Suspicions of the Heart (10 page)

"Is there someone else?"

He hesitated over the question. Was
there? "Goodnight, Debbie," he answered simply. He came around to
her side of the truck and guided her to her front porch.

"Goodnight, Joe, and remember, if it
doesn't work out, I'm available!" She threw him a kiss and walked
inside.

On the way home he wrestled with his
emotions, and the accelerator. Was there someone else?

Chapter Six

A constant jangling of the phone woke
Joe the next morning and he stirred slowly to its annoying trills.
Not fully awake, he reached for the receiver, blindly knocking the
phone from the stand by his bed and onto the floor. He scrambled to
recover it, then lay still, slumbering across the bed, the covers
slipping in disarray. "Hello," he muttered hazily.

"Good morning, Mr. Munroe." An angry
voice woke him. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you supposed
to meet me at the south fence this morning?"

Groggy, Joe wiped at the corners of his
eyes and rolled onto his back with a comfortable sigh. "Sorry,
Dumplin', I guess I overslept. What time...?"

The irate crackling in Candy's voice
brought both his eyes open. "Dumplin'?" she screeched. "Now, listen
you, this is Candy Arnold, your neighbor. Not your Dumplin'. I
called to discuss business. The south fence, as a matter of fact.
Remember?"

"Hmm…" he murmured with a humorous tilt
to his firm-set mouth.

"Mr. Munroe, if you could get your mind
off your amorous date last night and concentrate on the business at
hand, we might get somewhere." Candy seemed perturbed by his aloof
manner. He grinned.

"Really--where?" He deliberately
provoked her, knowing how beautiful she would look with the angry
glow of her temper showing. Something stirred within him, something
he hadn't willingly invited. Strange how the lower half of his body
seemed to respond to this obviously ticked-off neighbor.

"Are you awake?" The voice sounded
suddenly perplexed when Joe didn't say anything.

He held the phone away from him, eyeing
it with a quirked brow. "I'm not sure..."

"I see." Her acid tone was beginning to
irritate Joe's morning disposition. "I thought ranchers got up with
the roosters. Or don't you have any work to tend to? I mean, I know
Longhorns don't have to be coddled, but surely there is something
you should be doing right now."

He smiled indulgently, his voice
lowered to a husky note. "Nothing that won't keep."

A quiet from the other end had Joe
perplexed until she blurted out, "I'm sorry to disturb your
company, but…" her voice trailed off as though she were at a loss
for words.

Joe forced his laughter away. The lady
had reached her own conclusions. Candy was sure he was entertaining
a female in his bed, no less. So what could that hurt? Sounded kind
of nice, when Joe thought about it. And it certainly served her
right! Let her think what she wanted. It would do his ego a world
of good.

"Not at all, Dumplin'. And I'd like to
apologize for keeping you waiting this morning. I'll have to
remember how punctual you are." He heard her gasp in dismay, and a
boyish grin spread over his face. He'd never had this much fun with
any woman before, not even Lisa. "As for the fence, I'd be more
than happy to take care of it for you, even though it's on your
property line. I believe in helping my neighbors, don't
you?"

Strange, but he could see her face,
even as far as imagining the fire in those topaz eyes of hers, big
eyes that tilted upward at the end. Stranger still was the warm
feeling he got just thinking about her. He permitted the languid
feeling that stole over him to fill him momentarily. Positioning
himself on one elbow, his arm muscle flexed. Sunlight streamed
through the room bathing the bed in its glare.

'The fence is on my side?" she
resounded.

"'Fraid so. You see my property isn't
fenced on the south side."

Again there was a pause, and Joe
imagined the pink that invaded Candy's cheeks as she spoke. "In
that case, I'm truly sorry for bothering you. Uncle Roscoe will
help me take care of it."

"Apparently you aren't too familiar
with your boundaries yet. Want me to send a surveyor over?" he
offered knowing she would refuse and nodding when she
did.

"That's not necessary, thank you. I'll
call one myself. Sorry, I disturbed you," she replied, obviously
eager to slam the phone in his ear.

"Don't be," he said with a soft
chuckle. "I can't think of a nicer way to wake up in the morning
than having a beautiful woman whispering in my ear."

"Save the flattery for your
girlfriend," she snapped.

Uneasy about the impression he had
allowed her to continue with, he tried to explain. "She's not my
girl..." but the phone went dead, "…friend."

Damn! He slammed the receiver down with
disgust, and then picked up his pillow, choking it. "One of these
days…Candy Arnold…one of these days." He nearly laughed
aloud.

He really didn't want to leave her with
the wrong impression but she wouldn't have believed him
anyway.

The call had brightened his day and he
found himself whistling as he cleaned up. It wasn't every day he
could kiss one beauty goodnight and have another wake him up. Not
that he hadn't had his fair share of the gentler sex, but he hadn't
had any lately. Of course, she didn't have to know that.

As he prepared breakfast his mind
wandered. The infatuation with Lisa was over as soon as he realized
Lisa was pregnant. Besides, it was obvious to anyone that Lisa was
crazy about George.

Yet, it hadn't happened overnight. For
years, Joe knew Lisa was the only girl in the world for him. Since
high school he had been head over heels in love with her. Or
thought he was. Funny now that he looked back on it, it seemed
pretty foolish. He had wasted so many years worrying over a woman
who was deliriously happy with her husband.

Last night was the first time he had
enjoyed being in the same room with the two of them. She was
happy--with George. What was more important, Joe had finally let
her go.

He had a big breakfast, cooked it
himself, and enjoyed it, everything but the eating alone part. He
really didn't like eating alone. Sometimes he'd go to the bunkhouse
and eat with his men, but this morning he needed some privacy,
especially after Candy Arnold's call. He shrugged away those blue
feelings as he pondered his morning conversation. Perhaps, as a
good gesture, he should offer Roscoe some help with the fencing.
They were neighbors, after all.

He set the dirty dishes in the sink,
and ran hot water over them, then left them and went to the barn.
He saddled his bay, Cherokee, and rode south. Butch was usually by
his side. He must have wandered off this morning, though, because
he was nowhere in sight. Joe always tried to take the time to
admire the beauty of the day, and note the action of the sparse
wildlife, such as prairie dogs and jackrabbits, on his
range.

Today, however, dark shadows moved
angrily across the sky, quickly trying to snuff out that bright
morning sun. The wind began to whistle. Joe had an ominous feeling
that a dust storm was brewing. There were no mourning doves to coo.
No jaunting jackrabbits to aggravate his mount. Even the curious
little prairie dogs had vanished. That wasn't a good
sign.

He started to turn back, thinking
Roscoe wouldn't be fool enough to try and mend a fence in this kind
of weather. But, just as he reined his horse, he spotted a dark
figure in the distance, moving about the fence line. Dammit. Roscoe
was old enough to know better. Sprinting Cherokee into action Joe
moved closer.

A loud cracking noise brought Joe's
full attention to the figure ahead. In the space of seconds, the
horse by the fence bolted and the rider, who was attempting to
mount, was knocked to the ground and dragged through the dust by
the stirrups.

Able to see the problem, Joe went into
action, galloping full speed. He caught the run-a-way horse. "Damn
fool, what are you doing out here? Didn't you see the storm
brewing?"

Shock riveted through Joe as he reached
to pull the dangling rider against him in the saddle, only to find
his hand locked securely around one full breast. With lightning
speed he lowered his hand, swearing under his breath. "You okay?"
he questioned, as warm hands wrapped about his waist. He felt her
relax momentarily against his shoulder, and then
straighten.

"What were you trying to do? Kill me?"
she spurted when she finally caught her breath.

He half turned in the saddle. "What do
you think I was trying to do? Your horse bolted. I thought you were
in trouble. I thought you were Roscoe."

"Look, you knew who I was, and that I
was in trouble. That bullet barely missed Lancer."

"Bullet? So that
was
a rifle I heard?" He
gestured with his head in the opposite direction. "I wasn't sure if
it was thunder or what?"

"Let me down!" she demanded, as she
wiggled against him to get down. The more she wiggled the worse his
insides began to ache. He let her down.

He glared down at her. "You actually
think I did it, don't you? Well, hell lady, what with? I'm not
armed."

Unaffected by his denial she never
batted an eye. "Who else is there? I don't see anyone around.
Besides, you probably threw the gun away by now. I'd just like to
know your reason. And why are you taking it out on
Lancer?"

Joe was baffled. She suspected him of
everything! "Lady," his voice was icy hot. "You've tried and hung
me as far as I can see. If that's how you've got it figured,
there's nothing I can say that's going to change your mind." He
nodded in an easterly direction. "Your horse is over that way. He's
probably got about a mile on you by now. You'd better get home.
We're in for a dust storm and there isn't time to argue about this
now." He tipped his hat to her and started off in a slow trot. He
knew he wasn't going to leave her here without a mount, and little
protection from the storm, but it was high time she learned who her
friends were.

"Wait," she called.

He ignored her first plea, hearing the
frustration in her voice. Still, he wasn't satisfied. She must have
grown disgusted with his lack of concern, for she began making a
mad dash toward Lancer. In her haste, she stepped into a prairie
dog hole, twisting her ankle. She cried out to him once
more.

"Come back," she shouted as the storm
roared a short distance behind her. "Please…." she
begged.

Maybe it was the break in her voice,
maybe just the fact that he knew he couldn't leave her there, but
he whipped Cherokee about and headed back.

Threatening black and red clouds of
dust engulfed them, making visibility virtually impossible. The
wind roared and nature warred. Dust storms were famous in this part
of the country for quickly stirring up the devil.

"Give me your hand," he shouted through
the thickened air.

"Here."

In one swift movement, Joe pulled her
up and into the saddle again, holding her tightly against
him.

"There's a playa not far," he shouted
as his horse automatically headed in the right
direction.

In a matter of seconds they sank into
the walls of a short ravine, dismounting and crouching along its
rim. Joe quickly loosened the cinches, and removed the saddle and
blanket. He secured a bandana about his horse's face, grabbed the
blanket, and ran back to Candy. He crouched over her, making a
small tent-like covering over their heads for protection as he
pushed her to the ground. Hats rolled in unison down the small
incline.

Joe felt her tense as he shielded them
both from the stinging blast. It was useless to worry about the
intimate positions, but the idea must have crossed their minds
simultaneously.

"How long do these things last?" she
asked, choking on her words.

Joe shoved her face downward, and
adjusted the blanket more securely. When the wind whisked the
blanket free, she clutched at his shirtfront and smothered her face
into his chest. He could feel her lips trembling against him, and
he grew suddenly protective.

Seconds later she started to pull away.
"I'm sorry."

"Tuck the blanket in at my jeans behind
me," he ordered as he proceeded to do the same with her side. It
meant putting their arms around each other and coming much closer,
but this was survival. He only hoped she understood.

Her hands felt warm, and shaky, and he
couldn't stop the slight smile from forming on his face. It wasn't
the first time making love to Candy Arnold entered his mind. But
this wasn't the right time or the place. Still, he couldn't ignore
those yearnings, not with her so close. The kiss they shared came
to mind.

Dammit. Why couldn't he have been
stranded with an old and ugly woman? Why this particular lady? And
why now?

"Would you be still?" he barked out of
impatience as her hips bumped against him, jolting him into an
acute awareness.