Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) (24 page)

That just wasn’t like her. She didn’t go around thinking about sex twenty-four/seven. The only time she used to think about sex was when she was having it. Now when she was having it, she was incapable of thinking about anything else, and when she wasn’t having it, she wanted to be having it. Everything else came a very distant second.

She peeked at the clock on her bedside table and catapulted from the bed. After ten. Her heart raced and her gaze leaped from here to there as if she’d been caught sleeping on the job. She hadn’t slept that late since…well, since she couldn’t remember when. She had a business to run. A guest to look after. A case to finish. And here she was lolling about in bed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. As if all she wanted to do was stay in the bed that smelled like her and Zach and long hours of making love and wait until they could take up where they’d left off.

What was she thinking?

She stared at the bed, thinking she should change the sheets. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to. Instead, she hastily straightened the coverlet, gathered her things for a shower, then paused next to the nightstand and picked up the cordless phone there, dialing the office with her thumb.

“George?”

“Yo, Mar.”

Yo? When had he started saying “yo”? She sighed, telling herself she should be thankful he’d picked up the phone at all, much less on the second ring.

She glanced out the window, wondering what time Zach had left with her father and when they would be getting back. She didn’t kid herself into thinking Zach would last the whole day. But did that mean she should put her day on hold and wait for him?

She decided that, no, it didn’t. She’d warned him against going out on the range with her father. Now he would have to pay the price.

“George, I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be in a little late this morning.”

“A little?”

“Okay, a lot.” For a guy who was perpetually late, he was awfully judgmental this morning. “I’ve been busy…following up on some leads.”

“Mmm.”

Mariah felt her face burn. George knew exactly what she’d been doing, that the only leads she’d been following up on had been attached to Zach Letterman.

“Anything happen this morning?”

A shuffling of paper on the other end of the line. Mariah imagined him putting aside a magazine. “Yes, Justin called again.”

A sharp pain stabbed Mariah behind the eyes.

“You know you really should talk to him, Mar. The guy sounds desperate.”

“That’s because he is desperate. Desperately dim-witted.” She blew out a long breath. “Okay, maybe I’ll stop off at the Triple S and see what he wants.”

“Good.”

“Any developments on our current cases?”

Silence.

“George?”

“Nope. Not a one.”

“Okay. Oh, and thanks for bringing the clothes out yesterday. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I just did.”

She could tell he was working to control himself.

“Oh, George?”

“Hmm?”

Mariah twisted her lips and looked out the window at the range again. “I was hoping you could do something for me.”

He seemed instantly alert. “What is it?”

Mariah raised her brows. “Run a check on Zach Letterman of Indianapolis, Indiana. Just your typical check.”

“Why?”

Why, indeed?

“I’m just a little curious about the guy I’m…working with, that’s all.”

She’d nearly said “sleeping” with, and was glad she’d caught herself in time.

“You got it. I take it you want this on the Q.T.?”

“Like if you see Zach it wouldn’t be a good idea to mention it to him? Yeah.”

“You don’t think he’s an ax murderer or anything, do you?”

Mariah laughed. “Just run the check, George.”

“Gotcha.”

Mariah pressed the disconnect button and stood for long moments clutching her clothes to her chest and staring out the window. She told herself that she wasn’t betraying any kind of trust by checking into Zach’s background. She was just curious.

And if it were true that curiosity had killed the cat…well, she’d deal with that if it happened. She had something in mind that she didn’t think Zach would agree with, but she felt compelled to do it anyway. But first she had to figure out if she could do it at all.

10

N
O
SERVICE
.

Zach closed his cell phone and ran his hand across his brow to stanch the flow of sweat pouring out from under his hat. Satan, the black stallion he’d been given to ride that morning, neighed and stepped from here to there, never having stood still since the moment he’d climbed into the saddle at six that morning.

Hughie glanced back at him from where he rode some ten yards ahead, his expression as self-satisfied as they came. Zach gently nudged the horse onward to catch up to the man who had set out to make his life a living hell this morning, and was succeeding quite admirably.

“How’s it going, Letterman?”

“It’s going,” he muttered under his breath.

“Ready to call it quits yet?”

Hughie had asked him that every hour on the hour. The first few Zach had merely smiled back at the old man and shook his head. Now…well, now he was an inch away from throwing in the towel and heading back to the ranch house.

Oh, he’d known Texas was hot. But he hadn’t known it would loom doubly so out on the plain, where it was humid as hell but dry as an abandoned well. On a normal day he’d experience the heat for no more than a few minutes at a time, as long as it took to get from one air-conditioned place to the next. Not because that’s what he set out to do, but because that’s the way it worked.

But here, riding in the sun for hours on end, keeping constantly shifting cattle moving in a straight line, he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever feel cool again.

He supposed he should be glad that he was a little familiar with horses. No, he had never ridden one bareback as Mariah had. And, no, he’d never ridden one for longer than an hour. But he had ridden for a year in his early teens when his grandmother splurged on lessons because his mother had loved horses and he, well, he had loved anything his mother had loved if only because it made him feel that much closer to her. If he hadn’t known horses, no doubt the aptly named Satan would have thrown him within the first five minutes and generally set the tone for the day instead of the other way around. While he didn’t kid himself into thinking he had complete control over the animal, he did have his respect. And that went a long way toward a tolerable ride.

He checked to make sure his cell phone hadn’t bounced out of his front pocket. He’d hoped to take care of some business while he was riding with Hughie and the eight other ranch hands that worked for him. But he had yet to get a line out in the middle of this no-man’s-land.

He tipped back his borrowed hat and squinted at the sun. He had put a call in to Denton Gawlick yesterday afternoon, just after he and Mariah had returned from Alabama, but a check of his voice mail had yet to yield a return call. He wanted to know if Gawlick had any idea of who might want the wedding dress as much as he did. Did Peggy Sue have any ex-lovers who might want to stop the couple from renewing their wedding vows? And what was the reason for the renewal ceremony in the first place? Had they separated and recently reconciled, wanting a fresh start with a new exchange of vows? Or, alternatively, did Gawlick have business enemies that might want to interfere with his plans?

He pulled the hat back down over his eyes and reached for his water bottle. Maybe taking Hughie up on this he-man challenge hadn’t been the brightest idea now that he thought about it. He had a case to solve, a dress to repair and a career to continue getting off the ground.

The water bottle was empty.

Hughie chuckled next to him. Zach grimaced at him.

“There’s another bottle in your saddlebag. I thought you might be needing it.”

Zach squinted at the crusty old man. “What, making things easy on the Yank, Hughie?”

“No. Just looking out after the only man my daughter’s found fit enough to bring home.”

Zach hesitated from where he was retrieving the fresh bottle from the bag. “You understand that I’m staying at the ranch because we’re working on a case together.”

Hughie’s blue eyes sparkled knowingly. “Uh-huh. That’s the way I hear it told.”

Zach took a long pull of the lukewarm water. “And the woman you sneaked out to see last night?”

The twinkle left, replaced by a scowl. Hughie looked around them to make sure none of the other men had heard what he’d said.

Zach put the bottle back into his bag. “Trust me, if this has been going on for a while, Hughie, they already know all about it.”

The old man sat up higher in his saddle and sighed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So has it been going on for a while?”

Hughie looked at him long and hard. “Anyone ever tell you you ask too many questions?”

“No. But I’ll take that as a compliment if it’s all the same to you.”

Hughie didn’t have to spell it out for Zach to know that the older man wasn’t ready to spill the beans about his midnight run. And if he were, Zach highly doubted it would be to him.

Hughie pulled the reins so that his horse stepped closer to Satan. “You know why I really brought you out here, don’t you?”

“To prove that Texans are better than Yanks?”

“Yeah, well, there’s that, too. But no. I invited you to ride so that you and I could have a little talk.”

“Does it include a shotgun?”

Hughie threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Zach kept his gaze on the other man.

“No.” He pointed a thick, callused finger at him. “But that wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.”

His horse got a little antsy and he made soft sounds to calm him. “No, I just want to tell you not to hurt my little girl.”

Zach stiffened his shoulders.

“You know what’s been happening lately, don’t you?”

Zach nodded. “A little. You’re talking about her ex becoming engaged to someone else?”

Hughie spit on the other side of his horse. “And the two exes before that one.”

They rode quietly for a few minutes, then Hughie took off to chase a straggling cow back into line and rejoining Zach when a collie took up where he left off, barking on the cow’s hooves.

Hughie cleared his throat. “She’s had a tough time of it, Mariah has. Not that she’d tell you that. But I can see it. Ever since her momma died…well, let’s just say that I don’t think I’ve handled things all that well.”

“All things considered, I’d say you’ve handled things admirably,” Zach said, aiming his gaze forward. “You have a wonderful daughter, a successful ranch—” he slid him a glance “—and a woman on the side who sees to your other needs.”

“You’re not going to let me live that one down, are you, boy?”

“I don’t know. I might consider it. You know, if you stop calling me boy.”

“What would you have me call you? Yank?”

“Zach,” he said, meeting his eyes. “Zach will do just fine.”

He ran the back of his wrist across his brow again. “Now what do you say we give up the ghost and head back to the ranch house, old man?”

* * *

M
ARIAH
SAT
AT
HER
DESK
and examined the engagement announcement in the
Boston Globe
for one Priscilla London. The faxed copy of the black-and-white newspaper was grainy at best, but she could definitely make out the date and the people in the photo. Dated five months ago, it revealed the wedding would have taken place two weeks ago from today.

She weighed the silver bracelet she’d found in the sleeve of the wedding dress in her hand, then picked up the phone to call the Boston newspaper office again. If the wedding had taken place two weeks ago, then surely there should be a wedding picture. A couple didn’t place an engagement announcement then not follow up with a wedding picture.

Mariah put the bracelet back in her pocket and noted that George was working on something at his computer. Probably playing a game. She sighed. She’d been in the office for two hours, but she couldn’t seem to drum up the enthusiasm to do more than the bare minimum. She’d placed a couple of calls to follow up on leads she had on two other cases, then received another call from Joe Carter, telling her that Claude Ray had given the county sheriff the slip in the middle of the night by feigning the stomach flu then beaning the young deputy on duty with the toilet plunger. Mariah shook her head and fought a smile. The guy would probably never live that one down. Not in that neck of the woods. But at least no one had been seriously hurt.

However Claude Ray was at large again. Of course, all that law enforcement officials had to do was wait for another crime to happen and they’d know right where to find Claude. Or, more likely, this latest brush with the law had sent Claude out of state for another stretch until tempers cooled down a bit. Then he’d come back and start all over again.

But none of that included Mariah in the hunt until someone hired her, no matter how much she itched to apprehend Ray, this time for good.

The telephone on her desk rang. She snatched it up when she didn’t recognize the number on the display. “Clayborn Investigations.”

Silence.

Mariah frowned into the phone. “Hello?”

“May I talk to George, please?” a small female voice asked.

George? Mariah looked at the man in question across from her. A casual glance might have shown him uninterested, but she caught the way his shoulders squared when he looked at the caller ID.

“May I ask who’s calling, please?”

“Sure. It’s Janette Pratt.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Mariah put the call on hold, but didn’t immediately say anything to George. She opened a file on her desk, waiting for him to say something.

She knew George dated frequently, usually Houston girls who worked as secretaries for some large company. But none of them ever lasted more than a couple weeks. And none of them had ever called the office.

“Who’s that?” George finally gave in and asked.

Mariah shrugged. “You tell me. She called asking for you.” George moved to pick up his extension. “Whoa there, George. You’re not conducting personal business during work hours, are you?”

George looked at her.

Mariah sighed and waved at him. “Go ahead. Pick it up.”

He turned from her as he said hello to the woman on hold. Mariah narrowed her eyes at him. Odd. Was this girl serious?

She shrugged her shoulders then turned back to the open file in front of her, her gaze trailing again to her wristwatch. She silently berated herself, realizing she was ticking off the minutes until she could make a smooth departure and get back out to the ranch…and Zach.

She absently rubbed the side of her neck, trying to banish the shivers there. Merely thinking about Zach, about his hands on her, him being deep inside her, made her breathing grow shallow and her breasts perk up. She glanced down at the area in question under the thick white sports T-shirt she wore. Well, what little of them she had anyway.

She reached for the phone to call Miss Winona to check on the status of the wedding dress, then slowly returned her hand to her lap. The truth was, she didn’t want to know when the dress would be done. She figured the longer she put it off, the longer Zach would be in town.

And that kind of manipulative behavior, no matter how harmless, was not her at all.

She was renowned for shooting straight from the hip. Telling it like it is. No coy smiles or eye batting from her. Yet, strangely, for the first time she wanted to do both with Zach Letterman.

What struck her as stranger still was that neither of them had really fulfilled the terms of her original proposal. Sure, she might have showed him the basics on how to shoot a gun, but she hadn’t pursued the other areas of private investigation. The countless resources you could tap into for information from credit agencies, public record archives, newspaper headquarters, libraries, the census bureau, divorce records, private and public property records. Then there was the art of the chase itself. The pounding of the pavement to piece together clues and get a picture of the entire puzzle. Or the connections you made or developed that kept you working, like the one she’d made with area ranchers in regards to Claude Ray.

She swallowed with difficulty. Then, of course, there was the whole sex issue....

While, undoubtedly, she
felt
sexier—which sounded infinitely better than calling herself an insatiable hootchie—she hadn’t changed one iota in becoming outwardly sexier. She still had on her worn-out jeans, T-shirts and boots. Her hair still hung combed but not styled around her shoulders. And while she occasionally fingered through the jewelry box she’d inherited from her mother, as she had that very morning, she’d never worn any of the delicate jewels.

Realizing she hadn’t read a single word of the file in front of her, she slapped it closed and turned her attention to George again. He was still talking on the phone, his back half to her, his voice lowered.

Curiouser and curiouser…

Mariah entered the name Janette Pratt on her computer just as George ended his call and the cowbell above the door clanged. Deciding to let George see to the visitor, she stared at the computer screen and waited for something to come back on the search of the main computer hard drive.

“Hmm…have you done something different to your hair?”

A full-blown shudder eased from her neck down her spine at the words Zach whispered near her ear.

Her hands shaking, she blanked her computer screen, then slowly swiveled to face him.

Whoa, cowboy.

And this time the greeting fit him through and through. The faded jeans he wore fit him like a second skin, his blue-and-white checked shirt hugged all the right muscle groups. His boots were scuffed and dust covered, his tanned face showed the results of hours in the hot Texas sun, and the hat on his handsome city-boy head was tilted at a cocky angle.

But it was the grin, with or without the cowboy garb, that made every moment of last night come drifting back…and made her want to do it all again. Twice.

“It’s funny you should say that.” Mariah cleared her tight throat. “People have been asking me that all morning.”

George perked up. “I said the same thing when she came in.”