The Cattleman (3 page)

Beth gulped the last swallow of coffee and continued to stare out the window toward the mountains that looked close enough to touch. So did he—at least his reflection.

The T-shirt he wore was tight over a sculpted chest any woman would envy to be near. He pushed his arms through the sleeves of a second shirt that hid the uneven but nice work tan. His dark blue jeans were loose around his lean thighs. He needed new jeans to show off his perfection. She forced her body not to squirm in anticipation. She’d experienced exactly how muscular his legs were.

It was rude to keep her back to him. But as much as she’d tried to prepare herself for his arrival, facing him again was harder than she’d anticipated. At least she wasn’t alone. He wasn’t facing her, either.

She watched him drop his chin to his chest and rest his hands on the back of the couch that split the room from the formal dining table. It was probably a good idea to keep a large piece of furniture between them.

“Guess you’re okay if you’re up and about. I heard you needed a favor.”

That deep voice did something to her insides every time. His sexy tone seeped somewhere down her spine and made her very aware of how his breath had touched her there—and a lot of other places. She shifted and could see his reflection in the window again, seated in the side chair now, bent at the waist, pulling his boots on. Muscles rippled in his arms just like when they’d—

Whew
. She couldn’t go there every time they were in the same room. But it was so easy to return to that blanket, next to the mountain fire, under a gazillion stars. His hair was wet, dripping onto his shirt. She’d seen it before. Seen just about all of him in the buff.

“That was a quick shower,” she said as if she knew how long his showers were normally.

He stamped his heel into place inside his boot as he stood. “Mom’s baking biscuits. Tends to get me out fast. Do you need something or not?”

All right, the biscuits were a priority and he hadn’t taken a quick shower just because she was waiting. That was good to know.

“Your arm is okay. Right?” he asked with a shrug.

She looked at her sleeve as if she could see through it to the deep graze she’d received when she’d been shot. A consequential wound that had made her woozy enough not to remember exactly what had transpired before she embarrassingly passed out. “Yes. It’s healing nicely.”

This boring conversation was quite different from their last. At that time, Nick had said something along the lines that she was an inept agent and he never wanted to see her again. And here she was feeling like a tossed-off girlfriend. Juliet and Kate had assured her it was necessary to convince Nick that staying here was all her idea. But the women didn’t know they’d slept together. That put an embarrassing spin on things.

Having to take the blame for staying at the Burke’s wouldn’t encourage him to believe she didn’t want a relationship. Honestly, there couldn’t be any fraternization now. She could fight it. She was a professional. This was her work environment. If she ever wanted to be transferred from this desolate area and back to the real action... Well, she needed to learn how to be successful here. She had to get along with Nick Burke.

Shooting the man holding him at gunpoint had been easier than facing him. He wasn’t smiling. And beyond all reason she still felt the attraction throughout her entire body.

He slapped his thighs, breaking her stupor.

“So what’s this favor?”

Chapter Two

“Your mother has a great sense of humor,” she began, hesitating at his quizzical expression. “She, um, volunteered your ranch as a favor for the DEA. Not really a favor for me—”

She braced for a barrage of reasons why she should leave the Burke ranch. Nick couldn’t possibly want her here. Should she fight him or let him win? No question, she had to fight him. This was the only place for her to learn what she needed. The Rocking B and Nick Burke were her last chance.

“She volunteered the ranch for what?” He fisted his hands and rested one on each hip, waiting for the answer. It didn’t take a genius to interpret the rapid pulse visible in his neck or the dread his voice didn’t disguise.

Nerves froze her in place. Even though she didn’t want to watch his reaction, she couldn’t turn away. “My headquarters.”

“Right. That’s hilarious.”

“I’m not... It’s not a joke, Nick. I need a place with easier, quicker deployment into the mountains.”

“I’m willing to help the task force find the creeps behind the smuggling. But you don’t know the first thing about a horse. How are you supposed to investigate anything?”

“That’s the favor. I need you to teach me to ride and survive in the mountains.”

“No way. There’s no way in—”

“I’ll stop you before you say something you’ll regret,” Juliet said, pushing through the swinging door at the end of the dining room. “Breakfast is ready. Beth, we eat in the kitchen unless we have company.”

“What’s she?” Nick asked.

“She’s moving in. Get over it or you know the alternative.” Nick’s mother disappeared behind the swinging door.

He crossed the room. His boots sounded heavy on the wooden floor as he headed toward her. He didn’t stop until he stood almost on top of her Jimmy Choo shoes. How he got that close without touching her, she didn’t know. And she hated that if he had touched her, she would have welcomed the intimacy.

She was literally nose to nose with him in her heels. Sometimes her near six-foot height intimidated men. Not Nick. The first time they’d kissed, he’d told her how much he enjoyed the way their bodies fit. She’d enjoyed it, too, more than she wanted to admit.

Living across the hall from him is going to be seriously difficult.

Loud music filtered from the kitchen. White noise Juliet obviously supplied so Nick could have a private conversation. The woman was very smart.

“I’m not going to help you pass the time while you’re here,” he whispered. “On a horse or anywhere else.”

“And who’s asking you to?” She wanted to retreat, to give him ground. His jaw muscles clenched, his whiskey-colored eyes burned brighter with the sun in his face. She stayed put, deliberately tipping her nose a little higher. “This is business. There’s nothing personal about asking to stay here.”

“Good, ’cause there isn’t any
personal
left between us. No matter how much my momma would prefer it that way and may push us together. You should have listened to me last week instead of concocting a reason to stay here.”

“You are so full of yourself.” She took a step sideways. Ready to march out the door, ready to demand another cover story and place to stay. But that was exactly what Nick wanted. “Some things are more important than our personal relationship—which I agree to be nonexistent. I listened to what you said at the sheriff’s office last week. It’s insulting and egotistical that you believe I’d want anything to do with you after that.”

“Sure doesn’t seem like you were listening. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“As of matter of fact, I looked for another place. But when it came down to choosing, the agency had the last say,” she lied. “Since you already knew I was working undercover, it made more sense to use this as my base.”

He took a step back and crossed his arms. “If that’s the only reason, I’m a fly on a horse’s ass.”

If she said that she thought he was the rump and not the fly, he’d be even more likely to request that she leave. No matter what his mother had demanded, he’d stick by what he’d said to the sheriff and be done with investigations. How in the world was she ever going to get him to open up about the shooting? That was the only reason Juliet wanted her living at the ranch. Ultimately, Beth was supposed to get him to either talk about the trauma of being shot or get him to see a shrink.

If only her parents were here. Both were well-known psychologists and that was the reason Juliet had suggested the arrangement. The only reason. It had nothing to do with a possible romantic involvement between Nick and Beth. But she couldn’t tell him that.

His strong jaw twitched with each clinch. His eyes burned into her, and she wanted to tell him the truth. Did he realize how much power he had over her when he was nice?

What if that power worked both ways? Was that what
he
was so worried about? If she were truthful about why his mother wanted her there...

“I like your parents. They’re so easy to talk to. Mine dissect every word I say looking for hidden meanings. They’re both psychologists.”

His eyes narrowed, suspicious of her words. As he should be. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Your parents want me to psycho-babble you while you teach me to ride.”

He rubbed his old wound as he had several times when around the task force. She’d barely caught a glimpse of the scars before he’d kissed her into forgetting to look. His silence wasn’t what she’d expected. First he rubbed his shoulder, then his forehead. The man was giving considerable thought to her words instead of kicking her to the curb. Or the gravel drive in this case.

“Secondhand therapy? My mom’s crazy if she thinks that will work.”

“I know, right?” Her acrylic nails clicked at her side and she immediately stopped them. She’d developed the bad habit after the addition of long hours spent alone, shunned by her fellow agents. She was nervous, but wouldn’t allow herself to show it. “I...um...would say she’s more desperate to help you. At least that’s how she appears to me.”

Nick’s forehead had deep furrows from his concentration. “Desperate? She’s desperate because of me? That’s why she issued her ultimatum.”

Where was the man who lost his temper at the slightest inconvenience? “It’s ridiculous to think I’d be of any help. I’m not a therapist.”

She could deal easier with the irate cowboy. This concerned son drew her in, encouraging her to help. Therapist or not, she knew how to deal with trauma. She’d lived it, worked through it, dealt with it daily. She probably could talk him through his nightmares. Perhaps even get him to see where therapy would be helpful. Everything she needed was bookmarked on the internet or stored on her hard drive.

Nick began pacing, looking at the ceiling, twisting bric-a-brac in circles on the mantel. “How the hell am I supposed to teach you not to fear a horse?” he mumbled, but again loud enough for anyone in the room to hear.

“Does that mean you’re going to agree?” She was bewildered. Every approach she took with Nick Burke backfired.

He nodded agreement. “Dammit.”

The music covering their conversation from his mother was suddenly quiet.

“Nick, please go get your father from the men’s quarters,” Juliet called from the kitchen, breaking up the standoff.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said loud enough for his mother to hear. He marched the couple of steps across to Beth and leaned close to her ear. “Just how do you plan on explaining to the county that you’re staying here?”

Just his breath darting across her earlobe made her quiver with anticipation.
Stop!
she silently cried out to her insides.

“It was suggested...” She swallowed hard, unable to state it. He’d be madder than a cross-eyed bee. Well, then, she could say it. When he was angry, it was easy not to give him the time of day. She couldn’t possibly like him more than when she’d arrived here this morning. “I’ll be posing as your girlfriend. Fiancée would be an even better cover. You’d be part of the team.”

“You’re kidding me. You want me to join their task force?”

“It’s really Cord McCrea’s suggestion. He’s in charge of trying to find the smugglers who keep using your land. Staying here was his idea. You’ll serve as the official guide or tracker...something like that. But you won’t carry a gun or anything.”

“The hell I won’t carry a gun,” he whispered emphatically. “There’s no way you really think we can pull this off. We ha—don’t even like each other.”

He’d almost said
hate.
Her acting ability would be pushed to the ultimate limit. First pretending not to like him when they were alone. And then making him think she was only pretending to like him when they had an audience—that part wouldn’t be acting. All the while she’d be secretly wanting to repeat everything they’d done on that mountain. It was so very confusing and she wasn’t trying to explain it to anyone but herself.

At the end of the day, she would do what was needed in order to get away from here as fast as possible.

The stubble he’d neglected to shave beckoned to her so she’d use it against him. She reached out and let her nail scrape his cheek down to the corner of his lips. He took it, staying perfectly still, his jaw twitching even more visibly.

“Why, Nick,” she said half closing her eyes and looking only at his lips. “We don’t have to like each other to have fun while stuck in this situation.”

His hand raised and she was prepared for him to push her away. Instead, he wrapped it softly around hers and drew the tip of her finger between his lips. His thumb drew circles on her palm and his breathing changed—or was it hers that hitched in her chest? She tugged her hand back, yet his mouth held on to its prey. She wanted to haul those lips against hers faster than a speeding bullet.

The feeling frightened her more than potentially making a fool of herself did.

Keeping cool and not reacting further was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She could be proud of herself for not succumbing to his sexiness.

“That’s the only logical thing you’ve said since I met you.” He dropped her hand and strutted away.

The door didn’t exactly slam behind him, but he didn’t bother to hide the cursing as he stomped down the porch steps. Nick’s feet hit the gravel on the drive and he let out a growl loud enough to be heard through the window.

“That’s exactly what I said,” she whispered to his retreating image.

“Did he ask about your cover story?” Juliet popped in from the kitchen and Beth had to pull her gaze away from Nick kicking a rock into the barnyard.

She nodded and faced her hostess, her body feeling the rebuff as much as her mind. “This is never going to work.”

“Oh, yes, it will,” Juliet answered before letting the door swing shut as she retreated into the kitchen. “I’ve left him no choice.”

There was an extra gleam in Juliet’s eyes. And for some strange reason, Beth had the feeling that she’d just been taken to the cleaners by a professional con artist.

“Staying here might well be worse than banishment.”