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  "Meg's a good friend," Jamie said. "The best."

  Clint had no business getting involved, but he couldn't help himself. "Won't this make things tough for her, switching cameramen after the whole thing's started?"

  Jamie didn't say anything for a while. "Are you thinkin' I should stick around?"

  "I don't know about that. But it's not Meg's fault that your girlfriend got involved with somebody else. Seems like she shouldn't have to suffer for it. She's just out here trying to do her job."

  More silence from the passenger side of the cab. "I s'pose you're right," Jamie said at last. "But I don't wanna lose Alison."

  "Buddy, you can't force these things." Clint did his best to be patient. Love was a hell of a thing to contend with. "Either it's right or it's not. Sometimes you just have to let go."

  Jamie leaned his head back against the seat. "I wanna get married. I want kids. It's time."

  "I know what you mean." And the funny thing was, Clint hadn't had such thoughts until recently, like yesterday, in connection with a very unlikely candidate. A guy didn't settle down with a woman like Meg. He could only grab hold and go along for a wild ride.

  He pulled the truck in front of the house. "Here we are. Need help getting out?" If Jamie was starting to sober up, and Clint thought he was, he wouldn't appreciate being babied.

  "I can make it." Jamie spoke with the careful enunciation of someone who was smashed and didn't want to seem smashed.

  "Okay. Then I'll go in and make us a pot of coffee. Come on when you're ready."

  "Thanks. I'll be in … shortly."

  Clint headed into the house and left the front door ajar so Jamie wouldn't have too much to contend with. He had the coffee perking away when Jamie showed up in the kitchen, pale but not quite as wobbly.

  "Have a seat." Clint motioned to a small table in the corner of the kitchen. "Unless you want to go into my office and get on the Internet while the coffee's brewing."

  Jamie sat down on one of the scarred oak kitchen chairs and propped his head in his hands. "I'm still thinkin' about it."

  Clint nodded and pulled a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. If he could keep Jamie from buying a ticket home until he'd sobered up completely, he might not do it at all. Clint thought the urge to run home had more to do with alcohol than good sense.

  When the coffee finished brewing, he poured two mugs full and took them over to the table. "You take anything in it?"

  "Nope. Thanks." Jamie blew across the surface of the coffee and took a sip. Then he choked.

  "You okay?" Clint started to get up.

  "Sit, sit." Jamie stopped him with his hand, then coughed and cleared his throat. "Some coffee, pardner."

  "I like it strong."

  "No shit. You could pave your driveway with this."

  "Want me to water it down?"

  "No, I'm gonna drink it. I'll bet it brings brain cells back from the dead."

  "Maybe." Clint smiled as he picked up his mug. "And you killed off a bunch tonight."

  "Yeah." Jamie seemed lost in thought as he slowly drank his coffee. When he finished the first cup, he got up and poured himself a second, and he seemed steadier. When that was gone, he put the empty mug on the table. "I'll stay."

  Clint met his gaze. "Good."

  "Thanks for keeping me from making a complete ass of myself. I guess Meg would've let me."

  "She didn't like seeing you suffer."

  "No, she didn't." Jamie turned his mug around and around. "She acts tough, but underneath she's a real softie." His words were distinct, as if time and caffeine had cleared the cobwebs.

  "I believe you."

  "Not many people know that. I sometimes think—ah, never mind." Jamie waved a hand in the air.

  "What?"

  "She'd kill me if she knew I'd said this, so don't tell her."

  "I won't."

  Jamie gazed across the table at him. "I know you won't. You're a real straight shooter, and that's a good thing. For what it's worth, I think it stinks that George, who's clueless, owns this ranch."

  "Thanks."

  "Anyway, back to Meg. In my humble opinion, she needs somebody she can be herself with. Most of the time she has to act invincible. I'm probably one of the few people she lets down her guard in front of. She can't even do that with her family. They're just waiting for her to fail so they can say I told you so."

  Clint hated hearing that. He wanted her to be surrounded with people who wished her well. "Do you think she's in danger of getting kicked off the show?"

  "I hope not, but this is a fickle business. You're golden one minute, crapola the next. That's another reason I wish she had somebody special, somebody who could cushion the blows."

  Clint had to say it. "What about you?"

  Jamie laughed. "Believe it or not, she's not my type. I go for rounder women, ones who like to cook and eat." He sighed. "Like Alison."

  Now Clint felt guilty. "Look, if you think going back there is the answer, then I don't want to be the one who talked you out of it. I don't know her, and I barely know you. Forget what I said."

  Jamie shook his head. "It's not the answer, and Meg needs me here. When I get back in two weeks I'll find out what's going on. But if I ran back there now, I'd look like a pathetic loser. You steered me right. I appreciate it. If there's anything I can ever do for you, let me know."

  "Okay." Clint couldn't think of anything, but it was nice to know someone close to Meg was on his side.

  Jamie stood. "Guess I'll head on down to the bunkhouse and do some editing. Are you going back to the Steak Out?"

  "Probably not."

  "Not your scene, huh?"

  Clint shrugged, not wanting to put down something that might be a way of life for Jamie.

  "I'm getting sick of the bar crowd, myself," Jamie said. "When I was twenty-five, getting loud and crazy in public was my main form of entertainment. Now that I'm pushing thirty, I'd rather have dinner by candlelight at home."

  "I have to admit I like that, too." And he'd had a recent experience with just such a dinner and it had been outstanding.

  "The thing about restaurants is that you have to drive home before you can … well, you know."

  "Uh-huh."

  "And Alison makes the most amazing Alfredo sauce… Ah, I'm not going to think about Alison's Alfredo sauce, or anything else about her, or I'll be ready to hit the bottle again."

  Clint wanted to ask if Jamie knew what kind of evening Meg liked best, but asking wouldn't be a good idea. Besides, it didn't matter. Her career choice meant she had to make a bunch of public appearances, whether she liked that or not. Quiet dinners would be few and far between for her.

  "Are you planning to wait up for Meg?" Jamie asked. He thought fast and came up with a reasonable explanation for doing that. "Yeah, probably I wanted to talk to her about the horseback-riding plan for tomorrow."

  "She's scared of horses. I'll bet that witch Mona knows it and talked Mel into the horse thing."

  "I'll find her the equivalent of a rocking chair." Clint wished there had been time today to get her out there and acclimate her to the experience.

  "She'll still be scared, but at least I won't have to worry about her, now that I know you're on top of it. If you're awake, would you tell her for me I've decided not to go back to New York?"

  "Sure."

  "Tell her it was the booze talking, and I've come to my senses. Hell, you'll know what to tell her. And thanks again."

  "Any time." Clint flipped on the back porch light so that Jamie wouldn't have any trouble finding his way to the bunkhouse. A light was on down in the main room, probably Tuck reading one of his Westerns. Tuck wasn't much of a barfly, either, so he'd chosen to stay home tonight.

  Tuck would keep Jamie company for the rest of the night, which relieved Clint of the job. He'd wondered if Jamie would decide to camp out in the house, maybe even choose to sleep on the sofa. That would have ended Clint's plans for some time alone with Meg.

 
; Thinking of that, he made a quick trip to his bedroom and set the alarm clock for five. She might want to change it when she found out about Jamie, but he planned to advise her to get up at that time so they could go down to the barn and get acquainted with the horse she'd be on.

  With that chore out of the way, he returned to the kitchen, poured himself another cup of coffee and walked into the living room. Damn, but it was quiet. He used to love solitude more than anything, but tonight the room lacked something … someone, to be more exact. Meg couldn't possibly have become that important to him in such a short time, could she?

  With a sigh, he plopped down in his favorite chair and picked up a magazine. He hoped she'd get home soon. Then he mentally corrected that. He hoped she'd get back soon. This was his home, not hers. He needed to keep the reality of the situation firmly in mind or somebody might get hurt. And it would probably be him.

  * * *

  Meg chose to ride back to the Circle W with Jed because she wanted to make sure he wasn't too disappointed about not getting on the show. "It was very hard to choose," she told him as they drove down the deserted highway

  "I'm sure."

  "You are all awesome at your job." And they were party animals, too. Back at the Steak Out the celebration was still in full swing. When she'd mentioned that she needed to leave because of her early broadcast, she'd had a ton of offers to take her back, and she'd picked Jed. He had the added appeal of having consumed the fewest beers of anyone.

  "I didn't think I'd make the finals." Jed chuckled and patted his stomach. "Too much good living and not enough crunches. But I'm happy for Denny. He'll have fun. Me, I would've been too nervous. I just entered because everybody was doing it and I didn't want to look like a wuss."

  "Anybody who can eat a jar of those jalapeños is no wuss. I had one and my mouth was on fire. Do you eat those all the time?"

  "Not like I did tonight. Everybody was showing off for you, me included. Besides, it helps if you drink beer. Water doesn't cool your mouth like beer."

  "Too bad for me, I'd decided to lay off for tonight. I wanted to stay sharp for when I made the announcement about the finalists. And it was killing me because those margaritas looked delicious."

  Jed nodded. "They're great margaritas. You'll have to come back when you can relax and enjoy one."

  "I'd like that." If Clint went for her plan, she would be back for sure. The Circle W just might become her home away from home.

  "I'll bet there are a lot of things you can't do that you want to."

  "Some, but I try to look at the big picture." Right now her big picture included a certain lanky cowboy. All he had to do was agree to step into the frame.

  Jed pulled his truck up in front of the ranch house. "Sit right there. I'll get your door."

  "Jed, that's not necessary." She took quick note of the living-room windows and noticed the lights were still on. Her heart rate sped up.

  "I think it's necessary." He hopped out, surprisingly agile for such a hefty guy. "If I'm going to tell this story, I want to make sure I come off as a gentleman."

  She waited until he walked around and swung open the passenger door. When he held out his hand, she put hers into it and allowed him to help her down. "Thank you, kind sir."

  His smile flashed in the darkness. "Thank you for letting me be the one to drive you home. The other guys were all ready to string me up when you did that. They'll pounce on me the minute I get back and demand every last detail."

  "You're going back?"

  "Are you kidding? I'm going back to gloat, man! Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

  Meg laughed. "Then let the record show that I took your arm as we walked up the steps."

  "All right."

  "And kissed you on the cheek before you left." She gave him a quick peck.

  "Wow. Now I'll have to quit shaving so I preserve that spot exactly as it is. Did you leave any lipstick?"

  Meg checked and saw a faint lip print. "Yep. You have evidence."

  "Cool." He reached for the screen door. "Let's make sure ol' Clint left the place open for you." He twisted the knob. "Looks like he did."

  Excitement surged through her as she thought of Clint inside waiting for her. And she knew he would be. "Then I'll say goodnight."

  "Same to you, ma'am." Jed touched the brim of his hat and charged down the steps, obviously bound for a moment of glory at the Steak Out.

  Still smiling, Meg walked in the door. Clint sat in his easy chair, a magazine open on his lap. He glanced up with a slow, easy smile of welcome. She'd never seen anyone look so good in her life. She had the craziest feeling of homecoming, which made no sense. Or maybe it made incredible sense.

  She closed the door and turned the lock. "Hey, you."

  * * *

  "Hi." He felt a rush of tenderness. She looked so damned good coming in the door of his house as if she owned the place. She was quickly taking possession of his heart, too, and he didn't know what to do about that, but he couldn't seem to stop the process.

  She walked toward him. "Did Jamie get his ticket?"

  "No. He decided not to go."

  "Not to go?" She eased down to the sofa across from him. "Why not?"

  Clint closed the magazine and tossed it on the coffee table. "After he had some coffee and thought it through, he realized that might not be the best answer to the problem."

  Relief made her smile. She hadn't looked forward to engineering a substitution. "Your coffee would give anybody a come-to-Jesus moment."

  "I'll have you know he had a second cup."

  "So where is he now? Running laps around the corral?"

  "Down at the bunkhouse editing. He asked me to give you the message that he'd changed his mind."

  She gazed at him. "Why do I have the feeling that you influenced that decision?"

  "I don't know that I did."

  "I do." She stood. "And thank you." She held out both hands to him. "Is there some way I can show my appreciation?"

  He drank in the sight of her standing there offering herself. She might never cross his path again, but for tonight, she wanted him, wanted to be with him until the morning tore them apart. He got up and took her hands in his. "Yes, ma'am, there certainly is."

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  «^»

  Back in his bedroom, Clint took his time undressing Meg. Each time before, she'd started the festivities naked, but not tonight. And that seemed to fit, because he was a heck of a lot more coordinated about the process now. Twenty-four hours ago he'd been too intimidated and eager. His undressing technique would have left much to be desired. Tonight he was in control.

  She'd worn her fringed black jacket, which he took off first. Underneath, she'd exchanged the blue-knit top she'd worn in the morning for a white spangled cowgirl shirt with pearl buttons at the wrists and down the front He unfastened the snaps at her wrists first and kissed each pulse point.

  "I like that," she murmured. "I didn't know I was sensitive there."

  "Neither did I." He drew back her sleeve and ran his tongue from her wrist to the inside of her elbow.

  "Mmm."

  "Good feedback." He repeated the caress on her other arm, moving slowly, enjoying the taste of her skin, the scent of soap and perfume.

  She began to tremble. "Maybe … maybe it's the anticipation, but feeling your tongue there … I'm going a little crazy inside."

  "Good." He gently unfastened the first three snaps of her blouse as he gazed into her eyes. "I want you to imagine me licking you … everywhere."

  She took a shaky breath. "What do you suppose I've been thinking about ever since our shower?"

  "This?" He left the rest of the snaps and unhooked the front catch of her bra. Then he slipped both hands inside to cradle her warm breasts. Her nipples tightened in response.

  "Yes."

  In one motion he peeled her bra and her blouse from her shoulders. She lifted her arms free. In that moment she transformed herself into an i
mage of sexual abandon, half her clothes hanging loose around her and her breasts uncovered.

  His groin grew hot and heavy as he gazed at her. He hadn't thought she could look any sexier with clothes than without, but this partial nudity made him want her in a fierce and untamed way.

  "I love that wild look in your eyes." She cradled her breasts. "As if you could eat me up."

  His mouth went dry. By touching her breasts, she'd tapped into an unrecognized fantasy of his. He covered her hands with his and leaned down to run his tongue along the curve of her finger as it pressed against her silken skin.

  She brushed her thumb across her nipple, making it quiver. With a groan he took charge of that sweet nipple, rolling it against the roof of his mouth as tension pushed him closer to the breaking point.

  "I need you," she murmured, her voice urgent. "Now. Right now."

  He lifted his head, his body pulsing with the urge to be inside her. "I … meant to … go slow."

  "Next time."

  "Next time." Snaps popped, zippers rasped, and he pushed her down crossways on the bed without taking off his boots, without taking off his jeans.

  Once his aching penis was free, he grabbed a condom and put it on. Then he lifted her hips and hooked her ankles over his shoulders. Knees braced against the mattress, he pushed deep and began thrusting.

  They both came instantly, as if they'd had hours of foreplay. He'd never known a drive this strong. It left his brain spinning and his body out of control.

  Gradually their breathing evened out, and the room came back into focus. Ending the magical connection, he gently lowered her back to the mattress. While he climbed out of the rest of his clothes, she slid under the covers. Finally he joined her there, gathering her close and kissing her with gratitude in his heart.

  "Has it only been one day that we've known each other?" he asked, awestruck by the powerful emotions between them.

  "One day, but two nights." She rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him close. "Clint, we have to do something about this situation."

  He pretended not to know what she meant, because he had no solutions. "What situation?"

  "You, me, fireworks."

  "I only can think of one thing."