KIDNAPPED COWBOY (5 page)

“I have some Tylenol with me if you need some.  Just say the word.”

Hell, this was nothing.  Pain to him was getting thrown to the ground and stomped on by an angry bull.  “I’ll keep that it in mind, but pass on it for now.”  What he needed was to figure out some way to get them out of this mess her desire to do good had created.

*              *              *

Brandon Barnes crossed the room in three long strides and grabbed for the phone ringing insistently on his desk.  It was almost ten on a weeknight.  Who would be calling him at home at that time of the night? 

“Hello?”

“Brandon, Alan here.”

Alan Martinson was his financial advisor as well as his right-hand man, handling projects he didn’t have time for with running the ranch and all.

“Is there a problem?”  He couldn’t think of any other reason for the man to be calling him so late.

“In the way of a delay,” he replied.  “I just got off the phone with Ted Sanders.  They moved tomorrow’s scheduled site inspection back a day.”

Time was money.  “Did they say why?” 

“Have you looked outside lately?”

Brandon’s gaze shifted to the drawn curtains that covered the floor to ceiling windows.  “No, I haven’t.  I’ve been too busy going over contracts.”

“Well, it’s snowing to beat hell out there with a mix of ice thrown in.  Sanders said there was no way he and his developer would be able to get out to Stoney Brook in the morning.”

Weather was not going to get in the way of his plans.  “Call Ted back and tell him not to worry.  I’ll get them there.”  The sooner the deal was settled, the sooner he could get his mind back on ranching matters.  The deal being plans for the resort Alan had convinced him into building where Stoney Brook Retreat now stood.

The retreat had seen better days, all of its cabins sorely in need of repair thanks to the past few overly harsh winters.  Taking them down and building the secluded resort Alan had approached him about seemed like the wiser investment.  Better yet, Alan had agreed to run the property for a small percentage of ownership which would free him up to focus solely on the ranch.

“According to the Weather Channel, this storm isn’t gonna let up anytime soon,” Alan warned.  “The hell of it being that delays of any sort are guaranteed to cost us time and money.”

“I’ll hook the snow blade back up to my truck in the morning.  There won’t be anything keeping us from getting in there.  Now go make that call.”

“Will do.  See you tomorrow.”

Brandon returned the cordless to its base and stepped over to the window behind his desk.  Pulling one of the heavy panels aside, he surveyed the snow falling beneath the pale pink glow of the security lights outside. 

Beautiful, yet deceivingly dangerous he thought with a frown as the icy flakes clung to the oversized windowpanes.  A lot like a certain female he knew.  Beautiful.  Deceitful.  Clingy.

He released the curtain with muttered curse, thoughts of his ex’s betrayal still fresh in his mind.  A distraction he didn’t need right now.  Women were a distraction he didn’t need right now.  All they wanted was to sink their pretty little claws into a man with the means to buy them expensive ‘trinkets’, using their well-honed feminine wiles and practiced lies to hold onto him.

“Brandon...”

He stiffened and then turned to find Alexandra Whitcomb standing in the doorway to his private study.  How had he not heard her drive up?  Then again, he hadn’t even heard the storm outside.

“Alexandra,” he greeted stiffly.  “What are you doing here?”

She tossed back the snow-covered hood of her coat and moved toward him.  “I decided to take a drive and, well, here I am.”

Yes, here she was.  Going out with Alexandra in the first place had been a big mistake.  She came from money and thought everything and everyone in life could be bought.  Well, he wasn’t for sale.  Not to her or any woman. 

“I was just gonna go to bed,” he said none too happily.

“Would you like some company?” she asked with a sexy smile.

“Alexandra, things are over between us.  Let it go.”

“I can’t.”  Her lips formed that practiced pout she had perfected to get her way.  It wasn’t working.  He had gotten over Alexandra six months ago when he’d walked in on her and one of his ranch hands screwing in the barn.  One no longer in his employ.

“I’ll see you to the door.”  He stepped around his desk and caught her by the coat sleeve, guiding her back out into the entryway.  He sure as hell didn’t want her getting snowed in at his place for the night. 

“But Brandon...” she whimpered.

“Forget the theatrics, Alexandra.  I want you out of my house
and
I want my damn house key back before you go.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” she said, her words pleading.  “I swear, Brandon.  It just happened.”

Several times to be exact.  Unfortunately, he hadn’t discovered the extent of her betrayal until after catching her in the act.  His ranch hand had just been one in a long line of men Alexandra had screwed while they had been going out.  

“Go home, Alexandra.”

“Admit it, Brandon.  I’m still in your blood.  You want me and you know it.”

About as much as he wanted his dick to fall off, which seemed a likely possibility for any man who didn’t take precautions when sleeping with her.  Thank the lord he’d had enough sense about him to use some when they’d been together.

“Not tonight,” he replied with a scowl.  “I’ve got work to do.”

“I thought you were gonna go to bed.”

“Alexandra,” he said, his patience quickly slipping away.

“Brandon, please...”

She had never been one to take no for an answer.  Frowning, Brandon whipped open the front door, letting in a gust of icy wind.  “The roads are getting bad.  I’d head straight home if I were you.”

“Fine.”  She yanked free of his hold and then tugged the faux fur-lined hood back up over her salon perfect hair as she stepped out onto the porch.  “Just don’t expect me to come crawling back to you anytime soon.”

Crawl?  As in on all fours?  He was tempted to point out that was the position he’d found her in with his ranch hand, but bit back his reply.  The last thing he wanted was for Alexandra to think he gave a rat’s ass.

“Night, Alexandra.”  Closing the door in her face, he turned the lock.

She gave a shriek of indignation before stomping away into the storm, the sound of which had him smiling.

It wasn’t until he returned to his study that Brandon realized he’d forgotten to get his key from his scheming ex.  He’d been in too much of a hurry to get her the hell out of his house to think of anything else.  He made a mental note to call a locksmith in the morning, preferring to have all of his locks changed than to have to deal with Alexandra’s theatrics ever again.

Rounding his desk, he had just started to settle his large frame into the leather chair behind it when the phone rang again.

Alexandra. 

Damn her persistence.  Why couldn’t she just leave things well enough alone?  He snatched the phone up from its base.  “What is it about
it’s over
that you don’t understand?”

“Mr. Barnes?”

The voice on the other end was not his ex’s.  Brandon raked a hand down his face, trying to collect himself.  “Speaking.”

“This is Jeremy Thomas from Tequila Joe’s.  The cops came in and asked our customers to move their vehicles from the street so they can plow and salt it.”

“And this has what to do with me?”

“Your truck is the only vehicle left out there.”

His truck.
  The one he’d loaned Dalton when he went into town that evening.  Knowing his brother, he probably partied too hard and was in no condition to drive.  Probably got a room in town for the night.  Must be nice to live life with no responsibility whatsoever.

Dalton’s return to Lone Tree hadn’t gone nearly as well as Brandon had hoped it would.  Too many old feelings and resentments still stood between them.  “My brother drove it there.  Have him move it.”

“I would if he were here,” the man replied.  “He left a good while ago to get something from the truck, or so he said, but he never came back.  Oh, and there’s the matter of his unpaid tab...”

He muttered a curse.  “Don’t worry about the tab.  I’ll take care of it when I get there.”

“They’ve already started plowing the main street.  I wouldn’t wait too long or your truck’ll be towed away.”

Just what he wanted to do on a night like this. 
Damn you, Dalton. 
“I’ll be there as soon as I can round up someone to drive me into town.  In the meantime, if my brother shows up, have him call my cell.”

“I will, Mr. Barnes.  Thanks.”

Hell, this night had just gone from bad to worse.  First Alexandra and now this.  His brother had better of gotten himself a room for the night, because he was in the mood to scrap it out with someone and Dalton had just moved to the top of that list.

CHAPTER THREE

“Look,” Dalton said, breaking the silence that had fallen between he and Caitlin as they sat warming themselves next to the fire, “since we’re gonna be stranded here together, we might as well get to know each other a little better.”

“You wanna know about me?” she said, clearly surprised by his suggestion.

“You already know a lot about me,” he said, shifting on the sofa to face her.  “Seems only fair I know some of your story.”

She averted her gaze.  “There’s not much to tell.”

“You mentioned something about this place helping you.  I have to say you don’t exactly come across as the type of person who was once a troublesome teen.”  His grin widened.  “Then again, you did grow up to be a troublesome kidnapper.”

She turned to him, her lips pressed in a tight line.  Then she sighed.  “Contrary to what you must think of me, I’ve tried very hard to change myself for the better.  More importantly, I’ve dedicated my life to helping other troubled teens get on a better path in life.”

His grin widened.  “I’ve experienced firsthand just how deep your commitment to those teens runs.  And, despite sitting here in handcuffs because of that dedication, I find myself admiring your willingness to risk all for a cause.”

“You do?”

He nodded.  “Now tell me how you ended up at Stoney Brook in the first place.”

She hesitated a long moment, as if lost in thought, then said, “My parents were seniors in high school when they had me.”

“That’s young.”

“Too young to handle the responsibility of raising a child.”

“So they gave you up for adoption?”

She shook her head.  “No.  They gave me to my grandmother to raise and took off for Florida, never looking back.”

“I suppose they did what they thought was best for you,” he replied.  Unlike his father whose first concern was what was best for his damned ranch.

“Did they?” she responded, unable to hide the hurt in her voice.  “My grandmother resented me because I was a constant reminder of my mother, the girl who took her ‘baby boy’ away.”

“Her son’s leaving wasn’t your fault.”  How could anyone blame a child for the actions of their parents?

“According to my grandmother it was,” she said, her voice catching.  “My conception ruined all their lives.”

“No, Caitlin,” he said with a frown, wishing he could comfort her with more than just words, “it was the way they dealt with the situation that ruined their lives.”

She looked up at him.  “Why are you being so nice to me after all I’ve put you through?”

“Because I’m a man who tends to live by my gut.  And my gut tells me you’re a good person.  Maybe a little off your rocker in the way you handle things, but it’s nothing a few months of seeing a therapist can’t fix.”  He winked to let her know he was only teasing her.

Her lips quirked.  “I suppose seeing myself would be rather unethical.”

Dalton arched a questioning brow.  “Seeing yourself?”

Humor lit her green eyes.  “It just so happens I have a degree in psychology.”

“You’re a psychologist?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised by it,” she said with a chastising glance.  “It happens to be a requirement for the camp director’s position.”

It took a moment to get past the shock.  Then, he laughed.  “You’re a licensed psychologist and you actually thought my brother would consider keeping you on out here after you’d brought him here against his will, good intentions or not?”

“I hoped that once I got him here and had a chance to talk to him he might see things differently.”

Dalton shifted, trying to ease the ache in his shoulders.  “Something tells me you weren’t at the top of your college graduating class.”

“Next to last,” she admitted sheepishly and then added, “My professor used to tell me I allowed myself to get too emotionally involved.”

Her professor had a point.

“And?” he prompted.

“He was right,” she admitted with a sigh.  “But I can’t seem to help myself.  I’m guess I’m a sucker for those others have given up on.”

“That’s not always a bad thing.  This world could use a few more people like you, someone who’s willing to go the extra mile for a good cause.  Those kids are lucky to have you on their side.”

“What good is my being on their side gonna do them if your brother goes through with his plan to shut down this camp?”

His first thought was to tell her that a few months in the summer couldn’t make that much of a difference to a kid with problems.  But what did he really know about it?  He was no shrink.  And he’d never really been a ‘kid’.  His father had demanded that he and Brandon learn to run the ranch from an early age, no time for friends or sports.

“They’ll survive,” he replied.  He had.

She shook her head, her disappointment in his response evident in those lushly lashed green eyes as she looked up at him.  “Well, I guess you’re more like your brother than you think.  That’s exactly how I would have expected him to answer that question.”

He stiffened.  Like his brother, hell.  “I’m nothing like him,” he growled.  And damned if he didn’t feel the need to prove it to her somehow, some way.