Cowboy in My Pocket (21 page)

Tag whistled for Dandy and the horse trotted back to the edge of the creek. He grabbed a handful of Dandy’s mane and mounted first, then held a hand out to Lee. This time she got on behind Tag so she could wrap her arms around his waist.

He clicked his tongue and Dandy headed back across the meadow. Lee turned to watch the moon, now close to setting over the ridge of trees. The image shimmered, shifted, altered in her mind. Instead of towering pines she saw the silhouette of tall buildings and the flash of neon lights.

She muffled a startled gasp. When she blinked, she saw only moon-washed mountain peaks, but the memory remained, clear and bright. Lee didn’t know if it was the power of a good orgasm or the shock of that cold water, but something was bringing her past to light.

She was a city girl. Lee knew that much. She was a city girl straight out of a New York high-rise and Tag was a country boy, lifetime resident of Grover’s Mill, Colorado. And she knew, without question, Tag would never risk the pain he’d watched his father endure. The last thing Tag wanted was a city girl.

Why couldn’t she have remembered sooner? Lee sighed and rested her cheek forlornly against Tag’s strong back as the memories rushed into her mind. Just her luck, to go and fall in love with a cowboy.

Would it have made a difference, she wondered, if she’d known who she was before?

Tag turned around and smiled at her, that loopy, lopsided smile that popped the dimple out in his left cheek and she knew, without a doubt, it wouldn’t have made any difference at all.

Chapter 11

THIS TIME when they bathed, Lee was so exhausted she hardly noticed Tag’s gentle ministrations. He filled the big tub, crawled into the steamy water with her and carefully washed the mud and muck from her body with a soft cloth. He helped her rinse the twigs and grit out of her matted hair, then toweled her dry like a sleepy child.

They stumbled into the narrow bed together. There was no question of sleeping apart, not after the past few hours they’d spent. Tag pulled Lee into his secure embrace and promptly fell asleep.

Lee wasn’t so lucky. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, she couldn’t keep her thoughts from whirling and spinning. How could she possibly reconcile Lee Stetson, a character in a book she’d written but hadn’t sold, with the Lee Stetson she’d become at the Double Eagle?

With the woman, Michelle Garrison, she knew herself to be?

How was she ever going to admit the truth to Tag? Once he knew his fake bride was none other than Michelle Garrison, one of Coop’s multi-published romance authors, he’d be furious. Tag would never believe she hadn’t known her past. It was too far-fetched even for Michelle. He’d assume she’d been using him to research a story.

Which, Michelle had to admit, wasn’t all that far from the truth. It was the reason she’d originally come to Colorado. She just hadn’t planned on any of it, not the storm or the accident or the amnesia . . . or falling in love with the sexy cowboy hero of her imagination.

The whole thing defied belief. Why, if she were to send in a proposal plotted like the past few weeks of her life, Mark would laugh in her face.

Suddenly Michelle sat up. Tag grunted and rolled over. “Oh, no,” she moaned, covering her eyes with her hands. Not only had she gone and fallen in love with a cowboy, she’d had unprotected sex. Lots of really spectacular unprotected sex.

It was all too much. The fake marriage of convenience. The sexy cowboy. Making love in a claw-footed tub and again on the back of a horse. There was even a lop-eared dog, a stunning white stallion and a mysterious woman with amnesia. Her entire life was evolving from one bad cliché into another.

The only thing missing was the secret baby . . . the perfect ending, she thought ruefully, to her own ill-fated romance. She pressed her abdomen with both palms and stared wide-eyed into the darkness. She’d have to tell Tag the truth. When she did, he was going to hate her. If, by chance, she was pregnant, he’d think she’d set out to trap him, the way his mother had trapped his father forty years ago.

Even if she wasn’t pregnant, she knew he wouldn’t want anything more to do with her, city born and bred that she was. She winced, accepting the truth. Even though she’d be destroying any chance the two of them might have had of ever being together, she had to tell him. Shuddering at the thought, Michelle lay back down beside Tag. She would definitely tell him.

Later.

After the roundup was over and they were back on familiar ground. After she’d had two weeks with the sexiest cowboy alive. In the meantime, Lee Stetson would keep her mouth shut, do her job, and enjoy every moment she could with Tag Martin. She had, after all, agreed to stay with him as long as he needed her.

Rationalizing, Michelle discovered, did not lead to a restful night.

It was a long, long time before she drifted off to sleep.

“LENORE, WE’VE got a problem.” Coop slammed the kitchen door behind him and stalked into the kitchen. He threw a tattered romance novel down on the table.

Lenore looked up from the pot she was stirring on the stove and smiled at Coop. My, when he was fired up like this he looked thirty years younger and way too sexy for his own good.

He made her feel thirty years younger, too. She couldn’t remember ever having this much fun. Not in her entire life.

“Take your hat off, dear. Lunch is almost ready.”

Coop snorted impatiently but did as he was told. He pulled out a chair and sat, nervously running his fingers through his sparse hair. “Remember that car I helped Will and the sheriff haul out of the river? The little rental job?”

“Of course. How could I forget. It just happened day before yesterday. The same day Tag and Lee went up the hill.” She shook her head and turned to dish up a couple of bowls of soup.

“Well, we know who rented it.” Coop paused, as if for dramatic effect. “Before I tell you, though, there’s something else you should know.” Lenore set a bowl of soup and a basket of rolls in front of him. She’d learned there was only one way Coop would ever tell a story . . . his way.

“Lee Stetson is not who she claims to be.” Coop frowned. “Tag and I both thought she was Betsy Mae’s friend. She’s not. Turns out Betsy Mae’s friend has been staying at Columbine Camp with Will. They’re an item,” he said. “I think Will Twigg’s met his match with Annie Anderson.”

“So who did Tag marry?” Lenore sat across the table from Coop. “Where did Lee come from?”

“Lee Stetson came from that little rental car we pulled out of the river. Only she isn’t Lee Stetson, she’s Michelle Garrison and she was headed for Columbine Camp as a guest. It took Will a bit to make the connection because he couldn’t read Betsy Mae’s handwriting and she’s the one took the reservation. I recognized the name as soon as I heard it.” Coop flipped open the back page of the romance and slid it across the table to Lenore. “You’ll understand why I figured we had a problem the minute I dug this out of my stash o’ books in the barn.”

Lee Stetson, hair perfectly styled, makeup faultless, silk scarf artfully draped, smiled back at her. “Michelle Garrison? Oh, my.” Lenore looked at Coop. “I used to love her books. The last couple, though . . .”

“Forget the books. I didn’t say a word to Will yet. I wanted to show this to you first, but we have to tell Tag. I don’t know what kind of double-cross this woman’s pulling on the boy, but she’s up to no good. He still thinks she’s someone Betsy Mae sent to him.”

“Now, Coop.” Lenore covered his hand with hers. “We don’t know she’s pulling anything. If her car went into the river she could have been injured. She did act confused. You said you found her walking alongside the road with her little suitcase. Maybe . . .”

“That’s a little too convenient, don’t you think? She’s scammin’ the boy, Lenore. I’m sure of it. We’ve got to go up to the summer range and warn him.”

“Now, just a minute. Hold on.” Lenore quickly read the paragraph below the author’s picture. “According to this, she’s single, lives alone in an apartment overlooking Central Park. Spends all her time either writing or traveling to research her stories.”

“Research? You don’t think she’s using Tag for research, do you? That’s disgusting.” Coop’s mouth dropped open. “This is terrible, Lenore. Tag sent a note down with one of the boys requesting, uh, well . . .” He blushed and looked away.

“Requesting what? What did he want?”

“Ah, ruh, uh, ruh . . .” Coop looked like he was about to choke. “He asked for a box o’rubbers,” he said, turning an even darker shade of scarlet.

Lenore laughed. “Well, at least he’s being careful.” She traced Michelle’s picture with the tip of her finger. The girl was much prettier in real life, without all that makeup and the fancy hairstyle. “This is not necessarily a bad thing, Coop. I told you those two were settin’ off sparks.” She laughed again. In fact, it might even be better than she’d hoped.

Tag didn’t love lightly, she knew that much about her grandson. In fact, as far as she knew, he’d never really loved at all. At least not until he married his imitation bride. Lenore was certain she’d sensed a powerful attraction between Tag and Lee, or Michelle, or whoever she was.

Did it even matter, as long as they fell in love?

“You’re right, Coop,” she said. “There’s something going on, but I don’t think it’s anything bad, just the stuff that happens naturally between two healthy young people attracted to one another. Nothin’ bad at all . . . other than you all conspiring to convince me they were really married, which Tag and the woman still think I believe, even though you told me they really are married, which neither one of them knows yet.”

Lenore glared at Coop. She hadn’t really considered all the implications of the lies before. “It’s confusing,” she said, suddenly angry with all the fraud and deception. “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I didn’t lie to you for long. I told you the truth.”

“Only because I guessed it, but that’s not the point. Look, this says she lives alone, so there’s probably no one looking for her. Let’s give those two until the end of roundup. It might be enough time to convince them they have something going. We’ll find out soon enough if she’s up to no good.”

“What about Tag?” Coop demanded. “I don’t want him gettin’ hurt. I just hate to think of that woman lying to him.”

“I wouldn’t feel too badly about it,” Lenore said dryly. “They’re both still lyin’ to me. Now eat your soup. It’s gettin’ cold.” Lenore realized her hands were shaking. What right did she have fussing over someone lying to her? Whatever was Coop going to say when he realized she’d told him the biggest lie of all?

Sighing, Lenore pushed her bowl away. Suddenly she didn’t have much of an appetite after all.

ALMOST TWO weeks into the roundup Michelle decided she was actually having fun. Once she got the hang of working the calf table, a wonderful tilting contraption that held the calf secure to make branding and dehorning more convenient, got over the nauseating smell of burnt hair and blood and quit throwing up every time one of the cowboys castrated a poor little bull calf, she realized she was thoroughly enjoying the excitement and thrills.

Of course, the payoff came at the end of the day when she and Tag would ride the few miles to the little cabin with its great big bathtub. After the first night they’d both realized it was worth the extra miles for the luxury of a warm bath and a soft bed.

They didn’t make love every night. Sometimes they were both so tired they curled up in each other’s arms and slept the night through. When they did come together, as far as Michelle was concerned, it was wonderful. Tag was wonderful. And prepared.

She wasn’t certain where the condoms had come from, but hopefully they weren’t using them for nothing. It was too soon to know if she and Tag were too late.

Michelle was still Lee Stetson as far as everyone, including Tag, was concerned. She’d almost come to terms with her deception. She’d decided there was no point in revealing her identity until after roundup. Tag had enough on his mind without informing him he was making love to a multi-published romance author from New York City.

Over the course of a couple of days, Michelle was certain all her memories had finally returned. Her only concern was her editor, Mark Connor. He must be worried sick by now. She’d been gone for almost three weeks.

Well, she decided as she fastened the latch on the calf table, checked to make sure the little critter was firmly secured and gave it a spin, it served him right. He was the one who’d sent her out here in the first place.

Learn about cowboys,
he’d said.
Maybe you’ll be able to write a real western.
She’d done everything Mark had wanted and then some. She could ride a horse, she was learning to rope calves, she’d worked her very first roundup . . . she’d fallen head over heels in love with her very own cowboy hero.

And, she’d made love on the back of a horse, proving once and for all that editors didn’t know everything.

Michelle glanced up at Ramón’s shouted instructions. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t realized he’d finished with the calf and wanted her to release the little guy. She flipped the table back, unlatched it and the calf scampered away—minus his horns and a couple of other valuable parts of his anatomy. Bob the Dog barked and nipped at the calf’s heels, heading him toward his bawling mother.

“I need a break, Ramón,” she said. A young cowhand stepped in to take her place.

“Señora,” he acknowledged.

Michelle nodded to him and headed for the shade of a huge cottonwood tree. She could see Tag, resplendent on Nitro, working to separate a calf from its mother. The horse was performing beautifully, the man on his back was pure poetry.

She still couldn’t believe she’d fallen in love with a cowboy. It had been so natural when she’d been Lee Stetson. Michelle Garrison was still a bit in shock over the whole thing.

The roundup was almost over. Once they headed back to the Double Eagle, Michelle knew she’d have to tell Tag the truth. Sooner or later someone was going to identify her and the story would be out.

In fact, she was surprised Coop hadn’t recognized her at the very beginning, as much as he read romance novels. Of course, she probably hadn’t looked much like the glamour shot on the book jacket when he found her wandering down the highway in the rain.

Maybe he didn’t read Michelle Garrison romances. That was probably closer to the truth. Michelle smiled at the thought. In her other life, before Colorado and before Tag, an idea like that would have devastated her. Now, though, Michelle realized it didn’t bother her a bit. Her life was too full for a little thing like readership to affect her.

Her heart overflowed with love for Tag Martin, her mind balked at the fear of losing him.

She didn’t have time to worry about who did or didn’t read her books.

She pulled her gloves off and washed her hands. She’d filed her nails all the way down to neat little squares and the blisters were long gone, replaced by thick ridges of callus that protected her hands from the demanding work almost as much as the leather gloves.

Bob the Dog shoved at her hand with his wet nose. Michelle’s eyes misted over. She’d even fallen in love with the dumb dog. And she’d experienced three of the most intense weeks of her life. Michelle knew she’d never worked so hard, accomplished so much, or loved so fiercely.

She couldn’t tell Tag how she felt. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words that rested like stone in her heart until she was strong enough to be truthful. She didn’t know how he felt about her. She only knew that she loved him more than she’d ever thought it possible to love anyone. She loved him, and when she told him the truth he’d never want to see her again.