Wildcard (4 page)

* * * * *

The knot in Trace’s belly grew tighter as she drove closer to the Flying M Ranch. She’d changed out of the wild made-for-Nicole-and-not-Trace outfit, and into a pair of worn Levi’s, a royal blue scoop-necked t-shirt, thick socks, and Nikes. She’d even taken a moment to tone down the blush on her cheeks with a tissue. Didn’t have to worry about the lipstick—Jess had eaten that off.

Shivers skated along Trace’s skin at the mere thought. Cripes—when would she be able to push that kiss and that man to the back of her mind?

She guided the Mustang onto the dirt road leading to the MacLeod Ranch. It’d been over four years since she’d been home. Four years since she’d stormed out and told Dee she didn’t care if she ever saw her again.

It had taken Trace a long time to realize that Dee had done the best job she could in raising Trace. Sure, there were only a couple of years between the two of them, but Dee had been there for everything when their mother died and their father drew away from them.

In Trace’s immaturity, she had seen only that Dee had what Trace didn’t—beauty, talent, intelligence… But one day, long after she’d established herself with Wildgames in Europe, it had hit Trace that she did have all that Dee did, she had just needed to recognize her own self-worth. Dee had tried to tell her that time after time, but Trace had let envy—
jealousy
—cloud their relationship.

Eventually, when Trace had moved to England, she’d sent Dee a letter, chatty and friendly, trying to reestablish their relationship. Dee had been warm and receptive, just like she’d always been.

That had been a couple of years ago, and now, Trace had come home. To make amends. To say the things she should have said long ago.

And to finally bury the old, insecure part of herself she should have laid to rest with her troubled childhood.

Countless memories unraveled in Trace’s mind as the Mustang’s wheels rattled over the cattle guard. She slowed the car down as she drove toward the house.

Toward her
home.

She’d spent her entire life at the Flying M, up until her two years at the university and then the last four years in Europe. She’d practiced calf-roping and barrel racing in those corrals to the northeast of the ranch house. Despite darkness shrouding the ranch she could easily make out the split rail fencing and the water trough made from a fifty-gallon steel drum.

And over there, in that huge old barn, was where they kept Dancer, Trace’s mare. Farther out back she could even see the bunkhouse where most of the ranch hands lived, and she smiled. When she was growing up on the ranch, she’d certainly had her fair share of crushes on hot cowboys.

At the thought of cowboys, one particularly tall and good-looking one came immediately to mind. Amazing—she’d finally been able to forget Jess Lawless for all of what, three minutes?

As she brought the Mustang to a halt in front of the house and switched off the ignition, the knot in her belly rose into her chest, making even breathing difficult. Why was she so anxious about getting together with her sister after all this time? Maybe it was the combination of seeing Dee, and what had happened earlier with Jess.

After she took a couple of deep breaths, Trace climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind her. A dog barked from inside the house and the tawny glow of lights spilled through the kitchen’s curtains. She paused for a moment to look up at the now almost clear star-spattered sky. Wow. She’d missed the sight of all those stars. It was so dark out here in the middle of nowhere that stars were far more plentiful and brilliant, and the Milky Way was like white cotton candy spun across the universe.

Dirt and rocks crunched under her shoes as she made herself walk toward the house. Rain-fresh desert air filled her senses, along with the familiar ranch smells of cattle and horses. The weeping willows and oaks had sure grown in the past four years.

Wooden stairs squeaked as she jogged up them to the plant-crowded porch, thick enough that it looked like a small jungle.

A porch light flicked on as Trace reached the front door, and she blinked away the sudden brightness. The rattle of the doorknob caused the knots in her belly and chest to double. Then triple.

The door swung open, but Trace couldn’t make out the shadowed figure in the entrance, until the person stepped onto the porch.

Dee.
She hadn’t changed much in four years—if anything she was more beautiful than ever. Her auburn hair flowed around her shoulders, her skin as flawless and perfect as it had always been.

Only she seemed
happy
. Happier than Trace remembered ever seeing her.

“Yes?” Dee cocked her head, a puzzled smile on her pretty face. “Can I—” Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Trace?”

Trace gave her sister a little smile. “Hey, Dee.”

“You brat!” In the next moment Dee had her arms wrapped around Trace, hugging her so tight that the air whooshed out of her lungs. Dee still smelled of orange blossoms, and her embrace was warm and loving. “I missed you so much, knothead,” Dee whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

Trace pulled away and smiled, swallowing hard and fighting back tears that she’d never expected. “I missed you, too, string bean. I didn’t realize just how much ‘til now.”

“You look so—so
different
.” Dee shook her head as she held Trace by the shoulders and looked her up and down. “I thought you had to be someone who’d gotten lost or something. Until I saw your eyes. You have Mom’s eyes, you know.”

A dog barked as though in agreement, and Trace reached down to pet the black and white Border collie. “That’s Blue,” Dee said as Trace rubbed the dog behind his ears.

“What a gorgeous boy you are,” Trace crooned.

“Think you might like to let her in out of the cold?” a masculine voice asked.

Trace’s gaze shot up to see Jake Reynolds standing just behind Dee. “
Jake
?” was all Trace could manage as she stood straight and looked at the man who had once been her sister’s boyfriend—about ten years ago.

“I was saving this as a surprise.” Dee grinned up at Jake before looking back to Trace. “Come on in and say hello to my husband.”

“Your
husband?
” Trace stumbled across the threshold as she followed Dee, Jake, and Blue into the ranch house, and let the door swing shut behind her. “You’re
married
?”

“Almost two months.” Dee held up her left hand, the marquis stone of her wedding band glittering in the light. To each side of the diamond, a peridot was set in the gold band.

“Wow.” Trace sighed with admiration. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Welcome home.” Jake settled his arm around Trace’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “Why don’t I leave you ladies to catch up while I head to the study?” he said as he released her.

“To watch the end of the football game no doubt.” Dee grabbed him by his shirt collar and reached up to brush her lips over his.

“Watch it, woman.” Jake’s voice rumbled as he wrapped his arms around Dee’s waist. “I might just throw you over my shoulder and cart you off to the bedroom, reunion with your sister be damned.”

“Mmmm,” Dee murmured against his lips. “Promises.”

Jake gave Dee a smoldering look that reminded Trace of the way Jess had looked at her earlier. Hot, sensual, and possessive. The kind of look that curled a woman’s toes.

He gave Dee a hard kiss and then winked at Trace before walking past the enormous Christmas tree and striding down the hall toward the study.

For a moment Trace had to stand and absorb the living room of the place that had been her home since her birth until she left for Europe. There had been some changes in the past four years. Lots more house plants filled the room that was decorated in a southwestern motif. Navajo rugs were scattered across the tile floor and the walls were covered with a combination of southwestern oil paintings and family portraits. Dee still had all the pictures of Trace and other members of the family on the end tables, as well as lots of new ones that she’d have to spend time looking at later.

The room smelled of pine from the Christmas tree, and of leather from the overstuffed chairs and couches. And there was that old rocker that their mom used to rock them in when they were little, before she’d died.

When Trace’s eyes met Dee’s, her sister flashed a grin and motioned toward the kitchen. “Let’s fill one another in over our favorite chatty food.”

“Rocky Road?” Trace laughed as her sister headed toward the freezer with Blue at their heels. “Remember all the times we’d sit at the table with a half gallon of the stuff and eat it straight from the carton with a spoon?”

“Ohhhh, do I ever.” Dee laughed and yanked open the freezer door, then dug out the ice cream carton.

After grabbing a couple of clean spoons out of the dishwasher, Dee and Trace settled at the table in the breakfast nook, while Blue curled up at Dee’s feet. A peridot heart pendant sparkled at her throat, and Trace shook her head, remembering all those years ago when Dee had said she’d never wear it again.

Incredible how things change. How people change.

The carton made a sucking sound as Trace popped off the lid. “You bought this just because I was coming home, I’ll bet.”

Dee stuck her spoon into the container and scooped out a spoonful. “Uh-huh.” Her gaze lighted on Trace’s left ear, and then she tilted her head and looked at Trace’s right. “Very cool. Definitely suits your sexy new image.”

Trace shook her head and laughed. Thinking of herself as sexy was taking some getting used to.

The sisters spent the next three hours bringing one another up to date on their lives. Dee told Trace how Jake had come back, determined to make up for lost time. “And have we
ever
,” she said with a laugh.

Trace shared with Dee all she’d done while living abroad, the places she’d been, the people she worked with, and even a little bit about Harold, the man she’d been dating for the past two years. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell Dee that she thought he was going to give her an engagement ring for Christmas.

And she definitely couldn’t bring up the cowboy she’d met tonight. No, that was better left unsaid.

One kiss, one night, end of story.

But even after the sisters had hugged and said goodnight, and Trace had crawled into the four poster bed in her old bedroom, she couldn’t get Jess Lawless off her mind.

Instead she stared up at the canopy looking at the patterns of colorful light on the white fabric that were reflected there from her tiffany lamp with the stained-glass shade. In place of the colors, she saw Jess, reliving every touch of his hands, his lips, his body.

Trace pulled down her nightgown to free her breasts and slipped her fingers into her pussy. As she licked and sucked her own nipples, she imagined that he was watching her masturbate. Would he take his cock in hand and stroke himself as he watched her? Would it turn him on to see her fingering her own pussy and licking her nipples?

Again she imagined that he was sliding his cock into her, filling her. It took only a few strokes of her fingers and she came. Another body wracking orgasm that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out loud.

She rolled over and switched off the tiffany lamp and relaxed on her pillow.

Only a kiss,
she told herself as she finally drifted off to sleep.
It was only a kiss.

Chapter Four

After the party, Jess headed back to the Flying M Ranch and to the foreman’s cabin behind the bunkhouse. Out of habit ingrained from years of training, he made sure the building was secure before he let himself into the small cabin. He’d installed his own security locks on the front and back doors, as well as pull-down shades at the windows, and he always chose a different means of identifying if anyone had been in his quarters in his absence. Today the almost invisible threads had still been intact at both the front and rear entrances, and he found nothing suspicious.

Once he’d made a quick round of the living room, single bedroom, bathroom and kitchen, he slung his duster on the coat rack beside the door. He tossed his Stetson on the knobby top, where it rocked back and forth for a moment before going still.

From out of his duster pocket he withdrew his PDA—a slim palm device. From the holster he pulled out his cell phone and switched it so that it would “hum” instead of vibrate, and then kicked back in the comfortable leather recliner in the cabin’s small living room. The room always smelled of mesquite wood from the pile stacked next to the old wood stove and of leather from the worn couch and armchairs.

The furnishings weren’t much to look at, but it was neat and clean. A pair of ancient deer antlers was mounted on the wall beside the black stove pipe of the old wood stove. A few throw rugs were scattered around the tiled floor and knotty pine paneled the walls adding to its rustic look.

On one of the small wooden tables perched a small potted Christmas tree with miniature decorations, courtesy of Dee who figured all her ranch hands needed something Christmas-y in their quarters. The tree she’d put in the bunkhouse had been a little too big for his tastes, but the men had gotten a kick out of it.

Jess turned on his palm device and used the stylus to tab through the pages of notes he’d made on the smuggling case and came to his short list of subjects.

Dee MacLeod had been one of his original suspects, but after his first two months of investigations, he’d marked her right off the list.

Kev Grand always seemed to be in the middle of things. He was becoming somewhat of a vigilante as far as UDAs crossing his property. That could be a front. And those poisoned cattle could be just another way to throw suspicion away from his own illegal activities.

Then there was Brad Taylor, who’d been seen around the Wilds’ cabin sometime before all the documents had been discovered that had falsely incriminated Steve Wilds. Taylor had claimed to know nothing about it, but he had a habit of staying out late just about every night. Although he’d heard that Taylor had a penchant for twins…at the same time.

According to information Jess had dug up recently, Kathy Newman had a long history with Forrester—too long to be discounted. Apparently they’d been tight for some time, although they’d had some kind of quarrel a few months ago and hadn’t been seen together for awhile before the rustling cover had been blown. Big Tits drove a black Mercedes, and the way she was reported to enjoy flashing cash around, it was a wonder Jess hadn’t run into her the few months he’d worked the area. Although she did live a good thirty minutes from the MacLeod Ranch, and he’d heard she preferred to spend her money in Sierra Vista, the biggest town in the county, or better yet, Tucson.

Bull Stevens was a big time rancher in the area who also had a big time grudge against UDAs for damaging his fence line. He’d lost thousands of dollars worth of cattle when they strayed out and died after getting into some bad feed. But was that enough to cause a man to get involved with the Mexican drug cartel?

Not too long ago, Natalie Garcia had bought the old Karchner place a couple miles north of the Flying M. Drug activity had escalated since her arrival and some big busts had been made not to far from her property. His gut instinct told him that the single mother had nothing to do with what was going on, but it wouldn’t hurt to question her. She was romantically involved with Steve Wilds, who’d been framed but then cleared of any involvement in the rustling activities.

Tomorrow Jess had plans to head down to the county hospital to interview a UDA who’d been used as a mule to smuggle drugs in from Mexico. The man had been beaten half to death by the
coyotes
, the bastards who ran the smuggling operations.

The hum of his cell phone snapped Jess out of his consideration of the suspects to date. He picked up the phone from the end table and saw by the caller ID that it was Santiago.

“Lawless,” Jess said into the phone at the same time he shut off the PDA.

“Just talked with Miguel Cotiño,” Santiago said.

“The Special Ops Super over at the Border Patrol?”

“Yeah.” A feminine giggle could be heard in the background and Santiago’s voice lowered. “Said to not bother heading to the hospital to interrogate that mule. He’s dead.”

“Shit.” Jess ground his teeth and thumbed the PDA onto the end table. “Anything else?”

“Nah. Catch you tomorrow. I got me a hot little thing waiting for me to get back to her.”

“Later,” Jess said before punching the phone off and setting it back down.

At least Santiago was getting some tonight. With a frustrated sigh, Jess got up from the recliner and laid the palm device on the end table. So much for that lead. But what really pissed him off was the fact that those bastard
coyotes
had caused the death of yet another innocent.

Scrubbing his hand over his stubbled face, he considered what to do next. He’d never get to sleep feeling as restless and edgy as he was.

Due to one sexy little redhead who he couldn’t get off his mind.

It took only a few minutes to lock up the little cabin and then Jess found himself striding through the dark night and toward the MacLeod house without any real purpose or plan. Just on the hope of seeing Trace, maybe catching her outside or in the kitchen, and getting to talk to her for a few minutes.

He passed by the corrals and barn, the sounds of a horse whickering, the low of a cow and the singsong of crickets filling the night. Jess knew the sounds well. After all, he was a native Texan, and he owned his own nice spread near Houston. Once this case was closed and cleaned up, he intended to head back there. Although he enjoyed his work, he was accustomed to family dropping in, big get-togethers with his folks, his grandma, his sisters and brothers, and all his nieces and nephews. It had been months since he’d seen them, and he could sure use some of his mom’s blueberry pie, straight from the oven, with a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream right on top.

He might even talk to his mom about Trace, about his sudden feeling that she belonged close to the sprawling Lawless family.

Before he knew it, Jess found himself standing in front of the ranch house and near the room he knew had belonged to Trace MacLeod when she was growing up here. No doubt it would be where she’d be sleeping.

What are you going to do, Lawless? Throw rocks at her window?

He bit back a wave of frustration and embarrassment. But then, why the hell not? Maybe she’d get a kick out of it, of him showing her his teenage-feeling interest.

Just around the corner at the back of the house, hidden within a closed in yard, he could hear the pulsing of the hot tub jets as well as Jake’s and Dee’s voices. By the sound of Dee’s gasps and Jake’s groans, Jess suspected they were more than enjoying themselves. Better move on from that. Private things were private—though to hear Catie Wilds Savage talk, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. That little hellcat would have pulled up a front row seat and wouldn’t be the least embarrassed to admit it.

Jess had never been much for voyeurism, except for once in his teen years, when a kid could be forgiven for being desperate. With a wry smile, he bent and picked up a few pebbles from the yard. Then, he eased behind the trees that obscured the room’s window from sight and looked in. Covert operations was something he’d done often, although nothing like this…spying on a woman he was dying to get his hands on, with the intent of grabbing her attention with a pebble or two.

I’m losing my damned mind. And I don’t spy on women I’m interested in.

All right, except for that time when he was thirteen and he had peeked into Maggie Jensen’s window while she was dressing. She’d been eighteen and built like a brick house—one of those figures that gave all teenage boys wet dreams. It’d been the first time he’d seen a live pair of breasts and a woman’s hair-covered mound, and he’d masturbated more than a time or two over the image of her naked, imagining what it would feel like to fuck her.

But now he was an adult, with a raging hard-on for a woman that he couldn’t get his mind off.

A few tosses. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll go on back home.

He melted into the shadows behind the tree as he peered through the parted curtains. Good. The window was closed. He raised his hand for the first pebble toss just about the time he saw Trace lying on her back, staring up at the canopy of the bed. The light beside her bed was on, its stained-glass shade casting rainbow fragments across her face and the pale blue nightgown she wore.

Jess hesitated, hand at the ready, the pebble feeling warm and solid between his fingers.

That gown had thin little straps that would easily break if he tugged on them, and he was sure the silky-looking material would feel soft beneath his hands, just like her skin. The nightgown was hiked up to the top of her thighs, but not quite high enough for him to see anything more than her shapely legs.

Her thighs were squeezed together tightly, and she squirmed a little, as though trying to alleviate an ache there. But in the next moment she reached her hands up and pulled at the top of her nightgown, freeing both her breasts.

Jess dropped his arm back to his side. The pebble—hell, all the pebbles—fell out of his hands.

The woman had damn perfect breasts with cherry dark nipples just begging for his mouth.

His cock bucked against the denim of his jeans. He knew he should have some moral battle inside, but the reaction was too strong, too deep. This woman, oh, yeah, she was his. He had claimed her at Nicole’s, and he was claiming her again, right there under her sister’s tree.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and released his aching cock. With slow familiar strokes he moved his hand up and down the length of his cock as he watched Trace cup her breasts and squeeze her nipples.

“Yeah, that’s it, sugar,” he murmured as she slipped one hand down and then she spread her legs wide as though welcoming him between her thighs.

She hitched her nightgown up around her waist and his groin tightened when he saw she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “That’s one beautiful pussy,” he said softly as he worked his cock. “Can’t wait to fuck you.”

Trace’s fingers slipped between her folds and she began rubbing her clit in a slow, circular motion. With her free hand she pushed up one of her generous breasts and flicked her tongue against her own nipple.

Damn
but that turned him on. He’d never watched a woman licking and sucking her own nipples, and the sight was damn arousing.

Her fingers grew more frantic and his strokes more intense.

When she came, she threw back her head, and she bit her lip as though to keep from crying out. Her body trembled and vibrated, and she kept rubbing her clit until she came a second time.

As her body relaxed, a dreamy expression covered her face, and he only hoped she’d been imaging that he was fucking her. She raised her fingers to her nose as though to smell her juices, and that was enough to make Jess’s climax hit him in a rush.

He bit the inside of his cheek as his come squirted onto the plants outside Trace’s bedroom window. Damn that had felt good. But the real thing was going to feel a whole lot better once she was ready to take his cock inside her pussy.

Trace rolled over and switched off the light, plunging her room into darkness. Jess fixed his belt and jeans, and melted out into the night.