The Millionaire Cowboy's Secret Page 10

  “I promise you, she’s a crack shot. And she did a hell of a job helping me get the horses out of the barn. She must be good at what she does to be sent undercover. So who knows? Her bright-eyed, innocent thing could be an act.”

  “Maybe.” José shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was playing you.”

  “Me, either,” Matt agreed darkly. “And that’s partly why I asked her to leave. I don’t have time for these stupid games women play.”

  “But now you’re reconsidering?” José watched him closely.

  Again Matt lifted his shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “The enemy we know is better than the one we don’t. If I send her away, the ATF will send someone else. They could be more interfering.”

  “Or worse, they could trump up some fake charges and raid us. Claim you were operating as a gun dealer without a license, like they did to that guy in Dallas.”

  “Damn. I’d forgotten about that. I think I will allow Skylar to persuade me to let her stay.”

  José sighed. “Just be careful. I know she’s muy bonita and all that, but you need to think with your head instead of your dick.”

  Matt couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re just jealous because you haven’t gotten any tail lately.”

  Flipping Matt the bird, José reluctantly grinned back. “How can I, bro? These days everything’s about our little operation.”

  “You want a day off? Take one.” Matt gestured at the door. “But before you do, I still want you to try to get word to Diego. Again. Tell him we’re ready. The sooner we can try to get the ball rolling, the better.”

  “Agreed.” José pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Let me make a few calls. I haven’t heard from my contact in a while. I need to try to reach him. We’ll talk later about me taking a day off.”

  While José tended to business, Matt wandered outside. One of his trainers was working one of the show mares in the large outdoor arena. Perched on the fence, Skylar had her camera up and appeared to be taking more photos.

  He wondered if, as part of her undercover persona, she really was writing a story about his Arabian horse-breeding operation. If so, he imagined her efforts would all go to waste, which was kind of sad.

  Matt’s horses were one of the things he actually cared about. They ran a close third, after his quest for Diego and his friendship with José. He would love to actually see them, and his breeding program, featured in a reputable Arabian horse magazine.

  Skylar swung her camera around as he approached, apparently taking a few snapshots of him. The uncomfortable feeling of her using them for a future police lineup made him wince, but he kept his expression pleasant.

  “Hey, there.” Greeting her quietly, he climbed up beside her on the fence. “Sorry about earlier. It’s been a rough morning.”

  She cocked her head, her expression quizzical. “No worries. Do you want me to bring anything to dinner tonight? I can run to the store and get some cheese or bread or wine. Whatever you’d like.”

  Damn. She talked as if they were friends simply having a potluck or something. Or maybe neighbors—he didn’t know. One thing for was for sure—she confused the hell out of him.

  “Nothing,” he said. “You don’t have to bring anything.”

  Her smile faltered slightly at the harsh tone of his voice. Then, apparently still determined to appear lighthearted, she dialed up the wattage until she was practically beaming. “Okay, then.”

  Jumping down from the fence, she lifted her camera and pointed it at him. After taking a couple of shots of him refusing to smile or pose, she lifted her hand in a carefree wave and took off.

  Though he hated himself for doing so, he watched her until she disappeared from view.

  * * *

  “Well, that went well,” Skylar told herself, trying not to feel foolish as she strolled—her pace deliberately casual—toward her trailer. She’d tried to kill him with kindness, but instead of reacting the way she’d figured a typical male would, Matt had seemed to see right through her and refused to act the same way.

  Was that an omen of how their dinner later would go? Heck, she hoped not.

  Once she reached the camper, she opened the door and Talia nearly knocked her backward off the steps. Her enthusiastic greeting never wavered. Skylar buried her hands in her dog’s fur, cuddling her and enjoying the doggy kisses that were Talia’s way of showing affection.

  “Did you miss me, girl?” Snapping on the expandable lead, Skylar took Talia out for a brief walk before taking her back inside and feeding her. While her dog ate, Skylar sat down at the small dinette table and reviewed her digital photos.

  When she got to the last two—the ones she’d taken of Matt—she paused. Though he’d apparently been trying to appear stern and disinterested, she’d managed to capture a look of...longing, naked in his blue eyes.

  Or maybe that was her imagination.

  Dragging her hand through her hair, she groaned. This particular case had completely succeeded in messing with her mind. What she didn’t understand was why.

  Even as she pondered the question, she looked again at Matt Landeta’s photo and knew.

  Something about him drew her as no other man had been able to since Robbie.

  As she waited for the familiar surge of guilt/anguish/anger that came as soon as she thought of her husband, she let her gaze wander back to the picture of Matt.

  It took her a moment to realize she’d let her thoughts about her beloved departed husband slide back into her subconscious.

  Dumbfounded, she hurriedly punched the off button on her camera. Leaving it on the table, she glanced at her watch. She had about ninety minutes to get ready. Which meant she also had ninety minutes to come up with a workable plan. Because, even though she really wanted him to permit her to stay, she knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to beg.

  Swallowing hard, she eyed herself in the distorted trailer mirror and grimaced. She shouldn’t have to try this hard to look sexy. Other women never seemed to have to work so much at it.

  Maybe it was because they were, um, having sex?

  Even the quick mental rebuke managed to bring her a rush of heat. Damn, she had it bad. Worse, she didn’t know how to deal with it. She’d never mixed business with pleasure. She wasn’t about to start now.

  Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths and concentrated on centering her core. This trick, taught to her by her therapist years ago, had surprisingly worked.

  When she opened her eyes again, she felt better. She hadn’t brought many clothes and had two dresses to pick from.

  For this, ostensibly her last night at Matt’s ranch, she chose a short halter sundress. The kaleidoscope of colors ranged from emerald-green to turquoise, and she’d been told by several of her coworkers that it set off both her hair and her eyes.

  She straightened her long red hair with a flat iron and left it loose, then added blush and eye shadow to her face. Though she knew men didn’t care about jewelry, she added a slender angel pendant on a gossamer silver chain and matching earrings.

  Finally, she put on her favorite pair of impossibly high heels. Luckily, they were platforms, so much easier to walk in than they looked.

  Dressed and ready, she gave herself one last doubtful look in the mirror and wished she could banish the fluttering butterflies in her stomach.

  Maybe she needed to look at this another way—as a job. Which was exactly what it was. She had a task to complete. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Matt could turn her down flat and send her away anyway.

  Literally, she had nothing to lose.

  Except maybe, she thought, swallowing hard, her self-respect.

  On the way up to the main house, she tried not to think. Just put one leg in front of the other and walk, all the while attempting to appear graceful.

  As she approached the back of the house, she saw Matt was already outside. Though her mouth went dry at the sight of him, she kept moving. As she got closer, she
saw he’d fired up the grill.

  “I’m letting it preheat,” he said, offering her an easy smile. Oddly enough, that smile did what her own stern talking-to hadn’t been able to do. Put her at ease.

  Relaxing slightly, she smiled back.

  “Let me pour you a glass of wine.” He had a bottle open and aerating behind him. “Is Shiraz okay?”

  “Great.” Now, when she needed a silver tongue the most, she could barely articulate a thought. Of course. Even though she told herself she wasn’t planning to go through with...all of it?

  Panic had her heart fluttering. It was one thing to make an objective sort of plan. It was another thing entirely to actually implement it. Especially concerning sex.

  Once again, she resolved not to do anything that made her uncomfortable.

  Hands trembling slightly, she accepted the glass, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” He turned back toward his grill, fiddling with one of the knobs.

  Even now, completely undecided and wondering what the hell she was doing here, she had to fight an overwhelming urge to move closer to him. Would it really be so bad making love with him? Should she?

  Part of her answered Yes. The other, more rational part was still mired in the past and screamed Absolutely not. After all, how could she even think of such a thing when her husband and son were dead because she had asked them to go to the bank for her?

  Noticing Matt eyeing her curiously, she gave herself a mental shake and took a sip of wine. Five years had passed since the murder. Five long years that she’d spent completely alone, except for her coworkers. Married to her job—first the police force and then the ATF—she’d kept herself closed off from human physical contact, especially the masculine kind. Her body ached to experience it again.

  Shocked, she let out a small gasp.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt asked, frowning in concern.

  Tongue-tied, she blinked. “I was just thinking what a beautiful place you have here,” she said. “The house, the animals, the entire atmosphere. I know the barn fire was a bit of bad luck, but you are more fortunate than you realize. I mean, what more could you want?”

  Something in his expression made her stop. She couldn’t blame him. She’d been babbling, after all.

  “What more could I want?” he asked, his voice tight. “All of this—” he waved his hand “—the horses, the house, the land—are just possessions. I appreciate them, but people—family—matter a hell of a lot more.”

  The vehemence with which he spoke the words touched her in a place she usually kept shielded—her heart.

  Damn him. Again she reminded herself he was an alleged criminal, but as she stared up at him, aware she needed to respond but struck speechless, she realized one truth was not going to change.

  She wanted him.

  Hell.

  She knew she could go around and around like this all night. Arguing the pros and the cons, like two opposing political candidates locked in a meaningless debate.

  As though an invisible thread pulled her, she took a step closer. Clearly still waiting for her to speak, he arched a brow.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded and then said the first thing that came to mind—the truth. “You’re right. Family is important. More important than anything else—possessions, a job, whatever.”

  Cocking his head, his expression turned speculative. “You speak with the voice of experience.”

  Dangerous ground. Aware she had to keep her real life separate from her undercover one and therefore couldn’t speak of her experience, she managed to lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Not personally,” she lied. “But I’m a good observer of other people’s lives.”

  He turned away, but not before she noticed the way his mouth tightened. Almost as if he knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

  Since that wasn’t possible—after all, he knew nothing about her—she spoke again, focusing on banalities. “Do you grill a lot?” Slowly swiveling to face her again, he smiled. “Of course. I’m better with a grill than I am with an oven.”

  “Not me.” Relieved to be back on solid ground, she smiled.

  “How do you like your steak?” he asked. “I’ve got T-bones. They’re kind of big, but you can refrigerate your leftovers for later.”

  “Medium rare,” she managed. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “Nope.” He took a long pull of his wine. “I made a couple of salads and they’re in the fridge. I baked some potatoes in the microwave and wrapped them in foil. I’m keeping them warm on the grill while I cook the steaks. Just make yourself comfortable and try to relax.”

  As he disappeared inside to get the steaks, she thought of how homey this was. In another life, she’d had cookouts in the backyard, only Robbie had stood at the grill, grinning as he made the perfect burger. There’d also been a young boy running, playing and laughing. Bryan. Her son.

  Once again, she saw his amazingly long-lashed blue eyes, the freckles on his upturned nose. Throat aching, she remembered his butterfly kisses, the joyful way he’d yelled I love you, Mommy! She’d had it all back then. Everything any woman could ever want. Taken away, just like that. And she missed her family once more with a knife-sharp sense of loss.

  From Matt’s words, it almost sounded as if he’d suffered a similar loss. Bringing herself up sharply, she shook her head. There she went again, trying to make him empathetic. The only thing they actually shared was this amazing chemistry. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Chapter 8

  Inhaling, Skylar decided to cut herself a break. In the past, she hadn’t found it so easy to hide her sorrow. Now, though, with the familiarity of long practice, she’d managed to shove the memories aside, to be taken out and examined another day.

  Whistling under his breath, Matt returned with the steaks. He placed them on the grill and seasoned them, more relaxed while performing this mindless task than she’d seen him all day. At least, since earlier when he’d been showing her his horses.

  Behind him, she realized he’d set the little metal table with silverware and bright-colored plates. A container of pale blue hydrangeas served as a centerpiece.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said softly. He’d certainly gone through a lot of trouble for a woman he wanted gone.

  “So are you,” he replied.

  Inhaling sharply, she searched his face. He gazed right back, his expression serious. She expected him to rake his eyes boldly over her, but instead he held her gaze, as though searching. She couldn’t make herself look away. Her body felt heavy and warm. Not so, her pulse.

  That skipped and raced as though anticipating things she had barely even dared to dream about.

  What was this? It shouldn’t be happening, couldn’t be happening, yet...here she was. With him.

  The grill flared, making the steaks sizzle. The moment broken, he turned his attention back to the meat.

  Damn and double damn.

  Watching him, she tried to dissect what it was about him. The vitality he radiated drew her like a magnet. And she, of all people, knew better.

  Restless, feeling uncomfortable in her own body, she finished the last of her wine.

  “Would you like more?” he asked, smiling slightly. She felt the power of that smile like a knife in her gut.

  “I can get it,” she told him and crossed behind him to reach the bottle. After she’d refilled her glass, she moved slightly, standing beside him so she could see the grill. The steaks sizzled, thick and trimmed with very little fat.

  “Those look amazing.”

  His grin widened. “They’re nearly ready. Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat and let me dish everything up?”

  “How about I go get the salad?”

  He gave her a sharp look and then nodded. “That’d be great. There are a couple of bottles of salad dressing in the fridge door. Please bring those, too.”

  Smiling back, she went inside.

&n
bsp; As it had every time she’d been inside, his beautiful house evoked so many emotions. This time, focusing on her task, she pushed them away.

  Opening the refrigerator, she located the salads and the dressing and turned to carry them outside. Suddenly, the utter domestication of what she was doing hit her. It felt more than wrong. Not only was she here under false pretenses, but she was enjoying this a bit too much.

  Sadly, she had to continually remind herself why she was here. What had happened to her objective professionalism?

  Taking a deep breath, she pasted a smile on her face and marched outside. “Here we are.” She placed the salads on the table. He’d already put the foil-encased potatoes on their plates and was now removing the steaks from the grill.

  Her steak was perfectly cooked, exactly as she liked it. They ate in a companionable silence. Again she reflected on how long it had been since she felt so comfortable around a man.

  Full, she finally pushed her plate away, groaning. “Sorry, I can’t finish this. It was wonderful, but I’m done.”

  “No worries.” He gestured at his empty plate. “As you can see, I didn’t have the same problem.”

  “Wow,” she said, impressed. “That looks like vultures cleaned it over. You can sure put away food.”

  “True. Now—” he reached across the table and covered her hand with his “—I believe you had some questions you wanted to ask me.”

  Though she had to force herself not to flinch at his touch, conversely he struck a chord of longing in her. But, because of this action, she knew in that moment she would be leaving. There would be no reprieve.

  Regret filled her. Not only would this mean failure at her assignment, but he appealed to her and made her senses sing. The fact that he was the first man to do so in the five long years since she had lost her husband said something. If only it had been another time, another place, a different situation.

  Shuddering, she swallowed hard. Though her body ached for him, craved the fulfillment of lovemaking she knew he alone could give her, she realized she couldn’t do this. Since Robbie’s and Bryan’s deaths, she’d thrown herself into her work. She’d been willing to do anything for her job, to be the best, solve the cases and get ahead.