The Millionaire Cowboy's Secret Read online

  “Wow,” she drawled. “You don’t look like any horse breeder I’ve ever met.”

  He grinned back, the beauty in his smile making it difficult for her to keep up the flirtatious act. In fact, the longer she studied him, the more unsettled she became. Rather than making her uncomfortable, this pissed her off. Seriously.

  Not good. Not good at all. Her job depended on her getting to know this man, but she couldn’t allow personal feelings to factor in.

  “And you don’t look like any journalist I’ve ever met, pretty lady.” Cocking his head, eyes molten, he gazed at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her fake smile froze on her face. Again, she had to suppress a surge of anger, which threw her off her game.

  His gaze sharpened at her lack of response and he leaned closer, bringing with him the scent of coffee and the outdoors.

  “Who knew Today’s Arabian Horse magazine hired such gorgeous journalists?” Even his voice, deep and as rich as chocolate, stirred unwanted desires inside her, despite the blatant B.S. he was spouting.

  Damn. Somehow she managed to smile back, at the same time tugging her hand free. She decided to ignore the fact that he’d held her hand a bit longer than was normal, especially since he was well-known as a player.

  She blushed on purpose as his gaze swept over her, growing more confident as she regained her focus. After all, she had years of field experience behind her. She wouldn’t falter just because this one guy had movie-star good looks and sinful bedroom eyes.

  She could do this. She would do this. Nothing would destroy her 100 percent success rate. Just like with all the others, she’d get to the truth. Eventually.

  After all, she could refocus. Glancing down at her dog, her son’s dog, who had taken a seat on Matt’s foot and had her eyes closed in bliss while he petted her, Skylar simply remembered the life she’d lost, and boom, she was back on track.

  With that sobering thought, she straightened her spine, looked him in the eye, and let her smile widen. “Looks like you’ve got a fan there,” she said, gesturing at Talia. “I hope she isn’t bothering you.”

  He shrugged, apparently not in the least bothered. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a dog person.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad. Thank you so much for allowing me this opportunity,” she said, managing to sound just on the edge of gushing. To distract herself, she reached down and scratched Talia just below the collar, which was her favorite spot.

  A comfortable silence fell. When she finally looked up, she was surprised to find something hungry, something sharp, in his warm gaze. Perfect. As soon as she noticed, his expression changed, becoming the amused, flirtatious one from before. Ah, so she wasn’t the only one playing a role.

  Interesting.

  “Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” he said, the resonance of his voice still trying to pull her out of her nice, safe numbness. “Are your bags in your car?”

  “Nope. Just Talia’s food and bed.” She hefted her backpack. “I travel light.”

  His warm smile told her he approved. Reaching in for the dog bed and the sack of dry food, he snagged both and then straightened.

  “Follow me.” Turning, he strode off, apparently trusting she could keep up. For a moment, she caught herself admiring the view—well-worn Wrangler jeans and what had to be the perfect male butt—before collecting herself and hurrying after him, Talia happily trotting along at her side.

  He led her to a small camper parked under a towering tree. Surprised, she looked around. “A bit isolated, isn’t it?” she said, aware most women would be a bit apprehensive staying alone.

  “No worries.” Placing a casual hand on her shoulder, he lightly squeezed. His touch felt hot, even through the thin material of her T-shirt. “This camper is where my foreman’s wife stayed while they were separated. They got back together, so now this is where I put temporary ranch hands and other assorted visitors.”

  Nodding, she tried not to show her disappointment. Glancing back at the magnificent showpiece of a home, she sighed. “I so wanted to stay there.” The better to keep an eye on things.

  Now she’d lobbed the ball squarely into his court. In real life she’d never have been so pushy, but for this job, she had to take any advantages she could. Even those that hadn’t been offered. Especially those.

  He frowned, giving her what she’d have sworn was a passable imitation of a confused look. “I promise this is a nice trailer. It’s clean and private and better for your dog. You’ll be close enough to still do your job, but not underfoot. I’m sorry, Ms. McLain. I do value my privacy.”

  She’d bet he did. It might be difficult organizing and running a massive illegal-export empire with a snoopy journalist underfoot. Well played, Matt Landeta, she thought. Well played. Of course, she’d expected no less.

  “I understand.” She didn’t have to feign her disappointment.

  “Go ahead, have a look inside.” He opened the door, motioning for her to precede him. “After this, I’ll take you on a tour of the house.”

  Humor colored his smoky voice once more. A quick glance at him confirmed her suspicion that he was laughing at her. For a heartbeat, she felt a flicker of unease—did he suspect?—before she managed to make herself chuckle along with him.

  The interior of the camper was surprisingly neat. A slide-out in the living area widened the space, giving the impression of more room that the exterior had hinted at.

  Talia close at her side, she wandered from the compact kitchen to the living area and checked out the tiny bathroom along the way before dropping her backpack on the full-size bed.

  “Very nice,” she said, meaning it. “I used to camp as a kid, so this brings back memories.” This was actually true. The closer she stuck to the truth while undercover, the easier things generally went.

  “I’m glad.” His broad shoulders made the tiny space seem even smaller. He dropped Talia’s bed in the perfect spot next to the compact couch and placed the bag of dog food on the kitchen table.

  For a moment they stood in a sort of awkward silence. Finally, he gave her what she was beginning to think of as his trademark smile. “Ready to see the house? Do you think your dog will be all right here? The air- conditioning works just fine.”

  She nodded. Fishing her camera out of her pack, she also grabbed a small notepad and pen.

  Still smiling, he held out his hand to help her out of the camper. The moment she slipped her fingers into his, sensation once again slammed into her. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from yanking her fingers from his.

  Gritting her teeth, she kept her expression pleasant. As soon as she’d descended the three metal steps and had her feet firmly on the ground, she nonchalantly pulled her hand free.

  She’d barely taken a step when she heard the sharp crack of a gunshot. Instinctively dropping, she rolled, intending to take cover behind the nearest bush, managing to snag hold of Matt’s arm on the way so she could drag him with her as she pulled her weapon.

  Chapter 2

  What the... Jerking his arm away, Matt stared at Skylar. He’d expected to find her a bit intense, given what he knew she actually did for a living, but this? It had never occurred to him that she might be skirting the edge of crazy.

  “Get over here,” she whispered. To his shock he realized she’d drawn a pistol, a wicked-looking Glock.

  He didn’t move. “That was my farm tractor, the one my hands use to clean out the barn. It backfired. Are you all right?” He held out his hand to help her up. Confusion flashed across her aristocratic features, warring with embarrassment and then relief. Finally, ignoring his gesture, she climbed to her feet, holstered her gun and dusted her hands off on her jeans.

  “Sorry,” she drawled, her face flushed. “I could’ve sworn that was a gunshot.”

  “Obviously.” Debating, he gave her a long look. “Do you always carry a pistol?”

  She cocked her head. “Always,” she said firmly, surpris
ing him. “I got my concealed-handgun license the first year they came out. I’m a firm believer in self- defense for women.”

  “I agree.” Smiling at her, he kept the conversation banal. “Are you a fairly good shot?”

  “I’m an excellent shot. I practice whenever I can. It’s a hobby of mine, second only to the shooting I do with my camera.” Holding up her camera, she smiled back, the first genuine expression she’d used since she’d arrived.

  Her smile stunned him. He’d noticed her beauty before, but now she looked...radiant, with the kind of unconscious sensual appeal that begged exploration.

  Damn. He slammed the lid down on his errant thoughts. No way was he planning to go there. He had enough on his plate as it was.

  “I also have a CHL,” he told her, his voice sounding a bit huskier than he’d have liked. “But, no offense, you seem jumpy. I don’t like the idea of you waving around a gun.”

  Meeting his gaze straight on, she considered his statement. “You’re right,” she finally said, surprising the hell out of him. “I promise you it won’t happen again.”

  He noted she didn’t offer to turn in her weapon. Of course, as an undercover ATF agent, she really couldn’t.

  Studying her, he considered his options. He could send her away and wait for the Feds to drum up another ridiculous excuse to send someone else. Or he could let her do her job while unwittingly serving his purpose and helping him get to the people he wanted—the Mexican drug cartel.

  She’d do, he decided. Plus, it didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes. “All right,” he finally said. “You can stay. You say you’ve taken all the courses and are well aware of the responsibilities that come with carrying a loaded gun?’

  “Yes.” Her mouth tightened. Pushing her, he knew, but he hadn’t been the one overreacting to the sound of an engine backfiring. Were all ATF agents this jumpy? Or did this one have a particular reason to be?

  When he didn’t immediately respond, she opened her mouth as though she meant to argue her case, but then closed it, apparently deciding against saying anything that might give her away.

  “Fine.” He decided to let it pass. “Come on. I’ll take you to see the horses.”

  He turned and strode off in the direction of the barn, knowing she’d have to hurry to catch up. Which she did easily and without comment.

  As they crossed the parking lot, passing by the tack building and the ranch office on the way to his large barn, she looked around and whistled. “Nice.”

  Allowing a slight grin, he nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve heard your horses are beautiful.”

  Of all the creatures on this earth, Matt loved horses the best. Especially his. The purebred Arabians were grace, elegance and intelligence combined.

  Instead of taking Skylar directly to the barn, he led her to the indoor riding arena to which the stalls were attached. His trainers were working two of his newest mares now.

  Taking Skylar’s arm, he stopped at the edge of the arena to watch. He glanced at her, knowing her reaction would tell him if she truly was a horse person at heart or pretending to be one because of her assignment.

  To his surprise, she had her chin in the air, eyes closed. The expression on her face was one of rapt wonder.

  “What are you doing?”

  One corner of her mouth curled up. “Inhaling the scent. There’s nothing like the smell of a horse barn.”

  Curious, he continued to study her. “Most people don’t like it, especially the manure.”

  Shaking her head, she grinned at him. “Well, I do. I like it a lot.”

  He didn’t know her enough to know if she was faking. For him, the scent of horses and hay and leather and sawdust were as heady as the finest perfume. No, better.

  When she turned her attention to the two horses being lunged at each end of the ring, he waited expectantly. If she’d done her research, she’d know that these two animals were among the finest examples of the purebred Arabian horse breed.

  “They’re beautiful,” she breathed. Raising her fancy camera, she snapped shot after shot.

  Idly, he wondered if she even knew how to take decent photographs. One way to find out. “Let me see.” He held out his hand for the camera.

  Slowly, she handed over the expensive piece of equipment. “Please be careful with it,” she said.

  He’d already located the button that would display the digital images. Calling them up on to the display, he viewed them one by one.

  They were first-rate. Professional quality. She’d truly done his horses justice.

  Surprised and impressed, he handed the camera back.

  “They’re good,” he said. “Very good.”

  She gave a nonchalant shrug and turned away. “That’s my job.”

  “How’s your dog around horses?” he asked. The last thing he needed was a crazed dog frightening his stock.

  “She’s good.” Her easy smile told him she once again spoke truth. “I used to have a couple of my own. She came with me to the stables every day. I promise she won’t be a problem.”

  “That’ll work.” If the dog couldn’t handle it, he’d simply ask her to keep it in the trailer.

  His cell phone buzzed, indicating a text message. Digging it out of his pocket, he saw it was from José. I have news, it said.

  “I’ve got to go,” he told Skylar. “Feel free to take a look around the barn and talk to my employees. I’ll see you up at the house later, if you’d like to eat with us.”

  Her eyes widened, as though she hadn’t been expecting the invitation. Finally, she nodded. “Sounds good,” she said, then turned away.

  Matt hurried up to the house.

  José had apparently watched everything from the kitchen window.

  “That’s her?”

  Matt nodded. Skylar McLain hadn’t been at all what he’d expected. The slender redhead looked strong and fit, as befitted a federal agent, yet she was lushly shaped. Her facial bones were delicate, showing off her full mouth and wide green eyes. Worst of all, she was beautiful, even with her silky straight hair scooped back in a careless ponytail.

  “Wow!” José’s grin showed his crooked teeth. “A looker, isn’t she?”

  “Not at all what I expected when you said the woman coming to do a story on me for the Arabian Horse magazine was going to be an undercover ATF agent. I still don’t know how you found that out.”

  José’s grin widened as he executed an exaggerated bow. “One of my many talents. I know people who know things.”

  Despite the worry that gnawed at his stomach, Matt forced himself to smile back. His friend had gone the extra mile, using his past prison experience and connections. Not only to place himself between the ATF and Matt, but with the Mexican drug cartel La Familia, as well.

  “She’s pretty damn hot for a federal agent.”

  “I agree.” José briefly grinned, then frowned. “You can’t let that distract you.”

  “You know better than that,” Matt said, not bothering to try to hide his anger. José knew better than anyone else what he lived for.

  Vengeance, plain and simple. And he didn’t give a damn who or what he had to go through to get it.

  “Take it easy, man.” José cuffed him on the shoulder. “It’s all gonna work out.”

  “Maybe. I’m still not sure why we don’t just send her packing. If the cartel gets wind that we have an ATF agent here...”

  “They will.” José sounded confident. “We just have to make sure they learn about it when we want them to.”

  Elaborate plans. Even as a kid, José had always engineered complicated schemes that always seemed to work out. This time, he’d planned the most intricate of them all. Not only did they have to fool the ATF, but La Familia, as well. Good thing Matt trusted his friend implicitly. He wanted revenge, and that was what José promised he would get. With no collateral damage. This was important, too. Matt didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

  Jamming his hands
into his pockets, he stared out the window at the ranch he’d developed from the ground up. Too late for his family to enjoy it.

  “You’re right, though. I’ll have to be careful,” he muttered, thinking out loud. “Since you’re positive your plan is going to work, I’ve got to figure out a way to let Skylar McLain hang around without allowing her to find anything.”

  “At least until you want her to,” José reminded him.

  “Yeah.” Matt gave a short laugh. Reaching deep inside to that dark, still place he carried with him always, he straightened, infusing the steel into his spine the way he’d learned in the army. “Let’s hope it all works out the way we’ve planned. I’d hate to be the one responsible for getting someone else killed.”

  “Amigo, you need to stop.” José cuffed his shoulder again. Matt braced himself to blow off the words he knew his friend was about to say. He ignored them at least once a month.

  “None of this is your fault.”

  José always said this, like a litany, and by now Matt thought his friend truly believed it. Of the two of them, José had changed the least. Oh, prison had hardened him, shown him life was not all sunshine and roses, but José somehow managed to remain an eternal optimist, just like he’d been when they were kids. Most times, Matt envied that. Other times, he couldn’t help but feel José was foolish, destined to get hurt.

  Rubbing the back of his neck with a tired hand, he thought he’d been playing this game for far too long. He was more than ready for it to be over. Patience had never been his strongest trait, but in this he’d had no choice.

  “These things take time,” José said, correctly reading the expression on Matt’s face.

  “So you keep saying.” Matt knew he sounded sour, but didn’t really care. “With your newfound serenity and all, you’re starting to remind me of our old priest, Father Peter, from Wednesday night catechism.”

  José grinned, taking it as a compliment. Matt suspected José himself had once toyed with the idea of becoming a priest. Growing up, they’d both attended the same church, worshipped at the same masses. They even briefly served as altar boys together. Back then, the future had seemed rosy and bright. Neither had imagined what life would have in store for them, though they’d each been certain they were going to change the world.