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  Although she’d originally planned to get up at five, she’d decided six was soon enough now that Jamie was staying on. If she hadn’t been so angry with Clint, she’d feel grateful that he’d apparently convinced Jamie not to leave. But she didn’t have room in her heart for gratitude right now.

  At five she heard a tap on the door. “I don’t need to get up yet!” she called, irritated by a summons she didn’t even need.

  “Yes, you do. I want you to get dressed and come down to the barn with me.”

  Instantly her body reacted, yearning for a predawn rendezvous in the barn with Clint. She envisioned the two of them getting it on in the hay, their bodies hot and yearning, the earthy scent of the barn filling her nostrils, a climax building…. “I am not having barn sex with you! Of all the nerve!” Beg me, plead with me and maybe I’ll change my mind.

  There was a pause followed by the sound of him clearing his throat. “If you’re planning to get on a horse today, I want you and the horse to become acquainted. Jamie said horses scare you.”

  Damn Jamie and his big mouth. “Not so much.” And his suggestion had nothing to do with sex, which was a big disappointment.

  “Meg, I know how much this broadcast means to you. And I know you don’t want to give Mona the satisfaction of seeing you sitting up there frozen with fear. It’ll show on camera, and you know it.”

  Unfortunately, he was right. “For a guy who never plans to be on TV, you sound like quite the authority.”

  “Okay. Suit yourself.”

  “Wait. Let me throw on some clothes.” The thought of Mona snickering as she watched Meg paralyzed with fright on top of that horse was enough to overcome her reluctance.

  “Tuck will probably be down there, too, so you don’t have to worry about…anything.”

  “I’m not worried.” Hopeful, but not worried. In spite of being furious with him, she still wanted him. Just the sound of his voice got her hot.

  She searched her wardrobe and discovered she had nothing that fit the occasion. She’d expected to spend her time in the public eye, not down at the barn with Clint getting acquainted with a horse. After pulling on the plainest pair of cropped jeans she’d brought, she shoved her feet into a pair of denim slides and pulled a turtleneck sweater over her head.

  All her jackets were too nice to risk getting chewed and covered with horse slobber. She’d seen enough cowboy movies to know that getting acquainted with a horse usually involved the horse chewing or drooling on something, probably the fringe on her black suede jacket. The sweater might be warm enough and was more horse-proof.

  As she opened her bedroom door, the aroma of coffee greeted her. Clint’s coffee. As rocky as she felt after so little sleep, she could use some. She walked into the kitchen to find him sipping from a mug.

  He wore a white T-shirt that did wonders for his pecs, and another pair of wear-softened jeans that she thought ought to carry a warning label for susceptible females. His denim jacket with the lamb’s-wool collar lay over the back of a kitchen chair.

  He lowered the mug and gazed at her. A tense silence stretched between them. “You’ll need a jacket. It’s cold out there.”

  She watched his lips as he spoke. “I’ll be fine.” She hoped someday she’d be able to forget about his wonderful mouth and all the pleasure it had given her.

  “No, you won’t. You’ll freeze. But I can understand if you don’t want to wear your nice ones.” He put down his mug and picked up his jacket. “Take this. I’ll get another one for me.”

  “Really, I’ll be—”

  “Take it, Meg.” He thrust it toward her.

  She decided not to argue and took the jacket. “Thanks. Can I…have some coffee?”

  “I thought you didn’t like it.”

  “I never said that. I only said it’s strong. Strong is good, especially this morning.”

  He nodded, as if agreeing with her. “Help yourself. I’ll be right back.”

  When he was gone she gave in to the temptation to bury her nose in the lamb’s-wool collar of his coat. After breathing deeply, she sighed. Pure cowboy.

  Then she hung the jacket around her shoulders while she opened cupboards until she found the mugs. There were a slew of them, all the same—thick, white, utilitarian. Ranch-house mugs.

  She poured herself a cup of Clint’s ranch-house coffee and knew she would miss this place, in addition to missing the man who lived here. The simplicity of living out in the middle of nowhere had more appeal than she could have imagined.

  She’d been appalled to discover Sonoita had no department stores, but she’d never once had the urge to shop. She’d worried about the lack of TV reception, and except for the basketball game on the sets in the bar the night before, she’d seen no television and hadn’t missed it.

  The coffee smelled wonderful when she lifted the mug to her lips. It tasted like desire—hot, thick and pungent. Clint made love the same way he brewed coffee.

  He walked in wearing a lined flannel shirt over his white T-shirt. “How’s the coffee?”

  “Perfect.” She took another swallow.

  He came over to get his mug, and she decided not to move away, although having him close made her heart pound. She was still angry with him, but that didn’t mean she’d lost the urge to kiss him. If he felt the same, he deserved to be tortured by having her close by.

  He picked up his mug and closed his eyes as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. Then he opened them again and lifted the mug in her direction. “You can bring your coffee if you want. We should probably get on down there.”

  “Okay.” She put the mug on the counter and shoved her arms in the sleeves of the jacket. They hung a good two inches below the tips of her fingers.

  “Here. Let me fix that.” Clint put down his mug, grabbed a sleeve and started rolling it up.

  She’d maintained control until that moment, until his fingers brushed her skin and she remembered how his tongue had felt on the inside of her arm. Her tummy clenched and she began to quiver.

  If he noticed, he gave no indication. After finishing with one sleeve, he began rolling up the other. She had trouble getting her breath. She wanted him so much she couldn’t see straight.

  “There.” He seemed to avoid looking at her deliberately as he turned to pick up his mug again while she did the same. At the door he grabbed his hat off a peg and settled it on his head. “Let’s go.”

  It was still dark outside as they made their way by the glow of the back porch light down the hill to the corrals. Meg’s toes quickly felt like ice cubes, and she wished she had real boots instead of the trendy shoes she’d brought. But inside Clint’s denim jacket, she was snug and warm.

  She wondered what it would be like to dress for warmth and comfort instead of catering to fashion all the time. She’d always told herself that updating her wardrobe was a fun part of being a celebrity, but she was a little tired of the pressure to look good. Days off now and then wouldn’t be a bad thing.

  She held Clint’s coffee mug for him while he opened the heavy barn door. When he took it back their hands brushed, but again he didn’t seem to take any notice of it. Inside the barn he switched on a light.

  The scent of horses, hay and leather swirled around Meg. She felt vaguely uneasy, but having Clint next to her helped. The barn had six stalls on each side, and the first two were empty.

  Horses immediately popped their heads over the stall doors of the other ten. They gazed eagerly toward Clint and a couple of them nickered a greeting. Tuck was nowhere around.

  “Not quite chow time yet,” Clint said. “But I guess we can give each of you a little early-morning snack.” He drained his coffee cup and set it down on a ledge just inside the door.

  Meg followed suit. She wasn’t sure what he expected of her, but she’d probably need both hands.

  He picked up a bucket and took off the lid. Inside was something that looked like uncooked oatmeal. He held the bucket toward her. “Take a handful of oats. You ca
n feed a handful to each one of them.”

  “With my hand? Won’t they bite me?”

  “No.” He picked up a handful and held his palm flat, the oats in the middle of his palm. “Especially if you do it like this.”

  “I…I’ve never fed a horse before.”

  Clint smiled at her, not a trace of animosity in his gaze. “Come on, Meg. Considering how fast you had me eating out of your hand, these horses should be no challenge at all.”

  A curl of sexual tension twisted inside her. “I don’t have you eating out of my hand anymore, now do I?”

  “That’s what you think. No matter how much I tell myself to leave well enough alone, all I want to do is grab you and kiss you all over.”

  14

  CLINT KNEW HE probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but Meg looked so sad and vulnerable that he’d wanted to bring some color to her cheeks. His comment must have worked, because now she sparkled again.

  She gazed at him as if she’d like nothing better than to have him kiss her all over. “Thanks for saying that.”

  “I can’t do it, though.”

  “I know.”

  “Tuck could be along any minute. He wouldn’t tell anyone, but…”

  “It’s better if no one knows.” She hesitated. “Especially if you should change your mind about the contest.”

  “I won’t,” he said, as gently as he could. “I’m sorry.”

  Her chin lifted, and her brown eyes gleamed with the kind of determination that had probably gotten her where she was today. “I think you will be sorry, in the long run. I think you’re making a huge mistake, which is why I want to leave the door open. You can notify me anytime between now and the day we bring the finalists on the show.”

  “Meg, it’s not going to happen. You’d be better off forgetting about it.”

  Her spine straightened even more. “Don’t worry about me, Clint. I’ll be so busy I won’t have time to think about you. You’re the one with the front porch you love to sit on and the far horizon you love to stare at. Maybe during one of those times you’ll figure out that you’re being an idiot.”

  “Fair enough.” He watched her cover her vulnerability with a virtual suit of armor. No matter how necessary that process was, he hated to see it happen. Jamie thought she needed to allow someone past that barrier. Clint had been that special someone for a while, a very short while, but he wasn’t that person anymore.

  She reached for a handful of oats. “Do the horses like this?”

  “They love it. The bay on the right here is Gabriel.”

  “The wonder horse who will save the ranch?”

  To her credit, she didn’t sound the slightest bit sarcastic. He appreciated that more than she knew. “I hope so.”

  “Then he definitely needs treats. Have some oats, Gabriel.” She edged toward the stall and stretched out her hand, palm open.

  Gabriel had to crane his neck to nibble at the oats, and Meg gasped when the horse’s mouth snuffled against her palm, but soon the oats were gone.

  Meg turned to him in triumph. “I did it! More oats!”

  As the keeper of the oats, he followed her from stall to stall. Each time she grew braver, and finally, with a chestnut gelding named Prince, she took a giant step and stroked his nose.

  “That’s the horse you’ll be on during the broadcast,” Clint said. He’d deliberately had her finish up with Prince, hoping that by the time she fed Prince his oats, she’d be relaxed enough to enjoy the experience.

  “Prince has nice eyes,” she said.

  “He’s a gentleman. You’ll be safe.”

  She inched closer to the stall and leaned on the door so she could rub Prince’s silky neck. “You must think I’m a real ‘fraidy cat.”

  He tried not to feel jealous of Prince. “You didn’t grow up with horses. That changes everything.”

  “No, I didn’t, and when I was a little girl I got in the way of one of New York City’s finest riding a very big horse during a parade. Or it seemed like a big horse to a four year old. It was my fault that I was knocked down, but I was terrified of that horse, and all horses afterward.”

  “That’s too bad.” If he had time, he could cure her of that. She’d already come a long way. But after this contest she’d probably never be in close contact with a horse again, so what was the point?

  Even so, the horseman in him wanted to build on what they’d accomplished. “If you think there’s time, we could take Prince out of the stall and I could boost you up on his back.”

  “With no saddle?” Fear crept back into her eyes.

  “Sure. I actually like bareback riding better. You get a good feel for the horse that way.”

  “Uh…” She glanced at her watch. “I really should get up to the house and change. I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

  He didn’t want to push her, and she’d probably be fine for the broadcast now that she’d met and touched her horse. “Okay. Go on. I’ll stay here and get Prince ready for his closeup.” That way he wouldn’t be in the house during the dangerous time she’d be naked in the shower.

  “All right.” She walked over to the door and picked up their empty mugs. “See you soon.”

  He glanced down at her feet. “I don’t suppose you have any normal shoes.”

  “These are normal.”

  “Not out here.” But he didn’t want to make her nervous by implying her shoes would be a problem. After all, she’d only be sitting there, not riding around. “Never mind. Those will work.”

  “Good.” She sounded relieved. “I want this to go very smoothly today.”

  “Don’t worry. Prince won’t let you down.”

  PRINCE WOULDN’T let her down, Meg told herself later on as she started back toward the barn. But Prince’s owner might. If he’d been awake most of the night, too, then he’d had plenty of time to think. And thinking had produced no positive results, judging from his unchanged attitude about the contest.

  So, she’d concentrate on her job. This morning she felt much more together. She’d dressed in a red suede vest over a black Western shirt paired with tight black cropped jeans. And red suede slides.

  She hoped her shoes were okay for this gig. The red slides matched the vest, which was why she’d bought them. She’d never expected to get on a horse, though.

  As she descended the hill, she could see that Jamie was nearly organized for their time on the bird. He’d clapped his earphones on and the huge antenna sprouted from the roof of the live truck, ready to grab satellite time. The umbrella lights were in position and all three finalists—Denny, Bill and a cute Latino from Nogales named Carlos—were mounted up. Knowing how efficient Jamie was, no doubt they were miked up, too.

  Clint stood to one side holding Prince by the reins. In spite of feeding Prince a handful of oats this morning, Meg felt a clutch of fear at the thought of climbing aboard that giant animal. A little pony would have suited her better.

  Then she grimaced as she imagined what Mona would have to say if Meg showed up riding a little horse. No, Prince was the right choice, and Clint had promised everything would go fine. She trusted him in that respect.

  She hadn’t written a script for this morning because the sequence was so straightforward. First she’d praise all the contestants and describe how difficult the choice had been. Then she’d introduce each finalist and ask a few questions. Finally she’d devote a minute or so to thanking the people of Sonoita for being such wonderful hosts, plug the next episode taking place in Kremmling, Colorado, and they’d be out of time.

  This morning’s broadcast had brought an even bigger crowd of bystanders, and Tuck had them rounded up over by the corral, away from the action. If time allowed, Meg thought it would be fun to have Jamie pan the crowd while everyone waved. That move usually pleased everyone, from the producers in the studio to the bystanders getting a brief taste of fame.

  She smiled and called out a greeting to the knot of onlookers under Tuck’s supervision. Th
eir response was more enthusiastic than yesterday morning. Most of them had been at the Steak Out, and now they felt a personal connection with her.

  She felt the same about them. In some ways she envied them being a part of this tight little community. She’d bet more people lived in her New York apartment building than in Sonoita, and yet the connections here were so much stronger.

  Before she could climb aboard Prince, she had to attach her own mike and make sure Jamie knew the game plan. And she needed to give him a hug and thank him for hanging in there with her.

  Because of the cables running everywhere, he was obviously worried about the men on horseback getting tangled up. And of course the finalists had chosen lively horses to show off their skills. Thank goodness she had Prince, who stood off to the side, head lowered, eyes closed.

  She hoped he perked up a little for the broadcast, though. She didn’t want Prince to look like a nag on TV. Maybe Clint would have a suggestion about how to get Prince to look lively for five minutes.

  In the meantime, she had business with Jamie. She walked over and tapped him in the shoulder. “Hi, there.”

  He turned and smiled at her. “You look fabulous.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for deciding to stay on.”

  “Thank him.” Jamie tipped his head in Clint’s direction. “Between his cool head and killer coffee, I saw the error of my ways.”

  Meg laughed because she knew he expected her to, but her heart ached something fierce. Clint had been Jamie’s friend—why couldn’t he agree to be hers and enter the contest?

  “So, you’re—hold on a sec.” Jamie winced and adjusted his earphones.

  “Let me guess. The finalists are all tapping on their mikes.”

  “Yep. I’ve told them a dozen times that they’re working, and they’re live. They don’t believe me and keep shouting into them. I’m going deaf.” He glanced over at Prince. “So you’re getting on that sorry-looking beast?”