Lone Tree Page 7

  “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—”

  “Did exactly what I told him to do. If he hadn’t, he’d be fired instead of you.”

  The man’s face tightened. Then he drew in a quiet, controlled breath. “I am a professional,” he said, voice precise. “You hadn’t hired me, nor can you fire me.”

  “You can put it any way you want, just so long as we both know where we stand.” Miles’s smile was cold. “And we do. Goodbye, Willis.”

  Lainie looked at her depleted glass of tea. Miles’s expression was so implacable it unnerved her. And warned her to neither get close to him, nor to cross him.

  “I’m the best in my field,” Willis declared. “You won’t find—”

  “That’s what I was told when I asked around, but that’s not what I found out. You were too full of yourself. You went for a long shot, hoping to build your reputation with a sharp deal, and you cost me something I wanted.”

  Willis looked at the bowl of salsa, rubbed his hand over his jaw, then with a long exhale he looked back at Miles. “You’re right,” he admitted. “But Kramar was waffling. I swear he was going to let it go cheaper until that speculator stepped in. I was
going to save you a bundle and in the process build business for myself.”

  Miles lifted his hands, palms up. You made my case, was the silent message.

  The young man nodded. “I gambled, I lost, and I apologize.”

  “You got the first two right,” Miles said flatly. “Last one makes no difference.”

  The older man swung his bulk around, effectively dismissing him. Willis seemed to draw in on himself at the rudeness, started to turn away, then he turned back. Again he took in a deep, quiet breath. “Miles, you have my word that—”

  “Goodbye, Willis. Can you find your way out, or do you need help?”

  The man’s hands clenched at his sides, his mouth became a straight line, and he muttered something Lainie couldn’t hear. But apparently Miles had. He stiffened and pushed his chair back. “Better yet, I’ll show you out.”

  The waitress appeared, inserted herself between the two men and looked up at each one in turn. She wore a white senorita-style blouse tucked into a full skirt with dark-red and navy blue panels, stood shoulder high to each man, and must have weighed a whopping one hundred and five pounds. But control of the situation belonged to her. Placing the check on the table, she gave each of the standing men a hard look. She wasn’t moving until they did.

  Willis backed off, appearing embarrassed. Miles sat down. He looked at the waitress, the check, then back at her. He appeared to be trying to figure something out.

  As the door closed behind Willis, the young woman smiled at Miles. “Take your time,” she said, and left.

  Settling himself in the SUV for the return trip, Miles glanced across at Lainie. “I could tell that Stuart and Tom were impressed with you. You handled yourself well.”

  “Really? I wasn’t especially impressed with either one of them.”

  He appeared taken aback with her candor, and then he chuckled. “I like you, Lainie Sue. You’re a treat to the eyes and ears.”

  “But I was impressed with that waitress. If I ever get into trouble, I want her on my side.”

  Miles threw his head back and filled the truck with resounding guffaws.

  Chapter Nine

  Reed followed through with his promise to show Lainie the oasis. Though she wondered how wise it was to spend a day alone with a man who wore his sexuality as comfortably and openly as he wore his hat, she went without demur.

  Her favorite direction was still straight ahead.

  Which might prove to be an apt epitaph.

  Reining Glory to a halt in the shade of a cottonwood she swiveled in the saddle, marveling at the three or so acres of greenery surrounding a sizable pool of water.

  “How can something like this exist,” she murmured, “smack in the middle of the desert?”

  “I like to think God left His mark here,” Reed said quietly, resting his wrists on the saddlebow. He must’ve been here countless times, yet clearly he shared her awe.

  She dismounted and walked to the pond, then heard his quick voice behind her. “If you’re thinking about putting your hand in there, don’t. Water moccasins have been known to pop their heads up out of there on occasion.”

  She stopped. Everyone agreed snakes were a hazard and one needed to be aware. But Lainie couldn’t understand why she hadn’t yet seen one, if the countryside was indeed so populated with venomous reptiles. Then she wondered what she was wondering about. Did she really want to come head to head with one?

  They took their time exploring what she wanted to explore. Reed’s good-natured indulgence made her feel special. He stopped once and pointed to a space among the cottonwoods. “Every spring we get a field of bluebonnets in there. Too bad it’s too late for you to see them. Nothing like it when they’re in bloom.”

  He walked on. “Don’t have a lot of trees in these parts. Some mesquite clumps, mulberry, an elm or two. Further east, we’ve got forests of pine.”

  He stopped again, nodding toward the ground. “Cougar.”

  Lainie stiffened and tried to scan every direction at once.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, sounding amused. “He’s long gone. This track is old.”

  She lightened up. Slightly. “So that’s why you cart that rifle around with you.”

  “One reason. You about ready to eat?”

  She felt the smile creep into her eyes, and then his mouth curved as he caught on.

  “Nope,” he said. “We brought it with us, remember? I’m not going to shoot it and then cook it.”

  But instead of starting back, he remained still, and she waited.

  “That’s a pretty color on you,” he said. “You should wear blue more often.”

  “Yeah? This one’s kind of tame. I thought you liked the one with all the color.”

  “On you, nothing’s tame,” he said, and the appreciation and challenge in his eyes made her back up a mental step. “And I didn’t exactly say I liked the other shirt,” he went on. “Believe I said it reminded me of a neon sign, and I recall I was a mite concerned about the horses’ sensibilities. They’ve been known to buck and rear at—”

  “Can we eat now?”

  Though he retained the teasing grin, he relented, and turned to lead the way back to the horses and gear.

  With their backs propped against saddles, they ate cheese sandwiches and Fritos and watched the shimmer of sun on the water. A breeze moved the branches of the cottonwood they sat under, creating a dappling pattern of sun and shade. She didn’t doubt his warning about water moccasins, yet she wondered how something so pretty and tempting could contain danger.

  She sipped from her canteen. “Where’s that beer you promised me?”

  “Well,” he drawled, getting to his feet, “I decided against it. One needs to keep a clear head out here. But my offer still holds about sharing one with you if you’ll knock on my door one evening.” He pointed with his left hand. “Boy’s room is that way.” He pointed with his right. “Girl’s room is over there.”

  “Got it.”

  In his absence she reached for the bag of chips and found that he’d emptied it. She’d gotten one handful out of the whole bag. She stood and stretched, marveling at the beauty of the place. One couldn’t help but be affected by its serenity.

  She felt his presence behind her an instant before his hands fell on her shoulders, and she grew still. She’d guessed this was coming at some point today but still didn’t know the best way to handle it. He smoothed hair from the nape of her neck, and when his lips touched her skin she broke out in goosebumps.

  She stepped away and turned.

  Her retreat had been in self-defense, but the distance she’d gained wasn’t protecting her from his eyes. They were as seductive as the rest of him. He stepped forward, his hands softly cupped her shoulders, and then his lips met hers.

  She returned his kiss, giving in without making the conscious decision to do so, and he rewarded her by deepening it. Though she still stood on her own two feet, he was carrying her away. She was fast losing touch with the rest of the world, was aware only of his mouth on hers, his solid warmth, the staccato beating of his heart, his gentleness and his tension.

  She ran her hands up his arms, tightened her fingers around his biceps, felt the play of muscles through his shirt as his arms moved. After exploring the length of her torso, his hands lowered to her waist, lightly caressed her jeans-clad buttocks, then returned to her bra line and rested there. His thumbs kneaded the outside swell of her breasts.

  Her senses returned. She took a deep breath and several steps backward.

  “Hold it,” he said, and reached for her the same instant her boot splashed in the water.

  “Oh.” Whipping her head around, she veered sideways to get out of the water and away from him. He didn’t move, just watched her with a smug, knowing look. She finally found a piece of ground that seemed safe and came to a stop.

  “You sure are skittish,” he observed.

  She hadn’t recovered from that kiss, but he was as cool as could be. That was
n’t fair.

  “I’m not...skittish.”

  “You’re not?”

  She wished she could break through that cool control and mess him up. But she had to find her own control first. “I’m just not, well, interested in starting a relationship.”

  “You said there was no one waiting for you back in California.”

  “There isn’t. And I’m still not interested in starting a relationship.”

  “Think this one might’ve gotten started already.”

  “Okay.” She blew a longer breath out than she thought she’d taken in. “I admit I may be a little skittish.” She found enough wits to smile back. “But you are, without doubt, the cockiest cowboy I’ve ever met.”

  “And just how many cocky cowboys have you met?”

  “Two. You and Mack.”

  It seemed his stance checked a bit. He hadn’t expected that. Well, good. Score one for the California girl.

  He recovered quickly. “But I’m the best.”

  “Or worst. Depends on how you want to look at it.” She glanced at their horses. “I think we should saddle up and get out of here.” She looked back at him. He didn’t move and neither did she.

  During the silence that followed, her gaze continued to travel between him and the horses. Walking to them meant walking toward him, and she wasn’t sure if that was safe or not.

  “Lainie?”

  “Yes?” she answered guardedly.

  “When you’re ready to take the next step—toward me, not away from me—you let me know. I can wait.” He flashed that beautiful smile, assuring her he had the situation well in hand, then showed her his back as he bent to pick up a saddle.

  She watched that back, muscles stretching across the shoulders beneath the red-plaid shirt, the sureness and economy of movement, the raw sexuality that was as pronounced as the color of his eyes. His decision not to push physical contact was even more unnerving than if he’d pushed.

  Yes, he could wait.