Suspicions of the Heart (11 page)

"Sorry," she muttered
miserably.

He wasn't mad at her, he was mad at
himself and all those crazy things running through his
head.

"Hey," he glanced down at her for the
first time. "I didn't mean to bark at you. But this is an awkward
position to be in with a beautiful woman."

He couldn't see her entire face, it was
too dark, but he noticed her eyes getting much bigger.

"You know I can't figure you out," she
said. "I don't know if you're a good guy or a bad guy."

"I've got a white hat at home, if that
helps."

She couldn't stifle the laughter, and
he couldn't look away from her. It was the first time he'd seen her
smile, and he raised the blanket just enough to really see it. God,
she was beautiful when she smiled, a way too close for
comfort.

Something bumped over their heads, and
Candy grabbed at him, pulling him to her, as her arms went around
him. "What was that?" she shrieked and looked at him.

"Probably tumbleweed, but scoot up
here," he commanded gently, urging her to rest her head against his
arm.

As she came closer, he pulled her
against him, and she buried her face against his collar and neck.
Her warm breath fanned him, and he couldn't stifle the shiver of
awareness that ran through him. Damn stupid time to get turned on.
His arms barely held her, but she was holding on as though her life
depended on it.

"Don't take in deep breaths," he
cautioned.

"Don't worry," she cried, her nose
rubbing against his neck.

Another object flew overhead, and this
time they clutched each other.

He smiled against her hair, enjoying
the fresh clean scent of her. "What kind of perfume is
that?"

"It's not. It's baby oil," she
muttered.

"Baby oil? It's nice," he said quietly,
not daring to move for fear she'd guess just how nice.

But she did move and their expressions
locked.

His smile softened on her. "It's a
helluva way to get acquainted, isn't it?"

"Yes."

It was past impossible to hide the
growing awareness between them, especially with that awareness
announcing itself against her thigh. Her breathing seemed erratic;
her breasts needled his chest. Had he scared her?

"You've got beautiful
freckles."

"Freckles aren't beautiful."

"Yours are," he returned evenly, as his
eyes and finger followed a path across her nose. "Someday," he
stared down into her shadowed face, "when you've grown to trust me
a little, you can tell me who scared the hell out of
you."

Then the world faded into a quiet
oblivion as he pulled her to him and touched his lips tentatively
to hers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured as his lips
returned over and over to hers. The kiss was slow, burning, and
sensuous. Her lips tasted like the sweet of honey. He could feel
her eagerness to respond, and he savored the moment her lips parted
to allow him greater freedom.

"Y'all all right down there?" A
slightly familiar drawl from a few feet above their heads called
out.

Joe slumped against her with a low
growl. Candy tensed once more; the moment was destroyed as Joe
peeked above the blanket and saw the storm was gone. Staring up the
rim, he spotted Roscoe sitting high in the saddle with a knowing
grin on his rugged face.

"We're fine," Joe answered, feeling
like a kid being caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I'd say it's safe to come out now. Is
that Candy down there with you by any chance?" Roscoe asked with an
amused tone. If Joe read him right, Roscoe knew exactly what had
been going on.

He nodded.

"Good thing you happened along. I
warned her not to try it today, but she's got a mind of her own. I
found Lancer and thought I'd better scout for her. Looks like
you've got things under control, so I'll be moving along. See
ya."

Joe nodded and slowly rolled away from
Candy, feeling the cool breeze that shot between them.

Candy jumped to her feet, obviously
anxious to make a dignified retreat. "Where's my horse?"

"Roscoe took him," Joe answered as he
tended to his bay.

"Great. Now how am I going to get
home?"

"Looks as though I'm elected to see you
home. He didn't leave you much choice," Joe said, saddling the
horse and looking at her.

"Look, don't get any ideas…about…about
what happened," she hastened to explain.

"It was a just a kiss, Candy. It
happens a lot between men and women." He played down its
importance. Dammit, it was more than just a simple kiss.

"I still don't trust you."

"I know." He motioned to hoist her into
position.

"We're strangers."

"Are we?" he questioned, his eyes
locking onto hers. When she didn't answer he swung up in the saddle
behind her.

What he wanted to do and what he did do
were two entirely different things. He was drawn to her, there was
no doubt about that. He had been from the beginning, and those
kisses only compounded the confusion between them.

What made Candy Arnold so different? He
argued with himself. But the answer to that question was quickly
squashed and forced to the back of his mind. He wasn't ready to
answer that, not with her breathing fire and brimstone with those
beautiful eyes.

He wanted her; he knew that. But for
how long, to what extent, he wasn't sure. After all, the lady
didn't trust him. That was putting it mildly. She practically
accused him of attempted murder. Still, behind all the scoldings
and tongue lashings he was giving himself, he knew there was
something very special between himself and this unpredictable
little red-head. For now, though, it would wait. Someone was trying
to harm her. That was fact. And somehow he had to convince her it
wasn't him.

But how?

Chapter Seven

Days later, Candy was still angry about
letting Joe kiss her; especially since she wasn't at all sure she
could trust him. After all, he'd been around every time something
went wrong. She couldn't just dismiss it because he was a hell of a
kisser.

"I think there's somethin' you're over
lookin'." Roscoe admonished Candy quickly.

"What?" She snapped, not fully willing
to hear her uncle out in the matter.

"The fact that he's the very one who
saved your little neck on several occasions, for one thing. It was
Joe Munroe who jumped in that arena the other night. And he also
saw you through one helluva sandstorm as I recall. So, he's
offering to buy the place from you, so what? Doesn't sound like a
man trying to hide anything to me? I hate to say it, but I think
you're barking up the wrong tree, honey." Roscoe glanced at his
niece as he continued to clean his rifle.

"Maybe." Candy relented an inch. "But
haven't you noticed how he's always been around when things start
happening?"

Down deep, she knew her uncle had a
good point. She wasn't overlooking those things. And, if she were
honest with herself, she didn't want to blame him for everything.
But who else was there? Who else had been around when things began
to happen? He admitted he wanted her land.

"So, you gonna file a complaint?"
Roscoe asked, setting his 'O' Henry' against the wall, and putting
away his gun cleaning kit. It was a rare gun, and Roscoe prided
himself in keeping it looking new. He was the kind of man, who
lacked material things, but what he had, he took care
of.

"No, not 'til I'm sure. I don't want to
lodge an official complaint unless I have more to go on," she said
slowly as though she had just made her mind up to the
matter.

"That's probably best." Roscoe winked.
"Meanwhile, I'll do my best to keep you in my sights," he
grinned.

"Thanks." She smiled at him. "Now, I
better check on Lancer's leg."

"If you'd pamper a man as much as you
do that horse you'd be married by now," Roscoe added.

She paused, bent and planted a kiss to
his forehead, then dashed out before he swatted her.

The brilliant sun peeked through the
rafters of the temporary lean-to that Candy and her uncle had
constructed for a stable. Lancer's ear pricked and he hurried
toward her, knowing she had couple of sugar cubes for him. She
treated him with a laugh, and then squatted to massage ointment
into his sore leg. The vet said he was healing well, but she wasn't
taking any chances. As she examined him she murmured soothing words
of comfort to him.

Funny how an animal could come so close
to being a real friend, but that's how she felt about Lancer. She
had trained him from a colt, and the bond between them grew
stronger day by day. "I don't need a man, as long as I have you, do
I, boy?"

"Candy?" Roscoe called from the open
trailer door. "Telephone, honey."

"Thanks," she called to her uncle as
she put the lid on the ointment, then gave Lancer one last
affectionate pat on the rump.

In the far distance Candy heard the
lonely call of a morning dove, echoing the stark loneliness she
herself sometimes experienced. It sent a chill through her this
morning. Roscoe had already warned her that in this part of the
country one became acclimated to the lonesome prairies. Oddly
enough, with the loneliness came a nearness to God that few ever
experienced. It filled the soul. She cast a short glance about the
property on her way back to the trailer. A glimmer of hope spread
through her, as she saw the place as a real ranch someday. She
hadn't decided on the breed of cattle she wanted to run yet. Roscoe
suggested Angus or Herefords.

"Who's on the phone?" she asked as she
washed her hands and turned to him.

"Don't know, didn't say." Roscoe
glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Some fella," he
muttered as he continued to work on the figures before him. He was
going to the auction at the end of the month and he wanted to be
ready with all the figures.

A fella? Candy didn't know any men
around here, except...yes, well, if Joe Munroe was calling, she
would get rid of him quick enough. But then Joe wouldn't be calling
her, not after she accused him to his face of attempted
murder.

She finally took the phone, her voice
full of irritation. "Hello?" She had this gut feeling she wasn't
going to like this caller.

"Hello, gorgeous!" came a slightly
familiar voice that she couldn't put her finger on.

"Who is this?"

"How soon you forget. And to think we
were married not so long ago."

Candy pulled the receiver away from her
ear to stare at it. "Fargate?" She edged it back to her ear. "I'm
sorry, you took me by surprise." She didn't want to sound
apologetic.

"You haven't changed a bit, honey,"
Fargate continued, unabashed by her lack of greeting.

"No, I haven't."

"Anyway," he paused as though
considering what he was about to say, "I'm sitting here in a lonely
Amarillo hotel waiting for a proper invite to your place. You did
say I'd be welcome, didn't you?"

"You're in Amarillo?
Now
?" she
gasped.

"That's right. I told you I'd
come."

Candy saw her Uncle's head fly up and a
frown forming on his finely tanned face.

"Yes, yes, you did. But I figured, I
mean, I thought…"

"You thought I was kidding?"

"Exactly!"

"Well, I wasn't. I'm here. So, how
about it?"

"How about what?" she quizzed not
knowing what to do or say about the matter.

"Will you come and get me?"

"Come and get you? Oh, but you don't
understand. We have no house on the place, no barn, and there's so
much I have to do yet to the place. It's really not a good
time..."

"Sounds as though you're digging your
heels in to stay."

Now why on earth did that bother him?
"Yes, as a matter of fact, we are. I received word this morning
that my loan was approved and we can proceed with the repairs now."
Why was she in such a hurry to convince him she was staying? She
hadn't convinced herself, yet, even though getting that loan pretty
well cinched the matter.

"I see you've been busy then. So, are
you going to pick me up or not?"

"Well, I…yes, of course I will." She
saw her uncle's frown deepen, as he turned away from her. "But give
me a little time. I'm filthy."

"Just another example of what ranch
life can do to a beautiful woman. Take your time, I don't
mind."

She scribbled the address on a pad near
the phone and hung up, then glanced hesitantly at her uncle. He was
ignoring her, and she knew it. "It was Fargate. I guess you heard.
He's in Amarillo. Wants me to come and pick him up. I wonder what
for?"

Roscoe continued to write down figures,
but he paused long enough to raise a brow at her. "Yeah, I
wonder?"