Manhunting in Montana Read online

  “You aren’t going to flatter me into it, either. I suggest you drop the subject, Cleo, or we won’t have much to do with each other while you’re here.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “Pardon me, ma’am, but on my ranch, I’ll be whatever I want to be.”

  “Which is, difficult,” Cleo muttered.

  “I prefer to think of myself as an independent thinker. Well, here we are.” Tom parked the truck next to a lovely little cabin tucked into the trees and more secluded than the other five. Red tulips and yellow daffodils bloomed by the doorstep and eyelet curtains hung at the windows.

  “Well, the accommodations certainly are charming,” Cleo said pointedly.

  Tom paused before opening his door. “I can be charming, too, if someone’s not threatening to point a camera in my face.”

  She met his determined gaze and decided to retreat for the time being. “Understood,” she said. She had two weeks to wear him down. One thing she’d learned early in this game was patience. She opened her door and started to climb out around her gear.

  “If you’ll hold on, I’ll be more than happy to help you out, ma’am,” he said, all brusqueness gone from his manner. “I wouldn’t want you to fall and break that pretty neck of yours.”

  She turned to him and lifted her eyebrows.

  “See?” He grinned. “Charming.”

  Well, he was, she had to admit. Her insides did a funny little dance in the warmth of that smile. “Thanks,” she said. “I could use some help, at that.”

  “Coming right up.” He hopped out and walked around to her side.

  She handed him the backpack and he set it on the ground with no fuss, but the suitcase wedged between her knees was a more delicate matter. She had to spread her legs to make room to lift it out, and he kept brushing her inner thighs as he maneuvered it out of the cab. He acted as if he didn’t notice, and she pretended not to, either, but her body noticed, all right. She grew very warm in certain strategic places, and her pulse rate skyrocketed.

  This would never do. First of all, she wanted him as a subject for her calendar, which ruled out hanky-panky. Secondly, she had to save herself for the cowboy she’d ask to marry her while she was out here in the wilds of Montana. And that cowboy definitely wasn’t Tom. He wasn’t nearly docile enough for the role she had in mind.

  “Are you about ready to come out of there, ma’am, or did you need a few more minutes to cogitate on the situation?”

  She glanced over and found him watching her, his mouth curved in a smile and his thumbs hooked casually through his belt loops. It would make an excellent shot. She hoped to hell he hadn’t been able to guess that she’d been staring into space because his accidental touch had turned her on. Grabbing her camera bag, she scrambled to the ground.

  Tom led the way into the cabin, which wasn’t locked. Cleo was fast learning that nobody bothered locking either house or car doors out here. That would take some getting used to, after the triple-lock system and the security alarm she had for her Greenwich Village apartment.

  The interior of the cabin matched the charm of the exterior. The varnished log walls gave a honey-colored . glow to the furnishings, which included a king-size bed, bureau and dressing table, all in whitewashed pine. A turquoise coverlet on the bed, western art on the walls and Indian-print rugs on the floor completed the frontier look.

  Cleo nodded in satisfaction. “This is great.”

  “It’s my favorite cabin,” Tom said, “on account of its being back in the trees a little more. And then there’s the hot tub just out the back door.”

  “Hot tub?” Cleo frowned at the vision of some plastic monster mucking up the rustic ambience of the place.

  “The Whispering Winds is built on the site of natural hot springs,” Tom said. “Didn’t you read the brochure?”

  “No, I left that to Bernie. She must have forgotten about the hot springs.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you.” Tom left her suitcase and backpack on the floor and walked back outside.

  After some inner debate, Cleo left her camera bag there, too, before following him out the door. Surely no one would sneak in and steal her camera while she was out inspecting the hot tub, yet leaving it in an open cabin bothered her anyway. Big-city living had built caution into her. She wondered what it must be like to worry about a cougar killing your calves instead of a drug-crazed psycho killing you. That was one aspect of city life she could do without.

  She hurried to catch up with Tom, who was striding down a narrow path that disappeared into the trees. Her shoes crunched pine needles underfoot, and the dusky scent of sun-warmed underbrush tickled her nose. A couple of perky little birds chirped and fluttered in the branches of a tree near the path, and overhead a breeze passed through the evergreens with a sound like gentle surf—the whispering winds the ranch was named after, she concluded.

  Tom seemed to walk with even more assurance now that his boots touched down on his own land. On my ranch, I’ll be whatever I want to be. It was a great line, and she’d love to use it in the bio printed next to his calendar photo. The calendar photo that would also appear on the cover of Montana Men, she vowed silently.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “This is our most private hot tub. Some folks are spooked to be off here by themselves, but the dogs will always alert you if anything’s around.”

  “Like what?” A little thrill of fear shot through her.

  “Well, skunks, of course, and raccoons and deer. We’ve had a cougar down this far once in my lifetime, a few moose, wolves once in a while. Oh, and there was that one time a grizz showed up.”

  “A grizzly bear?” Cleo glanced around and her heart pounded faster. What had seemed like peaceful forest sounds took on a sinister cast. In her imagination, the crack of a twig became the warning of an approaching monster. “I thought they were all up in Alaska somewhere.”

  “We get a few down here now and then,” Tom announced as if reporting on the migration of meadowlarks.

  “When was the last time?”

  “About five years ago.” He stepped into a clearing where a redwood tub just right for two people bubbled away. “Here it is, a little bit of paradise.”

  “Unless a grizzly shows up.” Cleo stepped forward to dip her hand into the warm water. After traveling all day, she’d like nothing better than to sink naked into it.

  “The dogs would tell you if a bear was around.” Tom trailed his hand through the water. “Unless the wind was wrong and they couldn’t smell him, that is.”

  She glanced over at him. “Are you deliberately trying to scare me? Because you’re doing a hell of a job.”

  His grin gave her the answer. “Okay, I’m laying it on a little thick. It’s a bad habit I have with city people. You have a better chance of being mugged in New York than meeting a grizzly on this ranch.”

  “I don’t find that a comforting comparison. I feel as if I should be armed with my canister of Mace.”

  Tom gave her a considering glance. “You know, all kidding aside, I can’t remember the last time we’ve had a single woman as a guest. I didn’t give much thought to the fact you might be scared staying out here alone. Maybe we should switch you over to the main house.”

  “I’d rather stay here.” She’d already had fallen in love with her private little cabin. In addition to that, she really longed for a good long soak in this secluded hot tub, bears or no bears. “I’m sure pioneer women lived alone in the wilderness all the time.”

  “Modern-day women, too. My mother managed by herself lots of times when my dad and the hands went out on a roundup and took the cook along.”

  “This ranch used to belong to your parents?”

  “And three generations before that. Mom and Dad would still be here running the place if Dad hadn’t come down with Alzheimer’s. They finally gave in and moved to Billings, where his specialist is located.”

  Five generations of McBrides on this spot. No wonder he looked so at h
ome here. “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “A sister. She fell in love with a Texan and moved to Austin.”

  The disbelief in his voice made Cleo smile. “Imagine that.”

  “Once she started a family, she lost interest in the ranch, so I bought her out.”

  “You really love the Whispering Winds, don’t you?”

  “It’s home,” he said quietly.

  The warm water ran through Cleo’s fingers as she remembered an essay she’d read in college about the importance of place in a person’s life. She’d never understood the essay until now. Although she loved the city, she didn’t feel the intense connection that Tom obviously felt to the ranch. He was different from the other men she’d known, including her father, who dedicated themselves to careers and business success. Curiosity had driven her to take up photography, and it drove her now—that and the hope that she would still get Tom to be part of her project.

  “My time here is limited,” she began, feeling her way toward the thought that was only half-formed in her mind. “I have a job to do, obviously, but while I’m here...I’d count it as a special favor if you’d show me what makes this place so special to you.”

  He contemplated her for a long moment. “I’d like that,” he said at last. “Can you ride?”

  “Some.” She remembered English-riding lessons when she was ten, the struggle to win blue ribbons in competition and the sense of failure when all she could achieve was second place. She hadn’t been on a horse since.

  “Think you could handle a couple of days helping us move the cattle?” he said. “Tomorrow I have some chores to tend to, but the morning after that I’m planning to take a couple of hands and any guests who want to go. We’ll see if we can get those calves out of harm’s way.”

  “Sure.” She’d never slept outside in her life, but cowboys did it all the time, and she was here to capture the spirit of being a cowboy. “I’ll probably get some ideas for calendar shots.”

  “What you’ll probably get is saddle-sore, if you haven’t ridden much lately. But we’ll take a wagon along with sleeping bags and grub, so if you get tired, you can ride in—”

  “I’ll keep up.”

  He rubbed his chin and gazed at her. “This isn’t a test, Cleo. I’m sorry if I gave you the idea that dudes have to prove themselves out here. You’re supposed to relax and have a good time.”

  “But I’m not on vacation.”

  He studied her. “And I’ll bet you don’t take vacations.”

  “Nope. And I’ll bet you don’t, either.”

  “Nope.” He smiled. “But it’s mighty pretty country up there among the pines, so maybe we could both pretend a little.”

  By God, he was flirting with her. She wondered if she could entice him to participate in her calendar project with some innocent flirtation without compromising her principles. It would be tricky. “Okay, we’ll pretend we’re on vacation. But tomorrow I have to work. Can I borrow Jeeter for a couple of hours?”

  “You can. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of his fame and fortune.”

  “You’re free to watch me work if you’re curious. You might change your mind about posing.”

  “I’ve seen photo shoots before, and I won’t change my mind.”

  The challenge in his voice quickened her pulse and hardened her resolve. “We’ll see.”

  TOM WAS SAILING on uncharted waters. As he stood by the hot tub and looked at Cleo, the sunlight filtering through the pine branches lighting up the gold in her hair, desire stirred in him with sweet persistence. He really shouldn’t be having such thoughts about one of his guests, but he’d never had a guest quite like this one, either.

  As he’d told Cleo, single women were a rarity at the ranch, with couples and families making up the biggest part of the guest roster. Years ago, two widows got in the habit of booking several weeks at the ranch each summer, but those sixty-something ladies were a far cry from a woman like Cleo. As he stood alone with her in this peaceful clearing, he fought the urge to step closer and snug up the line of tension between them. With a few well-chosen words and any encouragement from her, he might even risk taking her in his arms.

  He wondered what she’d do. Push him away, most likely. Or maybe not. The interest she’d shown so far hinted that she might lift that full mouth to his. He probably should think the notion through a little more before he acted on it, though. A similar notion about a New York City woman had turned into major heartache. This one wanted to take his picture, and she might even be thinking that flirtation was a way to accomplish her ends.

  “I’d better get to that paperwork I mentioned,” he said. “Unless you need any help getting settled in.”

  Awareness flashed in her eyes.

  He held his breath, wondering if she’d take him up on his offer. Now that he’d thrown out the comment, he wondered if it would be wise to follow through so quick. Reason told him it wouldn’t be.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” she said at last.

  He let out his breath and discovered he was more disappointed than he’d expected under the circumstances. “I’ll be going, then.”

  “Okay. By the way, when’s dinner?”

  He smiled. This constant appetite of hers amused him. “At six, up at the house. We eat family style in the dining room.”

  “Speaking of all the families around here, is there a rule about wearing a bathing suit in the hot tub? I wouldn’t want to embarrass anyone.”

  The rope of tension linking them snapped tight again.

  Unless he missed his guess, she wanted him to know she planned to skinny-dip in the tub. He got the picture, and it scrambled his brains all the more. “The families don’t use this one,” he said. “Cabin six is set up for couples, and the private hot tub is part of the deal. You might want to wait until after dark, though, just to be on the safe side.”

  Cleo cupped water in her hand and let it run through her fingers. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “See you at dinner.” He started out of the clearing.

  “That’s not the path we came in on,” she called after him.

  He paused and turned to her. “No. It’s a shortcut to the house.”

  “So there are two paths leading to this clearing, one from the cabin and one from the main house?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is that because you use this hot tub when nobody’s staying in the cabin?”

  “I’ve been known to.”

  “Maybe we can work out a system so we can share it.”

  Hellfire. This woman promised to be a handful, that is if he decided to take the considerable gamble of finding out. “Maybe so. Well, see you at dinner.” He touched the brim of his hat and got himself out of there before he said or did something he wouldn’t be able to take back. He’d like to share that hot tub with her, all right. Besides, if they decided to play games in the bubbling mineral water, he could be pretty sure she wouldn’t have her damn camera hanging around her neck.

  4

  WIND GUSTS scented with rain pulled at Cleo’s hair as she walked up to the main house for dinner. Clouds sat on the jagged crust of the mountains like scoops of blueberry ice cream, and the temperature had dropped by at least fifteen degrees. Even a greenhorn could tell a storm was on the way, Cleo thought, which probably doused her plans for a hot-tub experience tonight.

  She was angry with herself for her part in the hot-tub discussion with Tom. His refusal to be part of her project stung, but she hoped a devilish sense of revenge was all that had motivated her to blurt out her intention of hot tubbing naked. She’d hate to think that she was unscrupulous enough to suggest sexual favors in exchange for his photo in her calendar, favors she’d never deliver. She wanted him on the cover, but she wouldn’t sacrifice her character to get him there.

  The sound of hammering drew her gaze to the roof of the two-story house, and there was Tom, kneeling to work on what must be a loose shingle. He wore no hat, and the
wind whipped at his sun-streaked hair. Behind him rose the mountains and the darkening clouds. In his concentration on the task, she glimpsed the spirit of his pioneer ancestors, tough folks who had stood up to a tough country and won the right to live here.

  She cupped her hands over her mouth. “Soup’s on!”

  He stopped hammering and looked down at her. “I’ll eat later. This flapping’s been driving Juanita, our cook, crazy, and I promised her I’d fix it before the next storm hit. That should be shortly.”

  She hadn’t realized how much she’d counted on seeing him during the meal until the prospect was taken away. “What do people do around here for fun in the evenings?” she asked.

  He leaned his hammer arm on his bent knee. “Go to bed.”

  Had a New Yorker said that to her, she would have immediately got the double meaning, as intended, but Tom probably meant exactly what he’d said and nothing more. Being a city girl, and a sexually frustrated one, at that, she heard those simple words and immediately placed herself in a rumple of sheets and blankets with a certain rancher while the rain poured down outside. She really had to find a docile cowboy and get hitched, as they said in the Wild West.

  “I just thought maybe there would be line-dancing lessons or something,” she said.

  “There’s a ranch down the road that has all that. I could get Jeeter or someone to take you. Folks that book here prefer it quiet in the evenings.”

  “So they can hear the bears coming.”

  He grinned at her. “That’s right. Now you’d better . get in there. Juanita doesn’t like people coming late to her table, and I know you want to get on her good side.”

  She’d been stalling, just to have an excuse to be around him, as if she were a teenager with a crush on the star football player. That was sickening behavior for a woman, and she vowed to stop it immediately. “Happy hammering,” she called, and walked into the house without another glance at the roof. There were other cowboys on the range, and soon she’d have a baker’s dozen from which to choose a man to ease her ache.