Samantha’s Cowboy (6 page)

Damned if he’d allow a woman to show him up. “No need to ruin your hands, too,” he argued.

“You really don’t believe I’m capable of shoveling a little dirt?” Her eyes gleamed with challenge.

“I doubt you’ve done much work—”
Damn.
He should have kept his mouth shut.

Face red with anger, Samantha nodded at his bandaged hands. “You’re one to talk.”

True.

“How about a wager?” she said, winking at his son. “Luke and I will dig three more feet by suppertime.”

Great. First Samantha had shown him up with her tree-climbing talents and now she was about to defeat him in a well-digging competition. Couldn’t a hardworking investor get a break?

Blast, it was hot.

Samantha was ringing wet, her shirt soaked with sweat and plastered to her skin. Wade’s son was just as exhausted, but the sweet boy hadn’t uttered one word of complaint. Sam rested against the old ladder she’d found in the barn and handed the bucket of dirt to Luke, which he dumped a few feet away.

They’d made decent progress, but her arms were sore and her shoulders itched from the dirt that had slipped inside her collar when Luke had accidentally tipped a full bucket onto Sam’s back.

“Looking good, Samantha,” Wade complimented for the hundredth time. She wished he’d stop hovering and go chew tobacco with Millicent.

Sam feared her plan might backfire. She’d insisted on taking a turn at digging because she’d hoped to guilt Wade into agreeing to call in the professionals to finish the well. Most men would have felt compassion for a struggling woman. As a matter of fact the cowboys she knew would have insisted she quit shoveling hours ago. Obviously financial advisers had no problem with women showing them up.

Needing a break she set aside the short-handled
shovel and climbed from the hole. Without warning Wade removed her gloves and checked her hands.

“No blisters?” He sounded disappointed.

Sam shook off his touch. “Unlike you, my fingers rarely spend time on a keyboard.”

Wade’s shoulders stiffened and a businesslike mask fell over his face. “Luke, fetch Ms. Cartwright a drink from the cooler.” As soon as his son ran off, Wade glanced into the hole. “You made good progress. I’d say it’s about six feet.”

From disappointment to admiration—Wade confused the heck out of her. Luke arrived with Gatorade bottles and they took a break from conversation to quench their thirst. Sam’s eyes strayed to Wade’s Adam’s apple, which bobbed up and down as he swallowed. A vision of her tongue tracing the sexy bump popped into her mind and she choked.

Wade slapped her back. “Down the wrong pipe?”

Nodding, she coughed again and wiped her watering eyes. For the hundredth time that day Wade pushed his glasses up his nose. “Why don’t you wear contacts?” She blurted the question that had been on her mind since meeting him.

“Contacts irritate my eyes.”

“Maybe you should consider laser eye surgery.” Didn’t he hate having to adjust his glasses all the time?

“Dad says our glasses are a sign of intelligence and we should be proud to wear them.” Luke gazed up at his father. “Right, Dad?”

Oh, dear. She hadn’t meant to wound their egos.

“Break’s over,” Wade announced. “Back to digging.”

She’d heard once that high-IQ people lacked com
mon sense and wondered if Wade fell into that category. One thing was clear—even if her arms transformed into rotary blades, they wouldn’t hit water today. She might as well put an end to this nonsense. “I’m quitting,” she announced.

Both males gaped at her. “What about the bet?” Luke asked.

“Your dad wins.” That ought to make up for any bruised feelings from her four-eyes comment.

The corner of Wade’s mouth lifted in a sexy half smile. “What’s my prize?”

“Your prize is that you don’t have to shovel anymore. I’m calling a drilling company tomorrow and that’s final.”

“But—”

“No buts, Wade. This is my project. My money. And we’re doing this my way.” She stomped off, forcing her legs to keep moving when Wade called her name.

“Wait, Samantha!” Footsteps pounded the earth behind her.

She’d made it to her truck when Wade stumbled to a halt. “Luke wants to keep digging the well. He’s having a great time. Please give us a week. If we don’t hit water, I’ll step aside and we’ll do this your way.”

Luke caught up to them and both males gazed at her through their eyeglasses. How was she supposed to resist such a cute pair of geeks?

“Okay. You’ve got until next Sunday. Then all bets are off.”

“Find anything yet?” Wade asked George, the systems analyst called in to search the company’s software program for Samantha’s missing trust fund.

Fingers clicking the keyboard at hyperspeed, the balding man in his late fifties grunted an unintelligible answer.

Wade moved to the office doorway and stared at the empty conference rooms across the hall. Due to his uncle’s extended absence, the firm’s senior executives were conducting business meetings on the golf course while employees on the lower rungs of the company ladder managed to squeeze in online shopping, long-distance calls to family and friends and two-hour lunches.

Wasting company time was the least of Wade’s worries. He flexed his stiff fingers. His stint as a weekend cowboy had taken a toll on his body. Monday night he’d caved in and paid for a massage at the gym. Tuesday he’d sat for a half hour in the whirlpool and made another appointment with Helga and her meat-grinding fingers. Wednesday he weaned himself off the Icy Hot patches and this morning he was able to roll out
of bed without wincing—just in time for another round of abuse this weekend.

Ignoring the queasy feeling that had plagued his stomach all week, he shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his wing tips. Even if he succeeded in digging the sixty-foot well by Sunday evening, he doubted Samantha would approve of him shoveling the trenches to lay water pipe from the well to the paddocks.

“Sir.”

“What is it?” Wade bolted to his desk and peered over George’s shoulder at the jumbled symbols, letters and numbers on the computer screen.

“These codes—” George pointed to the top of the screen “—verify that the account in question was accessed by an unknown user.”

“A computer hacker?”

George shrugged. “The user ID isn’t registered to anyone in the company.” He tapped a series of numbers. “And this code tells me that the transaction wasn’t made on your computer.”

“If not mine, then whose?”

“Computer 12785.” George ran a finger between his neck and the collar of his tight shirt. “That computer is registered to your uncle, sir.”

Absurd! His uncle wouldn’t steal from his own company. Someone must have had access to his uncle’s computer. “Is there an exact time and date the funds were withdrawn?”

“July fourth at two-fifteen in the afternoon.”

Wade had attended the Tulsa parade with Luke in the morning that day and later in the afternoon they’d
stopped by his uncle’s for the annual Dawson Investments barbecue. Wade couldn’t recall if all the VPs had shown up for the event. Not that it mattered. Anyone could have slipped away for an hour or two unnoticed. Wade would need to view the building’s security tapes for that day.

George checked his watch. “I’m meeting my wife for lunch. Is there anything else, sir?”

“No. Thanks for coming in today.”

“I hope you find the culprit who tampered with the account.”

“Keep this between you and me for a while, all right, George?”

“Sure.”

Left alone, Wade returned to his desk and buzzed the receptionist.

“Yes, Mr. Dawson?”

“Veronica, get me the number of the company that operates the security cameras in the building.”

“Right away, sir.”

While he waited for the information, Wade paced his office, his thoughts straying to Samantha. His ego wished to impress her—change her opinion of him. He admitted he wasn’t the kind of man a woman like her would give a second thought. He didn’t walk with a swagger. Didn’t possess bulging biceps. Wasn’t tall—Samantha darn near looked him in the eye.

And he wore glasses.

Why don’t you wear contact lenses?

Deep in his gut he believed Samantha’s question hadn’t been meant as a criticism. He’d sounded like an idiot when he’d explained that contacts dried his eyes
out. He’d considered laser eye surgery—had even scheduled a consultation appointment with a doctor over a year ago, but he’d chickened out at the last minute.

And you know why.

Wade attempted to block out the annoying voice in his head, but the nasty bugger refused to be subdued.

Because you hide behind your glasses.

That’s insane.

Or was it?

Few were aware that Wade’s business smarts hadn’t come easy.

Not until the third grade had his dyslexia been diagnosed. Once he’d been given the tools to overcome his reading challenges he’d embraced learning, but had continued to struggle to keep pace with the rest of his classmates. Then his mother had died and his uncle had taken him in and insisted he attend a prestigious all-boys school. If not for a sympathetic instructor who’d tutored him, Wade would have flunked out of the academy. The grade reports he’d brought home had been nothing short of a miracle. Only the fear of disappointing his uncle prevented Wade from conceding defeat.

The battle continued in college. His uncle’s promise of a job at Dawson Investments upon graduation had motivated Wade to sacrifice friends, sports and a social life. He’d graduated near the top of his business class, then had been hired by Dawson Investments and handed Samantha’s trust fund to manage. Wade had believed his promotion to VP was a slam dunk—until this latest fiasco.

What if his uncle was involved in the disappearance of Samantha’s funds? He shoved the thought aside.
He’d view the security tapes before jumping to conclusions.

Samantha won’t criticize you if you take off your glasses.

How did he know? Because she intended to care for unwanted horses? Because she treated Luke kindly, had taken an old woman under her wing and had appeared genuinely concerned about his blistered hands?
None of that means the pampered princess isn’t above putting you in your place.

Samantha flustered him. She was friendly and approachable yet aloof and guarded. One minute she acted self-confident and downright bossy. The next uncertain. Her
uncertain
moments tugged at Wade’s heartstrings and he yearned to please her, slay her dragons, right her wrongs—basically make an ass of himself around her.

He knew one thing for sure—he’d never have a shot at being her hero if he didn’t recover her money.

W
HAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON
?

Since Wade wouldn’t receive copies of the company security tapes until next week he’d decided to skip work Friday and head out to the Peterson homestead, hoping to make progress on the well-digging before Samantha showed up tomorrow morning. He hadn’t expected to find a dozen half-naked cowboys strutting around the place.

Wade slowed his car to a stop and stared at the assortment of pickups parked near the farmhouse. Where was Samantha? He spotted her writing in her trusty notebook while a cowboy—a tall, muscular, no-eye-glasses kind of cowboy—talked her ear off.

The guy’s words must have tickled her funny bone, because Samantha’s head fell back and she laughed. Her full-blown smile caught Wade in the gut, stealing his breath. What he wouldn’t give to make her laugh that hard.

Feeling like a misfit among a gathering of Marlboro men, Wade shoved his glasses up his nose and got out of the car. He made a beeline for the barn, hoping his presence would go unnoticed. Fat chance.

Each cowboy Wade strolled by stopped. Turned. Stared. Twenty steps later Samantha’s voice smacked him in the back of the head.

“Wade!”

Crap.
He waited for her to catch up with him, hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal of his presence in front of the work crew. Face smudged with dirt and her braid unraveling, she’d never looked sexier.

“What are you doing here? Weren’t we supposed to meet tomorrow morning?”

“Things were slow at work this week so I decided to take today off and put in a few hours digging the well.” He knew how badly she wanted the project finished by Sunday night. There wasn’t a chance in hell of making that deadline, but he was determined to give it his best shot.

Instead of appearing pleased, she scowled. “You should have called me.”

He nodded toward the others. “If you’re worried I’ll get in the way—”

“I would have told you not to bother showing up today. Or any other day.”

“Why?”

“The guys offered to finish digging the well.” She motioned to the milling cowboys.

Wade stared at the throng of sweaty musclemen and clenched his jaw. The walls were closing in on him and damned if he could find an escape route.

“I appreciate that you’re trying to save me money, Wade, but there’s no reason to wear yourself out—”

Was she implying that he was a wuss?

“—when I have the funds to pay professionals to dig a well.”

“And these cowboys are professional well-diggers?”

“No. They’re my brother’s rodeo friends. But most of them have grown up on ranches and have construction experience.”

Wade’s gaze took in the workmen and he conceded that they did indeed appear qualified to dig wells and install fences. “How are you paying for supplies?” He motioned to the wooden posts the cowboys were unloading from the pickups.

“I charged the materials to my account at Barney’s Ranch Supply.”

Wade swallowed the knot in his throat. “How much did you spend?”

“Aside from the fencing, I ordered two water tanks, feeding bins and a few other items. Came to a little over six thousand dollars.”

“What are you paying these guys to help out?”

“Nothing. Juanita, my father’s housekeeper, is making her famous barbecue pork sandwiches for the men. You’re welcome to join us when we finish for the day.”

He’d stand out like a sore thumb among the ropers.
“Thanks for the invite, but Luke’s mother is dropping him off at my condo tonight.” He hated asking but his bruised male ego lashed out. “Do all these guys live around here?”

“No. The rodeo’s in town this weekend.” She chuckled. “Cowboys will do anything for a home-cooked meal.”

A home-cooked meal and a beautiful woman.
“When do we owe Barney’s Ranch Supply a payment on your account?”

“Barney sends out a bill once a month.”

At least Wade had enough in his savings account to pay off the fencing costs without dipping into his 401(k). “I’d better get to work.” He walked away, expecting her to call him back, praying she wouldn’t.

She didn’t.

Wade shimmied down the ladder and slowly chipped away at the ground with the short-handled shovel until he’d filled the bucket with dirt. Then he hauled the bucket up the ladder, tossed the dirt out and began the process all over again.

“Yer gonna get mighty tuckered climbin’ up ’n down all day.” Millicent flashed a toothless smile when Wade poked his head out of the hole. Knobby hands set a water jug on the ground. “Where’s that youngin’ o’ yers?”

“My sidekick is in summer school today. He’ll be here tomorrow.” Wade dumped the bucket of dirt, careful to avoid the old woman’s shoes. “Thanks for the drink.”

Millicent puckered her mouth. “Why don’t ya let them cowboys finish diggin’ the well? Go a lot faster.”

Because, damn it.
He intended to prove that he could
pull his weight as well as any cowboy. Wade didn’t care to delve too deeply into his reasons for needing to impress Samantha. He’d rather believe guilt urged him to continue shoveling dirt. Samantha’s father had entrusted his daughter’s money to Dawson Investments and they’d screwed up. “Isn’t it time for your nap?” he asked the old biddy.

“Watch yer britches, young feller, lest I put a hex on ya.” Millicent hobbled over to the rocking chair, sat and stared daggers at Wade.

Great. Not only was he being shown up by a bunch of cowboys, but a water witch threatened to cast a spell on him. Wade descended to the bottom of the hole, figuring he didn’t need anyone’s help digging his own path to hell.

“W
ANT US TO RESCUE HIM
?”

Sam spun at the sound of the gravelly voice. “What?” she asked Connor, one of her brother’s rodeo buddies.

He motioned to the hole in the ground fifty yards away. “You’ve been staring in his direction for the past two hours—” he shrugged a pair of wide shoulders “—figured you had the hots for the guy.”

Connor believed she lusted after Wade? “Wade Dawson is my financial adviser. He’s trying to save me money digging the well by hand.”

“Like hell you say?” Connor grinned until the corners of his mouth threatened to split.

Sam giggled. “Nope.”

“I’ll be damned.” The cowboy frowned. “You’re sure he’s not after a share of the Cartwright fortune for himself?”

“His uncle owns Dawson Investments in Tulsa. Wade pulls in a healthy income.” She doubted he had millions like her but he drove a nice car and she’d noticed the quality of his suits and shirts. The executive had no trouble making ends meet.

Right then Wade’s head popped out of the hole. He flung the bucket toward the pile nearby, but the afternoon winds blew half the dirt back in his face. Maybe the poor man did need to be rescued. Pride was well and good until stubbornness impeded progress. “Let him be for a while longer.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Connor touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Larry’s bringing in the water tanker. We’ll be ready to mix the cement and set the posts shortly.”

“Holler if you need any help,” she said.

As soon as the cowboy walked off, Sam’s thoughts returned to Wade. Did he really want to save her money or was there another reason Wade was killing himself?

Maybe he’s trying to impress you.

The possibility sparked a tingle in her toes that worked its way up her calf, zipped through her thigh and migrated into her stomach. She couldn’t compete intellectually with Wade—of that she was certain. So what did he see in her that made him want to prove he wasn’t afraid of hard work or getting his hands dirty?

Too much pondering gave her a headache. “Hold up, Jake!” She jogged over to an empty wheelbarrow, then steered the contraption toward the cowboy who’d been wrestling with two bags of cement. “Use this.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Jake loaded the bags into the wheelbarrow and went on his way.

Now why couldn’t Wade be as cooperative? Seeing there wasn’t much else for her to do while the men cemented the posts into the ground, she checked on Millicent.