Cowboy in My Pocket (8 page)

But of course she knew horses. She was a barrel racer, wasn’t she? At least that’s what Betsy Mae told Will. A barrel racer willing to act like a blushing bride—for a price.

That sure didn’t sound like the Lee Stetson he was beginning to know. She lacked the hard edge, the competitive nature of most female athletes, or at least the ones he’d met.

Her smile was too open and honest for her to be a gold digger. Wasn’t it?

Hell, even he was confused.

Lee turned and smiled at Tag. At that moment, Dandy decided he needed more attention.

He butted Lee with his nose. She stumbled directly into Tag’s arms. He grabbed her and she molded her body against his, giggling when Dandy nudged her again.

“I think he wants me to hold you,” Tag said, holding her.

“Really?” Lee’s upturned face was only inches from his.

“I’m sure of it.” Tag licked his dry lips, imagining the taste of hers. Dandy nudged her again, pushing the veil off her head and tipping it over her brow. Tag lifted the lace away from Lee and carefully untangled the clips from her hair, then hung the entire contraption on a convenient nail. “In fact,” he said, “I think he wants me to kiss you.”

“Do you always do what Dandy wants?” Lee licked her lips, the tip of her tongue, the tiny cleft between her lips an open invitation as far as Tag could tell.

“Whenever possible,” Tag whispered against her mouth. Then whispering didn’t make any sense at all, not when what he really wanted to do was hold her and kiss her, taste that sweetness he’d barely sampled earlier this morning.

Her arms went around his waist and her fingers stroked his back. His lips moved across hers, teasing, tasting, searching until he felt her lips part, heard the tiny sigh and whimper of her surrender, reveled in the slick, almost tentative thrust of her tongue against his.

He cupped the back of her head with one hand, with the other held her as close to him as the yards of satin would allow. She arched her back, pressing into the cradle of his thighs, inviting him to touch, taste, explore.

“Tag, are you out here? I’m looking for Lee.”

He broke the kiss at the sound of Lenore’s voice, leaving Lee with her lips still parted, her fingers curled tightly against his broad back. “We’re back here by the stalls, Gramma,” he said, gently putting Lee away from him and quickly brushing her tousled hair back from her eyes. “I was introducing Lee to Dandy.”

Lee swallowed, struggling to find a sense of calm and control. Tag’s stance was easy and relaxed, his arm loosely draped across her shoulders. Suddenly it came to her. The kiss they’d just shared hadn’t happened because of any overwhelming passion on his part. He’d just been putting on a show for his grandmother!

She’d been ready to tear at the pearl buttons on his fancy white western shirt and he’d merely been playacting.

She knew that. She’d just have to remember, that’s all.

Lenore certainly seemed convinced. She smiled at the two of them as if they embodied young love, completely unaware of their duplicity. “We’re about ready out there for you two to cut the cake,” she said. “They’ve set up the table on the porch since the rain quit. Everyone’s wondering where the lovebirds have got off to.”

“I’d better go wash my hands. I’ve been petting Dandy.” Lee shrugged her shoulders, slipped free of Tag’s light grasp, and scurried out of the barn. “I’ll meet you on the porch,” she said, throwing the words back over her shoulder. Before she could stand up there in front of all those people, she really needed a moment to compose herself.

The phone rang as Lee stepped through the door. She glanced around the large room, but no one else appeared to have heard it. Feeling like an intruder, Lee answered the phone. “Double Eagle Ranch, Lee speaking.”

It took a moment for the man’s words to penetrate Lee’s confused mind. “No,” she finally said, amazed when she actually found her voice. “I don’t think Tag needs Ms. Anderson after all. It’s all been taken care of, but I promise to let him know.”

She carefully set the phone back in the cradle, just as her knees gave out. Cushioned by the bustle, Lee sat in a swirl of satin and lace in the middle of the front room floor.

She took a deep breath, then another, then realized she’d better slow down before she hyperventilated. This was one phone message she wasn’t quite ready to deliver.

Betsy Mae’s brother Will was wondering if it was too late for Annie Anderson, his sister’s friend, to head over to the Double Eagle. She’d gotten lost in the storm and ended up at Columbine Camp, but the phone had been out, so Will hadn’t been able to call until now. Was Lee positive Tag didn’t need Annie’s services?

I don’t think so
. Lee smoothed the billowing skirts and stared at the gold band on her left hand. She wasn’t Betsy Mae’s friend after all. As far as she knew, she wasn’t even a barrel racer. Maybe Lee Stetson wasn’t really her name.

One thing she did know. She’d just signed a marriage license as Lee Stetson, said her vows and promised to love, honor and cherish that handsome cowboy out there, and she’d done it without an escape clause, and without a past.

She didn’t even want to think what that would mean to Tag, or Coop, or Gramma Lenore. Especially Gramma Lenore. Coop said she was dying. Lenore said her most important wish was to see her grandson married.

Well,
thought Lee.
He’s married.

She fought the urge to giggle, then covered her mouth and realized she might cry instead.

“Are you okay?”

Tag’s soft question snapped Lee to attention.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

“Then why are you sitting on the floor in your wedding gown?” He hunkered down next to her, smiled that absolutely devastating lopsided smile of his, and held out his hand.

Lee grasped it, aware once again of the strength in his fingers, the hard calluses across his palm. “Just resting,” she said, carefully slipping her fingers free of his. She couldn’t touch him, not now, when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his embrace and sob against that broad chest of his.

She should tell him the truth, tell him she didn’t know who she was or what she was doing on the Double Eagle, tell him she’d signed a marriage license with a name that might be completely made-up, that as far as she knew she’d never ridden a horse in her life.

Who am I?
Pain stabbed across her brow, and she swayed with the force of it. Tag immediately steadied her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

She nodded, unable to speak, unwilling to tell him the truth. “Well, if you’re absolutely certain,” he said, studying her with obvious concern. “We have to go out and cut the cake.” He took her elbow and guided her back out toward the porch. “Everyone expects it, but it won’t take long and you’ll be able to rest in a little while.” He paused, just inside the door.

“I wanted to thank you. You’re doing a wonderful job, Lee. Better than I ever expected. My grandmother doesn’t suspect a thing.” He squeezed her arm and smiled that wonderful rakish smile of his.

Neither do you, Tag,
Lee thought, unwilling to look him in the eye
. Neither do you
.

Chapter 4

TAG KEPT his arm firmly wrapped around Lee’s waist as the two of them walked out onto the porch, but the thought of their charade never once entered his thoughts. He didn’t know what had happened in the house, but he was certain of one thing—she hadn’t been “resting” when he’d found her sitting on the floor.

He tightened his grip on her waist and held her close against his side.

She seemed to sense his concern and turned slowly within his embrace. “I’m fine, Tag, really.” Her green eyes were full of questions, but her smile never wavered.

“We’ll make this quick, anyway,” he promised. The woman was amazing, the way she stayed within her role even when she obviously wasn’t feeling all that well. He definitely owed Betsy Mae for sending Lee in her stead.

“But, Tag?” She placed one hand on his chest, just over his heart. He wondered if she felt it flip into overtime. “We need to talk . . .”

“Later,” he whispered. He covered her hand with his just as his grandmother called out to them.

“Well, there you are! I was beginning to wonder if you two lovebirds went and found yourselves another dark, private corner somewhere.” Gramma Lenore hustled across the porch waving a gaily decorated silver cake knife. Tag ducked and Lee giggled when his grandmother made a teasing pass at him with the dull blade.

They cut the cake, Tag’s arm still draped lightly around Lee’s waist, his hand completely covering her fingers as they held the knife. She smiled up at him and without even considering the implications, or his reasons, Tag leaned over and kissed her.

She kissed him back and everyone applauded. Tag blinked himself back to reality. He really had to stop kissing her once the “wedding reception” ended, but this was working even better than he’d hoped. Lee carefully fed him a piece of the cake and he returned the favor. There was a tiny bit of frosting, just on the corner of her upper lip. Tag carefully removed it with the tip of his little finger.

Lee licked the frosting off his finger with a curl of her tongue and a look of mischief in her eyes. Tag’s stomach did a complete flip. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted everyone here to just go home, so he could carry her off to her room, peel that silky gown off her even silkier shoulders and make love to her until neither one of them could move.

He . . . he’d better remember this was all an act.

Coop handed Tag and Lee each a flute of champagne, then raised his own aloft. “Here’s to the groom,” he said, grinning broadly. “A young’n I recall swearing the cows’d fly down from the summer range before he’d take a bride. We’re in the process of clearing the landing strip now,” he added, tongue planted firmly in cheek.

He waited for the laughter to subside. “And here’s to the bride, the purtiest little barrel racer this side of Durango.” He clinked glasses with Tag and added, “Ride ’er, cowboy.” Everyone laughed again, Lee blushed scarlet and Tag almost choked on his champagne.

He glared at Coop but the old cowboy carefully avoided eye contact. Now that he held center stage, Tag realized Coop wasn’t going to give it up easily. What was he up to now?

“The boys decided you two needed a honeymoon.”

Tag’s head snapped around. Lee’s body stiffened beside him.

“Yep. It was a surprise to me, too.” Coop shrugged his shoulders and glanced apologetically at Tag. “Anyway, they cleaned up the line shack, stocked it with all kinds of tasty grub and even got your conveyance ready.”

With a flourish of one gnarled hand, Coop directed their attention to the barn. Tag heard a snort, the musical clink of harness chains, and the familiar clip-clop of Dandy’s feet. Dandy snorted again and stepped out of the shadows, led by one of Tag’s men and hauling the surrey Tag’s grandfather had restored for shows and parades years ago.

A big white bow practically covered the back of the leather seat and a tangle of old shoes and cans dragged in the mud behind. A banner taped to the back read “Just Married,” and even Dandy had been hastily decorated with ribbons and streamers woven into his mane.

Tag took a deep breath and forced an appreciative grin. Lee giggled nervously beside him. Suddenly one of the men was shoving an overnight kit into his hands and his grandmother was handing Lee a fancy leather tote bag she’d never seen before.

Lee’s grip on Tag’s hand practically cut off the circulation. “Tag,” she hissed. “We’ve really got to talk!”

He patted her hand and helped her into the carriage. “Later,” he said, settling her into the black leather seat. “Not here.”

Then he jumped in beside her and grabbed the reins, released the brake, clicked his tongue and lightly snapped Dandy’s broad haunches with the reins. “Gidyup, Dandy. C’mon, boy.”

Rice spattered the horse’s rear end and he picked up the pace. The cans and shoes clanked and rattled along behind, and the group of well-wishers cheered.

Tag smiled and waved, wondering how he was going to get along in a one-room line shack with one very small bed, and one very beautiful, sexy bride.

A bride he’d known for . . . he glanced at his watch . . . almost five whole hours.

“Let’s stop here,” he said, as soon as they’d rounded the barn, out of sight of the wedding guests. “I want to untie all this stuff before we head up the hill.”

He pointed in the direction of a tree-studded ridge, bisected by a gravel road. “It’s not really a shack.” He smiled at Lee as he untied the old boots and cans. “It’s a nice little cabin we use when the herd’s up in the summer range. Has running water, a water heater and real plumbing, in case you’re worried about roughing it too much.” He dragged the tangle of rope, shoes and cans over to a barrel behind the barn, then climbed back into the surrey. Lee hadn’t said a word. She sat quietly in a pool of ivory silk and lace, staring pensively toward the mountains.

He snapped the reins and Dandy took off at a comfortable walk. “It’s not far. The road’s graveled all the way, so we shouldn’t bog down anywhere. The storm’s moved through. We should be having good weather for the next few days, but one night at the line shack’ll satisfy everyone.” He laughed quietly, then shook his head in consternation. “I had no idea the guys had anything like this planned. I hope you don’t mind, but they hustled us out of there so fast I didn’t have time to argue.”

He clicked his tongue and Dandy picked up his step a bit. “We’ll be at the cabin in a couple of hours, even at this pace. Actually, this might be a good thing. It’ll give us time to work on our story, make it sound more convincing.” Lee nodded silently in agreement, then sighed. Tag turned and stared at her for a minute. “Lee, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m not really Betsy’s friend.” She spoke so softly Tag barely heard her whisper over the squeak of the wheels and the sigh of the breeze. She turned in the narrow seat and stared up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Her lower lip quivered. Tag figured he would never understand the way the female mind worked. So what if she and Betsy Mae’d had a falling out? It didn’t matter a bit to him even if they hated each other. “Well, I can understand that, Lee. Betsy Mae can be a bit difficult to like, even on her good days.”

“No, you don’t understand.” Lee grabbed his arm, her face a study in anguish. “You and me. We’re not really married, Tag.”

“Well, of course we’re not. What made you think we were married?” He tied off the reins and let Dandy have his head, then turned to give Lee his undivided attention.

She stared blankly at him, apparently struggling for words. “A wedding, maybe?” she whispered. “You mean . . . ?”

“You thought the wedding was real?” He swallowed back a curse. “Didn’t Betsy Mae tell you it was all an act? I told you this was for my grandmother’s benefit, that . . .”

“I know what you told me.” Her voice raised, bordering on hysteria. “I don’t know if Betsy Mae told me anything at all. I don’t remember! You said you were only getting married so your grandmother wouldn’t keep after you to find a wife. But you never, not once, said it wasn’t a real marriage.”

“Oh, Lee.” He couldn’t help himself. He dragged her onto his lap and hugged her. She’d been willing to go through with this whole charade, thinking it was a real wedding? That was certainly more than he’d ever expected! “Betsy Mae told Will you knew all the details. I just assumed . . .”

“Will called.” She struggled in his embrace, shoved against his chest and sat back down on the seat next to him. “He said Betsy’s friend, Annie Anderson, got lost in the storm and ended up at Columbine Camp. He wondered if you still needed her to come over to the Double Eagle. To marry you.”

Tag stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown three heads. “Then who the hell are you?”

“I don’t know,” she wailed. She clasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “I don’t know anything at all before Coop found me walking in the rain. Suddenly I was just aware of walking down the highway, looking for the Double Eagle. I don’t remember my name . . .”

“You said your name was Lee Stetson. You never even hesitated.” His voice had a controlled, almost threatening sound to it. “I asked who you were and just as cool as you please you said, ‘Lee Stetson.’”

“I got it off the jeans and the hat.” She flashed him a quick smile, but the look he returned was totally unreadable.

“Jeans and hat?”

“Lee jeans, Stetson hat.” He didn’t sound at all as if he saw the humor in the situation. “Well, it sounded right the minute I said it, so it could be my real name. I just don’t know for sure.”

“You can’t remember anything? Nothing at all? That doesn’t make sense. How come?” He glared angrily at her, then suddenly switched his focus to a spot near her hairline. Instant understanding filled his eyes. He reached out and gently touched the dark bruise she’d tried to cover with makeup.

“You were hurt worse than you let on, weren’t you? Lee, why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t remember? You’re not sure at all how or when you got hurt, are you? Do you have any idea at all how this happened? When it happened?”

Lee silently shook her head. She knew her silence wasn’t much of an answer. What was there to say?

Tag seemed to come to a decision. “You said you knew Betsy Mae. Maybe she can tell us who you are.” Tag tapped his long fingers against his knee. Lee watched the rhythmic tapping, teased by a memory of long polished nails tapping a damask tablecloth.

The memory fled.

“No, dammit. That won’t work. She and her blasted clown won’t be back for at least a month.”

“I’m not sure if I really know her, anyway,” Lee whispered. “It’s so weird, the image I have of her. It’s like a flash of something familiar, then it disappears.”

Tag took up the reins again, his eyes straight ahead. She felt the tension in his thigh where his leg pressed against hers in the narrow seat. He held the reins in a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “I really don’t believe any of this.”

“I’m sorry, Tag.” She had no control over the rush of words, and they tumbled out, one after the other. Condemning her completely, she knew. “Really, Tag. I am so sorry. When Coop found me I was cold and wet and miserable and confused, but he seemed to be expecting me. I figured if I just played along, it’d all come back to me. I recognized Betsy Mae’s name and Columbine Camp and the Double Eagle and the minute I heard your name I knew who you were.”

Tag grunted, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. Lee swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I recognized you when you walked out of the house and I told myself then that since you obviously knew I was coming, I was supposed to be there. I kept waiting for my thoughts to clear up, to remember something, anything.” She paused, recalling her reaction the first time she saw Tag when he stepped off the porch and into the yard.

She’d known exactly who he was. “You looked so familiar when we got to the ranch. You were the first remotely familiar face I’d seen.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, fighting the tears that choked her. “I figured I must know you from somewhere.” She looked down at her clasped hands. “I wanted you to know who I was, because I didn’t have a clue.” She paused, then sighed deeply. “I still don’t.”

The silence stretched into long minutes, broken only by the sound of the horse’s footfalls and the jangle of the harness. Lee realized she was shivering, as much from nerves as the late afternoon chill. Without a word, Tag slipped out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She muttered her thanks, then stared at Dandy’s broad back. The jacket was warm from Tag’s body and carried the scent of sandalwood and musk. Lee pulled it tightly across her chest, welcoming Tag’s kind gesture as much as the jacket’s warmth.

“The shack’s just over the ridge.” Tag snapped the leather reins lightly across Dandy’s rump. “We’ll get ourselves comfortable and figure out where we go from here, okay?”

“Okay.” At least he hadn’t thrown her out of the surrey. That had to be a good sign.

Within an hour they crested the ridge and rolled into a narrow valley bisected by a meandering mountain creek. A pond at one end spread lazily out into the pasture where the recent storm had knocked the tall grasses flat. Huge, dark pine trees framed the base of the hills on the far side of the valley and a tiny cabin backed up to the forest, facing east so it would catch the first rays of the morning sun.

Now, however, long shadows stretched halfway across the valley and the afternoon sun rested just above the top of the highest peak. A few dark red cows with white faces raised their heads to see who was invading their quiet valley, then turned back to their grazing. Dandy whinnied and the answering call from a pair of horses poised near the edge of the trees sent a shiver along Lee’s spine.

“Look there. Do you see them?” Tag pointed toward the two pale-colored horses. Lee had barely a glimpse of them before they faded like ghosts into the brush. “They’re wild mustangs,” Tag said, the excitement in his voice evident. “These hills used to be full of wild horses, before ranchers captured most of them years ago. They’re making a comeback. There’s a small herd on this range, maybe a dozen or so. We don’t see ’em too often, though.”