Reckless Promise (21 page)

"No. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah. I guess I do," he said slowly. "Unless
you've known Tom a lot longer than the time you've been here."

"I met him a month ago. He's a friend of my
roommate's. We had dinner one night, all of us together. He told me
about the ranch. We did not have an affair." She willed herself not
to lower her gaze, or blush, or do anything else that would look
guilty. She hadn't lied. She'd only omitted Tom's plea and her
Other Woman idea, her tipsy assurance that she’d show them.

So here she stood, a month later, swinging a
hammer and having some kind of personality change that left her
thinking the wild west might be as good as Boston. Yeah, she'd
shown them, all right.

* * *

Working with Poppy scored right up there with
his horses on the scale of zero to perfection. He could tell she'd
never pounded nails before, but the way she worked shoulder to
shoulder with him all morning gave him another one of those queasy
moments when forever sounded almost good.

Poppy dropped the hammer on her foot. "Ouch.
You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"We're a little short on romantic dinners at
five-star restaurants here at the ranch." He wondered with
disappointment if she expected city entertainment out here.

"Not a problem. Putting on uncomfortable
clothes and listening to some twit with a phony accent patronize me
while serving overpriced, unhealthy food isn't my idea of fun."

"I can't believe that someone who looks like
you—"

"Haven't you ever heard that you shouldn't
judge a book by its cover?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Got a real hot
button there, don't you? Sorry. Maybe you'd rather talk about your
job. What kind of work do you do?"

Her gaze shifted, making her look sneaky as a
kid with her hand in a cookie jar. "I lost my job last month. I
haven't really been doing anything."

"Taking time to find yourself?"

"No. I found myself years ago. It's other
people who have trouble finding me." She sounded irritated.
"Anyway, I'm going to get my job back. My lawyer says I have a very
good case."

Ah yes. The mysterious 'personal reasons' and
'dropped out of sight'. His common sense said she hadn't told him
everything. Everything south of his belt didn't care. He still
wanted her more than any other woman he'd ever known.

Back at the lodge, after a lunch of fried
chicken and potato salad, Poppy carried their dishes to the
kitchen. He followed, enjoying the view. Jeans had been designed
with Poppy in mind. He leaned against the doorframe and watched her
tidy bottom until Alice put a hand on his arm. She looked tired and
strained. "Your tongue is hanging out," she said in a seriously
annoyed voice.

"Sorry."

"Come in the office. I want to talk to you
before Tom comes in for lunch." She shut the door behind him and
whirled to face him. "I thought you were taking care of her." Tears
glittered in her eyes. "Tom and I had a fight last night. He didn't
come to bed until two o'clock. He must have gone to her."

Her mouth twisted on the last word, and Mac
had no trouble figuring out who she meant. Some things a man didn't
want to know about his sister's private life. "He wasn't with
Poppy."

"How can you be sure?"

Mac heard Poppy walk down the hall. He stared
at the toes of his boots, trying to decide how much to tell Alice.
'Because I spent the night with her' was such an uncomfortable
thing to say to his sister, but the look in her eye told him he she
wouldn't let him skate out of this one. "Because I was."

He glanced up and saw Poppy and Tom on the
veranda. She laughed up at him, and he looked down at her with a
grave expression. They looked like a textbook definition of
intimate conversation.

"Your routine may be great but I think your
dismount needs work," Alice said.

Poppy said something he couldn't hear and
reached up to pull loose the scarf that tied her hair back. She
shook her head and ran her fingers through the blazing curls, so
that the sun shot sparks of a hundred colors of fire from each
strand. It was a gesture so innocent, and at the same time so
carnal, that he caught his breath.

"Well, he won't be with her long," Mac told
Alice. "I'll take care of her. And you might try paying some
attention to Tom. It might help if he ever saw a smile from
you."

Alice looked so miserable and guilty, so much
like the little sister he'd raised that his flash of temper died.
He put an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong, Alice?"

She turned away. "I can't keep asking you for
help. My marriage, my responsibility."

Before he could protest, she slipped out the
door. He sidled up to the window and listened. Shamelessly.

"No," Poppy said.

"But—"

She sat on one of the benches, and Tom sat
beside her. "I know. I promised. But she's already jealous and it
isn't helping. You're just going to have to trust me here. Think of
me as the professional, and you as the client."

Professional? Client?

Tom said something that Mac didn't catch. He
stopped grinding his teeth and tried to hear Poppy's response.

"Tom, be reasonable," she said. "Alice is
completely miserable about something, and I'm not helping. You're
just making things worse by insisting that we—"

A shout of laughter from the dining room
blotted out the rest of Poppy's words. He inched closer.

"...obviously crazy about you," she said.
"You must have done something to make her mad."

Tom propped his elbows on his knees and
leaned his head in his hands. "I haven't done anything. Not a
damned thing."

"Well, is that the problem?" She sounded
impatient. "You forgot her birthday? An anniversary? Although...how
long have you been having problems?"

"Months. Six months, maybe. Oh, hell, Poppy,
I was so sure having you here would fix things."

"Well, it hasn't. We can't keep doing this.
There's got to be another way." She rubbed her hands together. "We
may be looking at this backwards. Has Alice done—well,
anything?"

Tom's mouth dropped open. "Alice?"

"Yes, Alice." Poppy frowned. "Sometimes she
looks so sad. Almost as if..." Her voice trailed off. She gazed
across the fields into the distance and bit her lip.

Against his will, Mac remembered with
dizzying vividness the softness of that mouth, and had to rest a
hand on the wall. When he could think again, he read understanding
and compassion on her face. She looked...involved. As if she really
cared. And he didn't get it. Husband-stealing bimbos didn't talk
like this.

"Almost as if she felt guilty about
something," Poppy finished.

Alice guilty? Mac's hands clenched and his
friendly thoughts evaporated. If Poppy thought she could blame all
the problems on Alice...

"Guilty?" Tom sounded as doubtful as Mac
felt. "No. What could she be guilty of? We've lived in each other's
pockets for five years, ever since we settled here on the ranch.
I'd know if she'd been seeing another man. There's no way she could
have had an affair." He choked the words out as though they
hurt.

"There are other things to feel guilty about,
you know."

"Alice wouldn't do any of them."

Good for Tom. Mac smiled at the automatic
defense.

"Just one possibility." Poppy shrugged, and
he way the fabric of her shirt slid over her breast diverted Mac
for a moment.

Tom sighed and got to his feet. "I'd better
get some lunch." He pulled Poppy up. "I'll talk to Alice."

Mac tiptoed into the hall and headed for
Poppy. She stood with her back to him, gazing into the
distance.

"You and Tom were out on the porch," he said
without preamble when he reached her.

She lifted one eyebrow. "That's illegal in
Montana?"

"Of course not. But I want to talk to you.
What the hell do you mean, accusing my sister of—whatever?"

"You were eavesdropping."

"Sue me. But first tell me what you think
Alice did."

"I don't know. I asked a question, that's
all."

"Alice wouldn't do anything to feel guilty
about."

"Your sister's above being human? All right,
all right." She threw up her hands and he knew she'd seen the anger
flare in his eyes. "I asked Tom that question—not you, let me point
out—because sometimes she gets an expression like she knows
something bad is going to happen. Or like she's done something
bad."

He couldn't argue with that. He'd seen it
himself. "Damn. I wish I knew what to do."

"Let them work it out for themselves?"

"But I've always looked after her. Always."
He watched her gaze fasten on a fat black bee that buzzed from one
purple lupine to another. A breeze scented with sun-warmed pine
stirred her hair. She looked concerned. Worried. Beautiful. "So are
you going to leave Tom alone now?"

In the space of a heartbeat, her expression
went from open and caring to shuttered. "Talk to him," she
said.

"I will."

"Mac, I'm not the problem. I'm not."

"But if you come between them—"

She looked up at him, and he saw only
sympathy and concern in her expression. "You're afraid they'll get
a divorce?"

"The whole point is family. They're my
family. If they aren't happy, I don’t have a family."

She took his hand, her fingers soft and warm
and comforting. "You must be the best brother in the world. But
Alice is all grown up now. She and Tom have to work their
relationship out for themselves. You don't get to play."

She sounded genuinely concerned. He wanted to
believe—he did believe her. That shouldn't have lightened the
little cube of fear he'd carried ever since Alice's phone call, but
it did.

He leaned over and kissed her. He meant the
gesture to be nothing more than a friendly acknowledgment of his
gratitude, but the instant his lips touched her, the instant her
scent and warmth flooded his senses, the kiss changed. He tried to
say her name, but it came out a low groan of need. His hands closed
on her shoulders.

Chapter
13

Tom stuck his head through the door and
cleared his throat. "You riding this afternoon?"

Mac's ideas for the rest of the day didn't
include anyone except Poppy. "Get Moses to go. I'm busy. Poppy's
busy."

"Now there's a surprise." Tom didn't exactly
look happy, but he left.

Mac turned back to Poppy. "How about going
prospecting?"

"Gold? You have gold?"

Ah, easterners and gold. The eternal lure.
"Not gold. Remember the sapphires? Want to go find one of your
own?"

"Here? But Tom said—"

"We keep a pretty low profile on the claim.
It's the one place we never take guests."

"You’re going to show it to me?"

"Yep. The well-kept family secret will be in
your possession."

In the garage, she inspected the sturdy,
topless Jeep. Her gaze lingered over the hefty winch on the front
bumper, and he wondered if she'd ever seen one before. She looked
at the vehicle as though it were from outer space. "It looks like
it could climb trees."

"It just about can, but there's a road." Sort
of. "Fasten your seat belt and hang on."

He leaned across to check that she'd pulled
her seatbelt tight enough. It gave him the perfect opportunity to
trail his fingers down her leg and kiss her. Eventually he started
the engine and drove onto a rough track that wound past his
almost-house and back into the hills.

"Not much traffic out here," she said, after
the road had faded to two barely perceptible dents in the
ground.

"Nope. As I said, we never bring guests out
here. And no one else drives on the ranch property."

She slid a sideways glance at him that made
his heart stutter. He stopped at a gate barring the road. "Ranch
lesson: opening gates is the passenger's job. But this one's
locked. I'll get it." He unlocked and opened the gate and drove
through. When he stopped, she jumped out and closed it, and he
realized she never shirked her share of a job. All too rare a
quality in the women he'd known. When she climbed back into her
seat, he said, "You get an A in gates."

"Logic. You leave them the way you find them,
right?"

"Right. I like smart women." And there
weren't many people as restful to be with as Poppy. He jerked the
car into gear, uncomfortable with the direction his thoughts were
taking.

Past the gate, the road got rougher and
rougher until her hands clenched around the roll bar so hard the
knuckles turned white. "I think I see why you don't bring guests
out here," she gasped between bounces.

He kept his eyes on the rough track. "The
road isn't the reason. We're just being selfish, honey. If every
guest took home a handful of sapphires, it wouldn't take long
before we'd have to change our name from Montana Blue to Montana
Plain Old Dirt, and who'd pay money to stay here then?"

"Well, I'm honored." The next bump would have
tossed her out if she hadn't been belted in. "I think."

"You'll be the only guest who's ever been out
here." The sun hung high and hot when he stopped the Jeep at one
end of a long, grassy mountain meadow. "Here we are."

She unclamped her hands and looked around.
"It looks like a hundred other little valleys we've been through
this morning."

He tried to imagine what it looked like to
her city-bred eyes. He saw enough jewel-blue sky, snow-topped
mountains, and forest in a thousand shades of emerald, enough space
and freedom, to make a man's heart stumble. If she couldn't see
beyond the lack of pavement and fancy stores... A deep, yearning
ache for her to love this country as much as he did filled him.

She looked dubious, but strolled over to the
stream that purled over rocks a few feet in front of the Jeep,
knelt, and scooped up a double handful of water to splash her
face.