Chapter Four

Regina shivered as she stepped out into the night. The cute little western jacket she’d bought at the Antelope Flats general store did little to chase away the cold. She had never known such darkness as she moved through the trees away from the light of the cabin. She stumbled and would have fallen headlong if J.T. hadn’t caught her arm and righted her.

“It’s just so dark,” she said and realized he was standing only inches from her.

“Your eyes will adjust,” he said softly, his voice sending a different kind of chill through her.

She could feel his gaze on her face. She hugged herself and gulped the cold night air, feeling like an alien who’d landed in a strange, hostile environment. Nothing looked familiar: not the terrain, not the men, not the clothing and certainly not the food, especially after she’d finished cooking it.

She hadn’t eaten red meat in years—until tonight. But she would have choked on it before she’d have let J.T. think she wasn’t going to eat it because it was burned to a crisp.

Not even the atmosphere of this place agreed with her. Air she couldn’t see made her suspicious. The high altitude left her dizzy. And the boots hurt her feet. She didn’t even want to think about the accommodations.

J.T. had announced she could sleep in the cabin as if he was doing her a favor. Now that she’d had a good look at it, she would beg to differ.

On top of that, she ached all over. Her fingers were burned. And she feared she’d never get rid of the smell of smoke and grease on her skin, especially as she hadn’t seen a place to bathe. Or relieve herself other than what appeared to be an outhouse a couple dozen yards off the hillside in the pines. Like she was going out there in the dark.

But she’d asked for this. True, it was the most drastic thing she’d ever done, but it would be worth it. Once she had McCall under contract.

“We need to talk,” he said.

She could see his face more clearly as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A sliver of moon hung in the dark velvet sky above the lofty pines. A splattering of bright glittering stars twinkled across the vast skyscape. She’d never seen anything like it before and she found everything about this place too intense. Especially J. T. McCall.

Regina couldn’t remember a time she’d felt so inept. Or so lost. But she wouldn’t quit. Nor would she admit defeat, although she could see he was hoping for just that.

“I’m sorry about dinner,” she said quickly. “I’ll do better in the morning.”

He stared at her, clearly surprised. “You’d actually put yourself through that again?” So he had thought she’d given up.

Not that there hadn’t been a few moments when it had crossed her mind. Like when Buck had pointed to the woodstove and told her she was to cook on that fire-breathing, smoke-belching dragon in the corner.

Cook what? He’d outlined the meal and how the woodstove worked. It had sounded simple enough. Although, so had the microwave the first time she’d used it. Thanks to modern technology, she’d managed to turn grated cheddar cheese into orange plastic at the touch of a button.

The woodstove was far from modern technology, but about the time the steaks caught fire, she realized she could do a lot more damage with a woodstove.

“I hired on as camp cook,” she said firmly. “I’ll finish the job.”

“Over my dead body—and I suspect if I ate any more of your cooking that would be the case.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You can’t cook.”

She couldn’t argue that. “I can learn.”

“Not fast enough.”

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “You’d be amazed what I am capable of when I set my mind to it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” He sighed. “Look, until Buck returns with a truck, I don’t want you going near the cookstove.”

She started to open her mouth.

“No arguments. I’m sorry you wasted your time coming up here in the first place. Once back in Antelope Flats you can continue your search for your…cowboy.”

“I’ve found the only cowboy I want.”

He shook his head.

“I’m risking everything for this advertising campaign,” she said, surprised by her candor and the slight break in her voice. “If this doesn’t work out, I’m finished and a lot of other people will lose their jobs.”

He eyed her as if this was just another ploy. “I’m sorry to hear that. You just found the wrong cowboy. Cut your losses. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can find someone else for the commercial.” He held up his hand to ward off her next argument. “This is a battle you can’t win. You’re leaving. Either by truck, on horseback or on foot. Your choice. You won’t change my mind and as far as the camp cook job, you’re fired.”

She’d known this might happen, especially after he’d experienced her cooking. She’d just hoped it wouldn’t come to this. She glanced back toward the cabin. “Maybe you’re right.” Was that a sigh of relief she heard? “But perhaps one of your men might know of a cowboy who would be interested in the job after hearing that you turned down the offer.”

“You aren’t trying to blackmail me, are you?”

She could tell from his tone that blackmailing J. T. McCall wouldn’t be a good idea. He might be surprised if he knew just how desperate she was. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

He stood immobile, pale as the moon, jaw clenched, a deadly look in his eyes.

A sliver of guilt pricked her conscience. She did her best to ignore it. After he made the commercial, he’d be glad she’d been so determined. They would both be. Okay, at least she would be for sure.

“I would not take kindly to being blackmailed,” he said in a tone that was soft like a silk glove with a fist in it.

His warning tone sent a chill through her, but she couldn’t back down. “Think of it as incentive.”

“I should turn you over my knee and—” He stepped toward her menacingly.

She drew back. Surely he wouldn’t actually do such a thing? But what did she know about Montana cowboys?

“You try to blackmail me and I swear I will personally take you down this mountain tonight if I have to drag you every step of the way.”

She nodded, trusting he meant it. “Fine, then I guess I’ll be leaving tomorrow after Buck gets back.”

“If you’re smart, you’ll go tonight.”

“I thought the truck wasn’t running.”

“Reggie, if you know where the distributor cap is, now would be a good time to cough it up.”

She stared at him. “You think I took it?”

“You or one of the cowhands you conned into it. You’re the only person ignorant enough to pull a stunt like that and the only one who has gained by it.”

She felt as if he’d slapped her. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Scheming, manipulative, devious, conniving and underhanded,” he said.

She felt her cheeks flame, surprised that his opinion of her was so low—worse that it bothered her. “You forgot uncompromising.”

He sighed again. “What can I do to make you stop this?”

“Give my offer some serious thought.” She held up her hand. “Just tell me you will think about it. If you still don’t want to do the commercial by the time Buck returns tomorrow, then I will leave and you will never see me again. I give you my word.”

“Your word?” He let out a laugh. “I have a better idea. You give me the truck part, I pay you a week’s wages and I won’t make you walk out of here. I’ll drive you myself tonight.”

She cocked her head at him. “You’re afraid you’ll change your mind about my offer if I stay the night?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. His eyes, a paler blue than her own, turned as hard and cold as ice. “Ms. Holland, this is a cow camp. I have six hundred cattle to get out of these mountains before the snow falls, which could be tomorrow. I have men who need to keep their minds on their jobs. In order to do that, they need a dry place to sleep, food they can actually eat and no distractions. You are a distraction.”

She smiled. Maybe she was getting to him. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. Please, just give me the truck part. Even if you were to stay up here the rest of the week you would never convince me to do your commercial.”

He actually sounded as if he meant it.

“I wish I had this distributor cap thingy,” she said honestly. She could feel his gaze on her. He didn’t believe her.

“Fine,” he said, sounding even angrier. “You want to keep up this charade, you got it. As long as you stay, you’re the camp cook. Breakfast is at daybreak.”

She shuddered involuntarily. Daybreak? What time was that? “You’re rehiring me?”

“We generally have ham, bacon, pancakes, eggs and hashbrowns.”

Holy cow. She should have known a continental breakfast would be too much to hope for. “Anything else?”

“Make the eggs fried, over easy.”

“Why not.”

He raised a brow. “You think you’re up to frying an egg on a woodstove, Reggie?”

“I’m ready for whatever you throw at me, McCall.” She didn’t want to even think about seeing an egg that early in the morning let alone cooking one. “Anyway, Buck says it’s possible to cook anything on a woodstove. It’s just all a matter of getting the heat adjusted.”

“Is that what Buck says?” He muttered something under his breath she couldn’t hear and was glad of it. He pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. “Dammit, woman, don’t you know you’re in over your head?”

She said nothing. If this evening were any indication, she had a pretty good idea of what she’d gotten herself into.

He shoved his hat back on his head. “You’re making a very big mistake and so is your accomplice.” With that, he turned and stalked toward the camp.

As she watched McCall’s perfect posterior walk away from her, she felt a stab of real doubt. Was he right? Was she wasting her time? Would he ever agree to the commercial?

She tried hard not to think about daybreak or eggs or this accomplice he suspected. But if she hadn’t taken his stupid distributor cap he kept talking about, then someone had. But who? Buck? Was he trying to help her?

Or was there someone else in the camp who didn’t want her or anyone else leaving tonight?

She shivered as she hurried back toward the lights of the cabin, afraid she really had gotten in over her head this time.

 

IN THE WEE HOURS of the morning, J.T. woke to the sound of someone walking around outside his tent. He slipped quietly from his sleeping bag, pulled on his jeans and boots and stepped out of the wall tent. Clouds hung low over the pines, making the night even darker, as if someone had dropped a blanket over the mountaintop. The last embers of the campfire cast an orange glow between the tents and the cabin. Beyond was blackness.

The horses whinnied softly in the corral. He looked in the direction of the line shack, suddenly worried about Reggie. Was it possible that she and one of the cowhands were in this together? But she hadn’t known any of the ranch hands before yesterday. Or had she?

He’d just assumed that she’d conned one of them into helping her once she got to the cow camp. But what if the plan had nothing to do with a TV jeans commercial? Then what? Rustling? That had been the plan nine years ago.

J.T. heard the creak of a porch floorboard and worked his way through the pines to the opposite side of the structure.

The darkness was complete, the air heavy and cold. He could see his breath as he worked his way along the side of the cabin.

He’d just reached the porch railing along the side when he spotted a ghostlike figure at the edge of the trees. He froze, pretty sure he couldn’t be seen from where he stood in the darkness.

The figure took a few tentative steps deeper into the woods. There was no mistaking the size, shape or the way she moved. Reggie. She leaned forward into the pines as if looking for something. Someone?

As she stepped deeper into the darkness and trees, he lost sight of her, but he could hear her whispering to someone.

He cursed himself. Who was she talking to? The person who had disabled the truck? He let out a silent oath as he realized this might have been a setup from the get-go. Had she known he’d be going into town yesterday and been waiting for him with that flat tire? No man could have driven past her, not the way she looked. But why go to so much trouble? So she could end up at his line shack. Her and her accomplice.

He told himself he was being paranoid, but then was reminded of the dead cow, the missing distributor cap, the feeling he couldn’t shake that the incidents were just the tip of the iceberg.

She came back out of the pines, barefoot, tiptoeing, holding up the hem of her long white nightgown. The fabric hugging her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

He cursed the effect it had on him as he watched her run back inside the line shack and quietly close the door and lock it, and hated to think what effect she had on whoever she’d been meeting in the woods.

He stayed hidden for a long while, waiting to see who came out of the trees. No one did. But the person she’d been talking to could have sneaked back around to his wall tent easily enough without being seen.

“Everything all right?” Buck whispered drowsily as J.T. reentered into the wall tent.

J.T. hoped so. “Just checking things,” he said, slipping into his sleeping bag on the cot. He lay there staring up into the darkness, listening to the soft whinny of the horses, the whisper of the night breeze in the pines, the occasional pop of the dying campfire, wondering who the hell Reggie was and what she really wanted with him. Also who she’d roped into helping her.

He had no way to check out her story—or her. Nor could he find out more about the men Buck had hired. Not until he returned to the ranch and that would be days from now. Too late. Even if he owned a cell phone, it didn’t work up here. There was no service even in Antelope Flats.

As he lay there, he couldn’t help but think about the cattle roundup nine years ago. That one had been cursed, Buck used to say. “Weren’t nobody’s fault what happened up at that line shack. Sometimes things just happen and no one on this earth can stop it.”

J.T. didn’t believe that any more than he believed in curses. But he did believe there was evil in the world, evil in some men, and he knew only too well what could happen when you put a handful of strangers in an isolated place miles from civilization and that evil showed up with a grudge and a knife.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. In the dream, a woman in a bright red dress danced while behind her the line shack burned, flames shooting into the black night sky and a man stood in the darkness watching her, waiting.

 

J.T. WOKE to the smell of smoke. Through the canvas of the wall tent, he heard the crackle of flames and saw the glow. Fire!

He rolled over. Buck’s cot was empty. He must have already gotten up and left for town.

Heart racing, J.T. pulled on his jeans and boots and lunged out the tent door headlong into the steel-gray morning, convinced one of the wall tents or the line shack was on fire.

Will Jarvis looked up in surprise beside the campfire.

J.T. stumbled to a stop, his pulse thundering in his ears as he tried to calm himself. The line shack wasn’t on fire nor the other wall tent. History wasn’t repeating itself.

“Everything all right?” Will asked, his tone almost mocking.

J.T. knew he must have looked like a fool the way he’d come barreling out of his tent. He glanced toward the line shack. Dark.

He pulled on his jacket as he walked over to the fire, needing the warmth and taking the opportunity to find out what he could about Will Jarvis.

“Smells like snow,” Will said, sniffing the breeze before turning to warm his hands over the fire.

“Let’s hope not,” J.T. said, his mood not improving. He was tired and cranky. What little sleep he’d gotten had been haunted with nightmares. He hadn’t been able to get Reggie off his mind, especially after seeing her sneaking out to talk to someone in the middle of the night.

Obviously there was more going on than he knew. The sooner he got her off this mountain, the better.

With luck, Buck would be back before noon. J.T. had told Reggie last night that she had to cook breakfast. Fortunately, it was only a threat. He’d make breakfast and by the time he got back in the evening for supper, the new cook Buck found would have dinner ready and Regina Holland would be history.

So why did he feel so disagreeable this morning? Because he couldn’t forget that someone had helped Reggie. Possibly someone in this very camp. He couldn’t forget that Reggie had been talking to someone in the woods last night. An accomplice. But an accomplice to what?

He took a deep breath of the morning air. Will was right. The weather was changing. It wouldn’t be long and snow would blanket these mountains and stay for the long winter months to come.

“You been on a lot of cattle roundups?” J.T. asked Will, trying not to sound suspicious. But he was suspicious of all the cowhands now and there was something about Will….

“I’ve been on my share.”

“What ranches?”

Will looked over at him and shook his head. “Some in Colorado and Wyoming. None you would know.”

J.T. wanted to be the judge of that. He waited.

“The Pine Butte, the Triple Bar Three, Big Spring Station.”

All ranches J.T. had heard of. All ranches pretty much anyone would have heard of. Which meant Will could be lying through his teeth, knowing there was no way to check….

J.T. heard a rustle from the second wall tent and Slim Walker and Cotton Heywood came out, followed by Roy Shields and Nevada Black. After a few minutes of standing around the campfire, J.T. asked about Luke Adams.

“Haven’t seen him,” Slim said. “He was already up and gone when I woke.” Roy and Cotton nodded in agreement and everyone looked to Will Jarvis.

“His cot was empty when I got up and made the fire,” Will said.

J.T. took a look in the wall tent. Luke’s gear was gone and when he walked over to the corral, he wasn’t surprised to find Luke Adams’s horse gone as well. What the hell?

Maybe after last night’s dinner Luke decided he didn’t need any more of this. Luke just hadn’t seemed like the type to leave in the middle of the night.

Now J.T. was a man short. Worse, he didn’t like the way Luke had left—without a word. Was it a coincidence that Luke Adams was gone and Reggie had been talking to someone in the woods in the middle of the night? J.T. highly doubted it as he headed for the line shack.

Shafts of pearl-gray shot down through the tops of the pines, turning the early morning dew to diamonds.

As he neared the cabin, he found himself getting angrier by the minute. The woman had lied and somehow disabled his truck and even tried to blackmail him! She was definitely after his ass all right. But he doubted it had anything to do with a TV commercial. She was trying to sabotage his cattle roundup. Had already done a pretty good job of it. He’d had to send Buck back to the ranch and now he was short another hand with Luke gone.

What the hell was J.T. going to do with her? He knew what he’d like to do with her—and it wasn’t let her cook.

He just couldn’t let her get to him. Look what she’d done to poor unsuspecting Buck. All that delicate softness, curvaceous sweetness and apparent defenselessness sucked a man in. He remembered the way she’d been last night after that awful meal, all doe-eyed and apologetic. It still annoyed him that she’d made him feel guilty as if all of this was his fault.

As he stepped up onto the porch, he wondered what devious plots she’d been hatching last night. He paused just outside the door. He didn’t need to announce his entrance. After all, it was his cabin. But he still scooped up an armload of firewood before noisily stomping his feet on the porch. He didn’t want to catch her naked, that was for damned sure.

He started to open the door, but stopped himself. Irritated, he knocked.

When he didn’t get an answer, he opened the door a crack. “Ms. Holland?”

To his surprise, the fire in the stove crackled warmly, casting a faint glow over the room. He took a couple of steps into the room, reminded that he was walking into her bedroom. “Ms. Holland?”

Still not a sound. He cleared his throat and called out again wondering if it was possible that she’d taken off with Luke Adams.

No hint of daybreak bled through the windows and he realized that she’d draped towels over them for curtains. As his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness, he could make out a lump burrowed under a pile of covers on the first bottom bunk. He figured she’d be dead to the world after last night—no doubt her first real manual labor.

He stomped over to the woodstove, making enough racket to raise the dead—if not a Los Angeles talent agent. If that really was what she was.

She didn’t stir—not until he stumbled over something out in the middle of the floor. A series of objects thudded loudly and something rolled across the floor.

Cursing under his breath, he worked his way around the far edge of the floor to the woodstove, dropped his armload of wood unceremoniously and felt around for a match. From the bunk came a loud groan.

He lit the lantern. Reggie was completely covered by blankets, not even her head visible.

“Buck?” came a faint sleepy voice from deep in the bunk.

“No,” J.T. snapped, sounding as irascible as he felt. Buck was on his way to Antelope Flats because of her. Reggie was on her own. And look what had happened last night when Buck had helped her cook.

“Oh, McCall,” she said from under the blankets, not sounding in the least pleased that it was him.

He held up the lantern to see what he’d tripped over. All of the canned goods and food supplies Buck had brought up were now stacked in a semicircle around Reggie’s bunk on the floor.

“What in the—?” J.T. shook his head as he stepped closer. Why in the world would she literally surround herself with groceries?

He swung the lantern around to shine it on the bottom bunk. All he could see of her was one bare arm sticking out of the mountain of blankets. The arm was curled around a ten-pound bag of flour. J.T. frowned in nothing short of true bewilderment.

“Why is all the food on the floor?” he asked patiently.

Reggie’s head poked out from under the blankets, she blinked as if blinded by the firelight—or him, then she ducked back under with a louder groan.

He smiled, cheered immensely that he’d woken her from her beauty sleep. The fact that he was the last person she wanted to see this morning made it all the better.

She looked out at him, blinking away sleep, seeming to find it hard to focus on him.

In the lantern light she looked a lot better than he felt. It annoyed him greatly.

“How were your accommodations?” he asked, hoping she’d gotten less sleep than he had, especially since she’d had that late-night secret summit in the woods. He wanted to demand who she’d been talking to out in the woods last night but he decided to keep that piece of information to himself a little longer. First he would watch her with the cowhands. Better to let her think she had gotten away with her late-night rendezvous. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby.” She blinked those big blue eyes at him, clearly lying through her teeth. “What time is it?”

“Time to start breakfast.”

Her gaze went to the window. “It’s still dark outside.”

He didn’t tell her that normally the cook got up way before daybreak to start the fire. It took an hour before the fire was ready to cook on.

Fortunately, she’d kept the fire going so breakfast wouldn’t be as late as he’d figured.

“As camp cook,” he said, “you have to get up earlier than anyone else and usually go to bed later.”

She tried to sit up and then seemed to realize she still had her arm around the bag of flour. She sneaked a quick look at him, then haughtily freed her arm and glaring at him, sat up, banging her head on the over-head bunk. “Ouch.” She rubbed her forehead and eyed him as if this too were his fault. “Well, aren’t you going to say something smart?”

He tried not to laugh. Served her right. If she hadn’t been glaring at him—

“If you will just go away and let me get up and dressed….”

“Not so fast.” The more he looked at the semicircle of staples, the more curious—and concerned—he’d become. “You haven’t told me what the food is doing around your bed. I’m sure there is a simple explanation.” He highly doubted it since it was Reggie. He wasn’t sure what exasperated him more about her, the fact that she looked so good in the morning or that she really thought she could evade his question.

She glanced at the supplies on the floor and chewed for a moment on her lower lip. “Have it your way—” She threw back the covers, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.

Just the sight of her killed every coherent thought except one: Wow.

The white silken gown fell over her curves like melting butter on flapjacks, making it hard to tell where the gown began and skin ended. To make matters worse, there was her hair. Yesterday it had been wrapped in a tight little bun or whatever at the nape of her neck. Now it floated around her pale shoulders, dark and luxurious.

He turned his back to her, going to the woodstove to stoke the fire, a fire of his own burning hot inside him. He was about to excuse himself and give her a chance to get dressed when she padded barefoot over to where he stood by the woodstove.

She had pulled another garment over the gown, something in the same thought-stealing silk that did little to hide her own assets. He tried to keep his gaze on her face. It was soft and cute as a newborn calf and just as harmless looking. Appearances could be so deceiving. Her fragrance floated around him. Perfume and—he frowned—dish soap? “What are you doing?”

She shot him a look as she picked up one of the skillets from the counter behind her. “I’m getting breakfast.”

“Not dressed like that!” It was the pure impracticality of the ensemble that infuriated him, not the effect it had on him. Worse, he feared she knew exactly what she was doing to him and she was enjoying it a lot more than he was. “Anyway, I fired you.”

She seemed to ignore him as she dropped the skillet on the back of the woodstove and went to dig in the cooler. “Then you rehired me. Is it always this cold up here?”

Cold? The cabin felt suffocatingly hot. “Maybe if you were dressed appropriately—”

She shivered and went back to the bunk to get her socks and boots. He watched her wince as she pulled them on. They looked ridiculous with the expensive peignoir. And as ridiculous and out of place as Reggie herself had looked in the red suit yesterday on the roadside. The same way she didn’t fit in here at the line camp.

Getting to her feet again, she looked like the only thing keeping her upright was pure stubbornness alone. Why didn’t she have the good sense to give up now? Why didn’t he?

He watched her draw one fingertip into her mouth, the same one he’d noticed she’d burned the night before. He felt himself weaken.

“I have some balm for your burns,” he heard himself say. “You can put it on your boot blisters as well.”

She looked over at him in surprise. The gratitude in her gaze grabbed hold of him in a death grip. She bit her lip as if she might feel a little guilty for putting him through this. Or maybe it was just him who was feeling guilty. Could he be wrong about her motives?

J.T. stepped to one of the smaller coolers just off the porch and came back with a chunk of cheese. He held it out to her. “Eat this.”

Regina took the cheese and did as she was told before she even thought to question him. As she chewed, she looked up at him, realizing that people just did what J. T. McCall told them to do and he expected nothing less. He wasn’t used to anyone not following his orders. No wonder he’d been so angry with her.

The cheese helped, she felt more awake, not quite so tired. She figured that was his intention. “Thank you.”

He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever known. His looks alone made him stand out. A blond, blue-eyed handsome cowboy. The real thing. Just what she needed.

And yet he was nothing like she’d originally thought she wanted. He drove an old dirty pickup, wore worn clothing, often had mud and manure on his boots and jeans and smelled of sweat and horse-flesh, leather and dust. And she’d never met a sexier man in her life.

No man had ever stirred the desires in her that McCall did. When this was over, she knew she would look back on it and wonder if she’d lost her mind in Montana. She could just imagine what her mother would say if she knew that her daughter was having such thoughts about a man like J. T. McCall.

Not that she would ever let a sexual desire make her stray from her purpose. Too much was at stake for a roll in the hay—literally—with such a man. But she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like.

And he was attracted to her. He’d just about died when she’d gotten out of bed in her nightgown. She smiled to herself at the memory.

If everything in her life wasn’t riding on this advertising campaign….

She could just hear Anthony. “Gina, baby, what could it hurt? You can’t work all the time.”

But looking at McCall, she knew it could hurt. He wasn’t the kind of man you just bedded and walked away from unscathed. Not that she’d ever just bedded a man. She hardly had time even to date. Her grandmother was always telling her she’d be an old maid if she didn’t forget about work for a moment and think about a man.

Well, she was thinking about a man right now. And her thoughts would have shocked her grandmother. Maybe not. But they definitely shocked Regina.

 

J.T. DIDN’T LIKE that look in her eyes. “I’ll go get that balm,” he said as he retreated backward until he felt the doorknob digging into his behind. “Get dressed. Don’t touch that stove. I’ll make breakfast.” He felt much too heroic.

That’s why her next words floored him.

“I’d really like to see you ride today,” she said. “Do you think that would be possible?”

Her words stunned him. She couldn’t be serious. The guilt he’d felt just an instant before took off like a wild stallion on open range. It took any sympathy he’d felt for her with it as well.

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He stepped to her, forgetting for the moment how she was dressed. Or not dressed, as the case was. “I’m going to tell you this one more time. I don’t know what you’re really up to, but I want you out of my cow camp.”

“What I’m up to? I told you what I want. All you have to do is agree to the commercial and you won’t ever have to see me again.”

So she was sticking to that story. “I thought you had to see me ride first before you could make me the offer?”

She seemed to realize her mistake. “I do. Why else would I want to see you ride?”

“My question exactly.” She looked so innocent standing there in her negligee and cowboy boots—“Whatever it is you’re really after, give it up, Reggie. I told you, no one can be more stubborn or determined than me. Not even you.”

She smiled, baby blues twinkling. “I guess that’s the one thing we have in common, McCall. We’re both tenacious to a fault.”

“Wrong, Reggie,” he said as he towered over her. “With you, it’s a fault. With me, it’s my best quality.” He tipped his hat and headed for the door.

But as usual, Reggie got in the last word.

“Believe me, McCall, your pigheadedness isn’t your greatest asset. If it were, I wouldn’t be here.”