Courting the Enemy (4 page)

“I can’t talk with a lawyer present,” Lauren joked. “She’d be duty-bound to turn me in.”

“Illegal, then,” Gina surmised. “I’ll keep that in mind, if it comes to that.”

Karen was about to jump all over the remark and demand answers, but a warning glance from Cassie silenced her. Maybe Cassie knew more of the story than the rest of them. She and Gina had always had
a special bond, perhaps because they’d worked together so often when they were teens, both as waitresses, but with Gina always snooping around the kitchen, testing recipes of her own whenever she was given the chance.

“We’re getting pretty far afield, anyway,” Cassie said. “We need to help Karen decide what to do about Mr. Blackhawk if he comes around again. Since she won’t let Emma file for a restraining order, does anybody have any other ideas?”

“Like I said earlier, speaking personally, that man gives me plenty of ideas,” Emma said. “He’s a hottie.”

They all stared at her.

“A
hottie?
” Karen echoed incredulously.

“Are you denying it?” Emma asked.

“No, I’m trying to figure out how such a term became part of your Harvard-educated vernacular.”

“Lauren,” Emma said succinctly. “She spent all last night telling me which Hollywood leading men were really hotties and which ones weren’t. It was quite an illuminating conversation. It set my heart aflutter, I’ll tell you that.”

“Oh, really?” Karen said. “Do you think maybe you’ve been single and celibate a little too long now? Maybe it’s time to start looking for a replacement for your despicable ex-husband—or at least a hot date for Saturday night.”

“I’m a single mom,” Emma reminded her. “I don’t have ‘hot dates.”’

“Then look for something more serious,” Karen advised. “I’m sure Caitlyn would be delighted to have a stepdaddy around, especially one who actually pays some attention to her.”

“I think our friend here already found somebody,” Cassie said, giving Emma a sly look.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have not,” Emma protested.

“I don’t know,” Cassie countered. “I’ve seen you and the local newspaper editor with your heads together an awful lot lately. The two of you are in Stella’s almost as much as I am, and I work there.”

“And you know why that is,” Emma said tightly. “It’s about the case I’m working on. That’s it. There is nothing personal involved.”

“Protesting too much?” Cassie said, gazing around at the rest of them.

“Definitely,” they chorused.

“Well, get over it,” Emma snapped, gathering up her purse, her coat and her briefcase in a sudden rush. “I have to go.”

She took a few steps across the room, then came back for the cell phone that was never more than an arm’s length away. Then she swept out before any of them could react.

“Was it something we said?” Karen asked, staring after her.

“I think we hit the nail on the head,” Cassie said, her expression thoughtful. “Wouldn’t it be great if Emma did fall madly in love with Ford Hamilton or someone else in Winding River?”

“Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean that the rest of us have to jump into relationships,” Gina pointed out.

“This isn’t about having a relationship, though I think it would be great if she did,” Cassie said. “It’s just that I dread seeing Emma go back to Denver when this case here is over. She’s been more relaxed
the last few months, despite all of the commuting back and forth to Denver and the pressure of the trial coming up.”

“That’s true,” Lauren agreed. “She almost forgot her cell phone tonight. For a while last summer I thought it was attached to her hand.”

They all fell silent as they considered Emma’s welfare. It would be nice if she stayed, Karen thought. In fact, about the only thing good to come out of their high school reunion was that the five of them were spending more time in Wyoming again. She had missed having a tight-knit circle of friends more than she’d realized. And now, with Caleb gone, she treasured the friendships more than ever.

“Thank you for coming all the way over here tonight,” she told them. “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few months. Every time I’ve been ready to come unglued, you’ve been here.”

“And we’ll continue to be here whenever you need us,” Lauren said. “You can count on it.”

That made two things today she could count on, Karen thought—her friends, and Grady Blackhawk’s threat that he would be back time and again until she gave up and sold him the land he wanted.

Maybe it was all of Emma’s talk about Grady’s undeniable sex appeal, but that threat wasn’t striking fear into her the way it should have, not the way it had just this afternoon. In fact, to her very deep regret, she was beginning to feel just the slightest hint of anticipation.

W
ithout even setting foot out of bed in the morning, Karen knew she was going to get up on the wrong side of it. Thanks to Emma, she had spent the whole night trying unsuccessfully to chase Grady Blackhawk out of her dreams. She’d awakened hot and restless, amid a tangle of sheets. She’d been feeling guilty to boot, all over sins her subconscious had committed in her sleep.

“I can’t be blamed for that,” she muttered as she shivered in the icy air and hastily pulled on jeans and an old flannel shirt of Caleb’s. She hugged the shirt tighter around herself as a reminder of the man who’d really counted for something in her life.

She’d been doing that a lot lately, wearing shirts left hanging in Caleb’s closet. Not all of them still held his scent, but the feel of the soft, faded flannel comforted her. It reminded her of evenings spent
snuggled in his lap in front of a fire. It was a secret she’d shared with no one, fearful that her friends would chastise her for not moving on, for not letting go. She knew she had to, and she would when the time was right.

Just not yet, she thought with a sigh.

Once she’d tugged on thick socks and her boots, she went downstairs and turned up the thermostat to take the chill out of the air while she made a pot of coffee. To save on fuel costs, she would turn it back down again when she went outside to do the chores. Maybe it would only save pennies, but pennies counted these days.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, then took a sip. She cupped the mug in her hands to savor the warmth, then gazed out the window over the sink, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sunrise, rather than the more typical gray winter mornings they’d been having lately.

Instead, what she saw was Grady, unloading things from the back of his truck, looking perfectly at home. The sight of the man, after all those disturbing dreams, struck Karen as an omen. And not for anything good, either. No, indeed. His arrival definitely meant trouble. In fact, it looked almost as if he’d come to stay, as if he’d decided to claim this place whether she agreed to it or not.

She snatched a heavy jacket off the hook by the door and stormed outside, determined to put a stop to whatever he was up to. She was so infuriated by his presumption that he could just waltz in here and take over, she was surprised steam didn’t rise from her as she crossed the yard.

“Why are you here again?” she demanded, her
tone deliberately unfriendly. The time for politeness and feigned hospitality was past. “I thought I’d made myself clear yesterday. You’re not welcome.”

He barely stopped what he was doing long enough to glance at her. His gaze skimmed her over from head to toe, his lips curved into the beginnings of a smile, then his attention went right back to a stack of lumber he was pulling from the back of the fancy new four-by-four.

That truck, parked next to her dilapidated pickup, which was in serious need of a paint job and a tune-up, grated on her nerves almost as much as his attitude. The man seemed to be mocking her in every way he knew.

“I asked you a question,” she snapped.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said without any real hint of regret. “Figured you’d be out checking on your stock by now. Saw a couple of fence posts down on my way in. I can get to those tomorrow.”

She bristled at the thinly veiled criticism, as well as the suggestion that he’d be back again. In fact, it sounded suspiciously as if he intended to pretty much take over.

“The hands will be fixing the fence today,” she said, wanting him to believe that she had all the help she required. “There’s no need for you to trouble yourself.”

He grinned. “It’s no trouble. In fact, I have some spare time. I thought I’d help out with a few things around here,” he said mildly. “I noticed your barn could use a little work.”

In her opinion, he noticed too blasted much. It was
annoying. “My barn is
my
problem. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“The work needs doing, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“And I have the time.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Never throw a friendly offer back in a man’s face. He might think you don’t appreciate a neighborly gesture.”

Karen knew there was nothing friendly about Grady’s intentions. He was up to something. She could see it in his eyes. And it wasn’t as if he lived right down the road. He lived in the next county, too far away for there to be anything the least bit neighborly about this gesture.

Before she could respond to his taunt, he’d turned his back on her and headed for the barn, where paint she hadn’t bought and tools she’d never seen before waited. He stripped off his jacket as if the temperature were seventy, instead of thirty-seven, and went to work, leaving her to struggle with her indignation and her desire to touch those broad shoulders he’d put on display in her side yard. His flannel shirt was stretched taut over well-developed muscles, not hanging as Caleb’s was on her.

“I can’t afford to pay for all of this,” she hollered after him.

He heaved what sounded like a resigned sigh and faced her. “Did I ask for money?”

“No, but I feel obligated to pay for any fixing up that goes on around here.”

“Then you’ll pay me something when you have it,” he said as if it was of no concern to him when—or even if—she did. “This barn can’t take another
winter in the state it’s in. It’ll cost you a lot more to replace it if it falls apart than it will if I take care of a few simple repairs now.”

His gaze locked with hers. “You know I’m right, Karen.”

Hearing him say her name startled her. The day before and in their one prior meeting, he’d been careful to be formally polite, referring to her as “Mrs. Hanson” when he used any name at all. Today, using her first name, he made it sound as if he’d forgotten all about her relationship with Caleb, as if they were about to become friends. She shuddered at the prospect. She didn’t need a friend who made her feel all quivery inside, a man who’d already stated quite clearly that he wanted things from her that she didn’t intend to give. Sure, it was land he was after, not her body, but her erratically beating pulse didn’t seem to know the difference.

“What I know is that you are presuming to intrude in my life, to take over and do things I haven’t asked you to do. Why? So I’ll be in your debt?”

“It’s a gesture, nothing more,” he insisted. “I just want you to see that I’m not the bad guy your husband made me out to be.”

“If you’re such a nice guy, then why won’t you listen when I tell you that I don’t want you here?”

“Because you don’t really mean it. That’s just your pride talking.”

She scowled, because he was at least partially right. Her pride—along with some very sensible suspicions about Grady’s motives—was forcing her to look a much-needed gift horse in the mouth.

“Oh, forget it,” she mumbled. She clearly wasn’t going to get rid of him, so she might as well let him
do whatever he intended to do and get it over with. She’d just ignore him, pretend he wasn’t there. She certainly had plenty of her own chores to do.

She stalked past him into the barn, fed and watered the horses, mucked out stalls, then saddled up Ginger, the horse she’d owned since she was a teenager.

“We’re getting out of here, girl.”

“Running away?” Grady inquired from just behind her, amusement threading through his voice.

“No, I’m going out to see if Dooley and Hank need any help.”

“Lucky Dooley and Hank.”

She frowned at the teasing. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that I’d welcome your help, if you were to offer.”

“This is
your
project, Mr. Blackhawk. You’ll have to finish it on your own. If there’s something you can’t cope with, you can always leave.”

His gaze locked with hers. “It’s not a matter of coping. I’d just be glad of the company.”

Goose bumps that had nothing to do with the chilly air rose on her skin. She turned away and concentrated on tightening the cinch on Ginger’s saddle.

“I seem to make you nervous, Karen. Why is that?”

She frowned as she faced him. “You don’t make me nervous, Mr. Blackhawk. You make me
mad.
”

He chuckled at that.

“You find that amusing?” she asked indignantly.

His gaze settled on her mouth. “No,” he said softly. “I find it promising. A woman with a temper is always more fascinating than one who’s docile.”

“I’m not doing any of this to provide you with
entertainment,” she snapped, trying not to acknowledge that his words sent an unaccustomed thrill shivering down her spine and set her pulse to racing.

“I know,” he said, his grin spreading. “That’s what makes it so enjoyable.”

Karen bit back a retort that would only have escalated the ridiculous debate and mounted Ginger. Stepping back, Grady touched a finger to the brim of his hat in a polite salute.

“Enjoy your ride.”

“I intend to,” she lied. She doubted she would enjoy anything as long as this impossible man was underfoot.

An hour later, though, after riding hard, then meeting up with Hank and Dooley to check their progress on the fence repairs, she was feeling more at ease. She expected that to change the minute she reached the barn, but to her surprise Grady was nowhere in sight. His truck was gone, too. The sigh that eased through her was tinged with something she couldn’t identify. Surely not regret, she thought with exasperation. No, it was relief, nothing more.

Unfortunately, though, her relief didn’t last long. The evidence of Grady’s presence and of his anticipated return was everywhere. The tools, paint cans and lumber were right where he’d left them. The ladder was still propped against the side of the barn, and the paint had been scraped only from the highest boards, with plenty left untouched.

She had barely cooled Ginger down and started for the house when his truck appeared in the distance, an unmistakable splash of red against the dull winter landscape. Karen hurried inside to avoid another pointless confrontation.

But as the afternoon wore on and her gaze kept straying to the man who was diligently and methodically stripping the old paint off her barn, she sighed and accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to go away. She had to find some way to make peace with him.

In her experience, home-baked cookies were generally an excellent peace offering. With nobody around to appreciate the results, she hadn’t had the urge to bake for some time now. Still, as a gesture of loyalty to her late husband, she made a deliberate choice to bake oatmeal-raisin cookies, her father’s favorites, rather than the chocolate chip that Caleb had loved.

When the first batch was still warm from the oven, she put some of the cookies on a plate, poured a mug of coffee and carried it all across the yard. As she walked toward Grady, she could feel his speculative gaze burning into her.

The gesture had been a mistake, she concluded as she met his eyes. He was going to make too much of it, twist it somehow and use it as an opening. Impatient with herself for allowing room for him to jump to a conclusion that a truce was in the offing, she plunked coffee and plate down ungraciously and scurried back to the house.

She was all too aware that Grady’s intent gaze followed her every step.

“You are such a ninny, Karen Hanson,” she chided herself as she slammed the door behind her. “Taking the man a few cookies was polite. It wasn’t an overture that he could misinterpret.”

But despite the reassuring words, she was very much afraid that he had. And who knew where that would lead?

Grady was satisfied with the way the day had gone. He’d made progress. At least Karen hadn’t thrown him off the property. In fact, she’d baked him cookies, as if he were a schoolboy who deserved nourishment for doing a chore.

She’d regretted it, too. He’d seen that in her eyes and in the way she’d retreated to the house with such haste that he hadn’t even had time to thank her.

One of these days they might actually sit down and have a real conversation, he mused. After that, who knew what might be accomplished? Maybe she would listen to reason.

Of course, in his experience, women were emotional creatures. Reason didn’t matter half as much to them as it did to men. Which meant he would just have to appeal to Karen’s heart. How he was supposed to do that when it was her heart that was telling her to throw his offer back in his face was beyond him, but he would figure it out. He was too close to his goal now to let anything stand in his way.

Grady figured he had another week’s work on the barn. Then he’d move on to something else. And something else after that, if need be. He considered the time and money an investment. After all, the work needed to be done anyway and the property would be his someday soon.

Grady leaned against the rung of the ladder and munched on the last cookie. He hadn’t had a decent oatmeal-raisin cookie in years, not since one of his classmates had moved away in sixth grade. Luke’s mama had baked the best oatmeal-raisin cookies ever. None he’d tried in all the years since had lived up to them…until now.

He stared toward the house, saw a light come on in the kitchen and knew she was in there fixing supper. Did she cook for herself now that Caleb was gone? Or did she put together a careless snack, a sandwich maybe, or even nothing more than a bowl of cold cereal and milk? That’s what he found himself doing more nights than not. It didn’t seem worth the effort to fix a hearty meal. When his body demanded something substantial, he drove into town and ate out. He’d become a regular at Stella’s, ignoring the fact that Cassie Davis tended to regard him with suspicion much of the time. If she should consider the entrée he’d gained into Karen’s life an intrusion, he might have to check his supper for arsenic.

Staring over at the house, he felt nagged by curiosity until he convinced himself that going to the door to return his mug and give Karen a proper thanks for those cookies was the gentlemanly thing to do.

As he tapped on the glass, he could see her shadowy movements inside, saw her go still, hesitate, then finally move toward the door. He could imagine her sigh of resignation as she crossed the kitchen.