Every Breath She Takes Page 11

  And now, after Cal’s warning to Marlena…well, she’d really have to try to separate herself from that memory and analyze her reactions to Brady in his own right.

  She chewed her lip. She could always ask Cal what he’d meant. Of course, then she’d have to admit that she’d been listening in on his conversation with Marlena, which she didn’t really relish doing. No one liked an eavesdropper.

  Maybe Delia could fill her in on Brady. Except it seemed Delia headed the other way these days when she saw her coming. Lauren grimaced. She couldn’t blame her. She’d probably had it up to here with the twenty questions about everyone who set foot on the guest ranch. Nobody liked a gossip either.

  Okay, she could fire up her laptop again and try her hand at online research. Her cottage was equipped with Internet, but it was the rural satellite variety. Basically not dial-up slow but pretty excruciatingly sluggish when you were used to fiber-op.

  She knew that because she’d used her computer this morning to Google Cal. After he’d told her about his rodeo success, she couldn’t resist. And she’d been blown away by what she’d found. He’d had fan sites, for God’s sake! And short videos on YouTube. After the first one, she couldn’t bear to look at the others, even if she could have borne how slowly they loaded.

  She’d Googled Zane Taggart too, but all she’d found was a genealogy chart someone had done about fifteen years ago, with a short branch for Zane Edward Taggart and Julia Elizabeth (nee Pringle) Taggart, and terminating with Callum Edward Taggart.

  She’d checked in on her e-mail while she was at it. Peter was managing her practice just fine, according to Heather. And yes, her dogs, Gabe and Cissy, were doing great in the kennel. Her clinic was boarding a black lab that got along well with the both of them, and Heather was personally walking them every day. On the home front, her mother sent news that one of Lauren’s high school friends was getting married (her mother’s wistful tone had given her a pang). Lauren’s best friend Kaylee DeGrace sent her hot pictures of Alex O’Laughlin and commanded her to get her butt home soon because she missed their Friday night happy hours at the pub. And from Danielle, of course, icy silence. Lauren still hadn’t called her, so she couldn’t blame her sister.

  Yes, that’s what she’d do. Research Brady on the Internet. And while she was at it, now that she knew most of the ranch hands by name, she’d research them as well. There must be a local paper. Maybe she could get into the archives and see if anyone had been in the court briefs. And yes, she’d check on Harvey McLeod. Something told her there’d be lots on Harvey, but she suspected it would be a carefully managed public persona. Money had a way of ensuring that.

  Yes, she’d research them all the best she could, as well as any guests that seemed likely candidates in terms of height and carriage or who registered on her gut instinct meter. But frankly, the surest method was probably to do just as she was doing right now—dogging Marlena’s steps to make sure she didn’t wind up at Sunset Ridge alone come sundown.

  Lauren was hauled out of her reverie when the other riders stopped shortly after they’d forded another small stream. She reined in Prince.

  “There’s a swimming hole just around that bend,” Marlena announced. “Could you stay here and keep an eye on the horses while Brady and I go for a swim?”

  Lauren had a good idea what “swimming” meant, particularly as neither of them had a bathing suit on them. “Of course.”

  Though neither Marlena nor Brady had complained, Lauren knew she was very much a fifth wheel. Lauren rewarded their civility by pretending to doze under a tree while the horses grazed.

  Being an unwelcome chaperone wasn’t the biggest of her miseries. No, her biggest preoccupation was the frustration that pulsed in her blood. She could be in Cal’s arms right now, making slow, soul-stirring love with him. She’d felt like she was being torn in two back there when he’d implored her to stay.

  This is why you were supposed to steer clear of him. How could she protect Marlena when her senses were filled with Cal?

  With discipline, she answered her own question. Just like you showed today.

  A less manic Marlena led the trek back to the ranch. By the time they got there, the sun was already riding the horizon. Marlena was safe for another day. Cal would be steering the guests back right about now, which meant he was almost home. She’d have time while the guests rubbed down their mounts to squeeze in a bath before slipping into one of the dresses she’d brought with her. A simple black wraparound affair, it looked great on her. It also had the added advantage of being easy to get out of.

  Twenty minutes later, freshly bathed and moisturized, hair dried and awesome black dress on, Lauren was still waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

  Eventually hunger drove her up to the house, where Delia made her some sandwiches and a carafe of tea to take back to her cabin. She pecked at her food, her nerves jumping with excitement. Cal would be along any time. Any minute she’d hear his boots on the wooden porch, his soft knock at her door. Any minute she’d be hurling herself into his arms.

  Except the minutes turned into hours, the anticipation into crushing disappointment. When the hands on the old clock showed nine, she accepted the inconceivable. He wasn’t coming.

  After all that passed between them last night, he wasn’t coming. She leapt to her feet. How could he do this to her?

  That’s probably what he thought when you went after Marlena.

  The thought had her sinking back on the sofa. Is this how he’d felt? Deflated? Confused? Hurt?

  Well, there was only one way to find out.

  She marched up the path to the main house and found Delia.

  “I need to talk to Cal. Where can I find him?”

  “Try downstairs. I think he’s in the bar with the boys.”

  Lauren had no trouble finding the place; once she got downstairs, she just followed the mournful voice of The Cowboy Junkies’ Margo Timmins caressing an old Hank Williams tune. The “bar” was neither dark nor overly smoky, but she supposed it approximated a honky-tonk. A young woman Lauren recognized as a sometime waitress from the dining room stood behind the small bar reading. A handful of men sat on stools watching football on a wall-mounted TV. A glance told her Cal wasn’t among them. She eyed the other end of the room where a group of men and women crowded around a pool table. She didn’t see him there either.

  Then she heard the unmistakable sharp crack of the cue ball breaking racked balls. When the shooter straightened so she could see him over the heads of the small crowd, Lauren’s jaw dropped. Cal.

  A lit cigarette dangled from his lips as he contemplated his next shot with narrowed eyes. He looked so…different. Yet hadn’t she pictured him like this the first time she’d laid eyes on him? Tonight he exuded a sort of restless, ragged cool that stole her breath away. Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell.

  He leaned down to bridge his shot, black shirt stretching taut along his back. Lauren had to crane her neck so as not to lose sight of him. He made the shot. Moving quickly now, he chalked his cue and lined up the next ball. It dropped too. And the next and the next until he’d cleaned the table.

  Cheering erupted among the few onlookers. Cal spread his arms, palms up, in a mocking show of acceptance, then removed his cigarette from his lips and stubbed it out. A woman touched his arm and spoke directly into his ear. White hot jealousy shot through Lauren as she watched the other woman with her head so close to Cal’s. Laughing, he pulled away from the woman, tossed his drink back, then headed for the bar. Lauren intersected him.

  “Cal.”

  “Lauren.” He sidestepped her without missing a beat and spoke to the woman behind the bar. “Another one, Katie.”

  The barkeep’s eyes widened, but she took his glass.

  “And one for the lady too.” Cal turned to her. “What’ll it be?”

  Lauren’s skin chilled as he turned his gaze on her. She’d forgotten how glacial those silver eyes could look.

  “I don’t
want a drink.”

  Katie slipped an old-fashioned glass in front of Cal, who picked it up. It looked like straight whiskey, but he tipped the glass and took a swallow without grimacing.

  “So what did you come here for then, if not for a drink?”

  His breath fanned her forehead. Yep. Whiskey, all right. Rye whiskey, specifically. “I thought you might come by tonight.”

  “I wanted to come by this afternoon.” For just a moment, his disaffected air slipped enough to give her a glimpse of the hurt beneath. Then the mask was back in place. He pushed away from the bar to leave, and she clutched his sleeve.

  “You’re angry with me.”

  He pulled his arm free but didn’t walk away. Neither would he look at her. “I’m angry with myself for getting tied up in knots over something that doesn’t have you tied up the same way.”

  A savage surge of elation shot through her at his admission. Hard on its heels came confusion. She shouldn’t want him to care so much. But she did. And she owed him similar honesty.

  “You don’t think I was torn over this?”

  “Torn, yeah. I could tell by the set of your back as you rode away.” He angled a look at Katie, who’d been watching the exchange, and she quickly retreated to the other end of the bar.

  Lauren chewed her lip. “I don’t know if I can make you understand…”

  “Tell you what. I’ll save you some time and awkwardness. You regret it already. It was a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and you don’t want to repeat it but you’re not sure how to tell me.” He swallowed the last of the whiskey and placed the glass on the bar. “Consider me told.”

  “No! That’s not it at all.” She laid a hand on his chest to prevent him leaving. “I don’t regret a minute of last night. Maybe I should, but I don’t.”

  His heart raced under her palm, disproving his detachment.

  “You needed some space, then? That it? I’m crowding you?”

  “Of course not.”

  He passed a hand over his eyes. “Okay, then it must be that you don’t want anyone to know that we’re involved. You want to keep this strictly an after-dark activity.”

  She could have screamed. “I didn’t say any of that. Stop putting words in my mouth. Can’t you just accept that I had to go?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “No, I can’t. I need a sound, logical explanation. Come on, Lauren,” he growled, turning to face her squarely. “Give me something I can work with.”

  She bit back a laugh. How logical would he find her visions? How sound would he think her motivation for traveling thousands of miles to babysit a woman she didn’t even know? How understandable would he find it that she looked at practically all of his male employees and guests as potential murderers? Could he “work” with that? She doubted it. She doubted it severely.

  Experience had taught her no one wanted to hear this stuff. When the visions had come back in her second year of university, she’d told her dorm mate Patty Steen about them one evening when they’d both had too much cheap red wine to drink. It had been such a relief to get that off her chest. She’d slept like a baby until the next morning, when she found that her roommate had packed up her stuff and gone to stay with her boyfriend. God, even Hal hadn’t wanted to hear it. Fortunately for her, he’d had no choice but to believe her story, for he’d been the uniformed constable whose sleeve she’d tugged on all those years ago.

  “That hard to think of something I might swallow?” With an impatient noise, he brushed past her, heading for the door.

  “I had a premonition, dammit.”

  Her words arrested him. He turned slowly. “A premonition?”

  “Yeah, a bad feeling about Marlena riding out today.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “But why? She wouldn’t have been alone. She had Brady with her.”

  “I know. But remember the day she almost killed herself flying down that ridge? We were all with her that day, and she could easily have killed herself.”

  “She was high as a kite that day, which won’t happen again,” he said, looking unconvinced. “I flushed her pills, remember?”

  “I know, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling. Besides, it’s not exactly impossible for her to get more. Unlikely, yes. Impossible, no.”

  He let his breath out in a gust. “Hell, is that all? Christ, Lauren, I imagined all kinds of scenarios…”

  “I think I’ve just heard a few of them,” she said dryly.

  “Well, you could have just flat out told me.”

  His forehead had smoothed, but his posture still looked a little stiff. She gave him an exaggerated eye-roll. “Yeah, right. You’d have laughed it off, then seduced me into staying.”

  A glint of humor lit his eyes, and his lips curved upward, making her catch her breath. “Okay, maybe you have a point there.”

  “Besides which, you’d think I’m a flake.”

  He snorted. “I’d hardly brand you a flake over a little premonition. I’ve never met a woman yet who didn’t think she had a leg up on men in that department. Which, of course, they generally do.”

  His shoulders were starting to lose that stiffness, warmth slowly replacing doubt in his eyes now. It wouldn’t take much to fan that warmth into something hotter. Not much at all.

  “It’s true, we are more intuitive,” she said, drawing her tongue over her upper lip. “In fact, I’m having a premonition right now.”

  “Is that so?” She felt his gaze on her mouth like a touch.

  “Absolutely. I was thinking that if I were to turn around and walk out of here and back to my cabin, you’d follow me.”

  This time his smile was slow and lazy, lighting her up from the inside out. “How very perceptive of you, Miz Townsend.”

  She didn’t get far. Cal caught her outside the house, spun her into his arms, and kissed her thoroughly in the crisp night air. Lauren melted against him. Dear Lord, where did it come from, this dizzying excitement? Maybe he breathed it into her, infused it with his mouth, his hands. Euphoria popping along her nerve endings like champagne bubbles, she twisted loose and dashed away. His muffled oath made her laugh, but when she heard his feet pounding behind her, she put on another burst of speed.

  He caught her again on the porch of the cabin, his momentum carrying them up against the door.

  “Gotcha!” he growled before dipping his head to kiss her again, hard. She thrilled to his taste, which was familiar, yet strange with the tobacco and whiskey influences. His hands took full advantage of having her pinned against the door, roaming her body wildly. Desire thrummed in her blood. It was heaven, but it wasn’t enough. Too many clothes. Too vertical. Too public. Reaching behind her, she twisted the knob and they all but fell inside. Cal kicked the door shut and dragged her back into his arms. When neither could breathe anymore, he released her.

  “Whoa, we better slow this down,” he rasped, running his hands up and down her arms from shoulder to elbow.

  “Slow down? Why?” She pressed close, nipping at his chin.

  His laugh rumbled through her. “I seem to remember promising slow and thorough this afternoon.”

  “How about fast and reckless? You offered me that too, I believe, about a minute after we met.” She caught the lobe of his ear between her teeth and bit gently. “Remember?”

  His answer was a feral growl as he crushed her against the inside of the door. He kissed her with a ferocity that shocked, then excited. Only when he eased away from her to rake her dress open did she realize he’d managed to untie it. He palmed her breasts, abrading them gloriously through the lace of her bra. Her gratified sigh ended on a sharp gasp as he roughly swept the cups aside. Then his fierce, hot mouth was suckling at her.

  She tried to hold it together, closed her eyes against the carnal picture of his head at her breast, but that only served to drag her further into the inner world of sensation. She needed him inside her, right now.

  She dragged his head back up for another soul-searing kiss, sliding a hand down
between them to skim the hardness straining against his jeans. Using both hands now, she tugged his belt free, slid his zipper down. His sex sprang into her hand, ready. Somebody groaned, but she wasn’t sure if it was him or her.

  “Now, Cal. Right now. I can’t wait any—”

  He cut off her words with another kiss, pressing her hard into the door as he raked her panties down. She stepped out of them when they settled at her feet. Then he lifted her until she felt his erection nudging her.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded hoarsely.

  She complied, knowing that was all it would take to get him inside her. The shock of the joining stilled them briefly, then he surged against her, his movements edged with the same ferocity as his kisses. All she could think was, I did this. I made him crazy like this. Then all thought was gone, her world dissolved in a powerful climax that carried him over the edge with her.

  Cal inhaled deeply. She smelled so good. Felt good too. Her body was limp as she clung to him, trembling. She was growing heavier by the minute, but he didn’t want to let her go.

  He didn’t want to open his eyes either and see his self-disgust reflected back at him. Christ, what was he thinking? He’d nailed her against the goddamn wall like a common streetwalker.

  No, correction—the hooker he’d turned to after his first scared weeks in Calgary he’d treated with more respect. Of course, at thirty to his sixteen, she’d been more mother than lover. But the point was, he liked to think he treated all women with respect, even the rodeo Annies who’d tussled over him.

  She wriggled, reminding him he was still crushing her poor spine against the door. Way to go, Romeo. Groaning, he set her back on her feet, pulling the edges of her dress together. He tried to read her face, but her eyes were just a glint, the only light in the room spilling in from the sentinel light outside.

  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Lauren,” he said, adjusting his own clothing, wishing there were some more discreet way to do it. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”

  “Me either. That’s the first time I’ve ever forgotten.”