Cherry Adair - T-flac 06 (2 page)

"On you, yeah."

She huffed out an amused breath and crossed her arms, then, realizing her body language practically shouted that he made her nervous, uncrossed them and stuffed her hands into the deep pockets of her rubber apron. He didn't need to know he made her feel a little like a rabbit squaring off against a cobra: scared, but fascinated nevertheless. She cocked her head as she looked at him. "You're wearing an earring."

A small sapphire glinted in his left earlobe. It made him look like a chic pirate. The dark hair brushing his collar did nothing to soften his face. His eyes were a dark, almost navy blue, and thickly screened by black lashes. His mouth was frankly sensual and he had a playbill of smiles for every occasion. This one was both mocking and enigmatic and, annoyingly as hell, sent a fresh shiver down her spine. "Like it?"

She shrugged; what she'd like was to nibble it right off his ear. Absolutely disgusted with herself, Lily scowled. For pity's sake, just how tired was she? "Not many ranchers I know wear gemstones," she mocked. "Not the guys anyway."

His chuckle, low, throaty and filled with implications that had nothing to do with the conversation, made Lily's mouth go dry. "Are you casting aspersions on my masculinity?"

Not just no, Lily thought, but
hell
no. Derek Wright was all man. He had a magnetic personality, and men and women alike were drawn to him. The earring would make him even more attractive.

Women made fools of themselves over him already. He was wickedly attractive, wealthy and charming.

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And he burned with a smoldering sensuality that had females turning to mush at the mere sight of him.

All it took was a certain look, a suggested arch of his eyebrow and a crook of his finger, and susceptible women with no sense, no self-restraint and no willpower fell at his feet like puppies waiting for their bellies to be rubbed.

Like Sean, Derek was a high-maintenance guy.

No thanks. Been there, done that.

The trick was to keep him at arm's length at all cost. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I live here," he told her mildly.

The original ranch house where Derek lived was a hundred feet away. The ostentatious house Sean had had built for their marriage was five miles away. The ranch house had charm and character. Her house had expensive
things
. She'd switch any day.

"Here, in the barn, at midnight," Lily said patiently.

"Sounds like a song." He smiled charmingly when she arched a brow. "Okay, okay. To see you."

Lily yanked on the tap and waited for the water to get warm before scrubbing her clean hands…

cleaner. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I thought you were in New York seeing that new Neil Simon play with what's her name." Derek liked, actually
enjoyed
opera, the theater and even ballet. He also liked sports and country music. Mostly, though, he liked
women
. He was a dangerous man.

"Christine. I was. We did. Flew back an hour ago."

How many men flew to New York for the night just to catch a play? A man with way too many sides to his personality. And a different lady friend for every activity, too. Which is why Lily tried her damnedest to keep some distance between them. Usually she succeeded. Clearly, Derek wasn't going away, so stalling the much-needed conversation wasn't going to help her any.

She was in no shape to be doing this now, she warned herself. But if not now—when? Might as well get the small bone of contention out on the table and over with. The other, major one could wait until she'd armed herself with facts and figures.

"I had an illuminating conversation with Angie Blaylock yesterday," Lily said casually as she looked around for something to dry her hands on. Angie was an ex of Derek's and the personal assistant to the town attorney, Barry Campbell.

"Sweetheart, if you want to hear about my love life, come to me directly." The words were spoken as much with his eyes as his voice. His smile was lazy and more than a little arrogant as he finished smoothly,

"I'd be happy to te—"

A woman could drown in those somnolent blue eyes—She blew out an exasperated breath. "Don't be an ass." It made her insane the way he flirted with her. As if he needed the practice. "Angie told me you deeded half the Flying F to Sean three years ago when he was diagnosed as terminal. Is that true?" Lily's skin felt hot and tight with equal parts embarrassment and annoyance.
Damn you, Sean. How could you

?

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Derek tossed her a towel. "So much for client confidentiality."

His flippancy made her hackles rise. "Damn it." She dried her hands and watched as the calf, after several unsuccessful tries, wobbled to his feet and started rooting for nutrition.

She straightened, meeting his gaze again unflinchingly. God, she didn't do confrontation well.

Unfortunately it was one of Derek's stock-in-trades. "For once be serious. Is it true?"

"What if it is?"

Lily counted to ten, then eleven, then gave it up. "The only way you could have given Sean half was if you had the whole to start with. I thought you were equal partners." She shoved her hair out of her face.

She needed to cut her bangs.

What a hell of a mess Sean had left her. One more lie, she thought. Stacked onto the mountains of lies her husband had spent his life building. And millions of dollars changing hands like playing cards was just one portion of the current mess that still had to be addressed.

"I own half. You own half. What's the big deal?"

"Sean told me—No, never mind."

"Sean told you what?"

He might have been a liar and a cheat, but Sean had been passionate about his family's ranch. "He was embarrassed that he had to bring you in to help with the financial aspect of buying the ranch."

"That works for me. Let's leave it at that."

"But it's not true." She knew it wasn't. Down to her bones, she knew Sean had lied. If the truth would have helped, he'd still have fabricated some wild story that made him either the hero or the victim.

"What do you want me to say, Lily? That I bought the ranch six years ago and let Sean claim ownership?" Derek shrugged broad shoulders. "Made no damn difference to me, and it made him happy.

What was the harm? Half the Flying F is yours. That was always the plan."

Whose plan? Sean's? Lily would like to believe her husband had been that far-seeing, but it was pretty damn hard to swallow. Hence the name the Flying F. A finger to his dead father, who'd let the ranch go to hell in a handbasket rather than leave it to his only child. She shot a look at Derek. "Then why—"

"Jesus, Lily." His eyes flashed and his mouth went tight. "Who cares, for God's sake? No one. Let it go.

What difference does it make in the grand scheme of things how it came about? None. Sean and I both wanted you to own half the spread. It's a done deal. Live with it."

Fighting back waves of fatigue, Lily stiffened, and gave him a glare equivalent to pitchforking him to the wall. "You might be used to giving orders that everyone jumps to obey, but news flash, Ace: I'm not one of your employees. I don't jump when you say jump."

"Don't I know it," he said ruefully. He gave her a studied look. "Then fight me for the other half, and boot my ass out."

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"That does have a perverse appeal," Lily told him. "Thank you, but no thank you." She leaned her butt against the sink and stuffed her fingers in her front pockets as she watched him prowl around the stall.

Peaches mooed as he walked around her to pick up a couple of small wood figurines sitting on a post.

"These are incredible." His long fingers caressed the detail in her three-inch-high carving of Diablo.

She shrugged, ridiculously pleased, and acutely aware of the way his thumb moved in almost a caress over the wooden bull as he turned the carving in his hand. It was so like him to home in on the one thing she was most proud of and neatly change the subject.

"Just something to while away the time while I'm hanging around waiting for my patient to do her job.

About the ranch…" Few people knew about her hobby, and she liked it that way. Woodcarving was personal and hers alone. It seemed strangely intimate to have Derek Wright of all people touching—fondling—her work.

"Don't make any hasty decisions; live with it a while and see how it goes." He held the carving up to the light and twisted it this way and that. "My God, the detail is amazing. Look at the expression on his face.

This guy is pissed and ready to charge." He looked over at her. The lights reflected in her eyes, making them glitter. "You could sell these, Lily, you'd make a fortune."

"It's just a hobby, and I already
have
a fortune," she reminded him dryly. Despite Sean's failings, he'd left her a very wealthy woman, which was why she'd been taken by surprise at the news that he hadn't had even part ownership of the ranch. "So the ranch was the secret Sean was keeping, huh?"

Derek's eyes narrowed. "The—what?"

And maybe it wasn't. Damn. "Nothing." Suddenly, the barn, the ranch, hell,
Montana
felt crowded. Lily couldn't wait to leave for the Iditarod trail. Alone. Just her and the dogs. Miles from anywhere and anyone who had the power to hurt her. She was sick and tired of pretending to everyone, including herself, that things were hunky-dory. She wanted honest emotions and no more pretenses. She needed to be away from the ranch, from memories of Sean and from the discomforting presence of Derek Wright.

What she needed was solitude, miles of it. She'd get that in the next few weeks.

"I knew Sean was up to something before he died." Lily folded the damp towel and draped it over the edge of the sink, looked around for something else to occupy her hands. She could toss the wood carvings into her bag—but Derek stood between her and the little group. "I guess this business with the ranch was it. Thanks for saving his pride by pretending it was half his. But I really have no interest in being part owner of a ranch." She put out a hand. "Here, give me those."

"I'll buy this carving of Diablo from you," Derek said easily, his thumb moving back and forth over the tiny bull's back. "You should have a showing in New York or somewhere. Seriously, Lily, these carvings are magnificent. People would clamor at your door to have your work. It'd be a viable source of income for you."

Lily dropped her hand, and jerked her gaze from his long, tanned fingers, and that slowly moving thumb, back to his face. "You can have it." Nobody had anything she'd made over the years. Not even her father. She tried to tamp down the little glow inside at the thought of Derek owning something she'd made.
Silly. It's just a piece of wood
. She had dozens, hundreds of them at home.

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"Flattering, but no thanks. It's just a hobby and I like it that way. Besides, I could retire tomorrow if I wanted to. Which I don't." She suspected the obscene amount of money in her name in a Cayman bank had been illegally obtained by her husband. She'd give it back as soon as she figured out who it really belonged to. "I love what I do, thank you very much. And I have my dog-training income. By the time I get back from the Iditarod, if I come back, Barry will—"

He stopped stroking the little carving to stare at her. "What do you mean if you come back?"

"I might stay in Alaska, open a practice there. Train sled dogs on the side." Okay.
Not
something she'd thought through yet. But a possibility. She had to learn to become more proactive about her own life, damn it. She'd spent most of her twenty-seven years blowing in someone else's wind. Her father was a vet. She became a vet. Sean—

"You do that here."

"Maybe I need a change of scenery." The idea was gaining momentum like a snowball rolling downhill.

"For God's sake, Lily." He shoved the little carving into his pocket. Heat poured off his large body as he stepped closer and, typically Derek, invaded her personal space. "You're overreacting. What does it matter how the split of the estate happened? Half is yours, legally, fair and square. It's a done deal. You can't just pack up and leave." He looked around, as if looking for someone to agree with him. But the cows couldn't care less. And the calf's little sides heaved as he nursed, oblivious to the humans.

"You've lived here your entire life." He scanned her face for—what? "You have friends here. Family.

Hell, what about your father?"

Lily shrugged. "I'll call him often. Besides, he has Paula and Matt." Her dad had married Paula Kruger eleven years ago. Her son, Matt, was Lily's father's veterinarian assistant and partner.

In the last few years Lily seemed to have been squeezed out of everybody's life with no regrets. Even her own dad had moved on, building a new life that didn't include his daughter. It didn't matter how adult she was, she missed the closeness she and her father had shared since her mom's death in a plane crash almost nineteen years ago.

She had nothing against Paula and Matt. They were lovely people. They were just lovely people who'd unintentionally driven an ever-widening wedge between Lily and her father. But she had to admit, if only to herself, that she'd allowed it to happen. All part of that "getting blown around by other people" thing she was so determined to fight her way out of. It wasn't too late to salvage a relationship with her father, and Lily was determined to find her way back to
herself
, too.

"Not the same as working with his daughter," Derek muttered.

Lily smiled, a part of her appreciating the knight-errant comment. "They manage the practice fine without me. Look, Derek. This is a waste of time. I don't understand the legalities of what you did or how it even came about. That said, I won't accept charity from you. You and Barry will have to work this out."