“Twelve.”
“Then these should fit you.”
He wasn’t sure he should take them. Why was she suddenly being so nice?
She glanced down at his black leather athletic shoes. “We can’t pull this off if you don’t at least look the part.”
He reached for them and kicked off his shoes. He was about to slip one on when he saw the initials MK inside. “These were you father’s.”
She nodded.
He felt like a heel. “I know you don’t want me here, Willow.”
She glanced away. “I told you before we value our privacy.”
“And I have a job to do.”
“You don’t have any proof that Dean is guilty of…whatever.”
“That’s the reason I’m here. To talk to him.”
After a moment she sighed and said, “You’re wasting your time. Dean won’t come here. The ranch wasn’t his favorite place.”
Jack studied her. Before coming to California, he’d done extensive research on the Kingsley family. He knew all about the twenty-nine-year-old Willow’s well-publicized engagement and breakup, and the unauthorized private pictures her ex-fiancé sold to the tabloids. He didn’t blame her for being leery of strangers.
“I give you my word, Willow. I’ll do my best to keep the matter with Dean private…but that’s up to your brother.”
“Just remember we’re giving you this opportunity so the press won’t be involved.”
“Believe me, my client doesn’t want to publicize this situation any more than you do.”
She watched him with those intriguing blue eyes, but her firm jawline showed her determination, her refusal to back down. He knew she’d protect her family no matter what.
Who protected her?
Jack’s job was to find people’s vulnerability. Although Willow Kingsley hid hers well, he’d seen that, too. He’d caught glimpses of her softness, definitely her beauty. Yes, definitely, her beauty wasn’t lost on him. His chest tightened as his body began to stir with awareness.
She finally broke the spell and glanced down at the boots. “You better see if those fit.”
“Right.” Jack busied himself tugging on the boots, then stood to check the fit. The soft leather felt good. “Not bad,” he announced with a smile.
She nodded. “Be sure to wear a long-sleeved shirt and there are extra hats on the rack in the barn. There should be one that fits you.” She glanced around the room again. “If there’s anything else you need, Trevor should be able to get it for you.” She paused. “Good night…Jack.”
She turned to leave and he found himself trying to find a way to stop her. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
Willow paused at the room’s entrance, her full lips parted, hesitating, then she said, “I usually ride most mornings, but you already know that.”
He nodded, unable to forget how graceful she was on horseback. “Then I’ll look for you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
He frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought we were going to come up with a story that I’m a friend of your brother’s. That way we can talk to each other, and it will also explain my inexperience with horses.”
“You’re right. I just don’t want people to think…” Her pretty face reddened.
“That there’s something between us,” he finished for her, hating that the idea so obviously bothered her.
She nodded. This time she didn’t hide her sadness. “It’s been rough since Dad’s death. Mother has only now been willing to go public with the reopening of the camp. It was important to her—to us that we keep the camp going.”
Jack walked to her. The boots added another inch or so to his six-foot-two height. Her gaze widened as he approached and he wondered where the strong, brassy woman who tried to chase him away had gone. He caught an unguarded glint in her eyes, a hesitant tone in her voice. He knew she didn’t let people see this side often. It made a man feel protective…almost.
“So being Matt Kingsley’s good daughter,” he said, “you took charge and got things going again.”
Willow stiffened, and her eyes flashed. “That’s the thing, Jack. I wasn’t always the good daughter.”
Willow hated that she was actually looking for the man when she walked into the barn early the next morning. Jack Sullivan was trouble. As much as she wanted to believe him, she wasn’t sure he was here to help her brother.
Trust didn’t come easy for her, especially with men.
All she’d ever wanted was to find a love like her parents had. Married for thirty years was a rare thing in Hollywood, or anywhere. She could still see the loving look in her father’s eyes whenever her mother walked into a room.
For years, whenever Matt Kingsley went on location for a movie the media had tried to stir up rumors of an illicit romance. But her parents’ love had survived whatever the tabloid press threw at them.
And Willow had thought she’d found a man who emulated her father, Scott Richfield. Instead, she got someone who wanted the limelight that came along with her famous family…but not her. Only her father’s death had made her realize what kind of man Scott was. At her lowest point he’d hadn’t been there for her and in the end he’d betrayed her. And after all this time, it still stung.
Willow walked through the barn doors, and down the aisle to Dakota’s stall. “Good morning, old guy,” she crooned to the raven-black quarter horse that had been her father’s faithful companion.
The horse tossed his head, then came to the gate for some attention. She rubbed his forehead. “You want to go for a run this morning?”
He whinnied in response, and she went to the end of the barn to the tack room. That’s where she found Jack. She gasped. “Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”
Jack looked up from cleaning a saddle with a chamois cloth. “Trevor wants all the tack cleaned and oiled.”
That was true, but she sympathized with his being stuck here all day in the tiny room. “So how did the morning go with everyone?”
He shrugged. “Not bad. I met the other ranch hands at breakfast, and Larry took me out to help feed the horses. After that Trevor handed me this assignment.”
Okay, she might have to talk with Trevor. She went to the wall and took down a bridle, then reached for her saddle.
“How about a reprieve?” Jack asked as he stood and came to help her.
She paused. “I thought you agreed to this.”
“I agreed to play the part of a ranch hand, not be locked away in a room all day.”
Willow turned to the man who was dressed in Levi’s and a long-sleeved denim shirt. She noticed he had on the boots she’d given him. He looked as though he belonged here. But he didn’t and she had to remember that.
“Since you don’t know much else…” She began to lift her saddle, but he stepped in.
“I have a confession to make.” He took the saddle from the stand, then followed her out of the room and back to Dakota’s