

Maia nodded. “Okay then. And maybe we'll be lucky, and it won't be as bad as it looks. Horses can sustain heavy injuries, and if you keep them from getting an infection, can come back quite sound.” She glanced back toward his truck, white from the fall of snow. “I'm used to driving in the snow. You don't want to leave your truck here.”

“I have plenty of vehicles at the ranch, including a helicopter. And no one's going to touch my truck.” His gaze met hers squarely.

Maia couldn't prevent the small shiver that went down her spine. Cole was right. Maia knew most of the townspeople feared him. There was always that dangerous edge to him he couldn't hide, and he didn't bother to try. Recognizing there was little use in arguing, she pulled out her cell phone and made the call to her service. The snow fell into her hair and down the neckline of her shirt while she gave the necessary instructions.

As she pushed the small phone back into her pocket, she reached for the driver's door just as Cole did. Maia pulled her hand back to avoid contact. “My rig,” she said.

“But I'm driving. I know the road, and the storm is coming in far faster than we thought. It'll be safer with me driving because I know every rut and curve in that road.” Cole swept the snow from her hair, sheltering her with his body from the worst of the flurries. “We don't have much time. Give me the keys.”

Maia paused, her hand gripping the keys. “Why were you in jail?” She didn't want it to matter, but it did. She wasn't about to become another victim because she was too stupid even to ask.

Cole yanked open the door on the driver's side, swift impatience crossing his face. “Not rape, if that's what you think. I don't abuse women.” He slid behind the wheel and slammed the door with unnecessary force.

“Oh, really?” She hurried around the vehicle to slide in beside him, handing him the keys. “All those poor women you take to bed must feel pretty abused when you never call them again.” The moment she closed the door she felt
trapped. He was potent up close, intensely male. His shoulders were wide, and his chest thick and well muscled. She could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. And his kiss lingered on her lips.

His gaze dwelt on her face for a long moment as he turned the engine on. Immediately “White Christmas” blared out of the speakers, filling the Toyota Land Cruiser with music. Cole winced and turned it off.

“We need to get one thing straight right now, Maia,” he said. “When I take a woman to bed, she
never
feels abused. And I detest Christmas music.”