Cowboy Accomplice Part 10

He swore under his breath. She seemed way too happy to see him-even for a lost city girl. This had been his "audition" for the TV jeans commercial he wasn't going to do. Not that that made any difference to Reggie. Not even the arduous job of camp cook could dissuade this woman. And from the radiance of her smile, he'd lay odds that he'd pa.s.sed her screen test.

So why did he get the feeling she wanted more than him in a commercial? His cattle? He couldn't see her throwing her lot in with rustlers, but what did he know. If not his cattle, then what?

"Stay here," he ordered her. "Don't move until I come back. Do you think you can do that?"

"I wouldn't know where to go and my blisters hurt too much to move and I can barely walk on my ankle."

"Great." He drove the cattle on down to the herd in the pasture. When he rode back, he was surprised to find her sitting where he'd left her, as good as her word, and he'd realized he'd ordered her just as he had his dog Jennie. His face burned in shame that he'd been insulted because she'd originally thought Jennie was his wife and he'd ordered her to stay in the truck.

Her conception of Montana cowboys would be based on him. He groaned inwardly at the thought and wondered what to do with her now. He'd thought things couldn't get worse but Reggie was proof they could.

As he dismounted, he noticed that her face was flushed. She'd never looked so beautiful sitting there in the sunlight. He saw a fire burning in her eyes. d.a.m.n. She hadn't given up on him doing her commercial. If anything she looked all the more determined, he thought as he joined her under the wide sweeping arms of the pine.

The day was hot, the sun nearly at its apex. Rays of heat cut through the not yet bare aspens, making the fallen leaves s.h.i.+mmer beneath their feet. The leaves overhead rattled like dry paper.

She started to get up. "McCall, I need to tell you-"

He nodded, reached down and pulled her to her feet. Determined not to let her get in another word about that d.a.m.ned commercial or whatever she was after, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her, successfully shutting her up.

And being a man who liked to finish what he'd started...

It wasn't until he'd thoroughly kissed her that he realized the folly of his actions. By then he'd completely lost himself in the sweet, soft pliant warmth of her lips, in the deep, dark, wet secrets of her mouth.

All he knew was that it felt good and right and, if he was being honest, something he'd wanted to do since he'd seen her on the highway.

When he finally came to his senses, he jerked back. What had he been thinking? Had he lost his mind?

He had to hold her to keep her from slumping to the ground, having forgotten about her twisted ankle. She reached up to touch a finger to her lips and took a ragged breath that made her chest rise, her body tremble. Then ever so slowly, she smiled.

d.a.m.n, he thought. He'd just done the worse thing he could have.

REGINA HAD ALWAYS prided herself on her quick recovery rate. But it took a moment to get her feet back under her after that that kiss even without a sprained ankle. kiss even without a sprained ankle.

"What was that about, McCall?" Not that she was complaining, mind you. It was just such a surprise. The kiss. Even more surprising, its effect on her.

Her heart still pounded fiercely and her limbs felt like running water. Good thing he was still holding her. What had he put into that kiss? She felt almost...intoxicated as she met his equally stunned gaze.

"It was just a kiss," he snapped, as if the kiss had had no effect on him.

"You just keep telling yourself that, McCall." She'd like a replay just to see if it had been as amazing as she thought. But then another kiss like that would only lead to trouble. "Unless that kiss was your way of saying yes."

"What?" J.T. said, letting go of her and stepping back.

"Your way of saying yes to the commercial." She laughed so he'd know she was just trying to lighten the mood between them.

He didn't seem to get the joke. "How could you possibly get that out of one silly little meaningless kiss?"

"I was joking. joking." Silly, little, meaningless kiss? He was starting to irritate her, but she knew she was more upset with herself than him. She didn't fraternize with blue jeans models. Even those who hadn't given in yet.

"I would think a woman like you would have kissed enough men to know that was just a kiss, nothing more," he said, shoving back his hat in obvious frustration.

She'd been kissed by a fair amount of men. But none of them had kissed her like that. that. Nor had she kissed them back like Nor had she kissed them back like that. that. Maybe she'd been dating the wrong men. Wait a minute. Maybe she'd been dating the wrong men. Wait a minute. A woman like you? A woman like you? What was that supposed to mean? What was that supposed to mean?

"In my experience, McCall, a kiss, no matter how small, means something, something," she snarled, now clearly more irritated with him than herself. She brushed past him and headed off through the trees in what she hoped was the direction of the cabin, limping and in pain, but determined to walk all the way back without his help. He could just stuff his forgettable kiss.

She took a couple of steps and stumbled. Unfortunately, her legs hadn't forgotten that d.a.m.ned kiss either.

"You can't walk all the way back to the cabin with a sprained ankle and blisters," he said and cursed as he grabbed her to keep her from falling. "Come on."

She barely had time to cry in protest before he swept her up into his arms. At first she thought he planned to carry her back to the cabin. But then she realized what he had in mind was much worse.

He whistled and his horse trotted over to them. "You can't walk so you have to ride."

The beast looked even larger close up. "Not a horse. horse."

"A horse is your only only option. I'm not going to carry you. Anyway, Killer isn't just any horse." option. I'm not going to carry you. Anyway, Killer isn't just any horse."

Killer? "Really, I can walk. I'll just-" Before she could say more, he tossed her up into the saddle like a sack of potatoes. She grabbed the saddle horn, afraid she'd go right on off the other side. "His name is Killer? Why would you name him killer unless-"

"You'll be fine," J.T. said, humor back in his voice.

She looked down at the man as she teetered precariously, miles from the ground, straddling a wild brute named Killer on the slipperiest saddle on earth. J.T. was enjoying her discomfort. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

If she'd felt weak at his kiss, it was nothing compared to being on his horse. "You forget," she said a little breathlessly. "I don't know how to ride." Did she dare mention her fear of large animals?

"Do you know how to sit?" he inquired. "Because that's all you have to do."

Before she could answer, he swung up behind her on the horse. The horse shuddered under them and took a step. She let out a shriek.

Killer seemed to roll his eyes at her. He obviously wasn't any happier about this than she was.

"How did...Killer get his name?" she asked.

"You don't want to know," J.T. said and nudged the horse with his heels.

The horse began to move. Regina felt as if she was going to slide off. She clamped her legs tight around the beast. Killer jumped forward.

"Easy," J.T. said, wrapping an arm around her as he worked the reins and the horse settled back down. "Unless you'd like to get us both bucked off I'd suggest you not do that again."

She barely heard him over the pounding of her heart.

"Maybe now you'll have the good sense to stay at the cabin until Buck comes back for you," he said.

She would have sworn she heard him chuckle to himself. Well at least someone was enjoying this, she thought, as she clung to the saddle horn and tried not to look down.

She had better luck with that than trying not to think about the man behind her.

Good sense? If she had good sense she wouldn't have come up with this last-ditch ad campaign, she wouldn't have set her sights on J. T. McCall's perfect posterior, she wouldn't have hired on as his camp cook, and she certainly would have never let him kiss her-let alone throw her on his horse.

She tried to relax, leaning back a little into him, feeling tired and resigned to whatever her fate might be on the back of Killer. She'd made so many mistakes with the man, including kissing him back the way she had, even death didn't look so bad.

"Sit still," he ordered, his voice sounding strange to her.

She ran her tongue over her lips, not surprised to find his kiss branded there. She felt suddenly soft and vulnerable and...so female it hurt.

McCall was angry with her. She'd no doubt destroyed any hope of getting him to model the jeans. She didn't even want to think what would happen if she returned to California without the perfect cowboy b.u.t.t contract in hand.

Worse, she'd probably get bucked or fall off this horse and be killed and never get out of the mountains, let alone Montana, the way things were going.

She was fighting the urge to cry when the horse rocked. She s.h.i.+fted her weight, and with a start felt McCall's arm tighten around her. He pulled her back against him and heard the change in his breathing.

Silly little meaningless kiss indeed.

She was smiling to herself when she looked up and saw the horse that had almost run her down.

"What the h.e.l.l," she heard McCall say behind her.

"That's what I was trying to tell you back there before you kissed me," she said. "That wild horse almost ran me down. That's how I twisted my ankle."

"That's not a wild horse," he said behind her and she heard fear in his voice. "That's Luke Adams's horse."

Chapter Eight.

J.T. slipped quietly off his horse and reached up to lift Reggie down. He motioned for her to be quiet and stay back as he approached Luke's mount.

The horse's coat was lathered. He moved slowly toward it. "Easy, boy. Easy."

The horse rolled his eyes and backed away. J.T. carefully opened the corral gate, then began to work his way around to the other side of the horse.

As he did, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Luke's horse. No saddle. The horse had come back here, had been standing next to the corral when they'd ridden up. J.T. could only a.s.sume that Luke hadn't gotten far from camp. But if he'd been riding the horse, it would have had a saddle on it.

With the corral gate open, J.T. stood back. One of the horses in the corral whinnied, catching Luke's horse's attention. J.T. worked his way closer to the horse, then slipped off his hat and shooed it toward the open corral.

The horse s.h.i.+ed, then trotted into the corral.

He closed the corral gate.

Where was Luke and what had happened? And the big question: where was Luke's saddle? It should have been on the horse if Luke had been thrown or the horse spooked for some reason.

He glanced toward an old tack box at the back of the cabin. The lid wasn't quite closed. He walked to it and lifted the lid. Luke's saddle and gear were inside. He closed the lid and stood, trying to make sense of it.

Luke hadn't really left? He'd just wanted everyone to think he had? Or someone else wanted them to believe it.

"Why would Luke's horse come back here?" Reggie asked when he walked back over to where he'd left her.

He shook his head as he began to unsaddle his horse. Fear vibrated through him like a low frequency hum. Buck should have been back by now.

As he released his horse into the corral with the others, he saw Reggie glance down the hill where the old truck was still parked. No newer four-wheel-drive rig. No Buck. He was relieved to see that she seemed as surprised by that as he was.

What could have happened that Buck was running this late? The foreman knew how important it was that he get right back here. Buck was no fool. He would have hightailed it back to the camp. Unless something had kept him from it. Or someone.

"I would kill for a bath," Reggie said behind him.

Her choice of words jarred him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at her as he picked up his saddle. The afternoon sun had sunk into the pines. Long shadows spilled across the camp. They had plenty of time before the others would be back for dinner.

She looked tired, her clothes filthy. He'd bet they were the only ones she'd brought that were even close to appropriate in that big suitcase of hers. He met her blue eyes and, even though he fought it, felt sorry for her. She'd really had no idea what she was getting herself into and she'd held up pretty well, all things considered.

h.e.l.l, she was a city girl. Stronger and with more courage than the other one he'd known, that was for sure.

She looked up at him. Her lips parted slightly and right then he would have given her anything-short of agreeing to do her commercial. Was that really all she wanted from him?

"There's a creek not far from here," he said. "But you can't go alone."

She lifted a brow in question.

He shook his head. "I've already got Luke missing. From now on I don't want anyone leaving this camp alone. Especially you."

She smiled, giving him a look he didn't like. She'd already figured out that he would always be paired with her. He would have trusted her safety with Buck-but Buck hadn't come back. And now J.T. didn't trust Reggie with anyone but himself. He was bound and determined to get this woman off this mountain and back to civilization in one piece.

"How badly do you want a bath?" he asked.

Her brow shot up again.

"I need some straight answers out of you," he said.

"For a bath? I'll get my stuff."

"I'll dump my saddle and meet you on the porch." As he was pa.s.sing the cowhands' tent, he saw that the door was untied. Through the breech, he could see something on the floor just inside.

His heart began to race. Like a sleepwalker he moved toward the tent and what looked like a body lying on the tent floor.

Clothes. A bundle of clothing lay on the floor. Past it more clothes had been strewn around the tent, but to his relief there were no bodies. He stared at the mess. It appeared that someone had gone through all of the cowhands' belongings. Who? And maybe more important, why? Was the person looking for the gun? Or something else?

He moved to his own tent and opened the flap that acted as a door. His and Buck's possessions were just as they'd left them. He dropped his saddle inside the tent and took the 9 mm pistol from where he'd hidden it. Checking to make sure it was loaded, he stuck it into his jacket pocket, then closing the flap, turned back to the cowhands' tent.

Whoever had ransacked the tent had been looking for something. If not the gun, then possibly money? Not likely since where would a cowhand spend cash up here?

No, it must have been something else, although he couldn't imagine what, other than the gun, as he closed the tent flap and walked toward the cabin. If his hired hands had done as he'd told them, they'd spent the day keeping the others within sight. That would narrow down the suspects.