Lone Tree (3 page)

Needing respite, she moved on to the portrait next
to her mother’s, and sucked in a breath in surprise. Lainie’s resemblance to her
mother was vague at best, but her resemblance to the person depicted in the
other portrait was stronger. Her grandmother’s eyes were a rich
chocolate-brown, the same color as Lainie’s, and there were also facial
features that Lainie saw in her mirror: heart-shaped face, slender nose, full
lips. Fortunately, however, her grandmother’s hair was longer, darker, and
curlier. And her demure expression was also very unlike Lainie’s.

Miles stood behind her. Figuring this was the moment
she was either going to make it or lose it, she turned to look at him. “Are
they your family?”

He took a moment before answering, his gaze resting
on Lainie, then he looked up at the portrait of her maternal grandmother. He
said softly, “Yes, that was my wife, Alice Ann.” His gaze traveled to the next
portrait. “And that was our daughter, Elizabeth Ann.”

But my name isn’t Lainie Ann
. When she
realized how irrelevant that thought was, she also realized how close she was
to losing her composure. She reminded herself she knew of the blood
relationship and would pick up on the resemblance. If Miles noticed it, he’d
surely pass it off as coincidence.

She’d also caught his use of the past tense when
speaking of Elizabeth, but he couldn’t know how correct he was. Undoubtedly his
daughter had been lost to him when she’d fled the ranch and the state and him.
Long before Lainie was born.

When Lainie exited the air-conditioned house onto
the porch, she felt like she’d stepped into an oven.

As Miles pulled the door closed behind him, a truck
drove up and braked, creating its own little dust storm. The vehicle’s engine
sounded smooth before it was cut off, but that was the only smooth thing about
it. The faded-red pickup had seen some hard terrain.

“Now there’s timing for you,” Miles said. “One
meeting I don’t have to set up. You can meet my foreman now.”

The driver’s left arm rested in the open window
while the other arm lay draped over the steering wheel. He stared at Miles and
Lainie, taking his time. He appeared relaxed to the point of lazy and looked
very sure of himself. She stared right back. Texas wasn’t too big for
coincidences after all.

He opened the door of the pickup and stepped down
from the cab, then reached back inside for his hat that rested on the passenger
seat. His jeans weren’t quite as faded as those he’d worn yesterday, and he’d
exchanged the maroon and gray shirt for a forest-green plaid. He dusted the hat
against the side of his leg as he walked toward them.

Lainie hoped her thoughts weren’t mirrored in her
eyes, because his gait was as sexy as the rest of him. She tried to pinpoint
what it was that gave him that look, but it seemed to be the whole of him. He
was about five-ten and lean, likely weighing around one-fifty, had a long waist
and appeared wiry. Along with his dark-olive complexion, she now noted high
cheekbones and a slight almond shape to his eyes that made her wonder if he had
Indian ancestry. If so, it would have to be a long way back in his family tree.
Those eyes were the color of the sky on a sunny day.

“Lainie Johnson, meet Reed Smith,” Miles said, and
Lainie glanced at him in amused surprise. Johnson and Smith? Could there be two
names more commonplace than those?

She returned her attention to the cowboy and
extended her hand. “Well, hello again.”

At her words, Miles’s gaze darted to her.

“Lainie,” Reed drawled. “Now that’s a right pretty
name.” Transferring his hat to his left hand, he took hers in his right and
gave it a gentle squeeze—closer to a caress than a handshake. He was also
weighing, sizing and measuring her, but unlike Miles’s earlier impersonal appraisal,
this one had a definite sexual element to it.

He bowed his head, gave her back her hand, and put
his hat on. “Looks like we were headed to the same place after all.”

Miles asked, “You’ve met?”

“We shared lunch yesterday,” she explained. “On my
way to Lawary.”

“Dinner,” Reed corrected.

She smiled, caught again in the same mistake.
“Okay.”

His gaze hadn’t left her. She guessed he’d been
aware of her appraisal, but it clearly hadn’t bothered him because he’d been
doing some appraising of his own. She doubted he could pinpoint her weight at a
hundred and fourteen pounds and her height at a quarter-inch over five-six, but
considering the onceover he’d given her, he could probably come close. She’d
been a frosted blonde for so long she no longer knew the natural color of her
hair, and she wore it short and full with a fringe of bangs.

“Lainie’s agreed to be my secretary,” Miles said.

Reed’s gaze traveled down the length of her one more
time to settle on her feet.

Her feet? She sneaked a look at her size-seven
appendages encased in frost-white sandals.

“You plan on sticking around here,” he said, “you’ll
need some decent footwear. What you’re wearing now may be pretty but won’t
protect you from snakebite.”

Snakebite? Lainie’s body grew rigid. She scanned the
ground.

Miles nodded in agreement. “Yep, you’ll need a good
pair of boots, and some covering for your head. This sun can be brutal. Rosalie
will tell you the best place to shop. Tell the sales clerk to charge it to me.”

Having ascertained there wasn’t a snake lurking
nearby, Lainie studied Miles for an instant before responding. “Thanks, but I
can manage boots and a hat.”

He gave her much the same look, then shrugged. “You
need anything you can’t manage, we can settle up out of your pay.”

So he hadn’t intended a handout. But she still
wondered if his offer had been a test of some kind. She nodded, allowing the
issue to drop.

“Meanwhile,” Miles continued, “you should be safe
enough around the house. Snakes don’t generally frequent places inhabited by
people.”

“But that’s not guaranteed,” Reed cut in, and
Lainie’s gaze again darted to the ground.

“Reckon it’s safe enough to show you your quarters,”
Miles resumed, “and...”

Though she was preoccupied with thoughts of
slithering creatures, her peripheral vision had caught the quick look that went
from Reed to Miles before the older man’s voice trailed away. Silent
communication had clearly passed between them, and when she looked up, the
foreman’s eyes met hers.

“As it happens,” he said, “I’ve got some free time
right about now, and it’d be my pleasure to show you around.”

So he wasn’t yet ready to tip his hat in goodbye.
Miles looked at Lainie for approval before nodding to Reed, and it was then he who
tipped his hat. “It has been a pleasure, Miss Lainie Johnson, and I’m looking
forward to working with you.” Then he added, his glance including Reed, “And I
couldn’t be leaving you in better hands.”

She watched him stride away, thinking he wouldn’t be
a simple man to get a handle on. Astute, on the arrogant side, used to having
things his own way, likable yet complex. But she couldn’t bring herself to
trust him. Whether it was because of herself, her mother, or something about
Miles, she wasn’t sure.

She glanced back at Reed. It seemed a longer way to
look up than it should be. She figured he’d top her by no more than three or
four inches without the added height of the heeled boots. In their stocking
feet, they’d probably be—

Mentally Lainie jerked herself to a stop. Where had
that thought come from, and just where did it think it was going? She glanced
away, got her bearings.

“So,” she said, looking back with a smile.

“So,” he echoed with a smile of his own.

Since he wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, she
shrugged and looked around. They stood in front of the main house, still in the
shade of the porch, with guest cottages on both sides and she had no idea which
one was hers.

“Which way?” she asked.

His gaze remained fixed on her for another long
moment, and Lainie’s suspicion that there was a lot of cockiness in this cowboy
was growing stronger by the second. Then he looked beyond her to the left of
the main house.

“That way. I take it you wanted the guesthouse or
you wouldn’t be out here. My place is over there.” He indicated the larger
cottage at the other end. “Bunkhouse is behind mine. Can’t see it from here.
Once you get some decent footwear, I’ll walk you over, show you the holding
pens, barn. Can tour the stables, too. That’s it right there, and behind it
there’s a shed where you can park your car.”

“Cars and horses. You need both?”

“Well.” A smile warmed his eyes as he pursed his
lips. “We need
trucks
and horses, but your car will fit in there too.”
Then he added, “And we need dogs. Not possible to run cattle without ’em. We
got a couple cataloulas. Excellent cow dogs, can run all day. Black-mouth curs
are good, too.”

Reed started toward the house he’d indicated as
hers, and she fell in step. He gave her a sideways glance. “Other items of
clothing that should be on your shopping list are cotton shirts, lightweight
and long-sleeved. Need to protect all of you from the sun.”

Her skin prickled as she felt his gaze on her bare
shoulders and arms. It seemed like it actually touched her.

“And some good sturdy jeans,” he added.

“That one’s easy.” She slipped her hands into the
side pockets of her skirt. “Already got some of those.”

“Bet you look good in ’em, too.”

The flip remark reminded her of how well he filled
out his jeans, and once more her libido was stirred. Deciding that the best
response in this case was no response, she kept her stare straight ahead and
her mouth shut.

“So when do you start as secretary?” he asked.

His pace wasn’t much faster than his drawl. She
wanted to get out of the sun, but suspected that hurrying in this weather would
be even hotter.

“We settled on three weeks. That should give me time
to settle things at home and get back out here.” Lone Tree would soon be her
home, she realized, and then she wondered for how long. What exactly had she
let herself in for?

Reed opened the door of the cottage and stood aside
for her to enter. The little house was fresh and clean, with pale yellow and
different shades of blue throughout the rooms. The sitting room’s sofa, in a
pastel floral print, looked cozy, as did its matching armchair, and a
television sat in the corner. A square pine table and four chairs were in the
kitchen, a double bed and dresser and light-oak rocker in the bedroom, and in
the bedroom another door led to a bathroom with a combination shower and tub.
Lainie could be comfortable here, but she felt a distinct sadness, even
uneasiness, exploring the quaint house. She was a long way from home and
completely on her own.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders
and looked over at Reed, who waited patiently in the bedroom doorway. She
nodded her approval and they left the house.

“I notice you didn’t need a key,” she commented.

“Nobody locks up out here.” He swatted something
away from his face. “We’re more than thirty miles from town and nobody bothers
anybody else. We’ve got keys if you want one, though. Rosalie has a stash
somewhere.”

Not needing keys was a difficult concept. Lainie
wondered if she’d ever become comfortable with it.

“Give me a call when you’re on your way back,” he
said. “I’ll keep the time open and help move you in.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a sideways grin. “That would
be right friendly.”

He grinned back. “You learn fast.”

By the time they arrived at her car, grit had
collected in one sandal and perspiration welled between her breasts. She slid
in behind the wheel. She’d parked in shade and left the windows down. The car
wasn’t the oven it could’ve been but was still quite warm.

Reed took hold of the door and closed it for her,
then squatted and crossed his arms in the window’s frame.

“Thanks,” she said. “And it was nice meeting you.
Again.”

“The pleasure was mine. Again.” He remained still;
apparently the man was a complete stranger to hurry. With his face only inches
from hers, she noted that although his black hair appeared straight, it dipped
in a slight wave over his right forehead. And his eyes were such a vivid and
devastating blue that they could be considered weapons in issues of love and
war.

“Well, gotta go,” she said. “Places to see. Things
to do.” She paused. “Conquests to make.” She continued to hold his gaze, but
could’ve kicked herself. The last phrase was on the provocative side.

And he hadn’t missed it. His mouth curved. “That
last one’s a winner.”

He tipped his hat with the forefinger of his left
hand—the gesture seemed like his trademark—then he straightened and backed away
from the car.

*

Lainie closed the motel door behind her and tossed
her purse on the bed. She put the room key next to the telephone and turned the
air conditioner on high. She looked at the phone, but picked up her suitcase
instead and opened it. The corner of an envelope stared at her from the cover’s
inside pocket. She looked at the phone again, then sat on the bed and pulled
her cell phone out of her purse. She scrolled down, found the number and
clicked call.