City Girl (11 page)

“Don’t be silly,” she said, laughing. “How could a place without so much as a regular daily paper agree with me?”      

“Maybe there are . . . compensations.”

“Maybe,” she said breathlessly, and to show him what she meant, she aimed her camera at the mountain peaks gleaming in the sun. She told herself that that was what she meant, that she was happy merely because her children were. That was what made being there worthwhile, the snow and cold and Mrs. Healey and the lack of a regular daily paper notwithstanding.

It had nothing to do with Kirk Allbright’s smile. Nothing at all.

* * * *

       “This is how I feed the stock,” Kirk said, putting Jason down again now that they could walk in the tractor’s ruts along a fence line beside long rows of feeding racks. “See that haystack over there?” He pointed to a snow-covered mound. Several more like it dotted the landscape near other pastures. “There’s fodder under a tarp there, and every morning, more often when the weather’s bad, I come out with the tractor and haul bales of hay close to the fence line, then heave them into the bins.”

He glanced at Liss and smiled. “That’s what I was doing the day you arrived—what I’d been doing for several days prior to that.”

She bit her lip. “And there I was, screaming at you for not being home to let me in. No wonder you weren’t happy to see me.”

He touched her face with one warm finger. She wondered how it could be so warm in the thin, cold mountain air. Between series of photographs, she was quick to put her gloves back on. “It didn’t take me long to change my mind,” he said, dropping his hand to her shoulder. “One taste of your . . . chocolate cake and I was done for.” His words said “cake” while his eyes said “kisses.”

Liss shifted sideways to escape the warm weight of that hand. “Duncan Hines had more to do with that cake than I did,” she said, feeling inordinately hurt by his words, regardless of what his eyes might say. Yet, she asked herself, was there any thing wrong with being appreciated for baking cakes? Cakes and kisses. Food and sex. Those were important ingredients in a man’s happiness, weren’t they? He claimed to have provided food for himself quite efficiently since his father died, though he was happy to turn the kitchen over to her. As for sex . . . It seemed he hadn’t been lacking anything in that department either, so why was he flirting with her? Simply because, like her cooking, he thought her body might be available? Since it was conveniently here, he might as well put it to use?

Not wanting him to see the confusion in her eyes, she backed away into the deep snow that had drifted against a nearby fence. She floundered as she tried to get a long shot of the line of feeding stands with the cattle busily eating, and the dog circling the man and boys, keeping them together in a small herd. She needed more elevation. The fence would provide that. She hooked her heels on the strands of barbed wire and held on to a post. Spotting her, Marsh barked and raced over to her, catching the toe of her boot in his teeth.

She screamed and nearly toppled over onto the other side of the fence, but Kirk snatched her down unceremoniously, tumbling to the snow with her.

“For the love of Mike, woman,” he said impatiently, “what are you doing?”

“Your dog tried bite off my foot!”

“He did not.” He stood and hauled her up. “Marsh was simply doing what he does best,” he went on, brushing snow off her. “Trying to keep his people together. You should be grateful. You damn near fell into the pasture with the bulls.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Bulls? I thought they were more cows.”

He sighed gustily and shook his head. “Look again. Those are bulls mixed in with the steers, city girl, big, bad, mean bulls that can run at the speed of a freight train and hit with the impact of a locomotive.”

She looked again, frowning. “What’s the difference?”

He laughed and swung an arm around her shoulders, bringing her up close against his side. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know the difference between males and females? I’d be more than happy to offer a few anatomy lessons.”

Liss felt heat rise in her cheeks as she stepped away from him. “I know the difference, of course. Basically. But at forty paces, cattle are cattle.”

He shook his head. “Check the shapes, photographer, the lines and angles. Bulls and men are pretty much the same. At forty paces you can tell the difference between a man and a woman, can’t you?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Broader shoulders,” he said, taking her hands and lifting them to his shoulders, making her very aware of the breadth of them under his sheepskin jacket, “and narrower hips.” Instead of moving her hands down to his hips, he cradled hers in his warm grip, smoothing his palms over her jeans, pulling her toward him. “Bulls and men are hard. Women are soft,” he added, bending to brush his mouth over hers.

“Hey,” she said, half laughing as she slipped out of his loose clasp. “I told you I don’t need anatomy lessons. Now that you’ve pointed it out, I can see the difference in shape between cows—or are they steers—and bulls.”

His eyes held a devilish light. “And men and women? Or should we explore that one further?”

 “No,” she said. “We shouldn’t. I know all I need to know.”

“But,” he murmured, touching her cheek again, “I don’t. And I’d like—very much—to explore them with you.”

“Let’s explore the ranch instead . . . partner.”

He gave her a crooked smile and sighed. “Sure  . . .partner.” He took her hand and, together with the children and the dog, they set off again.

“You really love this place, don’t you?” Liss asked some time later.

Kirk smiled. “Yeah, I do. There’s something about the land, the animals, the good growing things, even the elements I have to fight to keep it all together. It’s a challenge I could never leave.”

Liss thought about Gina saying that she hadn’t truly been trying to lure him away, that she could live here year-round. Had that been the argument between them, the one for which Gina wanted forgiveness?

Kirk leaned on a fence post, gazing around the pasture where they stood, and smiled. “Even at forty below, breaking ice so the cows can drink, or heaving fodder until my back breaks, or cutting hay in the heat with chaff itching in . . . strange places, I wouldn’t trade it, as precarious as it is.”

“Precarious?”

He turned to face her. “It doesn’t take much to wipe out a rancher. Loss of stock to disease, machinery going belly-up, drought—which means no hay for winter feed, which means you have to buy it. Lots of things can hurt. Some can kill.”

Liss was thoughtful for several moments. “Like having four extra people to support, two more wages to pay?” She suspected he had been managing the books all right without Mrs. Healy’s help, and if he had a wife, he wouldn’t have to pay her the dividend he paid Liss, right out of the ranch’s profits.

He smiled and touch her face with his cold fingers. “Don’t you worry about that. The ranch can support all of us.

But Liss couldn’t help wondering if finances hadn’t had a lot to do with Kirk’s initial resentment of the way Ambrose had arranged things. It wasn’t, when she thought about it, very fair to Kirk at all.

Chapter Five

The afternoon sped by, and Liss knew they must have covered miles of territory yet seen only a small portion of the ranch. When they returned to the house, she leaned against the pasture fence admiring Kirk’s frisky, black-maned horse, Chieftain, who spent only nights and very bad days in his stable in the smaller barn.

“You could learn to ride,” Kirk said, leaning beside her, his shoulder large and warm, his bulk blocking the cold wind. He tipped his hat back as he swept his gaze over her. “You have an inborn grace that would make you a natural.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “That I should learn, that is. I could really get out there with my camera, then, couldn’t I?” She swept her arm in an arc. “And with the kids so enthusiastic about getting ponies in the spring, I guess I’ll have to try it again, if only to stay with them and make sure they don’t stray into bull territory.”

Kirk grinned. “Now that you know the difference.”

She met his gaze. “And the danger.”

He sobered and she read the question—and the intent—in his eyes. Her heart pounded hard as she acknowledged that there were other, greater dangers on this ranch, and that Kirk meant to lead her into them if she offered him the least bit of encouragement. She did not. There was more to her, more to life, than chocolate cake.

Ryan’s plaintive “Can we go in now, Mom? My legs are tired of walking,” broke the taut silence between them.

“Okay,” she said, taking both cameras from around her neck preparatory to sliding each into its case. The scenery kept calling her to crest one more hill, round one more corner, take one more photograph. The light was failing, though, and there’d be little more photography that day. “Let’s go. You can watch cartoons while I get dinner ready.”

The boys, in spite, of their tired legs, ran on ahead, laughing and shouting as they jockeyed for position going up the back steps. The sound of the door slamming behind them rang in the clear, cold air. Liss gave in to temptation and quickly zoomed in with her digital for a couple of last long shots out over the silvery river and the Cariboo range to the west, where an iridescent mother-of-pearl sunset created a backdrop for the starkly black mountain crests.

“For a lady so reluctant to come and live in the ‘wilderness,”‘ Kirk said when she was done, and had put her smaller camera away, “you seem to have taken to it very nicely today.” He took her bag and draped it over his shoulder.

She smiled up at him as they walked along the tractor ruts toward the house. “I’ve enjoyed myself this afternoon. This is a very beautiful part of the world.”

“Yes, it is, and you’ll have plenty of opportunity to ply your trade, so you can afford to take a break when the sun sets.” He took her hand again. “Winter lasts a long time up here in the mountains.” It hardly felt like winter. The sunny day had been warm enough to make icicles drip from the eaves of the barn, warm enough that she had shed her gloves to take photos, warm enough that now, her entire body responded to the feel of his rough, hard fingers wrapping around hers, then leaped to full attention as he drew her to a halt at the corner of the garage. He touched her chin with one finger, brushing it over the scar that seemed to fascinate him. His thumbnail traced its shape, then smoothed over her lower lip, making her wonder if he was about to kiss her again, making her wish he would. She turned her face away. Dammit, she shouldn’t want his touch so much! She shouldn’t let him make her go weak in the legs and even weaker in the head. She shook herself free and continued on toward the house. He walked along beside her, but then stopped her at the bottom of the steps.

“Don’t go in yet,” he said, gently grasping her arm. “Let’s watch the sunset fade.”

She turned toward the west, then glanced at him. “You’re not looking at the sunset.”

“I can see it reflected in your eyes. You have beautiful eyes,” he whispered. “Soft and brown one minute, then bright and shiny, almost black, another. They speak of your moods.” His thumb stroked her lower lip, leaving a burning, tingling sensation in its wake.

She could scarcely talk. “Kirk, don’t . . .”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t touch me like that.”

Again, his voice was low, intimate. “Why not?”

“Because—because you’re only doing it because I’m . . . handy. Let’s face it, you sure don’t need me. You have plenty of women in your life as it is.” He dropped  his hands.

“Do you know how insulting that is? And what ‘women’ might you be referring to?” he asked in a dangerously soft tone.

She raised her chin determinedly. “Gina, for one.”

“Gina’s a . . .”  He grinned sourly. “Do I dare say it? A thing of the past.”

“Is she?”

Kirk sighed inwardly as he watched doubt and perplexity play across Liss’s face. He wanted, suddenly and almost irresistibly, to kiss her deeply, for a long time, until those doubts were erased. Unable to stop himself, he slid a hand into her thick ‘ hair and bent closer . . . then hesitated. Hell, what was he doing? His future was all mapped out, and it didn’t include a permanent, full-time woman, which was all this woman would ever want from a man. Dammit, it was what she had every right to expect! What she deserved. He knew that, so what the hell was he doing tempting fate this way? Tempting himself!

“And Kristy?” she asked quickly, twisting free. He scowled.  He didn’t want her to leave yet. He wanted to have at least the subject of other women out of the way, so it wouldn’t crop up between them again. Pulling her back around, he slid his hands under her red ski jacket and locked them at the small of her back.

“I met Kristy two years ago when I sprained an ankle. She works in the local. hospital as an X-ray technician. We dated a few times after that, then stopped seeing each other that way. We’re friends. She’s dating a truck driver now.”

He wondered what Liss would do if he pulled her more tightly against him, letting her know beyond any doubt that she was the woman who interested him, moved him, made him ache. He resisted the urge. It would be too hard to control, and something told him that with this woman and the potent effect she had on him, control was absolutely necessary until he knew exactly where this wild attraction was headed.

“And Patty?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts.

He was so astounded, he relaxed his hold on her. “Patty? What about her?”

“Isn’t she another of your girlfriends, ex- or otherwise?”

Liss clenched her teeth as his laughter rang out. She resented his laughing at her, but his next words proved the laughter was not at her expense.

“Not by any stretch of anybody’s imagination, except for hers, when she was seventeen and developed a crush on me when I first came here. She drove me nuts for three months, following me around. But she grew up and got over it, thank heavens. Now she drives me crazy in a different way, playing the vamp to help me convince her cousin Gina that it’s all over between us, and that if I want anything from her it’s friendship.”