Cowboy at Midnight (9 page)

When Amy had been a kid, early summer used to be
her favorite time of the year. She'd made dates with Lexie to play and to ride. Summers had meant she'd been free to spend more time at Lexie's ranch. Her father had driven her out to the Vale ranch, which had seemed like paradise.

Funny, how standing here on Steve's ranch made the present blend with the past, made the poignant losses not hurt quite so much as she remembered how once the start of summer had promised endless possibilities.

Thoughts of Steve made her heart beat faster. Sometimes when he looked at her, she felt reassured instead of afraid of who she was or wasn't. He wanted to help her, to save her even. For the first time in a long time, she found herself longing for those endless possibilities that had been lost to her for so long. For the first time she wondered if happiness was possible for someone like her. She'd loved being with him.

Spending time with him again seemed as precious a goal as spending time riding and playing with Lexie had once been.

She wanted her life back. She wanted paradise again. She wanted to love and to be loved and to make those who loved her proud of her.

Love had been such an easy thing when she'd been a child. All she'd had to do was smile or put on a pretty new dress to make her father laugh and clap. Even when she was bad he'd laughed.

Oh, God, how she'd loved her parents.

The one thing she'd never wanted to do was hurt them.

The Vales had sued her parents because of the boating accident. Many of her parents' best friends had
dropped them after the unflattering newspaper articles about her. Her mother, who wanted prestige more than anything, had been so devastated she'd been hospitalized for depression. For long months she'd been too lethargic to work. Her law practice had suffered.

Amy never again wanted to hurt them or anybody else she loved.

And that meant she had to keep saying no to Steve. Because she could love him.

Don't think about Steve.

Just be.

That's good enough for now.

A dirt lane led toward the brush that edged the clearing near the bulldozer. The lane continued through the brush, she supposed.

Where exactly did it go?

Setting her briefcase on the ground, she pulled the pins and rubber band out of her hair, so that it could blow freely in the warm, summer wind. Then she headed down the little trail toward the tangle of juniper, mesquite and persimmons that wound through the brush.

Like a curious child, she followed the path until she came to a grassy clearing beneath the trees and saw a pool in this heart of darkness, its brown surface as smooth and gleaming as polished glass. Beside the pool was a concrete bench. She went to it and, placing her hands on her upper thighs, she sat down slowly.

When she bent over, she saw her reflection in the pool's luminous depths. With the dark trees all around and her bright hair cascading in ripples of gold on either side of her slim face, she looked like wood nymph,
like a girl without a care in the world. The water washed all her sins away.

Clasping her hands in her lap, she shut her eyes and breathed in the sweetness of the air.

Usually she hated to be still for a moment for fear the demons would attack. But this was different somehow.

No longer aware of herself so much, she listened to the birds and the rustlings of the leaves and the little scratching sounds squirrels made as they scuttled across the ground.

She didn't know how long she sat there, but it was darker and cooler when she opened her eyes again. A silver fish jumped, casting sparkling rivulets into the water. She felt a strange peace. The light and shadow shimmering above her and upon the pool's surface seemed magical.

She loved it out here.

She hadn't loved any place so much in years.

She understood why Steve had fought so hard to build this place, just as she knew she would want to come here again and again.

Not that she could.

Behind her she heard the sharp crackle of leaves. A large animal, she thought, following the same trail she had. A thirsty cow maybe.

Slightly nervous, she twisted around and waited for whatever or whoever it was. Within seconds she found herself gazing through veils of shadows and sparkling light at a black mare and a tall, dark, broad-shouldered man following behind her. Noche walked with a noticeable limp.

Amy got up slowly and went to them.

Steve smiled at her but did not speak, at least not in words. Again, for a timeless moment, she felt that uncanny connection to this man she hardly knew. Then Noche came up and nuzzled her hand with her warm nose.

“Are you okay?” Steve murmured.

“I wish I had a carrot to give her,” Amy said.

“Tomorrow. We'll bring a whole bag of carrots with us.”

He sounded so sure they had tomorrow.

“I love it here,” she said.

“You belong here.”

She looked up at him. “For the first time in a long time I feel what I'm really feeling. I don't know what's happening to me. It's so strange.”

“You're supposed to feel what you feel, rather than pretend or ignore your feelings. That's the only way Noche knows how to be.”

“She's a horse.”

“Which means she's a lot smarter than most people.”

“True,” Amy agreed.

At the sound of her name, Noche had looked up from nibbling grasses near their feet, the wisdom of the ages in her gentle gaze.

“If you get quiet long enough, you figure things out,” he said. “Ranchers are lucky. We work the land. We know its rhythms. Rain, drought. Winter, summer. Birth, death.”

Death.
Amy shivered.

“It's an ancient way of life that teaches ancient truths.”

“I used to spend a lot of summer days on a ranch like
this. Now I stay so busy planning all sorts of events that I can't hear myself think. I live on the phone.”

“We chase success until the chase kills us. We're taught that making money is all that matters.”

“That's what my mother believes.”

“My father's had a hard time accepting that I'd rather ranch than get really rich.”

“I used to ride,” Amy said. “I loved it so much.” She sighed. “I…I haven't ridden in years.”

“Well, then, you're like Noche. She used to be ridden.”

“What happened?”

“She was injured.”

“What's wrong with her?”

“She has a problem with her stifle.”

Amy knew the stifle was comparable to the knee in humans.

“She's got a cyst,” Steve said. “There's an operation, but it's so tricky and risky to the other stifle that, in my opinion, it might as well be inoperable. I just haven't got the guts to put her through the operation. My vet told me he'd put her down for me.”

Amy's heart caught at the sadness in his deep voice. Why did terrible things like this have to happen? Even to horses? She started to touch Steve's arm and barely managed to stop herself from doing so.

“Oh, no. How old is she?”

“Three years.”

“That's too bad.”

“Yes. Well, I'm not putting her down.”

“So she's your thousand-pound pet.”

“I guess some people would see it that way. Others
like my father would say she's a lousy investment.” His dark gaze followed Noche. “But I think she's beautiful.” His drawl had thickened.

Steve was staring at Amy with an intensity that made her breath race in confusion. His eyes were midnight-black, his pupils indistinguishable from the irises. What was she going to do about her growing attraction for this incredible man?

“Noche loves me without question. She is a beautiful, intelligent animal.” His low, caressing tone was as soft as a lover's. “Perfect or not, I need her.”

A lump formed in her throat. “That seems like a strange thing for a rancher to say,” she whispered, wondering why her voice caught.

“It's the truth.”

The conviction in his husky baritone and his brilliant, dark eyes made her want things she had no right to want.

“I…I don't know what to say.”

“Say you'll go to dinner with me tonight.”

Her heart leaped. “To plan the governor's awards banquet?”

“If you need an excuse like that, fine.” His voice had a raw edge now. “I want to get to know you better. No sex, I swear. Just conversation.” He grinned. “As long as you don't wear spandex.” His deep voice had gone softer. “Or something low enough that shows off your tattoo, which is sexier than hell, by the way.”

Her hands shook a little, and she began to perspire. Placing her hand against her throat for fear he'd see how rapid her pulse was, she struggled to keep her voice calm.

Just say no, she thought.

“I suppose we do have a lot to talk about,” she murmured a little hesitantly. “But not tonight. I have a seminar to conduct in Houston tomorrow afternoon and I need to get ready. I may be up all night downloading the presenters' speeches into laptops for the attendees. I could make it tomorrow night, though.”

His quick grin was so hot it scorched her bones. “Did you say yes because I won't put Noche down?”

She ignored his question. “We do have a lot to talk about,” she said primly. “Lists to make for the awards banquet.”

“I can't wait,” he muttered. His grin widened. “Making lists is my favorite thing.” His teasing eyes were deep and dark again as he gazed at her. Not trusting herself, she turned to stare at his beautiful black horse.

Why was it that the more she was with him, the more she wanted to be with him? The more she
had
to be with him?

“Tomorrow night I'll have to drive straight from the airport to whatever restaurant you choose,” she said.

“Why don't you meet me at the Shiny Pony? Around seven? That way if your plane's late, I'll have plenty to do while I wait.”

She had a date, sort of. She wouldn't have to work late to avoid the loneliness and fear she sometimes felt when four empty walls of her apartment closed in around her.

She felt like throwing her arms around him, like jumping up and down. Afraid that if she smiled he'd see how eager she was, she bit her lips and looked away.

He grinned again. “I can't believe you said yes.”

“It's just a planning session,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

S
teve felt as nervous as a teenager on his first date as he drove toward Austin. It was six-thirty. He'd be late to meet Amy, judging from the looks of the thickening traffic on I-35 on the north side of San Marcos.

Tonight he had to go slow with Amy. She was fragile. Despite the hot sex, he didn't really know her. Just thinking about her made him so anxious to see her, he wanted to stomp on the accelerator.

To distract himself, he inserted a tape about Greek mythology. The narrator had barely begun to describe Achilles sulking in his tent when Steve yanked the tape out and flung it onto the passenger's seat.

The Greeks were too deep for him tonight. He picked up his cell phone and punched in Ryan's number, intending to apologize for not calling sooner.

“Have you read the paper?” Ryan demanded without preliminaries.

“No. Why?”

“Thunderhawk's accusing me of murder! And he's leaked it to the media! Every paper in central Texas is running front-page stories about it. It's all over the Internet, too.”

“Murder?”

“Three little bullet holes in the skull need to be accounted for.”

“Hell.”

“The medical examiner says the deceased is in his early thirties. The poor bastard washed up with a lot of his face eaten away by aquatic creatures. He had no identification—other than the blasted Fortune crown birthmark. There it was—like an ugly brand right above his bloated, decomposing right buttock!”

“I should've gone with you.”

“When I said I'd never seen him before in my life, Thunderhawk demanded that I account for every hour of my time this past week! And when I couldn't—”

Steve's temple was throbbing painfully. “Hold on.”

A thousand red brake lights were flashing ahead of him. He hit his own brakes hard.

Ryan continued. “The arrogant bastard said he'd get the truth out of me one way or the other. I think he tipped off the papers in order to put additional pressure on me.”

Steve remembered the stark pain in Amy's eyes yesterday. He'd wanted to be in an upbeat, positive mood for her, but now this. Selfishly he almost wished he
hadn't called Ryan. How could he give her the attention she needed when he was worried sick about his mentor and relative?

“Just a second!” Steve felt his mouth crimp in a taut line even before the brake lights of the eighteen-wheeler directly in front of his truck flared red. Steve slammed on his own brakes so fast, he hurtled forward, causing his seat belt to lock.

“Surely Thunderhawk is just fishing,” Steve muttered as he squinted at his rearview mirror to make sure the eighteen-wheeler behind him didn't ram him. Not that he could do anything to prevent a wreck. He was a sitting duck. Rush hour traffic had him boxed in on all sides. He was in a hurry, and he wasn't going anywhere fast. How long would Amy wait on him at his bar? He needed to call Jeff and tell him to stall her. No way could he get off the phone until Ryan was done venting.

“Thunderhawk won't let up. He's asking questions, but he acts like he already knows all the answers. He's got everybody in the police department suspecting me. Everybody in Red Rock, too. Hell, everybody in Texas by now.”

“It can't be that bad.”

“The lead article today in the Austin newspaper makes it sound like I'm the shooter. You know how self-righteous all the busybodies in Red Rock are. People I've known all my life barely spoke to me or so much as glanced my way when I bought a couple of hunting knives in the hardware store this morning. They treated me like dirt!”

“Good thing I haven't read the paper yet.”

Ryan didn't laugh.

When Steve's truck crawled to the top of a hill, he saw that the traffic was stalled for miles.
Damn.
Amy would be gone by the time he got to Austin.

Why hadn't he left the ranch earlier for his dinner date? He wished to hell he could say or do something that would make Ryan feel better, too. Hell, what he really wanted was to hang up and call Jeff.

“So, why the hell does Thunderhawk suspect you?”

“I wish I knew.” Ryan's bitter voice trailed off. “I kept telling them I never saw the dead guy before. I've said that so many times I'm sick of saying it.”

“You really don't have the slightest idea who he might be? Any missing relatives?”

“N-no.”

When Steve caught the hesitation in his mentor's voice, his gut clenched.

“I finally told Thunderhawk I won't answer any more of his questions without my lawyer present.”

“Why?”

“Because the criminal justice system in this country sucks. Because there's a couple of days and nights when I was home alone…and Lily was in San Antonio.”

Again Steve caught that hesitant note in Ryan's low voice.

“Did you talk to anybody on the phone those nights? Lily?”

“N-no.”

“But you always—”

“Damnation! Now you're accusing me!”

The phone went dead.

Steve stared at his phone in disbelief. What was going on? Had Ryan hung up on him? Was he lying? Lily and he always called each other when they were apart. Was he hiding something?

Steve gave Ryan five minutes to cool off before he dialed him back, only to get his voice mail.

Steve apologized curtly and hung up.

Ryan had Caller ID. Was he gone, or was he just avoiding him? And why had he gotten so angry?

If Steve didn't know better, he would have thought Ryan was acting guilty as hell.

 

Steve still had Ryan on his mind when he raced into the Shiny Pony half an hour late. Then he saw Amy in a tight, low-cut halter top and skirt perched on a bar stool.

Wow!

Even from across the room, she looked so golden and gorgeous, he could get hot from just looking at those long legs of hers, not to mention her face and body. Close up, she stunned him.

Her eyes lit up the instant she saw him. Her shy, radiant smile was open and sweet and flooded him with joy. She lured him like a siren, yet she had the kind of girl-next-door looks that would have fooled his mother.

She was sexier than hell. Maybe it was the halter top that fitted her like a glove, causing even her small breasts to spill over the top. She'd slung a demure long-sleeved jacket across her lap. She'd probably worn the jacket all day. He damn sure hoped so.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said. “Traffic.”

“My plane was late, too. Still, I…I'm glad you got here when you did. Two guys asked me to dance. Jeff had to talk to them.”

Not for the first time Steve was glad he'd hired Jeff. “Want a drink? How about a Flirtita?”

“Maybe just some white wine at the restaurant. I was up all night working. If I drink now, I might fall asleep. What restaurant did you decide on?”

“Chez Marie is right around the corner. Ever been there?”

“N-not for a long time.”

Her words hung suspended for a crystalline moment, and he caught the doubt in her low tone. The haunted look was back in her eyes.

“If you'd prefer somewhere else…”

“No.”

He sensed that somehow he'd made a poor choice. Not that she was about to tell him why.

When he sat down beside her, she hopped up so fast he wondered if she regretted agreeing to meet him.

“I'm starved,” she said. “A couple of mikes went out during the presentations. I had to work through lunch.”

“Okay, we can go now. But we don't have to go to Chez Marie.”

“That's fine.”

Then why did she sound so doubtful? Wishing she felt easier around him, he stood up, too. Hell, they'd slept together. Why were they so damn tense around each other?

Steve glanced toward the bar and saw that Jeff and
the rest of his wait staff were watching them intently, as curious as a bunch of gossipy busybodies in Red Rock.

Damn. Suddenly he was glad she was edgy. The faster they got the hell out of here, the better.

The early evening heat felt heavy as they walked over to Chez Marie. Not that Amy seemed to notice. For a woman who'd had a long night and a hard day, she damn sure walked fast. Soon she'd sprinted ahead of him. Not that that was all bad. Her skirt was so tight, he got a thrill from watching her hips wiggle. And he wasn't the only guy on the block who admired her.

He was glad when they made it inside the cool, dark restaurant. But no sooner had he started relaxing, because he wasn't going to have to slug some jerk over her, than her shy eyes grew big and started darting everywhere.

“Looking for somebody? Old boyfriend, darlin'?”

Some jerk whose name starts with the damn letter
L
maybe?

She whirled, her eyes so dark and huge with misery, he regretted his question. She started to defend herself, but she merely shrugged and avoided his gaze. Long minutes ticked by as they stood in the doorway, neither knowing what to say to the other.

Finally a young, sunburned waiter rushed up to them. He grinned at Amy a little too boldly, and she smiled too brightly as well.

“Good evening. I'm Liam,” he said. “Reservations?”

“Two for Fortune,” Steve answered.

Liam picked up some menus and led them to their table.

Liam. There was a name that started with an
L.
Steve was wondering if that was a bad omen when Amy took his arm and clung. Her touch lightened his mood considerably.

“This is my mother's favorite restaurant,” Amy whispered in a low, conspiratorial voice on the way to their table.

At last a clue. “I picked it to impress you, not to upset you. You know, it's not too late to go somewhere else. I want you to be able to relax.”

“This is great.”

Then they were at their table, which was in a shadowy, secluded corner exactly as Steve had requested. When Liam pulled Amy's chair out and handed her her napkin, she sat down and took her time daintily unfolding it while Steve ordered a bottle of wine.

Steve liked watching her long, slim fingers smooth the napkin even though she seemed to fuss with it too much.

“Amy, are you okay?”

She let the napkin be, looked up and scanned the room again before daring to meet his eyes.

“We can still leave,” he said.

She went still. Then she leaned back in her chair and gulped in a big breath. “M-maybe it's time I started facing a few of my demons.”

Not the kind of date I had in mind, but hell, just being out with her again was a start.

“Meaning your parents?” he said.

“Just my mother.” She chewed her bottom lip and looked away.

“I'd love to meet both of them.”

“And they'd love to meet you. Especially Mother. Be
lieve me, she wants to know every single detail of my life. She would love you.”

As he watched Amy's fingers twisting her napkin again, he felt sure that wasn't a point in his favor.

“She's a successful, high-profile trial attorney, right?”

“Yes. Fortunately, she works nearly all the time. If she didn't, she'd drive us both crazy. Her excuse for being so bossy and critical is that she has high expectations for me.”

Steve knew the type.

Mindful of the fragile stemware glittering on their table, he reached across the white tablecloth and took her hand.

“Facing demons wasn't exactly what I hoped we'd be doing together tonight,” he said. “I wanted us to have fun.”

“But you said no sex.”

He caught his breath. Just her saying the
S
word made the air between them sizzle. He couldn't believe when she smiled at him before looking shyly away.

“What I really want is to get to know you…and to be your friend. That could be fun, too.”

She laughed nervously. “If I let the demons loose while you're here, maybe you can battle them for me.”

He squeezed her hand. “I'd be glad to.”

He shouldn't have said that, but it was hard for him to not help someone he cared about.

When he let her hand go, she picked at her thumbnail. Then she opened her menu and they discussed the night's specials. When Liam returned to take their orders, they both chose salmon and a salad.

In the long, awkward silence that followed, Steve finally began to talk because someone had to. She leaned forward eagerly. At first her face seemed too pale and strained in the flickering candlelight. Every time the door behind him opened, her eyes shot to it, widening with alarm.

Finally he shut up. “I know you had a long day with lots of people. You're probably sick and tired of talking.”

“No, please. I love listening to you.”

When he began anew, she sat ramrod straight, still saying nothing. At least after a few sips of her Chardonnay, she quit looking at the door every time it opened.

He told a joke, and although she didn't laugh, she smiled a little.

Inspired, he embellished the events of his day—the good parts, before Ryan had upset him with the news about the body. When she still didn't offer to say anything, Steve forced himself to think up more small talk.

Steve discussed the heat, of course, always a favorite topic in Texas during the summer. He went off on an idiotic tangent about how the asphalt was so hot the warm air smelled of tar and seemed as thick and sticky. He stopped himself again.

Give her a chance to talk, too, you fool.

“I love that smell, too,” she finally whispered.

Then she looked away, and he saw that her eyes were sad again. Was she remembering her ghost?

When she still didn't say more, he began to tell her about his ranch. To his surprise, her face lit up.

“I spent most of the morning and the afternoon out in the pastures at Loma Vista, which, by the way, is my favorite way to spend a day.”

“I loved it out there.”

“My foreman says we've had so much rain the past two years, it looks like we're going to have a bumper calf crop this fall.”