Cowboy to the Rescue (5 page)

Christina looked at him sharply. “Oh? How did that happen?”

Lex shrugged. “Dumping a bunch of company stock right before the value crashed. Just good timing, I suppose. A lot of stockholders lost all their retirement investments. Some demanded an investigation, but nothing criminal was ever proved.”

The wheels inside Christina's head were clicking at a fast rate, but she didn't voice her thoughts aloud. She needed much more time and information before she could share with Lex any of the ideas she was entertaining. Instead, she said, “Well, could be the men were just savvy traders. Sometimes it's hard to tell a good businessman from a thief.”

“Yeah.” He rose from his perch on the bridge and offered a hand down to her. “We'd better be getting along. If you're ready, I'll show you the family cemetery before we head back to the ranch. It's a little west of here, but not too far.”

“I'd like that.”

She closed her fingers around his, and with no effort at all, he tugged her to her feet. The sudden momentum tilted her forward, and she instinctively threw her hands out to prevent herself from falling straight into his arms. They landed smack in the middle of his chest, and she found her face only inches from his.

“Oh! I—I'm sorry!” she said breathlessly. “I lost my balance.”

As she started to push herself away, she realized that he had a steadying hold on both her arms.

“No need to apologize,” he said, with a grin. “I'm just glad you didn't teeter over into the creek. You would have probably taken me with you.”

She desperately wished he would release his hold on her. Standing this close to him was creating an earthquake in the pit of her stomach. Everything about him smelled like a man, felt like a man. And everything inside of her was reacting like a woman.

“That wouldn't have been any fun,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

“Oh, I don't know. Might be pleasant to have a little morning swim together.”

The suggestive drawl of his voice clanged warning bells in the back of her head, and she quickly jerked away from the clasp of his hands. “I—uh, we better head on to the cemetery.”

Christina walked off the bridge, and as she rapidly headed toward the waiting horses, she sensed him following closely behind her.

Once she reached Hannah's side, the touch of his hand on the back of her shoulder drew her head around. As she met his gaze, she felt her breath lodging in her throat.

“Christina, are you okay?”

The softly spoken question caught her off guard, and for a moment she wasn't sure how to answer. “Why, yes. Why wouldn't I be?”

His brows pulled together in a frown of confusion. “Because I saw something on your face back there. You looked at me like you were scared and wanted to run away.” He gently touched his fingertips to her cheek. “You're not frightened of me, are you?”

Totally disconcerted, she looked at the leather stirrup dangling near her waist, the ground where one of Hannah's hooves was stomping at a pestering fly, at anything and everything but him. “That's silly. Of course I'm not afraid of you.”

Her heartbeat hammered out of control as he moved closer and his hand slid lightly up and down the side of her arm. “You don't need to worry about me, Christina. I would never hurt you or any woman.”

No. She figured this man would die before he'd ever lay an angry hand on a woman. But there were countless ways to cause another person pain, and she wondered how many women in his past had cried themselves to sleep at night, waiting for a call, waiting to hear him say, “Honey, let's spend the rest of our lives together”. She'd experienced firsthand some of the ways a man could hurt a woman, and she wasn't up to getting another dose of education on the subject.

Forcing a teasing smile to her face, she lifted her head and met his gaze. “The only thing I'm worried about is convincing your mother that I don't need you hanging at my side eight hours of the day.”

That obviously surprised him. “You don't?”

“No. I always work alone. It's better for my concentration that way. If I come across things I need to ask you, I'll make notes and get to you later.”

The relief on his face was almost insulting.

“Well, I do have plenty of work that can't be done by anyone else but me,” he admitted. “And anyway, I'm not very good at putting puzzle pieces together. Now my sister Mercedes is a different matter. She worked as an intelligence gatherer for the military.”

Christina nodded. “Yes. Geraldine told me. But she's pregnant with her first child, and Geraldine doesn't want to put any undue stress on her—especially with such dark matters. And your other sister, Nicci, has her days packed full with being a doctor and caring for her family. And your mother is incredibly busy, too. So that leaves you. But I don't expect you to drop everything and alter your life just because I'm here.”

His gaze was almost suspicious as it roamed her face. “Are you giving me this reprieve for other reasons?”

Forcing a light chuckle, she turned her back to him and reached to untie Hannah's reins. “Reprieve? You make it sound like spending prolonged time with me would be a prison sentence.”

“That's a ridiculous notion. You must realize that you're a very attractive woman. I'm sure you've never had a man complain about spending time with you.”

No, she thought dismally. Mike had never complained about spending time with her. Especially while they'd been making love. He'd just never wanted to make their time together into something permanent.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she said, “You'd better get to know me before you say that.”

“I plan to,” he promised. Then reaching for her arm, he helped her back into the saddle.

 

During the next week Christina rarely saw Geraldine Saddler. The ranching matriarch was an extremely busy woman, spending most of her waking hours working on some sort of charity project or overseeing the actual running of the ranch's daily activities. It was as common to see her dressed in jeans and chaps, driving around in her old Ford truck, as it was to glimpse her leaving for San Antonio in a sequin and satin cocktail dress. She was a woman to be admired, and Christina envied her children for having such a strong, respected mother, a mother who viewed loving a man and raising his children as the most ultimate blessings and responsibilities in her life.

As for Lex, she'd been meeting with him in the evenings, after supper, to go over details of the investigation. So far she couldn't have asked for him to be a more perfect gentleman. And he'd even helped her begin to see inside the person who'd died in the gulf waters off Corpus Christi. She had to admit that Lex wasn't the problem that she'd first expected him to be. But her reaction to him was definitely a problem. A huge one.

She'd hoped that the more she was around the man, the more she'd be able to control her racing heart and quell the ridiculous heat that colored her cheeks and warmed every inch of her body whenever she was near him. Trouble was, the more she tried to fight the attraction she had for the rawhide-tough rancher, the stronger it seemed to grow.

That fact hit harder than ever later that evening, as she left her room to go to dinner. Halfway down the staircase, she met Lex coming up. He was dressed very casually in jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt. The moss-green color set off the tawny-blond streaks in his hair and the dark tan of his arms. She drank in the sight of him like a parched flower soaking up raindrops.

“There you are,” he said, with an easy smile. “I was just coming up to fetch you.”

“Oh. Have you been waiting?”

“No. Mom is away for the evening, and I wanted to see if it was okay with you if we had our meal in the kitchen. I hope you're going to say yes, because I've already sent Cook home.”

“Of course it's okay with me.” In fact, Christina was happy about the change. Even though the dining room of the Saddler hacienda was very beautiful, she preferred a smaller, cozier setting to eat her meals, especially when there were only two people present.

“Good.” He wrapped an arm through hers and began to escort her down the remaining stairs and in the general direction of the kitchen. “Would you like a drink first? Since Mom's not here, Cook didn't make margaritas, but I can shake something up.”

Just the scent of him, the touch of his hand and the smile on his face were shaking her up. Much more than a splash of tequila. She wondered what he would think if he knew that. “Actually, I don't normally drink anything alcoholic.”

He glanced her way. “If having it around bothers you, you should have told us.”

Shaking her head, she said, “I don't expect people around me to be prudes, and I even drink spirits occasionally—you saw me drink a margarita the first evening I was here. But my father is a recovering alcoholic. Each time I take a sip, I think of what he's gone through.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. How is your father doing now?”

She gave him a tentative smile. Talking honestly about Delbert Logan was something new for her. As a young girl, she'd often lied to her friends so they wouldn't know about her father's condition. Later on, as she'd grown into womanhood, she'd avoided talking about him altogether. Now, she sometimes had to remind herself that her father was becoming a different person. For the first time in her life, she could speak proudly of him. “He's not had a drink in over five years, and he's working at a good job. I never thought he'd find the determination to turn his life around, but he has. And that makes me very happy.”

By now they were in a hallway that led to the kitchen, and when he paused and turned to her, she was suddenly reminded that the two of them were entirely alone in the big house.

“I'm glad for you, Christina,” he said, with a gentle smile. “And I apologize if I was prying. You didn't have to tell me all that about your father. You could have told me to mind my own business.”

The idea that he understood how difficult it was for her to talk about her father's problem suddenly made it all very easy, and she gave his arm a grateful squeeze.

“It's all right,” she quietly assured him. “It's nice to be able to say good things about my father. I only wish my mother could get herself on a better track.”

“What does that mean?”

She urged him to keep walking toward the kitchen, and as the two of them strolled along, she said, “It means that my mother is nothing like yours. She's been married six times. Who knows? The next time I call her, it might be seven.”

“Whew! And I was concerned about Mom marrying a second time.”

She sighed. “Your mother is a steadfast saint compared to mine.”

“What's up with your mother and all the marriages?”

Christina shrugged. “She's looking for something to make her happy,” she said wearily. “Unfortunately, she believes she'll find it in a man.”

“Ouch. You sound very cynical. Do I need to apologize for being male?” he teased.

She tried to laugh. “No. Just never compare me to my mother. I'm not a man hunter.”

“That's not true,” he countered as they reached the swinging doors of the kitchen.

Halting in her tracks, she turned an offended frown on him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You are hunting a man,” he explained. “Your brother.”

She visibly relaxed. “Oh. Yes. But that's different.”

Taking hold of her hand, he passed his thumb softly, sensuously over the back of it. “So what you're trying to tell me is that you're not looking for a husband?”

Her head bobbed jerkily up and down as a nervous lump thickened her throat. They were walking on treacherous ground, and the fact that there was no one around to interrupt them made her even more wary. “That's right. Setting out to deliberately find a spouse is…well—”

“Unromantic?”

“Yes. Love doesn't happen by design.”

The dimples in his cheeks made Christina wonder if he was finding her attitude very amusing, or if he was simply enjoying this intimate exchange with her. Either way, her heart was fluttering so madly, she wondered what was keeping her from fainting.

“And you think
love
is an important ingredient for marriage?” he asked.

Just hearing him say the word “love” was enough to steal Christina's breath. Which made her feel like even more of an idiot for reacting so strongly to this man. “It's
the
essential ingredient. Now, do you think we can go in to our supper? This conversation is ridiculous.”

His smile slowly turned suggestive. “The conversation might be senseless, but this isn't.”

Christina was trying to make sense of his words when she suddenly found his hands on her shoulders and his head lowering to hers. Stunned by the idea that he was about to kiss her, she mentally shouted a warning to herself to turn her head, to step back and away from him. Yet her body refused to obey the signals of her brain. Instead, she felt her chin lift and her lips part before the totally male taste of him shattered her senses.