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  “When is your next day off? I’m flexible. We can work around your schedule.”

  “I’ll have to let you know. Good night, Wade,” she finally said with firmness, then slipped inside her house, leaving her clean wildflower scent floating in the air, torturing him even across the distance between their cabins.

  Lowry stood on the porch for just a moment, then bounded down the porch steps, whistling cheerfully as he climbed into his pickup. He revved the engine a little too much, then drove away.

  Zack stayed in his dark corner a few moments longer, wondering when he could safely get up and go inside without her hearing him. He was still mulling it over when her door opened again and she peeked her head out.

  “You can come out now. He’s gone,” Zack called softly. He only meant to tease her a little, but he immediately realized he had made a severe miscalculation in judgment.

  His old man always warned him not to yank a barn cat’s tail unless he was in the mood for some damn good scratches.

  With both hands, she shoved open her screen door the rest of the way then marched down her steps and up his until she loomed over him, angry tension in every tight line of her body.

  “How was the show?” she snapped. “See anything interesting while you were lurking out here in the dark?”

  He leaned back in the rocking chair with a grin. “To be honest, it didn’t look real thrilling from here. But then, I wasn’t the one with Lowry’s tongue down my throat, either.”

  The sound she made was somewhere between a growl and a cussword. “What are you doing out here, Slater?”

  He shrugged. “Can’t a man sit out on a warm summer evening and just enjoy the night?”

  “You have no right to spy on me.”

  He assumed an injured tone. “Spy? Why would I want to do that?”

  “Beats me. Why do you do anything? Why come back to Star Valley in the first place? Why go to so much trouble to buy the Lost Creek? Why force me to stay and work for you?”

  Because I’m still crazy about you, after ten years. He heard the words in his head and shifted in the rocking chair, swallowing them back.

  “I like it here,” he muttered. “I’ve always liked it here.”

  “No. It’s more than that. You’re up to something. Why not just admit it and tell me what it is you want?”

  What would she say if he told her what he wanted was to pull her into his lap right now and show her a real kiss, not that thing Lowry gave her?

  Since he was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate it, he opted to change the subject. “How was your date?” he asked instead.

  She was quiet for a moment, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Fine. The musical was good.”

  “And the company?” he couldn’t resist asking.

  “None of your business, Slater.”

  Every instinct in him warned him to hold his tongue, but his next words slipped out, anyway. “I thought I told you it wasn’t a good idea to go out with him.”

  “And I thought I told you I don’t give a damn what you want. Good night, Slater.”

  She whirled to go, but he reached out and grabbed her arm before she could march back down the steps. “Just be careful around him, okay? I don’t think he’s the nice guy everybody seems to think.”

  She slid her hand from his loose grasp. “You’ve been gone for ten years, Zack. You don’t know Wade at all. And you don’t know me, either.”

  He watched her walk back into her cabin then purposefully move about the place yanking every curtain closed.

  That barn owl hooted again but this time there was no answering call.

  The silence made him feel more alone than ever.

  * * *

  She was cutting radishes into flowery garnishes the next afternoon when Jean walked into the kitchen, her gray hair yanked into its regular braid and a smile on her weathered face.

  “Hear you went into Jackson with Wade Lowry last night to see a show. Have a good time?”

  She sighed. She had answered that very question half a dozen times already that day. Why was it she couldn’t even buy a new toothbrush without everybody hearing about it?

  “They have a talented group this year, even though those college kids seem to get younger and younger every year.”

  “Time marches on, whether we want it to or not.”

  True enough. Just that morning she had ruthlessly yanked a solitary gray hair from among her short dark cap like a gardener after weeds. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t seem to shake this black mood. It surely didn’t have anything to do with her snoopy next-door neighbor or the insane urge that had come over her the night before to kiss that smirk right off his face.

  “Anyway, it was very professionally done,” she said, hastily dragging her mind from those dangerous waters. “I was thinking maybe some of the guests might enjoy an outing into town one of these nights. You could probably get a good rate on tickets for a large group.”

  “Good idea. Maybe I’ll try to set something up next week.” With a long sigh, Jean settled into a chair and plucked one of the radishes from the tray, then popped it into her mouth.

  It was so rare to see the Lost Creek owner—well, the lame duck owner, anyway—sit down for any length of time that Cassie set down her knife and studied her boss carefully.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  Jean shrugged. “Sure. Just fine.”

  “How are you feeling, really?”

  The older woman was quiet for a moment and Cassie ached for the weary frustration flickering through those steely gray eyes. “I won’t lie to you. Some days are better than others. Without this damned arthritis I’d feel half my age.”

  No matter what she might think about Zack Slater, she couldn’t forget that Jean really didn’t have a choice about selling the ranch to his company. She wasn’t sure if he would be ruthless enough to make good on his threat to back out of the sale if she didn’t stick it out for a few short weeks, but she couldn’t take that chance.

  “Just think.” She summoned a smile for her friend. “In a few months you’ll be in San Diego with your daughter and can take it easy just soaking in the ocean breezes.”

  A spasm of worry tightened the older woman’s features. “I suppose. If everything goes through with Maverick and young Slater.”

  “Has there been a problem?” Cassie asked carefully.

  “Don’t know. He’s a man who plays his cards pretty close to his chest. Hard to know what he’s thinking.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? There was a time she thought she knew him as well as she knew herself. She could see now exactly how foolish and young she’d been. Age had taught her that people could be married for years and still keep a large chunk of their souls to themselves.

  “You know,” Jean went on pensively, “I couldn’t figure out at first why he wanted the ranch, but the more I see him around the place, I think I’m beginning to see it.”

  Cassie hated the curiosity prowling through her. At the same time she couldn’t quite manage to control it. “What have you figured out?”

  “I don’t think it’s about money at all. I think he loves it here. I think maybe he feels he belongs.”

  Cassie chopped so hard she mangled the pretty little radish flower under her hands. Zack Slater would never belong. Not at the Lost Creek, not in Salt River, not in the entire Star Valley. He couldn’t.

  Jean was wrong. It had to be the money. He was a greedy opportunist who knew a good deal when he saw it. And if he could find a way to hurt her in the bargain, so much the better.

  She opened her mouth to say so but shut it again. She had no call to hurt Jean’s feelings. If the woman wanted to believe Zack’s motives for buying the guest ranch were so pure, Cassie didn’t have the heart—or the cruelty—to disillusion her.

  Besides, after their agreement ended in just three more weeks, he would have no more hold on her than their shared past. What he did wouldn’t concern her at all.

  “
Anyway, the reason I stopped by is to ask how you’d feel about going up with the cattle drive tomorrow. I was planning to go as camp cook but I’m just not sure I can manage it, the way I’ve been feeling the past two or three days.”

  The idea held instant appeal. She hadn’t gone on an overnight ride into the mountains since the previous fall’s roundup at the Diamond Harte. The thought of a night spent breathing clear, high-altitude air seemed exactly what she needed to make some order of her chaotic thoughts.

  She could have Matt bring her favorite mare over from the ranch and her pack tent and camping supplies.

  “What about the meals here while I’m gone?” she asked, warming quickly to the idea.

  “Claire can cover for you. Most all the guests have signed up for the roundup, anyway. I know it’s short notice, but it would really help me out.”

  “No problem.” She was already running through possible menus in her head. “I can easily put together all the supplies this afternoon.”

  Since the roundup would leave before first light in the morning, she spent the rest of the afternoon planning the four meals she would need to fix, then carefully loading the necessary ingredients into large panniers to be carried by two packhorses.

  While she worked, eager anticipation curled through her like black-eyed Susans on a fence, lifting their cheerful faces to the sun.

  If nothing else, a trip into the mountains would help put some distance between her and Slater. And maybe a little physical distance would be all she needed to keep the blasted man from invading her thoughts every fifteen seconds.

  * * *

  Cassie stepped back and surveyed her handiwork in the pale early-morning light while the sturdy packhorses nickered softly to each other and to the other mounts being saddled for the trip.

  “Does the load look even to you?” she asked Marty Mitchell, one of the oldest of the Lost Creek wranglers. A horse that wasn’t loaded right would tire too quickly on the climb into the mountains.

  He spat a wad of chew on the ground. “Far as I can tell. You sure you remembered everythin’?”

  “I think so.” She did a quick mental inventory. She was probably forgetting something—she usually did on the Diamond Harte cattle drives, anyway—but she had double-checked her list as carefully as possible the night before.

  “The dudes are rarin’ to go.” Marty spat another wad of chew to the ground. She followed his gaze and saw that Jean had been right the night before. While she’d been finishing with the packhorses, most of the Lost Creek guests had shown up and were being matched by one of the other wranglers with appropriate mounts for their riding skills.

  “Those two are gonna be trouble,” Marty said, pointed to a pair of towheaded twins, a boy and a girl a few years younger than Lucy and Dylan. The twins wore matching Western regalia—vests, chaps, and jaunty little red cowboy hats—and looked as if they were ready to come to blows over a pretty black-and-white speckled pinto pony.

  As Cassie watched, ready to step in as peacemaker, the girl took matters into her own hands by shoving her foot into the stirrup of the pony they both obviously wanted, gripping the saddle pommel and mounting up before her brother had a chance to blink.

  Cassie grinned.

  “You would appreciate such a dirty trick,” a low voice murmured in her ear. In an instant her blood turned to ice and then just as quickly to molten fire.

  She whipped her head around, and dread clutched her stomach when she saw Slater leading one of the Lost Creek geldings, a big, muscular blood bay. Zack wore jeans, a denim jacket and a battered Stetson, and the horse he led was outfitted just like the others, with a bedroll, tent and all the supplies a person would need for an overnight stay in the mountains.

  She found herself made speechless by the implications.

  He couldn’t be going on the cattle drive. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel to send the two of them into the same circumstances that had brought them together in the first place a decade ago.

  How could she possibly spend two days with him in the mountains? She couldn’t. Her mind raced around in circles trying to figure out a way to escape the inevitable.

  Even as she wildly examined her options, she knew she had no way to get out of it. She was trapped, just as surely as a wildcat treed by a pack of hounds. She had promised Jean she would do it and she couldn’t back out now. Her assistant couldn’t handle the trip on such short notice, and she had seen by the trembling exhaustion on her friend’s face the day before that Jean simply wasn’t up to it.

  It was far too late in the game to find anyone else.

  Had Jean known Slater planned to ride along? Or had he only decided to join the expedition when he found out she was going, as part of his general plan to torment her?

  “What’s the matter? You look surprised to see me.”

  Surprised was far too mild a word. Horrified fit much better. “Doesn’t the owner and CEO of Maverick Enterprises have far more important things to do with his time than go with a bunch of greenhorns on a mock cattle drive?”

  “I can’t think of a one,” he answered with a small smile and a funny look in those hazel eyes.

  He held her gaze for just a moment longer than necessary, until heat soaked her cheeks and she had to look away. Her gaze landed on his mouth, and for one crazy instant she could remember nothing but their brief kiss the week before on her porch.

  Not just that kiss, but a hundred others. Slow, drugging kisses that sent her blood churning through her veins. Quick ones that made her heart flutter like a trapped bird in her chest.

  Once she had known that mouth as well as her own, had tasted every inch and savored every curve and hollow.

  Her insides trembled in remembered heat. She closed her eyes, willing him to disappear. When she opened them, he was—to her everlasting regret—still standing beside her, reins held loosely in his hands and looking as gorgeous as ever.

  “If you need some suggestions for what to do with yourself, I can come up with plenty,” she snapped.

  His grin only added to his looks, she was disgusted to admit. “I’m sure you could, sweetheart,” he answered, then swung into the saddle with a power and grace that left her a little light-headed.

  It was going to be a very long two days.

  * * *

  She tried her best to pretend Zack Slater didn’t exist throughout most of the day.

  It wasn’t easy, especially since she and her string of packhorses brought up the rear of the haphazard group that stretched along the wide trail like worry beads.

  From back here, she had an excellent rear view of him riding ahead of her. Not that she was paying the least bit of attention. She most certainly was not. But if she had been, she might have had a hard time not observing how the blasted man still sat in the saddle as if he had been born there, loose and easy and natural.

  She didn’t notice, though. Any more than she saw the way the bright summer sun gleamed off that tawny hair under his hat like August wheat or the way his smile flashed at something one of the Carlson twins said to him or the way her breath seemed to catch in her chest every time he turned around and speared her with a hot look from those murky gold-flecked eyes.

  He didn’t exist, she reminded herself. Instead of focusing on him, she tried to turn her attention to the thrill of a cattle drive—even a light version like this one, where there were almost more drivers than cattle.

  The Lost Creek guests loved this, living out their own version of the movie City Slickers. Jean didn’t keep a big herd at the Lost Creek, maybe one hundred and fifty head. Not like the Diamond Harte, with its herd four times that size.

  Jean moved her Herefords only about twenty at a time. Half the summer was spent moving them up to higher ground, the other half bringing them back to the ranch in small groups so that guests throughout the season had the opportunity to participate in a cattle drive.

  The formula seemed to work, to the exhilaration of all—except maybe the somewhat bewildered-looki
ng cattle.

  It was exciting, Cassie had to admit. Even though she had always participated in the Diamond Harte roundup on a much more massive scale, this was still fun—the bawling of the cattle, the creak of saddles and jangle of tack, the barking of the three low-slung cattle dogs who did most of the actual work.

  What was there not to enjoy? They were on a wide trail—a Forest Service fire road, really—surrounded by spectacular scenery: fringy Douglas firs, white-trunked aspens with their pale-green leaves fluttering in the breeze, and wild carpets of wildflowers spreading out in every direction.

  She breathed in the scent—of horse and sagebrush and mountains. It was a smell so evocative of summer she had to smile. Oh, she had missed this. She wasn’t going to let Slater ruin her delight in something she had always loved.

  She was so busy trying not to pay attention to him that she didn’t notice that he’d pulled away from the rest of the group until he was coming toward her.

  She stiffened in the saddle enough that Solidad grew fractious, both at Cassie’s sudden tension on the reins and at the presence of the big bay Slater rode.

  “Easy, girl,” she murmured, but she wasn’t sure if it was a message aimed more at herself or at her mare.

  Now beside her, Zack gestured toward the ranch guests whooping and hollering and yippy-cay-aying. “Not quite like a Diamond Harte cattle drive, is it?”

  She looked for derision in his eyes, in his voice. To her surprise, she found none, just genuine enjoyment. It reminded her of what Jean had said the day before about his motives for acquiring the ranch.

  “It’s what keeps people paying the big money to stay at the Lost Creek and all the other dude ranches like it. Traditions like this and the romance of the Old West.”

  “It’s not hard to understand why the ranch is such a success. Who wouldn’t enjoy this?”

  How in the heck was she supposed to ignore him when he flashed that smile in her direction?

  She tried not to acknowledge the heat sizzling through her or the way her legs suddenly trembled in the stirrups.

  “I figured the kind of slick, high-dollar guests Maverick Enterprises is planning to bring in probably won’t have time to bother with something as noisy and smelly as an old-fashioned cattle drive. What with all those facials and massages, right?”