ANOTHER SUNNY DAY (3 page)

HO
USTON LIVESTOCK SHOW AND RODEO

CHAIRMAN, TRAIL RIDE COMMITTEE

NAME: Tyler Ross

AGE: 31

HEIGHT: 6'3”                        WEIGHT: 190 lbs.

HAIR: Black
                            EYES: Gray

Nonchalantly she tossed the badge back into the glove compartment and closed the door. The picture really did not do him justice, she thought after sneaking a subtle look at her silent companion. It would have been impossible to capture on film the powerful charisma that radiated from him. Her nostrils were filled with the enticing smell of his clean, spicy after-shave, which made her acutely aware of him as a man. Sarah knew that if Sunny had known her escort would be this gorgeous Texas hunk, she would have reconsidered her position on horsing around!

The picture, however, proved that a friendly smile could crack through the dark stony expression that had been on his face since she had met him. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners
of his eyes, evidence that this man laughed often. But for some reason, whenever he looked at her, she was chilled by the cold indifference of his eyes.

Why, when she felt this strong attraction to him, was he treating her so impersonally? This was certainly not the way most red-blooded males reacted to Sunny Day, the star. Could it be that she was not convincing enough in her new identity? Nervously Sarah spoke. "I really should be accustomed to all that attention by now, but la
rge crowds still frighten me."

He reproved her as he flipped off the map light. "You should know better than to travel alone. A pro like yo
u should know what to expect."

Sarah was not at all sure how to interpret his attitude but decided to overlook
the undercurrent of hostility.

"My sister and the band usually travel with me, but they all needed a vacation, so I insisted they take the time off for a little R and R. They'll be joining me when I get back to Houston. Besides, I'm a big girl
and can take care of myself."

"So I noticed!" be snorted. "You were almost being loved to death when I arrived at the airport.
"

"Adoration of the masses is not all it's made out to be," she commented wryly, then added with a smile, "I never dreamed my knight would be wearing jeans and a cowboy
hat instead of shining armor."

"Just doing my job," he said, cutting her off shortly. "
Which reminds me. would you like to stop somewhere for dinner, or did you eat on the plane?"

The butterflies in her stomach had not settled down long enough for her to want to feed them. "Go ahead and stop if you want something to eat, but don't on my account. The food
on the plane wasn't half-bad."

"Which also mean
s it wasn't half-good either."

"That's true," she agreed with a grin. "
I guess I wasn't very hungry."

"Well, I've already eaten, too, so I gues
s we'll wait until breakfast."

They drove along the wide, busy expressway
for several miles in silence.

"I've always heard that Houston has an impressive and unique skyline, but, I've never had the opportunity to see it at night," she commented, trying to break the heavy silence. She gazed in awe at the twinkling lights of the tall skyscrapers as they rose majestically out of the flat prairie and pie
rced the blue-black night-sky.

"Haven't you ever performed in Hou
ston before?" he asked flatly.

"Just twice; once at an outdoor the
ater called Cynthia Wood Pavilion, and, once at the Summit. But both times we came in on our tour bus during the daytime, and I guess I just wasn't paying much attention to the scenery. We've also played Dallas several times and a few other cities in Texas. But in this business there never seems to be time in our hectic schedule for sightseeing."

"Is that why you chose to join our trail ride?" One of his dark eyebrows rose cynically. "You planning on seeing some real Texas sights . . . or becoming a sigh
t to be seen?"

"A little of both"
was her honest reply. "The publicity is priceless, and I do need a change of scenery, not to mention a good old-fashioned vacation."

"Why not the Caribbean or Europe? A trail ride is not very glamorous or luxurious, especially this time of year. February weather in this part of Tex
as can be very unpredictable."

"After a couple of days in Denver, this feels like springtime," she replied, unperturbed. "I won't even have to use m
y coat if it stays this warm."

"Don't count on it. We've never had a warm, dry trail ride yet. I hope you won't regret your decision to join us. However, we will keep our part of the agreement and make you as comfortable as possible. We don't usually attract the jet set, though."

"Me? A jetsetter? My sister would get a good laugh if she heard you call me that." Sarah chuckled.

"You do get around."

She looked at him sharply. "Yes, we do travel a lot, but I have never 'gotten around' like I think you mean. And if you think I'm a jetsetter because we move from city to city often, then you have obviously never traveled across America by bus several times a year. It is certainly an experience you can't forget, and I don't mean because of the scenery."

"By the time this trail ride is over, you'll welcome the comfort and convenience of a bus. That is, if you make it through the trail
ride," he said challengingly.

"You don't have to worry about me. I will make it all the way to Houston, and I will keep up with everybody else," she retorted hotly. Uneasily she fingered one of the loose silvery blond curls of the suffocating wig.
Suddenly she felt very tired.

"What city are we passing through now?" she asked, noticing another group of tall, well-
lit buildings in the distance.

"We're still in Houston," he replied. "You're looking at the Galleria area, which is just another overgrown office and shopping complex. Houston just
keeps on growing up and out."

"We've been traveling for almost an hour and we're not even out of Houston?" she exclaimed in astonishment. "How much long
er before we get to the camp?"

"If we can ever get out of this Sunday night traffic, it will only take us a
bout two hours, more or less."

"You're joking!"

"No. The trail ride always begins in Cat Spring, which is about fifty miles from Houston. It would sort of defeat our purpose if the ride began in Houston, don't you think?" he added condescendingly.

"And I guess ther
e are no airports any closer."

"Oh, sure, but the connections are so bad that you might have ended up in Mexico. Besides, I was heading that way myself, and since I am going to be responsible for your welfare for the next week, I was volunteered to
personally escort you there."

His tone and choice of words made it clear that had he had any say in the matter, the outcome would have been different. Sarah decided conversation was not worth the effort and shifted around to a more comfortable position on the rich leather seat. In spite of the stiffness of the tight, hot pink pantsuit, which seemed to glow even in the car's darkness, she soon
nodded off into a half-sleep.

The sudden silence as the engine was turned off and the irritating blink of a flashing sign awoke her
, and she sat up with a start.

"Why are we stopping here?" Sarah stared doubtfully at the sign proclaiming that t
his was the Countryside Motel.

"We're in Sealy, which is only about eight miles from Cat Spring. We're going to spend the night here and catch up with the others on the trail tomorrow." Tyler unfolded his large frame from the car and came ar
ound to open the door for her.

"I think we should go on to Cat Spring tonight. I'm not too tired, and maybe it would be better if we left with the others in the morning." She spoke nervously, intimidated by this unfriendly giant who loomed over h
er as she sat on the low seat.

"After a day on the trail you'll appreciate having had one extra night in a motel. Besides, there's always enough confusion the first morning without you adding to it. There'll be plenty of time for you to bask in all
your glory later in the week."

"That's not what I was co
ncerned about!" she protested.

"What is it, then?" he questioned as he reached down and offered his ha
nd to help her out of the car.

"Nothing." Reluctantly she accepted his assistance and followed him to one of the rooms, not at
all sure what to expect next.

"I registered yesterday," he explained as he opened the door and stepped back for her to enter first. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't use your real name. I, for one, d
on't need the hassle tonight."

"What name did you use? Mr. and Mrs. John S
mith?" she inquired pointedly.

"So that's what's got you all lathered up!" He snorted, as if such an idea were ludicrous. "No, Miss Day. This is your own private room, fully equipped with double locks. My room is next door, and there are no connecting passageways. Rest assured that
your virtue is safe with me."

Crimson ran up her neck and face as her mind scrambled for a snappy retort, but, of course, none came. No doubt several brilliant remarks would keep her awake later that night, but all she could do now was brush stiffly past him and into her cl
ean but impersonal motel room.

"I'll get your luggag
e out of the car," he offered.

"All I need is my overnight bag and the garment bag. I hope that w
on't be too much of a bother."

"At your service, ma'am." And with a slight ti
p of his hat he left the room.

Inwardly fuming, she thought he had to be one of the rudest men she had ever had the misfortune to meet. She wondered if he treated everyone with so little regard, or if she was receiving special treatment. Too bad his personality didn't match his appearance. The combination of masculine charm and his virile good looks would have been irresistible. With a silent vow not to let this cowboy ruin her week, she went into the bathroom and tu
rned on the tap in the shower.

There was a sharp knock on the outside door, and she called over the noise of the running water, "Come in. Just leave the bags on the bed and l
ock the door as you leave."

After a few seconds she heard the door shut again and, satisfied that she was alone at last, started to undress. With a sigh of pure pleasure she pulled the pale pink cowboy boots off and wiggled her toes, then peeled the tight pants off and tossed them on top of the boots. Blindly she struggled with a stubborn hook on the back of the pink blouse, but it was hopelessly tangled in a l
oop of the intricate beadwork.

"Darn these stupid clothes," she muttered, her head bent forward and the synt
hetic curls covering her face.

"And darn this wig." She stumbled back into the bedroom. Pulling out the pins, she yanked it off, releasing her own honey-blond hair to tumble down well past her shoulders, almost to her waist. Leisurely she combed through its length with her fingers and pushed it back out of her face as she raised her head, only to stare straight into a pair of silver-gray eyes. It was difficult to say who was more shocked, she because he was still in the room, or Tyler as
he gaped openly at her.

"I suppose you have a good reason . . ." he shook his dark head in apparent bewilderment ". . . but I can't for the life of me understand why you would want to cover all that pretty hair, especially with that thing." He motioned to the wig that now hung forgotten from her limp fingers, looki
ng like a dead furry creature.

"It's really none of your business," she said defensively, her guard down. "But this wig and these clothes are all part of a carefully calculated image that se
lls tickets and records."

"What clothes?" his eyes roamed boldly over her long, shapely bare legs, rested briefly on her tiny bikini panties, then moved up the sn
ug blouse to her flaming face.

Sarah struggled to regain her poise and not allow her feet to let her flee to the safety and privacy of the bathroom. Instead she stood casually, trying to pretend that there was nothing
unusual about her standing half-naked in a strange hotel room with an unbelievably handsome but unbearably insolent cowboy.

"The clothes I wore on the plane." Her chin lifted defiantly. "I was nobody until I put on this wig. Now it's what the p
ublic expects . . . and gets."

With a shrug of his broad shoulders he indicated that it was of no importance to him and turned to le
ave.

"While you're here," she said, hating to ask, "would you mind helping me with these hooks? This blouse is like a suit of armor, and I'd prefer
not spending the night in it."