Crazy for Cowboy (12 page)

Emily nodded and made her way outside. “Well, that plan backfired.”

She had zip on the guy—no name, no address, no phone number—nothing she could use to track him down. Without any other leads to go on, her career as a secret agent was over.

“Emily, I didn’t expect to see you here today. My morning just got a whole lot better.”

The voice was unmistakable. That low, sexy baritone could only belong to one man. Apparently, the culprit himself would provide her with her next move.

“Hi, Houston,” she said, turning to find him looking as appealing as ever, dressed in his usual jeans, which were currently coupled with a long-sleeved gray shirt. She’d imagined that he would have changed somehow, that his lies would have shown on his face. It would have been easier for her if he’d grown horns, for example, or a big wart on the end of his nose. Emily choked back her disappointment. “I was hoping I’d find you here. I didn’t get a chance to...properly thank you for the other night.”

A disarming smile curved his lips. Emily had to remind herself that it, too, was probably an act, no matter how genuine it looked.

“I’m the one who’s thankful,” he said. “Being with you is a privilege, ma’am.”

If the BS were any thicker, she’d need hip waders.
Just play along
, she told herself.
Don’t let on that you know about his deception.
“Let’s do it again then. Soon.”

“How about a movie?”

“Sounds great. I’ll have to check my schedule, though. I’ve got a surgery this week and…” Emily decided to test the waters, to see if the fishie would bite. “I’m supposed to go out with Jackie. You remember Jacks, don’t you?”

“The girl you were with at Eduardo’s?”

“Right,” she said, nodding. “
Jackie
and I have been friends since high school. She’s working at a lunchtime theater downtown.
Jackie
used to be a receptionist at an engineering company, can you believe it? I don’t know how
Jackie
lasted there for as long as she did. She’s enjoying her new job much more, but that’s
Jackie
for you. She’s always been very dramatic. Very theatrical.” She watched his face as she rambled on. No matter how many times she repeated his accomplice’s name, his reaction was the same. He just stood there, smiling. This guy was one cool cookie.

“How about Wednesday night? Is that good for you?”

Emily looked up at him, blinking. “Good for me to what?”

His brow crinkled. “A good night for you to go out with me.”

“Oh. Right. Yes.” She tried to clear her head of his sexy grin and the seductive invitation that went with it. “Wednesday is fine.”

“Great. Where shall I pick you up?”

There it was. Another opportunity to get the information she needed and complete her mission. “Why don’t I come and get you?”

His smile faded. “Uh...that’ll be kinda awkward with a truck, don’t you think? I can pick you up here if you—”

It was a pleasure to watch him squirm, but she couldn’t let him do it indefinitely. “I have a better idea,” she interjected. “Why don’t you come to my place?”

She knew she was going out on a limb, arming him with her home address. She was sure James Bond wouldn’t have put himself in such a compromising position, but she had to make sure ‘Houston’ didn’t suspect her real motives. Because another plan had already begun to formulate in her mind.

No doubt Jacks already knew where the guy lived. When Emily called from his place with her story about a broken down truck, her friend would get suspicious. But Jackie would think nothing of an invitation to Emily’s home. She’d have them both meet her there on Wednesday night, reveal their machinations and turn the tables.

Emily pulled a pen out of her purse and jotted down the street number on the back of one of her business cards. “It’s an apartment-style condo,” she informed him. I’ll meet you in the lobby, say around six o’clock?”

“Sounds great.”

“Call me at work during the day to confirm, just in case things get crazy. The number’s on the other side.”

“Will do. I look forward to it.” He took the card, grasping her hand and leaning in. She drank in the scent of him as he placed a lingering kiss on her lips.

Emily took a step back and gave her head a little shake, wondering if her brains were becoming permanently scrambled. But she couldn’t allow his considerable charms to cloud her judgment. She had to remember her purpose and think like a professional. A professional spy.

“Can I walk you to your truck?”

“No. Thanks. I still have some work to do here.”

“Okay. I’ll see you Wednesday night.”

“Wednesday,” she agreed. Then his mouth melded to hers again. He pulled away slowly, smiled again, and headed for his car.

Swaying slightly from the close encounter, she watched as he climbed into his vehicle and was hit with another brainstorm. No reason she couldn’t follow him and see where he lived. Any and all information she could get on the guy would prepare her for the battle that lay ahead.

His car was a small, blue-colored, four door...
thingy
. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the make and model? It would have made her job so much easier. This spying business was more difficult than she’d first imagined.

As she waved goodbye, she repeated the license plate number, over and over in a whisper. As soon as he was out of sight, she jumped into her truck, scribbled the number across the top of her map and headed out.

She had to make sure she followed at a distance. A white half-ton with medical equipment in the back was not the best surveillance vehicle in the world, but it was all she had. Luckily for her, the highway wasn’t especially busy on a Sunday morning. And with Stampede in full swing, everyone who might otherwise have been on the road was watching the rodeo and eating cotton candy. She was able to spot the blue car about a mile up the road. She pulled on her dark glasses, crammed her baseball cap down over her head and merged into the flow of traffic, four city blocks and three cars behind the imposter.

When they hit the turn-off into Calgary, she had to lessen the gap. Still, she always managed to keep a few cars between her and her prey. Now she was thankful that she had her truck. Sitting higher than she would have in most vehicles, she was able to keep the blue car in sight at all times.

Emily watched him veer off into a residential area. She slipped back further, not wanting him to discover her as the traffic around them diminished.

Up ahead, she could see the blue car turn left. She moved along the asphalt slowly, turning at the same intersection. The road that lay before her was long and filled with side streets. The blue car was gone.

He had to be around here somewhere. She crawled along, checking each driveway, pulling over to the curb and looking up the first side street with her binoculars, growing more and more uncomfortable in her new role as stalker. She was about to call it a day when she spotted him, getting out of his vehicle, one house in from where she was parked.

Emily scrunched down in her seat. Peeking over the steering wheel, she watched as Houston, or whoever he was, made his way to the front door of the white, two-story structure.

If this was his home, he certainly had a very green thumb. There were shrubs and flowers everywhere. The place even had a white picket fence.

Emily sensed a woman’s touch and cringed. Would Jackie have talked a married man into asking her out? Into kissing her?

No.
Her friend was capable of some pretty major pranks, but she wouldn’t go that far. And Emily couldn’t imagine a married actor, no matter how much he needed money, agreeing to it either. Nor would his wife. Houston had to be single.

Just then the front door opened and a tiny form ran out of the house. Emily rolled down her window so she could hear.

The child, a boy, was laughing as he ran up to the man she knew as Houston. The fellow stopped and reached down, picking up the child and throwing the giggling bundle over his shoulder.

Her heart switched gears and accelerated. Was he married after all? Was this his child? She pulled up her binoculars and had a closer look at the pair.

The little boy was the same one as in the photo Houston had shown her the day of the picnic. Was it really his nephew? Was that part of his story true?

As if to answer her question, a dark-haired young woman, who looked like a female version of Houston, opened the door and called out.

“Where have you been? You said you’d be home half an hour ago.”

“Sorry, Ally, I got tied up.”

“With the lady vet?”

Emily’s stomach did a somersault. That was her they were talking about. She leaned closer to the open window.

Now that Houston had closed the distance between himself and the woman with the dark hair, Emily could hear only snippets of their conversation. The odd word, here and there, popped out—‘restaurant’ and ‘calling’.

The man looked at his watch and let out an exasperated groan. “Gotta let ya go, Liam.”

That may have been the actor’s plan, but the kid had other ideas. No sooner was the child back on terra firma than he wrapped himself around the man’s leg.

Emily smiled. No matter what Houston had lied about, he had apparently told the truth as well. It appeared that he did have a sister named Ally and a nephew named Liam. And the same love that Emily had seen in Houston’s eyes when he talked about his nephew was there now as he lumbered over to his sister, the child still coiled around his leg. Gently, he persuaded the little boy to go to his mother, then he turned toward the garage.

It was time to get going. Someone was bound to wonder what she was doing there. Especially when she was getting all misty, choked by a warm and fuzzy feeling that threatened her desire for vengeance.

Poking up her head, she jotted down the house number and the name of the street on her map. She watched as Houston made his way toward a set of outside stairs that apparently led to a couple of rooms on top of the garage.

She looked back toward the main house. Ally and the boy had disappeared behind the front door. The coast was clear.

Emily sat up straight in her seat, gave the steering wheel a turn and put her foot on the accelerator.

A horn honked behind her. She turned to discover the vehicle she’d almost sideswiped. Damn. A good spy would have checked before pulling out of a parking space.

She mouthed a sorry to the driver, who looked like he was not anywhere close to forgiving her, and realized that she’d probably blown her cover. She dipped her head and pulled away from the curb, her tires squealing.

* * *

It was the horn that drew Brandon’s attention. He was almost at the top of the stairs when he turned to see a white truck pulling away at high speed. The vehicle looked surprisingly like the one Emily drove.

Brandon chuckled to himself. That woman was on his mind so much that he was seeing her everywhere. Even on the way home, he kept spotting a white Ford pickup. He was starting to get delusional about that girl. He’d been so anxious to get to the riding stables to see her, he’d forgotten to take his cell with him. Again.

He pulled out his keys and opened the door to his apartment. He dumped the contents of his pockets onto the kitchen counter then checked his voicemail as he undressed.
Six messages.
When his sister told him that his phone had been ringing all afternoon, she hadn’t been kidding.

The first three calls were from Sarah; the next two from Katie. One of the other waiters had called in sick and they were desperate for him to cover the shift.

He glanced at his watch and figured he could still make it. He was down to his birthday suit by the time the last message started.

“Brandon, this is Kent Miller. I’m the Production Assistant on the Houston Savage movie. I just wanted you to know that the shooting schedule has changed. Your first day of filming will be on the 18th. Please call me back to confirm at...”

Brandon didn’t catch the phone number the voice recited. He just stood in the middle of his apartment, buck naked, staring at the machine. He’d already forgotten the guy’s name. Already forgotten most of what the man said. There was only one piece of information that had made an impact and still resounded through his brain.

He had only three more days to learn how to ride a horse.

* * *

Emily went back to her condo and headed straight for her laptop. She clicked the internet icon and went online. She guessed that performers had a professional association, just as veterinarians did. Surely she’d be able to discover Houston’s real name through it.

She came up with two: the Canadian Actors’ Equity Association and the Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists. The second website had an option to search for performers. She selected it, only to discover that, in order to find an actor, you first needed to know his name, the very thing she was looking for.

She leaned her elbow on the desk, balanced her head on her fist and thought. To discover Houston’s identity, she’d have to get creative.

“What would Jessica Fletcher do?”

She remembered the play they’d seen. He’d told her he’d acted the part of Berowne in
Love’s Labour’s Lost
. It was as good a lead as any.

Emily typed the play’s title
into her search box, and added the words ‘Calgary production of’ for good measure. Fifteen minutes later, after going through archived photos of a number of theater companies, she was staring at a picture of her cowboy and reading the accompanying cast list.

Finally she knew the name of the man who’d kissed and caressed her under the stars, the man who’d been lying to her ever since she’d met him. She sat back in her chair and grinned. “I’ve got you now, Brandon Hollister.”

Emily turned off the computer, picked up the telephone and dialed. After three rings a voice on the other end answered with a cheery, “Hello?”

“Hi, Jackie. Got any plans for Wednesday night?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Whoa!” Brandon pulled on Smokey’s reins and brought the animal to a stop in front of the stables.