Dangerous Refuge (4 page)
T
he sound of silverware tapping a crystal glass vibrated through the PA and the room itself, leaving a quivering kind of silence in its wake.
Automatically Shaye turned toward the head table, where Kimberli burned like a carmine flame beneath a spotlight. The tousled, flaxen fall of her hair gleamed in silent testimony to the best shade of blond ever made in a chemistry lab.
She lowered her glass and the knife she’d used to make the crystal ring. “Good evening. For those who don’t know me, I’m Kimberli Stevens of the Nevada branch of the National Ranch Conservancy. I won’t keep you long, just enough for a few words of appreciation. First, I want to thank Wilson ‘Ace’ Desmond for providing the ballroom and such lovely catering.”
A spotlight picked out Ace as she spoke. His head gleamed as he smiled and nodded to the scattered applause. “What good is having a casino if you can’t throw a party for your friends and an excellent cause?” he asked clearly.
“Just one casino?” called someone from the back of the room.
“I hear you out there, Campbell,” Ace said, laughing. “Don’t worry, when it comes time to build another one, Campbell Construction is first on my list.”
The crowd laughed and clapped. Casinos were good for business, and this was a gathering of businessmen.
“Thank you, Ace,” Kimberli said, recapturing attention with a beautiful smile and just enough of a bow to emphasize her cleavage. “Your generosity is legend.”
More scattered laughter.
Kimberli’s smile faded and she drew a deep breath. “This is a bittersweet night. We should have been standing here with our dear friend Lorne Davis, in honor of his gift of more than a thousand glorious acres of ranch land to the Conservancy.”
A low murmuring passed through the crowd. Smiles and small conversations faded.
“Just last month, Lorne verbally agreed to have his will amended. Tonight he would have formalized the eventual transfer of his ranch to the Conservancy by signing a contract. Instead . . .” She trailed off and touched just beneath her right eye as if to stop a tear. Then she straightened and said, “Instead, we raise a glass in his memory. To Lorne Davis, taken away from us too soon.” She lifted her champagne glass.
Tanner was still half a room from his destination—the slender honey blonde in the simple, heart-stopping dress—and was doing his best to ignore the speaker’s breathy words. He knew he’d seen the honey blonde before, but was having a tough time remembering where.
Last night? Was she the one I was so abrupt with?
He’d been blocking most of the light last night and cross-eyed tired, but still . . .
I was just mad that her voice made me hot. Actually, I was just mad, period.
God, he really didn’t want to be in Refuge, Nevada. Not last night, not now. Not ever.
And here he was.
“Lorne was a vibrant gentleman,” continued the Hollywood blonde in the siren dress.
What?
Tanner thought, not believing his ears. The uncle that Tanner remembered shared very little with the Lorne Davis being celebrated at this party. Either his uncle’s grip on reality had slipped, or these party people hadn’t known the living man.
“He loved the land above all else.”
Well, she got that right,
Tanner thought.
The old bastard loved dirt more than he loved kin.
Mentally he dismissed the speaker as one of those L.A. or Vegas females he couldn’t stand—showstoppers at thirty feet, and too thin and anxious up close. He’d take the real blonde he was heading for. Hopefully tonight.
He heard his own thought echoed in the elevation of his pulse.
Dude, you’re crazy. You all but kicked Shaye’s lovely ass off the ranch.
My bad. Temporary insanity.
And this isn’t?
his rational self shot back.
He dropped the mental argument. He couldn’t remember the last time his pulse had kicked this hard outside of sex. Shaye had wide dark eyes, sunny hair piled loosely on her head, and a smile that kept wanting to slip into sadness.
Her simple dress made his mouth dry.
The cloth wasn’t spray-painted on and it wasn’t loose. It was a dark silk shadow flowing over a body made for a man’s hands. Her shoulders and neck were exposed, showing fine bones and sleek skin. Nothing was cut too low or too high, nothing demanded attention.
Unbelievable. Last night she was dark circles, working clothes, and temper.
And I was an idiot.
Good thing I have something she wants. It’s the only way I’m going to get within spitting distance of her.
With a cop’s eye, Tanner measured the man who had beaten him to Shaye. Ace Desmond had a shaved head and a dark blue suit tailored for his solid body—money, power, and plenty of intelligence to use both to his advantage. Gold flashed at Ace’s white cuff as he put his hand on her mostly bare shoulder.
She flinched, then caught herself and smiled.
Dutiful and polite, not spontaneous and happy-to-see-you,
Tanner thought, more satisfied than he should be.
She might be taken, but not by him. She reacts like a woman who isn’t into kissing everyone.
Ace chucked Shaye lightly under the chin, brushed a kiss to her cheek, and allowed himself to be drawn back into the crowd by someone who probably had something to sell him.
Tanner made himself look away from the woman who had caught him off balance. Twice.
I should be checking out the rest of the crowd. Somebody here might have actually known Lorne. Played poker with him, anyway.
Yet for all that Lorne’s name was hanging from a ceiling banner, none of the conversations Tanner had overheard had told him any more about his uncle than he already knew.
Maybe that was why Tanner kept looking back at the natural blonde in the unnatural setting. She was real. The rest of the people were onstage.
He walked close enough to see that her eyes were clear brown, probably deep amber in daylight and dark crystal in artificial light. Her tight smiles didn’t hide the aura of sadness that clung to her. She didn’t wear enough makeup to conceal the dusting of freckles across her high cheekbones. Her mouth was wide, full, and not painted on. Either she had nibbled off her lip dye or wore only a pale gloss. She brought her glass up to her lips with her left hand, but didn’t actually drink.
So much that he’d missed last night in his anger at being summoned back to a place he wanted to forget. And couldn’t.
No rings. No trophy jewelry. What is a single woman like her doing in this plastic party set?
There were several ways to answer that question, but only one of them appealed to Tanner. He moved closer to her, close enough to smell her light perfume.
“I think you’re the only person here who is genuinely sad at Lorne’s death,” Tanner said. “And I owe you an apology.”
Shaye took a quick half breath and turned fully toward the man she had watched across the room. He was standing within easy reach now, as close as he had been last night.
But tonight he didn’t look and act like a grizzly bear.
“A lot of people are sad,” she said carefully. “I’m just not as good as they are at hiding it. Don’t tell me you came here to mourn. I won’t believe you, even if you do have his eyes.”
“My dad turned red every time he heard that,” Tanner said. “I’m sorry I was such a dick last night.”
“Really?” she said, surprised.
“Let’s start over,” he said, holding out his hand. “My name is Tanner Davis.”
“Shaye Townsend,” she said automatically, shaking his hand.
Her touch was cool, polite. Hesitant. Like her eyes.
He wanted to replace hesitation with heat.
Should have been polite last night, stupid.
“I wasn’t expecting visitors last night,” he said, holding her hand. “Hell, I wasn’t expecting to be in the state.”
“I’m sorry. Your uncle’s death must have been a shock.”
“Yes,” he said, meaning it for the first time. “For you, too.”
He squeezed her fingers gently.
She realized she was still holding on to his hand. She tried to let go, only to find her fingers tangled with his.
“I don’t think anyone gets used to death,” he said. Then he thought about what he’d said the first time they met. “Or should.”
And that was another truth he hadn’t thought about in years.
She looked at his eyes again and realized they weren’t exactly like Lorne’s. They were both darker and more clear. And they were too old to belong to a man whose hair was black instead of silver.
Belatedly she realized she was staring.
And still holding his hand.
No, he was holding hers. Before she could pull back, he gently let her fingers slide free. It felt like a caress. The dark blue eyes she had first thought of as bleak were anything but. He looked at her mouth like a man with some thorough tasting in mind.
“Do you have a rude, identical twin?” she asked. Then she heard her own words and blushed. “Sorry, I must have an evil twin, too.”
He smiled, then laughed. “We’re quite a pair. Or is it a quartet?”
“Just make sure there are no sharp objects around and we’ll do fine.”
“Truce?” he asked, taking her hand again.
“Ah, sure. I guess.” She shook her head. “Ignore my inner teenager. Truce.”
“Did you know Lorne well?” he asked.
I shouldn’t have come here tonight,
she thought.
I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready to look at Lorne’s ghost. A really sexy ghost.
“Yes. No.” She shook her head again.
Wrong place, wrong time.
“Why?” he asked.
She stared. “Are you a mind reader?”
His smile was as slow as it was hot. “Only when you think out loud.”
She felt the flush that spread from her breasts to her cheeks. “Did I? I’m not usually so . . . scattered.”
“Good thing I’m here.”
“Why?”
“Putting pieces together is part of my job description.”
Even if it’s just matching John Does with a missing persons report.
But that wasn’t something he wanted to talk about with Shaye Townsend. He wanted to know what she liked, what she hated . . . and just how she wanted to be touched by a lover.
Too bad she isn’t giving off free-to-a-good-home vibes.
A round of applause went up. In a flash of red, Kimberli stepped out of the spotlight. Part of Tanner’s mind caught her final words, something about honoring Lorne’s intentions and giving to his dream of preserving small ranchers.
So much for the eulogy,
Tanner thought.
Back to business—for the Conservancy and for me.
“I’ll bet you’re the only real mourner here,” he said. “Lorne wouldn’t have pissed on these people if they were on fire.”
She turned a laugh into a cough. “Kimberli understands how to turn glitter into money. For the Conservancy, that means galas, which are underwritten by corporate sponsors. All but a handful of the people here tonight paid at least a hundred bucks a head to come.”
“So the showgirl act in the red dress is shilling for a good cause.”
“My boss truly enjoys parties.”
“You don’t?”
Shaye shrugged, but the shadows under her eyes and the tightness in her mouth said a lot.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” he pressed, wondering how deep her temper was buried beneath the polite exterior.
“There’s true and then there’s polite. When I’m in a place like this, I do polite. When I’m on the valley floor, with the livestock and the flies, I do truth.”
Tanner’s smile was slow and hot. “No wonder you got assigned to my uncle. He didn’t have any use for lies, polite or otherwise. That’s why I’m having a hard time believing he was anybody’s guest of honor.”
“He was just himself,” she said simply. “He didn’t have a fancy suit and he wouldn’t have rented one for tonight.” She looked pointedly at the dark, almost-tuxedo Tanner was wearing. “Why did you bother?”
“Maybe I like champagne and short dresses.”
A smile came and went swiftly from her lips. “I can believe half of that. Is that why you never visited your uncle? No short dresses?”
“He and my dad had a real fence-lifter of an argument. No dresses involved, short or otherwise. Lorne could be a real bastard, in case you didn’t know it. My family left Refuge. End of argument.”
“Your dad never made peace?” she asked.
“You ever try to make peace with Lorne Davis?”
She rubbed her hands over her arms as though chilled. “No. I didn’t have the chance.”
It was just the opening Tanner had been waiting for.
But before he had the chance to ask a question, he felt a hand on his arm. Perfume slid around him like a jungle night, alive with primitive possibilities.
“Shaye, you simply must introduce me to this handsome stranger,” Kimberli said breathlessly. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes. “I know we haven’t met before, because I’d remember a man like you.”
Normally Shaye was amused when her boss turned up the heat on a male, but this time it wasn’t funny. Kimberli could ruin everything. Despite the rocky meeting last night, Shaye didn’t think the ranch was lost, but it was far from a done deal. She could tell that Tanner was about as thrilled by Kimberli as Lorne had been.
Kimberli wouldn’t see that as a problem so much as an opportunity.
Shaye’s voice was just a bit clipped when she spoke. “Kimberli Stevens, Tanner Davis. Tanner, Kimberli. She’s your hostess.”
“Davis?” Kimberli asked. “What an odd coincidence.”
“Lorne was his uncle,” Shaye said quickly.
Kimberli blinked as though unable to comprehend. “Uncle? You’re his nephew?”