The Rancher's Prospect (10 page)

“Hell,”
Josh snarled.

He clenched his teeth, breathing hard, plainly trying to keep his composure. Tara didn't know exactly why she kept pushing, just that something inside wanted to provoke him. She lifted her chin in challenge. His control snapped as he reached out and yanked her close.

Her body yielded against his work-hardened muscles as his mouth claimed hers, firm and demanding, in a way that made every other kiss she'd shared pale in comparison. But comparisons were forgotten as the embrace softened, his lips becoming sensuous, gently opening hers.

At the same time, his hands moved over her hips, tugging her lower body close, leaving no doubt of his desire. It was intoxicating, and Tara felt an urge to throw caution to the wind. But a habit of self-protection quickly reasserted itself and she knew she shouldn't have provoked him. After all, she wasn't a seductress... Maybe hormones had simply made her crazy.

She stiffened and pulled back a fraction of an inch. It took only seconds before Josh's grip eased, though his arms remained loosely around her as his breathing evened, then they dropped as well, and he stepped back.

“I'd better go,” he muttered.

He stalked from the office, and Tara stood motionless for a moment. The previous day Josh had pointedly informed the sheriff that their lunch was merely a thank-you for her help, as if he didn't want her, or anyone else, to think they'd gone out for social reasons. Still, that kiss showed that
something
was going on behind his grim exterior. It had been as hot as a kiss could get.

Taking out her purse, Tara looked into a small mirror she kept in her wallet. She smoothed her hair and renewed her lip gloss, yet it was Josh McGregor's face that she kept seeing in her mind. He was pure, sexy heat.

Pushing the thought from her head, she focused on her work again. She'd enjoyed kissing Josh, but it was an anomaly, not to be repeated.

* * *

A
T
LUNCHTIME
L
AUREN
sank into her office chair with relief. They'd had a spate of sprained ankles, wrenched shoulders, bumped heads and feet that had stepped on nails, requiring tetanus shots. Schuyler wasn't much different than Los Angeles in that respect—it was late spring and people were taking fitness shortcuts, hoping to get in shape for summer.

Some were optimistic; one patient had wriggled into a tight bathing suit and had been scared to use the scissors on her own. Lauren had suspected pregnancy after a thorough exam.

“I shouldn't have forced it on,” Carolyn had declared in embarrassment. “I
knew
I'd gained weight, but I'm so hungry these days. I can't seem to stop eating.”

“Mmm. When was your last period?”

Carolyn had looked dumbstruck. “Uh...four months ago. But I
can't
be pregnant. I mean, I thought I started menopause early.”

“We'll do a test, but you may not want to be wearing a bikini this year.”

“Who cares?”

The pure delight on Carolyn's face had been great, but she'd used the visit to encourage Lauren to go on a date with her brother-in-law.

“He's a good guy,” Carolyn had declared, “and he isn't a goofball like my husband.”

“I'm concentrating on spending time with my sister right now.” Lauren had demurred. Her patients' matchmaking attempts continued unabated, possibly with the hope of cementing their newest physician's assistant's presence in the community.

A knock sounded on her office door now, and Karen came in, carrying a lovely basket of pansies.

“Another thank-you from a patient, I guess,” Karen said, setting it on the desk and rushing out when the phone rang.

Her face brightening, Lauren pulled the card out; she'd received a number of bouquets. It was nice that Schuyler was so intent on keeping her in town, and the bouquets were far more welcome than matchmaking. Best of all, this particular offering was pansies. She loved pansies; they were such homey, bright little blossoms.

But when she opened the card, she bit her lip. The basket was from Carl Stanfield.

Lauren, I saw these and couldn't resist sending them to you. Would you have dinner with me tomorrow? Give me a quick call when you have the opportunity. I hope you can come. I'm taking a few days off, and eating dinner with a friend would be a pleasant way to begin my break.

—Carl

Lauren clutched the note tightly and wished she felt free to accept Carl's invitation without any angst or second thoughts. Still, why shouldn't she go? He'd described it as spending time with a friend, and pansies weren't exactly a romantic flower. So maybe it would be all right.

Sitting forward, she grabbed the phone and dialed his home number before she chickened out. As expected, she got his voice mail, which might be a little cowardly, but it was easier to inject the right tone that way.

“Hi, Carl,” she said, her voice light and casual. “Thanks for the flowers. Dinner tomorrow would be great, but I can't stay out late because I have to work on Saturday. How about coming over between four thirty and five? Or if you prefer, I can meet you somewhere. Bye.”

Putting the receiver down, she realized her heart was pounding and she hadn't taken a breath.

She needed to calm down. There was no way she could call back and say she'd changed her mind; that would make her look like a dithering idiot.

It would be all right. Wouldn't it?

* * *

A
FTER
LEAVING
THE
Boxing N office, Josh busted his butt, moving loads of hay, grooming the horses and cleaning out the stalls. He couldn't believe he'd given in to his attraction for Tara. What an utterly asinine move. And what if it made her think he was interested in starting something with her?

He shuddered.
As if.
However beautiful she was, Tara was also a city woman and far too stubborn and sharp tongued. More than that, she was an international traveler who planned to spend her life hopping from one country to another. She'd be wrong for him even if she did something totally out of character and decided to stay in Schuyler. She was a woman who wore silk shirts, didn't care about ranching and seemed to delight in making his life difficult.

Damn.
He didn't want to even
think
about Tara.

Josh was working in the big barn when Andrew arrived, saying he'd been approved for light activity.

“You shouldn't rush it,” Josh told him, thinking that “light” activity was too ambiguous for his taste. Light work on a ranch might be strenuous to an office worker.

“Don't knock it, boss,” Clyde Hawes advised. He'd been working alongside Josh, helping with the maintenance and repairs that had been neglected in the months since Grandpa's accident. “I appreciate a man who doesn't let anything get in the way of working hard.”

Andrew's chin rose higher. There was a bandage on his forehead and he had a black eye, but he seemed able. “Honest, the doctor said it was okay to come back—claims I have a head like a rock.”

“Clyde, why don't you take Andrew out to ride fences for a couple of hours?” Josh asked. Riding fence lines was his favorite chore on the ranch, but he couldn't do it all. “Show him how to handle any issues, but don't let him overdo it.”

“Sure thing.”

“Find me before you leave for the day,” Josh added. “There's something I'd like to discuss.”

Clyde nodded. Much to Andrew's disgust, he insisted on saddling both horses, and they rode out with the teenager still protesting that nobody had to babysit him.

The corner of Josh's mouth twitched as he finished repairing a broken hinge on one of the stalls. Andrew was eager. He hoped to buy his own ranch someday and wanted to learn everything possible from hands-on, daily effort. In some ways he was mature beyond his years; in others he was a typical hormone-driven eighteen-year-old male.

As for Clyde Hawes?

He would be a good choice for the Boxing N's foreman. Clyde was the most experienced of the hands and wasn't overly concerned about the often conflicting orders he got. He'd give Walt a nod of respect, talk to him about the old days of ranching and quietly do whatever Josh had asked him to do in the first place.

Josh decided he'd offer Clyde the foreman's job and make an effort to step out of his way. Owner and foreman were two different roles, and he had to learn to be an owner. He just wished it hadn't been Tara Livingston who'd identified the problem.

Josh wiped the sweat from his forehead and dropped his tools into the box.

Perhaps he should talk to Tara and make sure there weren't any misunderstandings between them. Her car was still parked near the office and he'd prefer to handle it as soon as possible. What's more, it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with his grandfather around, and Walt would be at his physical therapy appointment until late afternoon.

Once Clyde and Andrew had ridden out of sight, he went straight to the office.

“Hey, Tara,” he announced as he came through the door, “there's something we need to clarify.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“It's about earlier. I want to get things out in the open. That kiss shouldn't have happened and I want you to know that I wasn't trying to start anything. That is, I'm not interested in a long-term relationship right now. I simply can't afford the distraction.”

“Oh, really?” she asked in a sugary tone. “What made you think I was hunting for a husband or that I'd want to stay in Montana with someone who considers a relationship to be an unwelcome distraction?”

Josh winced, realizing how arrogant he must have sounded. He'd made more than his share of blunders lately. His mouth was running ahead of his brain so much it was surprising that anyone in his family or the town was willing to talk with him. He should have just said he wasn't interested in dating.

Tara continued crisply, “I've had offers from men in other parts of the world and I haven't accepted any of them. Now you think I'm yearning for happily-ever-after with an obnoxious rancher? Considering the size of your ego, it's a good thing you live in Montana—a smaller state wouldn't have room for it.”

“I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I didn't consider my words carefully enough.”

“That's a serious understatement.”

Josh wheeled and marched out, furious that he'd stuck his foot in his mouth yet again.

It was ironic that despite his large family, he felt isolated. He couldn't discuss the problems with his grandfather with anyone in the family, but especially not with his parents. His mom was still grieving and didn't need to listen to his complaints about her father. And while he'd always been close to Jackson, he hadn't been comfortable talking it over with him, either. Their circumstances were different. Great-Uncle Mitch had happily retired when the time came, with no attempts to keep running the Crazy Horse Ranch.

The truth was that he hadn't spent much time with any of his family since returning to Montana. Instead, he'd been consumed by the Boxing N.

In the corral Josh saddled Lightfoot and rode out, eyeing the cattle scattered across the landscape. That morning he'd done his best to determine if any were missing, but the numbers seemed all right. Clyde and the other hands agreed. So the cut fence might have been simple vandalism, not theft.

Whenever his thoughts drifted to his problems with Walt, Josh slapped himself. He didn't believe in self-pity. Besides, with hard work and careful management, he could keep the Boxing N going. It would be terrible if the Nelson ranch had to be sold, and Josh was going to make sure that didn't happen.

CHAPTER NINE

T
ARA
WANTED
TO
LAUGH
whenever she thought about Josh stomping away.

How wrong could a guy get? Men had always complained that she was difficult to approach, never offering encouragement, and now Josh McGregor had assumed she was interested in him?

While she found Josh attractive and
had
provoked him, that didn't mean she was interested in a relationship, especially after her experience with Pierre.

Tara's humor fled at the memory, and she flinched. She'd actually considered marrying Pierre until that last night—or rather, the morning after, when he'd compared her sexual prowess to a fish. She'd told him to drop dead.

Restless, Tara got up and walked around the office. The expansive views made it an enticing place to work. Walt had told her that when he'd moved into the building he'd expanded the existing windows to provide vistas of both the ranch and the garden where his wife spent so much time in the summer.

Lord.

Tara rested her forehead on a cool pane of glass and wished she understood why some people were lucky in love and others ended up with someone like Pierre. Was she somehow undeserving? After all, she'd been pushing people away since infancy.

The thought was dismal, and it didn't bode well for her having a relationship with anyone, much less her sister. Lauren could ultimately decide it wasn't worth trying to get close to someone who had so much trouble with intimacy.

Tara didn't know why she'd told Josh about her childhood. He couldn't possibly understand what it had been like and might even look down on her because of it. Growing up she'd discovered that a lot of people were suspicious about children in foster care, as if they'd come from questionable backgrounds.

With a sigh she sat down at the desk again, looking at a document she'd found earlier. It was an old survey of the Boxing N Ranch. The number of acres seemed huge. She didn't know the usual size of ranches in Montana, although she'd heard that the McGregor holdings were equally large.

It was interesting. People in town didn't speak about either family as if they were out of the ordinary. She'd known folks who either resented or sucked up to those with financial success. But in Schuyler, both the McGregors and Nelsons seemed to be respected for hardworking values and old ranching traditions.

Walt limped into the office about four o'clock and sank into his favorite easy chair. He didn't say anything for more than an hour, so Tara quietly kept working until he started talking. As usual it was less a conversation than a monologue. Starting with family history, he roamed over a century and a half of Montana ranching.

Once in a while he said something about his wife. Tara was always careful not to look closely at him when he mentioned Evelyn; it was as if his sorrow made him feel exposed and vulnerable.

“I messed up,” he said at one point. “I was supposed to retire and we were going to go visit all the places we'd dreamed of exploring. But I kept putting it off and then it was too late.”

“I'm sure she understood.”

“Perhaps.” He squared his shoulders. “Have you decided where you're going next?”

“Basically I've narrowed it down to Berlin, Rome or Madrid. I've visited all of them and want to see more.”

His face grew more melancholy again. “Evelyn especially wanted to visit Italy. She was an art major in college and loved the Renaissance masters.”

“Perhaps you could go in her memory?”

“No,” he returned brusquely. “It wouldn't be the same without her. I only have the ranch left, and I can't even handle the Boxing N without Josh. I'm a useless old man.”

“Ridiculous,” Tara shot back. “You're only in your seventies. You have a brother in his eighties who's still going strong. From what I hear, Mitch Nelson manages to
thoroughly
enjoy life. In fact, according to Lauren, he's a favorite with the widows in town.”

Walt chuckled. “True enough.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Did you know it's past six?”

Tara checked her watch and laughed. “No, I lost track of the time.”

“We have plenty of daylight left. How about a short ride?”

“Sure. Just give me a chance to change my clothes.”

“I'll get the horses saddled.”

As Walt left she turned off the computer and stretched. She didn't know when she'd come to care so much about the lonely old man who missed his wife more than his family seemed to realize. Not that she'd heard that from anyone except Josh, but nothing suggested his family saw things differently. Though all things considered, Josh was hardly going to confide in
her
.

Walt's grief tugged at her heart. What would it be like to love someone so much that it was a struggle to find meaning in life without them? Was the joy of the years together worth risking the pain of losing them? At some point she might be able to ask Walt those questions, but his wounds were too raw, and she'd probably leave Schuyler before he'd healed enough.

Of course, there was no reason she couldn't visit him whenever she came back to see Lauren. It was nice to think she'd have a second reason to return to Schuyler. And with a little luck, she could avoid Josh on those visits.

Grimacing, Tara went into the bathroom and changed into her riding clothes. Walt had suggested she keep some at the office, and they'd gone out riding whenever possible. She enjoyed it, even when she found it difficult to put Josh out of her mind.

It might not have been the smartest thing to set herself up as Walt's ally against his grandson, but that was what she wanted to be. At the same time, she had to admit that Josh was clearly caught between two painful positions—he cared about his grandfather, but he also needed to be his own man, running the Boxing N.

She'd also seen enough of the ranch's finances to know it had to start turning a profit. Right now the Boxing N was losing money. Maybe the Nelsons and McGregors were wealthy enough to carry it for a while, but as an accountant, she found it unnerving to see a business in the red.

Not that she was going to admit any of that to Josh.

* * *

T
ARA
GOT
INTO
her car an hour later. She'd enjoyed the ride with Walt, but memories of kissing Josh returned, and she fastened her seat belt in frustration. It was like the difference between smelling chocolate and actually having the dark, rich flavor sliding over her tongue.

At the same time, she agreed that it shouldn't be repeated...probably the
only
thing she and Josh agreed about.

Regrettably, her resolve didn't cool the heat she felt whenever she thought about him. It just went to show that you didn't have to like a man to find him sexy.

There was no justice in wanting to crawl into a hayloft with the guy, however tempting it might be to discover if sex could be better than her experience suggested. But even if she tried, it would probably come to nothing. And ultimately, she wasn't willing to try again, however great the temptation.

* * *

C
ARL
WAS
DELIGHTED
when he found Lauren's message on his voice mail. The suggestion of pansies and another approach must have been right on target. He'd have to thank Tara again.

The next afternoon he arrived at Lauren's door at exactly four forty-five. She opened when he knocked, and he gazed at her in admiration. The soft blue dress showed off her figure, the skirt flowing around her hips to below her knees. She looked sweet and feminine and incredibly attractive.

“Hi,” he said, resisting the urge to kiss her on the cheek. After all, he'd promised himself to take it slower this time around.

“Hi, Carl,” she replied with a smile. “You didn't mention where we were going. Is this okay?” She brushed a hand over her dress.

“You look terrific. I thought we could check out the Italian place in Windy Bluff since we had Mexican the last time.”

“That's nice.”

They drove to the nearby town, chatting about Schuyler's upcoming Independence Day celebration. It was still over six weeks away, but the town was revving up for it with a lot of energy.

“It's wonderful to live in a place with so much community spirit,” she said.

“Yeah, Schuyler keeps us busy during the summer, with both big and small events. I just learned the Nelsons will be holding their annual dance after all. There's also a rodeo and the volunteer fire department's barbecue. I'm thinking of entering the chili cook-off that's part of rodeo week.”

Lauren smiled. “You cook?”

“I'm not bad, but my chili is fantastic, even if it's immodest to say so.”

She laughed and he enjoyed the way it sounded...definitely something he could get used to hearing often.

“Spicy chili or mild?” she asked.

“I'll make it whichever way you like it best,” he told her as he parked at the restaurant.

“Oh.”

Carl thought her cheeks colored slightly and she bit her lip, as though uncertain or uncomfortable.

“Don't bother trying to make it according to my preferences,” she added and he was again unsure what she was trying to tell him.

Inside the restaurant, the maître d' nodded at him. Carl had driven over at lunchtime to ensure everything would be just right.

They were led to a secluded table where a small basket of blue and yellow pansies sat in the middle. Lauren looked apprehensive.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Uh, no. It's just that pansies aren't usual for a restaurant, especially an Italian place.”

“I ordered them for tonight.”

“That was...um, thoughtful.” Her voice had a hesitant edge, and she seemed to grow more nervous.

“Tell me more about yourself,” he said after they had ordered. “What was it like to learn you had a twin sister?”

“Strange. I thought we'd be instantly close, only we're too different. But I think it's getting better. When we first met in Paris it was really awkward.”

Carl nodded. “I like Tara, though she
does
seem challenging to get to know well. Still, she's the one who told me that you like pansies.”

“I don't remember mentioning it, but she never forgets anything. Even the smallest detail.”

They continued talking, sharing some of their history. She seemed surprised he'd grown up in Maryland.

“You're such a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals, I thought you were born and raised in Missouri. You never supported the Orioles?”

“When I was little, sure. They're a good team, but I always liked the Cardinals.” Carl stopped and cleared his throat, recalling the way he'd gone on and on about his team's baseball stats and season prospects during their first date, months earlier. “Anyhow, I kind of adopted St. Louis as my hometown when I moved.”

“When did you decide to go into law enforcement?”

“When I was five—mostly because my dad was a cop.”

Lauren laughed. “Did you ever think about anything else?”

“Naturally. A year later I decided to be an astronaut, followed by a fervent desire to become a major league pitcher.”

“What happened?”

“I realized it required the ability to throw a ball straight, so I thought being president of the United States would do instead. What were your dreams?”

Another strained expression crossed her face, but she answered lightly. “Typical, I suppose. A ballerina. For a while I wanted to be an astronaut, too, and when I was
really
little, I wanted to be a professional kitten holder.”

“Then you must like cats,” he said eagerly, pleased to find something else in common.

“What's not to like? They're rotten little monsters who purr.”

He grinned. Lauren was
definitely
a cat person.

She stirred restlessly and glanced around the restaurant. “If you don't mind, I'm going to freshen up.”

“Sure.”

He watched her walk between the tables, the soft fabric of her dress swishing around her curves. Heat flickered through him, and he reminded himself to go slow.

* * *

L
AUREN
WENT
INTO
the ladies' room with a sigh of relief. The evening wasn't going the way she'd anticipated. Carl wasn't acting as if the evening was dinner between friends—he'd ordered flowers for the table and he kept smiling at her in a way that seemed more romantic than friendly.

She should have known better. In fact, she
had
known better—she'd just wanted to spend more time with him. That had been her problem when they first started dating. She'd realized they weren't suited and kept justifying accepting invitations because she liked him.

“Is something wrong?” a voice inquired and she swung around to see a woman with a pleasant face surrounded by silvery hair.

“Uh, no. I mean, it's complicated.”

“I noticed you're here with a very handsome young man. Is he the complication?”

Lauren shrugged, not sure how much she should say. Windy Bluffs was close enough to Schuyler that it wasn't unusual for gossip to pass between the two communities. It had happened the last time she'd eaten there with Carl, after all. Still, she longed to discuss the situation with someone.

“You look very nice together,” the older woman added helpfully.

“We... Um, it isn't like that. We're just friends.”

The lady chuckled. “Is that what you want?”

No.
That was the worst of it. Lauren might have tried to fool herself, but she'd known Carl was still interested. She even
wanted
him to pursue her, while the scared, uncertain child inside knew it was a bad idea.