Deborah Camp (15 page)

Who’s that?
Immediately she thought of cattle rustlers and other trespassers. She looked toward her horse, where she’d left her rifle in the saddle sling, but then the whistling took on a familiar note and she relaxed. She recognized the tune and the musician. Blue Eyes.

He was upstream from her. Cassie crept in that direction, slipping from tree to tree for cover, a part of her wondering why she didn’t want to be seen, another part loving the subterfuge. He was in the creek, splashing and soaping himself, sending sprays of water into the air. The low sun burned on the hill and changed the droplets into rainbows. She could see his body clearly from the waist up, but she’d seen that much of him before.
Still, her eyes took him in, the muscled chest and its sprinkling of dark hair, the thickness of his neck and arms. A tingle erupted in her stomach, and she placed a hand there, trying to squelch the sensation of pleasure, of passion.

Shame crept upon her, shaking its finger until she could not tolerate her actions any longer. She stepped out from the cover of the trees and toward the bank.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” she said, startling him. “I just climbed out downstream a ways.” She flung her wet hair over one shoulder and ran a hand down her oversized shirt and pants. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“What?” He blinked, his gaze traveling with her hand from her waist to her stomach, her hip.

“The creek water. It’s cool.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “Yeah. Feels good.”

“Did you think to bring soap? I’ve got some back—”

“I brought a hunk,” he said, showing it to her.

“Oh. Okay.” She looked around at nothing and wanted to stare only at him, at the way the hair grew in a fan design on his chest and arrowed to his navel. “Well, I guess … I left my things and my horse and… everything back there, so I’ll mosey on and let you—” She swallowed, realizing she was making very little sense. “See you back at the house.” She shook her head, feeling like a blithering idiot, and turned sharply and left him, melting into the tree shadows again.

What was wrong with her? She felt funny inside, all jittery and fluttery. Like she might break out in giggles or hives at any second. She placed her palms against her hot cheeks and knew her face was red. Blue Eyes was getting under her skin, for sure. Seeing him naked in
that creek. Lord, that memory would fuel her dreams for weeks, months to come! She knew it.

Finding a patch of sun, she sat in it to let her hair dry before riding to the ranch house. Oleta would have supper ready by the time she got there. Would Drew eat with them or with Ice and the others in the bunkhouse? Earlier, at the windmill, he’d seemed at once tender and cross with her. He was a hard one to figure. Was that one of his attractions? That she couldn’t predict his moods, couldn’t pinpoint his feelings for her?

She heard his approach through the woods, but she only had time to rise from the bank and turn before he confronted her. He stopped, his boots sliding on the mossy grass, and pink crept up his neck and into his cheeks. He was dressed now, his shirt sticking to patches of wet skin, the tails flapping. He’d pulled on his pants but hadn’t buckled his belt yet. Shoving his fingers through his wet hair, he skinned it back, but dark-russet curls fell onto his forehead again. She realized he must have bounded from the creek and thrown on his clothes. But why?

“Something wrong?” she asked, leaning sideways to look past him. Dynamite picked his way through the brush and trees, coming to his master. “Is something besides your horse chasing you?”

“What?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh. No.” He cleared his throat. “I just thought… You want to ride back together?”

That was it? He threw on his clothes and galloped ahead of his horse to ask her if she wanted to ride back to the house with him? She smiled, knowing there was more to his actions. Maybe he was feeling funny, too. Maybe they’d both caught the same fever.

She sauntered closer to him, leaned in, and sniffed. “You smell better now.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “I reckon so. Do you come here often to take your baths?”

“Hardly ever, but after us talking about the creek, I couldn’t get it out of my head.”

“Same with me.”

She noticed that he was having a hard time looking at anything but her mouth. “Guess we think alike about some things.”

“Guess so.”

Cassie arched a brow. Did he expect her to rub up against him and get him started? With any other man she might have done that, but not with him. She wanted him to move in her direction first, to show her that he wanted her, then she would be most happy to return his affections. She’d been wondering if he’d been with other women since his release from prison. Now something in his eyes—so vulnerable and naked—told her that he hadn’t, that it had been a long, long time since a woman had claimed his body. She wanted very much to be that woman.

“I hope you don’t think I was sneaking a peek at you,” she said, smiling. “Of course, I was tempted. The devil in me whispered for me to keep quiet and let you stride out of the creek before I let you know you had company, but I figured you’d be madder than a swatted hornet.” She shrugged and clutched her hands behind her back, swaying side to side, jutting out her breasts and giving him something else to look at besides her mouth. “’Course, men aren’t as guarded with their bodies as women. I guess you wouldn’t have squealed and
run back into the water if I’d caught you … uh, in your altogether.”

A slow grin claimed his beautiful, masculine lips. “I might have squealed, but I wouldn’t have run.”

She laughed, tickled by that incongruous image. “You’ve never squealed in your whole life, Drew Dalton.”

His gaze drifted down. “You look awful cute in that getup, Shorty.”

“Maybe I should wear this to the dance.”

A storm cloud passed over his face. “Maybe you should.” He started to turn away, but she caught his shirtsleeve.

“How come you don’t want me to go to the dance and have some fun?”

“I don’t give a damn if you go dancing or not.”

“Then how come you’re growling at me?”

“I’m not—” He clamped his lips together. “Now that you’re passing yourself off as the hostess at the Star H shindig, I suppose it won’t be too long before you take the job permanent.”

She shook her head. “No, that won’t happen.”

“Won’t it? Seems like you enjoy being on Roe’s arm, playing the role of his lady.”

Cassie tipped up her chin, offended by his tone and his accusation. “I like being looked up to, it’s true. I want folks to think good of me. There’s nothing wrong with that. Monroe is placed in high regard in this county, and I’m proud to be called his friend, but I’m only interested in being treated like a lady, not in being
his
lady.”

Drew squinted one blue eye. “You sure of that?”

She squinted one brown eye. “Positive. Why? You jealous?”

“Jealous?” He almost sputtered, almost choked. He stumbled back a step as if rocked off his feet. “Of Monroe Hendrix? Not in a million years, sweet britches. Get that out of your head, you hear me?” He leaned down, nose to nose with her. “Jealousy isn’t in my nature.”

She smiled. “Like hell it isn’t. It’s in every man, woman, and child’s nature. Admit it. You wish you were taking me to that dance.”

“Bull!”

“And since you can’t, you’re going to act like a brat and not show up at all!”

“Bull!”

She frowned. “So you’ve said.” She would have spun away, but he second-guessed her intention and gathered the collar and front placket of her shirt in one fist to keep her in place before him. His eyes were stormy blue, his mouth a straight, tense line. Cassie trembled a little, awed by his checked anger, thrilled by the dark flames of desire leaping in his eyes.

“Damn you, Cassie Dalton,” he whispered hoarsely. “I don’t know whether to shake you or kiss you, hate you or worship you, leave you be or dog your every step.”

Suddenly she was afraid. Afraid that if she gave herself to him now, she would be lost forever. She wasn’t sure she wanted that… could handle that. Cassie placed her hand over his fist and squeezed gently.

“Let me go, Drew. While you still can.”

He stared deeply into her eyes, his face taut, his hand still fisted, pinning her to the spot. Finally he released a long breath and set her free. He reached behind him and
snagged Dynamite’s dangling reins. His gaze never left hers.

Cassie felt strangely empty and near tears. The day had been full of contraditions and puzzles, and she could stand no more.

“You go on,” she said. “I’ve got to gather my things, braid my hair. I’ll be right behind you.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed his lips firmly. He sprang up into the saddle, stared down at her, anger clearly on his face, in his eyes, shimmering around him like a heat wave. Pride was there, too, keeping him silent and apart from her. For once she was glad of his stubborn pride. He reined Dynamite around and left her.

Warm tears spilled onto Cassie’s cheeks and she brushed them away angrily.

“That man is making me crazy,” she said, trying to be furious but failing. She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to curse him. But all she felt in her heart was yearning and the first tender buds of love.

Staring at herself in the mirror, Cassie was suddenly sad when she should have been brimming with good feelings. But she couldn’t help herself. She wished she was wearing this dress to impress Drew tonight instead of Monroe.

Drew had a good eye for fashion, she thought, touching a row of ruffles on the dark-blue gingham skirt. She had added a few tucks at the waist to make it hug her body more snugly, and she had shortened the sleeves, since the cuffs had crept over her hands. Other than that, the dress had fit her like in a dream.

Ebony lace edged the ruffles, the cuffs, and the oval
neckline. Cassie screwed on her best earbobs—teardrop-shaped onyx set in silver—and added a silver necklace with a silver and gold cross pendant. Casting a critical eye on her reflection, she decided she’d knock Monroe off his feet.

But what about Drew? Would he approve? She knew he was boiling with jealousy.

Understanding him was hard, because he wasn’t a man who talked much, especially about his feelings. While he could seem as candid as a child, he was in truth a closed book. She wondered if being raised by A.J. or prison had done that to him.

She couldn’t accuse him too severely, though, because she wasn’t exactly forthcoming about her feelings about him either. She didn’t entirely trust him—couldn’t, what with his penchant for keeping to himself. And she wasn’t sure her feelings for him should be confessed, seeing as how she enjoyed being independent and had decided she wouldn’t ever hitch her wagon to one man again. Oh, she would indulge herself in flirtations and maybe even have herself a lover, once her son was of an age when he didn’t need her, but she didn’t see any point in having herself another husband.

That’s why her dream last night had been so upsetting. She had seen herself in this house, cooking a big meal. Andy was eight or nine years old, and she had herself a baby daughter. She was expecting her husband home any minute, and they would share this special meal. It was somebody’s birthday, maybe the baby’s. Right before she had awakened with a start, her heart puddling in her chest, she’d seen her husband walk into the house. He was Drew.

“Great goose grease!” she muttered, shaking her
head to clear it. “If that don’t beat all. Him as my husband. He’d choke on his own tongue if I told him about that.”

Running a hand along her neck and tucking a few loose tendrils into her upswept hairdo, she released a small, sad sigh. If only she’d met Drew Dalton in one of those towns she’d lived in. If only they could say what was on their minds and in their hearts.

The squeak and rattle of a buggy pulling up outside shook her free of her melancholy musings, and she scolded herself for being so sentimental over a man who probably saw her mostly as a nuisance. Monroe had arrived and he’d never hidden his feelings about her, although she didn’t return them. But it would be nice to spend time with a man who openly admired her and told her so whenever he got the chance. Still, as she left her bedroom and stepped into the parlor, her gaze went immediately to Drew, who was sitting by the fireplace, instead of Monroe, who was standing by the front door.

“Lord God, will you look at this vision,” Monroe said, his tone full of awe. “Cassie, you’re beautiful.”

She afforded Monroe a quick look and a smile before directing her attention back to Drew. He glanced at her, then away, then back with a snap. His gaze swept her from head to foot, and she saw something feral in his expression. He didn’t have to say a word. She knew in that instant that he thought she was lovely and that he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.

Supremely satisfied, she turned toward Monroe and held out her hand to him. He took it, kissed her fingers, then blew out a long, masculine whistle.

“You stop my heart,” he told her. “Let me look at you.” Still holding her by the hand, he twirled her like
a ballerina, making her laugh. “You will be the most fetching woman at the barn dance, guaranteed.”

“How kind of you to say so,” she said, glancing around. “Has Oleta already left?”

Drew grunted in response. “She and Ice have been gone nearly an hour.”

Andy sat on the rug in front of Drew. He gurgled and waved a bright orange gourd, making the seeds in it rattle.

“Come along, baby,” Cassie said, moving forward to scoop her son up into her arms. “We’re off to the dance, and you, my sweet boy, will be the center of attention. No female there will be able to keep her hands off you.”

“Yes, we should be going,” Monroe said. “I want to greet everyone as they arrive. It’s such a beautiful night, I think everyone in the county will be there.”

“Everyone but Drew,” Cassie noted. “He refuses to go. He’s going to stay here like some puffed up ‘possum while everyone else is having fun and being neighborly.”

“Is that true? What’s wrong? You feeling poorly?”

“I don’t feel like dancing, that’s all.” Drew smirked at Monroe as he stood and walked toward them. “Besides, you couldn’t stand the competition, Roe.”