Lone Tree (9 page)

Surprising her, he did exactly that. He backed up
until his back hit the wall, and then he showed her his hands, palms innocently
turned up, but he still wore that grin.

Lainie glanced toward the doorway, gauging the
distance because she didn’t trust him. But there was only one way out of the room.
She stepped out of his reach as she walked past—or at least thought she did.

His hand snaked out, caught her arm, and suddenly
their positions were reversed.

Uh-oh.

Warily, with her back now against the wall, she
stared back into amused eyes that were as blue as the sky and as confident as
those of a hunter with cornered quarry. Where was Miles? Where was Rosalie? It
was a right small community until she wished for a crowd, and then no one was
around.

Reed placed a hand on the wall on either side of her,
effectively pinning her in without touching her. “Sure, I’ll back off,” he
said. His eyes held more warm promise than threat, and had Lainie’s skin
tingling even though he wasn’t touching her.

“For now,” he went on in that lazy drawl. “But one
day I’ll be getting my lasso around you, and I guarantee I won’t be backing off
then.” His gaze holding hers, he touched his forefinger to his mouth, then
pressed it against her lips. “Be warned.” It wasn’t even a real kiss, yet it
was the sexiest touch to her lips she’d ever known.

And then he walked away.

Lainie stared straight ahead, her peripheral vision
taking in the fact he’d left the room, and then she drew in a long breath and
blew it out. Big trouble? He was as hot as a forest fire, and all she had to
fight him with was a melted ice cube.

*

Two days later, Lainie experienced her first tornado
watch and was introduced to the tornado closet. The room they used for office
supplies was situated off the hallway in the center of the house and was
specially constructed and reinforced. If a watch ever became a warning, she was
told to head for that closet.

The week brought thunderstorms, wild wind and rain,
but nothing worse than a California storm. Nevertheless, she’d been edgy and
nervous. Fortunately, it was late spring and they were nearing the end of
tornado season. She was warned not to relax for that reason alone, however. A
tornado could form at any time of the year.

*

In order to introduce Lainie to his lawyer and
accountant, Miles set up a working midday meal (that was one way to put it
without getting confused) in nearby Farber because both men worked out of
there.

Lainie’s ice-blue sheath was comfortably cool and as
casually dressy as Miles’s brown slacks and gold-checked western shirt. They
traveled in his custom gold and black SUV, the most luxurious vehicle Lainie
had ever seen. Inside and out.

“Gorgeous,” she said, taking a long look around
before settling in her seat. Plush ebony upholstery, top of the line sound
system, TV mounted back there, mini fridge.

“You want to drive?” he asked.

“Huh?” She snapped her head his way. “You can’t be
serious.”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

He meant it, she saw. He’d actually hand over the
keys to this beautiful piece of machinery.

“You surely do have a beautiful smile, little girl.
You want to come around here and take the wheel?”

With a grin, she shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll
watch you, see how it handles, and maybe take you up on that offer another
time.”

When he switched the key on, she barely heard the
engine catch. “You’re a walking, talking contradiction, Lainie Sue. Impulsive
one minute, then wanting to take your time the next.”

“Yeah, I can be impulsive,” she admitted,
uncomfortably realizing he was right on target. “Yet at other times I want to
know the temperature of the water before I dip my toes in.”

Like now, she thought. I want to know who you are
before I tell you who I am.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He looked thoughtful as he
watched the road. “I’m wondering if impulsive is the best word for you. Seems
to me you’ve got a nervy streak that leads you into taking chances. Maybe even
trouble.”

Lainie studied his words, trying to figure out if
she’d just been complimented, criticized, or warned, then she decided to take
the observation at face value. She sometimes got the impression she and her
grandfather were like a cat and mouse circling each other—and the most
troubling aspect of that image was that they seemed to keep changing roles.

As they traveled, something nagged at the edge of
her mind but eluded her. She watched the landscape roll past, aware they were
still on Lone Tree land. Though she wasn’t sure of the exact acreage, she’d
learned twenty-five acres were needed per cow and calf, and Lone Tree stock
numbered over seven hundred.

Then it hit her. She gave him a quick look. “How did
you know my name is Lainie Sue?”

He glanced at her, then back at the road. “It is,
isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t use my middle name. I didn’t put
it in my resume.”

The SUV’s wheels rolled soundlessly over the cattle
guard as it passed through the ranch gate.

“I run a check on everyone I hire,” Miles explained.
“That was the name on your California driver’s license.”

“Oh.” She’d expected a routine check. Her car’s
license plate was right there in plain sight, and a simple check would produce
her name and California address, which would’ve only verified what she’d
already freely divulged. Being faced with the actuality rather than the
prospect, however, made her feel exposed.

“Does it bother you that I ran a check on you?” Miles
asked, which made her think her discomfort might be showing.

So she made her voice casual. “No, of course not.
I’d be surprised if you hadn’t.”

“Why don’t you use your full name? It’s pretty.”

“It’s not that I don’t use it, so much as my mother
didn’t.” In the side mirror she watched dust spitting from the rear tire.
“That’s what she named me, but she never called me that, so I’m not used to
it.”

“It’s got a Southern sound to it, what a Texas woman
might name her daughter. But at some point she might’ve decided to leave the
south behind her.”

You hit the nail on the head, she thought but said,
in a noncommittal tone, “Perhaps.”

“What was she like?”

Oh, boy. Lainie kept her face averted. The pain of
loss was still quite fresh, and she was also aware of the pitfalls she could
fall into when talking about her mother.

“I’m sorry,” Miles said as he made the turn onto the
highway. “Again I’m reminding you of your loss. You’ve never spoken about your
father. Is he still living?”

At least no pitfalls were connected to Walter. “My
dad died almost five years ago. Suddenly, from a heart attack. He didn’t
suffer, but losing him was hard on my mom.”

Glancing across at Miles, she decided this
conversation could go both ways. She settled sideways in the seat to face him.
“You’ve also lost your family so you must know that empty feeling. When we were
looking at the portraits of your wife and daughter, you spoke about them in the
past tense.”

The long silence that followed made her think she’d
overstepped herself.

He changed lanes to pass a rusty pickup, then eased
back into the right lane.

“Yes. My wife died young, in a tragic accident.” His
voice carried no discernible emotion. “When our baby girl was only ten months
old. And I’ve since also lost my daughter.”

No mention of how he’d lost his only child, and he
seemed to have a problem talking about his family. Fair enough. Lainie stared
out her window and allowed silence to stretch. Clumps of drying weeds lined the
highway. Some fencing, an occasional windmill, and a few homesteads were set
back from the road. It was nothing like the endless buildings and industry she
was used to, where one had to catch a city limits sign in order to know where
one town ended and another began.

Then tall buildings appeared in the distance, making
it look like a regular metropolis up ahead, and the SUV was getting a lot more
company on the highway. Miles slowed the truck, guided it onto an exit ramp,
and glanced across at Lainie.

“About the men you’ll be meeting. Stuart Malcolm...”
He paused and frowned. “That man’s got a confusing name, hard to tell which is
his first and which is his last. But he’s a good man to have on your side in a
legal battle. He can handle the law without a hitch, but he doesn’t like
surprises in everyday life. You throw him a curve, you could cause apoplexy.
When anything unexpected comes up, I break it to him real gentle-like.”

He caught the last of a green light. Traffic was
heavier here than in Lawary, but nothing like the Bay Area.

Miles went on. “Tom Forrester is a good accountant,
suspicious by nature. Might be a good trait for a man to have in his
profession, but I get the feeling he doesn’t trust me either. Maybe he thinks
I’m trying to cheat myself?” Another light turned to caution when he was midway
through the intersection. “So don’t let it bother you if he treats you like
you’re on trial. And he’s also stingy. I get the feeling he can’t stand to let
me spend my own money.”

He got stuck behind a silver compact waiting for a
parking space. “Tom will have some forms for you to sign, allowing you access
to the household account. I can’t wait to be rid of that particular headache.”
The car finally pulled in and Miles left it behind him. “You’ll have a set
amount each month—Tom will explain it—and anything over that you have to go to
him, not me.”

He hit a red light, but braked for only an instant
before making a right, then another quick right into a parking lot, and they
were there.

Two men seated at a table near the back wall of the
restaurant stood when Miles and Lainie approached, and Miles made
introductions. Tom was young, dark-haired and sharp-featured, abrupt in manner.
Stuart’s sandy-blond hair was graying, his paunch spreading, and he was
unfailingly polite.

The restaurant specialized in Mexican fare. The men
had tall glasses of iced tea before them, and Miles signaled for the same thing
for himself and Lainie.

Stuart frowned at the menu. “They changed it,” he
mumbled.

“Not by much,” Miles said. “They’ve still got your
enchilada plate, over there on the other side.” He pointed it out, and Stuart
looked relieved. Lainie was amused by how well Miles knew his lawyer and how
smoothly he took care of him.

Tortilla chips and salsa were served with the
drinks, and when Lainie took a chip, Miles pushed the salsa her way. But
something about the look he gave her made her think the sauce was hot, so she
shook her head.

“You’re wise,” he said. “That stuff’s got peppers
galore in it. Reed is the one who likes the hot stuff. Don’t think he’s found
anything yet too spicy.” He chuckled. “Probably never will.”

It didn’t surprise Lainie that Reed liked spicy.
Most interactions she’d had with him were on the hot side.

Tom produced forms for her signature. She took her
time, reading everything as she sipped her drink. Tom also had questions, which
stretched throughout the meal. She received the impression he’d like nothing
better than to catch her in a lie. She hadn’t fibbed to anyone, but facts she’d
omitted could trip her up, so she hoped not to have to deal with him often.

A man at a near table directed glances at them
throughout their meal. Tom and Stuart had their backs to him, but she sensed
Miles was aware of the man’s attention, although he hadn’t acknowledged him.

The stranger paid his check, approached and greeted
each man by name. He was in his late twenties, tall with dark-blond hair, and he
carried a self-assured air. He was dressed in a business suit, shirt and tie,
as were Tom and Stuart. But he stood out as if in a class by himself. The
light-blue suit was well cut and he wore it like a second skin. The shirt was
deep blue and the tie held swirls of color, mauve and turquoise and ivory,
complementing the man as well as the suit.

Tom and Stuart returned his greeting, calling him
Willis. Willis paused questioningly, looking from Lainie to Miles, but the
older man performed no introduction. He’d nodded curtly at the newcomer’s
greeting and now appeared to be waiting for their visitor to state his
business.

Willis covered the lack of friendliness by ignoring
it. “Glad to see you again, Miles. I’m still looking for an opportunity to
prove myself, and hoping you’ve reconsidered and will give me another chance.”

Miles made no response, simply stared at him.

“I can’t apologize enough for blowing that deal,”
Willis went on. “But I really thought I could get you a better price. Kramar
wanted way too much for that acreage.”

“That big-city developer didn’t think it was too
much. He gobbled it up once he saw you were dragging your heels.”

“You weren’t around, and I really thought—”

“Reed told you to go ahead with it. You should’ve
listened.”

“Reed has no real estate savvy. He—”