Линда Миллер – Forever A Hero (страница 8)

Why was that?

He scrolled back to the top of the text and read it again, wondering at his mixed reaction. The message was crisply phrased and to the point, all business, and he respected that; it was the way he did things, too. Time was money, and all that.

Still, something about this message, the cool professionalism, maybe, scraped at a tender place inside him and made him feel like a stranger.

Which was reasonable because, like it or not, he was a stranger to Kelly, as she was to him.

He’d happened to be in the right place at the right time to lend a hand when it was needed, ten years ago and again last night, but Kelly had thanked him on both occasions, and that was that, as far as he was concerned.

The first time around, it had been enough to know the assailant was in custody and, with his extensive rap sheet, on his way to the state prison for a long stretch.

Mace had been dating someone else back then, and there’d never been a romantic attachment between him and Kelly. He’d held Kelly’s hand in the emergency room, been with her when the police took her statement, then come back to testify at the trial months later. They’d been acquaintances, not lovers or even friends, really.

He’d graduated within weeks of the incident and gone straight to his grandfather’s vineyard in the Napa Valley for some hands-on training in the art of fine winemaking. He’d put in months of eighteen-hour days under the old man’s tutelage, followed by the rigors of starting an operation of his own once he returned to Wyoming and the ranch.

The truth? He’d been too focused on his work to think about Kelly and that night on campus or the trial, except on rare occasions when some news report triggered the memory. Even his then-girlfriend, Sarah, as undemanding a woman as he’d ever known, had finally gotten tired of waiting for him to surface from the grind and pay her some attention. She’d sent him the modern version of a Dear John letter in the form of a text, something along the lines of, “Have a nice life.” He’d been hurt, although he’d known, even then, that the relationship between him and Sarah was going nowhere.

It made sense that Sarah’s message had rattled him, but this one?

Kelly had suggested a business lunch, period. Most likely, he’d imagined the standoffish tone, and that was troublesome, too. It was one thing to be concerned; the woman could easily have been seriously injured or killed if she hadn’t gotten out of that car when she did.

The problem was, he’d been more than concerned.

He’d hovered. Even now, he was hyperaware of Kelly. Reading nuances, for God’s sake, like some obsessive fool.

He had to step back, he decided. Get his bearings.

Stop thinking like a stalker.

That idea was ludicrous enough to bring on a grin as he walked toward the main house, looking forward to a hot shower, a warmed-up supper and a good night’s sleep. By morning, he’d be his old, levelheaded, roll-with-the-punches self.

He paused on the side porch, in a shaft of light from the hallway leading to the kitchen, took out his phone and thumbed a response to Kelly’s text. It was short and sweet.

See you tomorrow at high noon.

* * *

TRUE TO HER WORD, Laura had overnighted a packed suitcase to Kelly, and it must have arrived while she was having breakfast in the resort’s small, busy bistro, because when she returned to her room, there it was on the luggage stand. When she opened it, she blessed her youthful assistant for making all the right choices.

Inside were:

Two tailored pantsuits and two silk camisoles.

A simple black cocktail dress and a strand of pearls, just in case there was a dinner meeting or an unexpected social event.

Shoes and bags for each outfit.

Laura had thought of everything; she had a talent for that. She’d also included plenty of lacy bras and panties, three pairs of jeans, several long-sleeve T-shirts, socks and sneakers. There was a soft cotton nightgown, as well. Plus a bathing suit and cover-up.

Finally, Laura had tucked in a zippered bag containing basic cosmetics and toiletries. Ordinarily, Kelly wore a minimum of makeup, only lip gloss, mascara, a tinted moisturizer and a little blusher.

Everything she needed was there.

She chose the day’s clothing carefully, selecting the black pantsuit, a favorite of hers, with a short jacket fitted at the waist, and a beige camisole with plenty of lace at the neckline to soften the look.

It was the perfect outfit, the female version of the classic power suit, flattering but strictly in a no-nonsense, keep-your-distance-please kind of way.

Except for the lace, maybe.

Would that send Mace the wrong message? Make him think she wanted more than a handshake and a signed contract?

Seduction was definitely not her style. She was a serious, committed professional, and she never, but never, mixed business with pleasure.

Admittedly, she’d been shaken up after the accident that had wiped out rental car number one the day before. She’d probably come off as a little needy. Well, if she had given Mace that impression, she was determined to set things straight, ASAP.

No matter how sexy he was, with his loose-hipped cowboy walk and his broad shoulders and his brown-blond hair brushing the back of his collar, she would keep everything in perspective. She was grateful for his help, naturally, but she was no fairy-tale heroine, swooning and sighing in her prince’s strong arms after the most recent encounter with a fire-breathing dragon.

No, sir. She would conduct their meetings, make her final presentation, complete with graphs and figures and flashy photos of jet-setters enjoying fine wine in exotic places, and then she’d return to LA and the satisfying, if somewhat lonely, life she’d made for herself there. She had a great job, a nice place to live, fine clothes. She had friends.

Well, actually, she had business colleagues rather than friends, but with her schedule, who had time for girls’ nights out, weekend spa visits and gossip?

She certainly didn’t. They simply didn’t fit into her schedule.

And forget romance, much as she missed the benefits. She’d gone on exactly six dates in the three years since her divorce, and every one of them had been disastrous for one reason or another.

Feeling her hard-core commitment to her career slip just slightly, Kelly squared her shoulders and silently reminded herself that, yes, she’d once dreamed of a happy marriage and children. She’d totally missed the boat, but nobody had it all. In her own experience, jobs like hers took up too much space and energy to coexist with a spouse in a satisfying way. Her own divorce, and those of a good many of her associates, proved the theory.

She’d seen a few couples make it work, of course, but they were exceptions to the rule, and, in her circles, incredibly rare. Plus, there was no telling how much of their alleged happiness was an act, a mere facade, a cover-up for secret shouting matches and God knew what other kinds of dysfunction.

It wasn’t for her; she was sure of that.

Mace Carson wasn’t the first attractive man she’d encountered, and he wouldn’t be the last, so she’d better keep her perspective. Looking the way he did, Mace surely had his choice of women eager to share his bed, and even if he did want to settle down, which she doubted, he was country, through and through. He was probably interested in an old-fashioned girl, content to stay at home instead of working toward goals of her own. A wife who’d prepare his meals, iron his shirts, bear and raise his children, vote as he voted, the whole bit.

Although she knew she wasn’t being fair, Kelly shuddered at the images unfolding in her mind.

She wanted no part of such a life.

Not that he’d shown any signs of offering.

Strangely deflated all of a sudden, Kelly went on about her business. With renewed purpose.

* * *

FOR ALL HIS private resolutions to take a step back and stay cool, the sight of Kelly standing in the resort lobby, looking sharp in a black pantsuit with a splash of beige lace in the V of her fitted one-button jacket, struck Mace like a punch to the solar plexus.

Hot damn, he thought. Hello, square one.

He’d spent half the night trying to untangle the complicated emotions Kelly Wright stirred in him, things he’d never felt before with any of the women he’d dated, including his college girlfriend, Sarah. And he’d expected to marry her.

After Sarah, and his return to the ranch following the apprenticeship with his grandfather, he’d dated a lot, going out with local women—Mustang Creek had its share of smart, sexy females—but the majority were visitors, come to ski in winter or explore nearby Yellowstone Park in summer, or just to relax at the resort.

In other words, they were merely passing through. They’d had lives and careers in other places, and that had been fine with Mace. It was when the talk turned to settling down, as it inevitably did at some point, that he started backpedaling like crazy.

Now, here was a whole different Kelly from the damp, shaken one he’d driven to the hospital the night before. This was the real her, no doubt—strong, independent, ready to sell him on some kind of partnership with her company.