Lily looked up at her. “So you’re still interested?”
“Definitely,” Calley said, her blood racing at the thrill of competition. It had been too long since she’d felt that thrill. Much too long.
“Oh, one more thing,” Lily added, as Calley headed for the door.
She turned. “Yes?”
“You left a blank space on your application.” Lily held it up. “Do you have anyone we can contact, such as a family member, in case of an emergency?”
“No,” Calley said, wishing the lie wasn’t necessary. “I don’t have anyone.”
CHAPTER TWO
MATT RADCLIFFE stood at the corral as the sun set on the horizon, the last golden rays caressing the sparse grass and sagebrush growing along the fence. He propped one boot up on a metal rail and watched the herd of one hundred longhorn steers paw up a cloud of fine dust inside the large enclosure.
He tried to ignore the spark of excitement in his belly. But it smoldered there, refusing to be doused by good common sense. At sunup, he would embark on a fool’s errand, dreamed up by Rufus Tupper, New Mexico’s richest resident fool. A gentleman rancher, Rufus had never raised so much as a blister. He left that to the real cowboys, like Matt. Men who loved the land but couldn’t afford to buy a ranch of their own.
That was all about to change.
“Hey, cowboy.”
Matt turned to see Marla Mackovic walking up to the corral. She was a former Las Vegas showgirl who had hoped to cash in on Tupper’s wealth when he’d asked her to come live at the ranch. Instead, she spent most of her time dusting his horse trophies and preparing his hangover tonics.
“I missed you at supper,” she said, ambling over to him, her hands behind her back. Her overpermed hair hung like a black cloud down her back. He’d always liked Marla, even if she did wear too much makeup and perfume. But he didn’t like the calculating gleam he saw in her eyes this evening.
“I had a few last-minute preparations to make.”
“I brought you a piece of cherry pie.” She took a step forward and placed the napkin-wrapped pastry into his hand. Warm, red filling oozed out and ran over his thumb.
“Thank you,” he said, sucking the sweet filling off his knuckle. Not wanting to disappoint her, he ate the pie in three bites, though it tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He had too much at stake today to care about food.
“Rufus wants to see you before you go,” she told him, her long yellow broom skirt swaying softly in the warm breeze.
“Then he’d better get his butt out here,” Matt said, licking the last crumbs off his fingertips.
“He wants you to come inside. Rufus is in one of his moods. I made him a bloody Mary a little while ago and he threw it against the wall. Said the tomato juice had too much pulp in it.”
Matt stared at her for a long moment. “Why do you stay here, Marla? You can do better than this.”
She arched one waxed eyebrow. “Why do you?”
His jaw tightened. “I’m leaving tomorrow. And I’m not coming back.”
“Take me with you,” she cried, reaching out to grasp his forearm. “I can cook for you and the cowhands. Wash your clothes. Sing and dance. Anything you want.”
Matt smiled. “You wouldn’t like it out on the trail, Marla. There aren’t any televisions or stereos or refrigerators. No indoor plumbing.” He reached for the hand still clutching his arm, and gently patted her thin fingers. “And no beauty salons to keep up this pretty manicure, either.”
She pulled her hand out of his grasp, curling it into a fist to hide the long, polished red nails. “I don’t need manicures, Matt. Or any of those other things. I just need…you.”
He swallowed a sigh. Marla didn’t need him and she sure didn’t love him. She just wanted someone to take care of her. She’d been looking for that someone ever since she’d run away from home at seventeen. Young and pretty and temperamental, she’d wasted the last two years of her life to be at Tupper’s beck and call. Obviously, she’d finally realized that she’d never find her way into the eccentric rancher’s heart.
“I’m too old for you, Marla,” he said gently.
“You’re not as old as Rufus. He’s almost fifty.” She tossed her long black curls over her shoulder. “And you’re only thirty-two.”
“And you’re barely twenty. You should be out having fun. Not traipsing around on a dusty trail with a bunch of cowboys.”
“Anything is better than here,” she muttered, then sidled closer to him, placing her small hands on his chest. “Besides, I like you, Matt. I’ve always liked you.” Her soulful brown eyes gazed up at him. “You’re so big and strong.”
Her hands slid up around his shoulders and smoothed over the biceps outlined by his chambray shirt. He inhaled the stale aroma of her heavy perfume and saw the mascara smudges beneath her eyes.
“And so brave,” Marla whispered seductively. “None of the other cowboys stand up to Rufus like you do.”
Her soft, voluptuous curves pressed against him, and for one brief moment Matt considered her request. It had been much too long since he’d held a woman in his arms. Maybe she could assuage the loneliness that seemed to seep into his bones during the long nights on the range.
His silence encouraged her to snake her arms around his neck and press her face into the crook of his shoulder.
“Please take me with you,” she entreated in the singsong voice of a little girl. “Please, Matt.”
He gently disengaged himself from her, then took a step back. “Sorry, Marla. I always travel solo.”
She shrugged, a petulant pout on her lips. “Fine. Then I’ll ask Boyd to take me with him.”
Matt bit back a smile at the thought of Tupper’s hapless nephew. “Where is Boyd going?”
“With you on the cattle drive,” she retorted. “I heard Tupper tell Boyd it would make a man out of him.”
“Hell,” Matt muttered under his breath. This drive was going to be complicated enough without dragging along a spoiled city boy. “Don’t waste your time sweet-talking Boyd, Marla. I’m the boss out on the trail and I’m not allowing any distractions on this trip. It’s too important.”
“Fine.” Anger flared in her brown eyes. “I hope all the cattle stampede and fall off a cliff! I hope your precious horse kicks you in the head! I hope you get lost in the desert and your cojones dry up and fall off.”
“Gracious as always, I see,” he said, smiling as he reached into his pocket for the keys to his pickup truck. He tossed them to her. “You can still leave, Marla. Anytime you want. My truck has seen a lot of miles, but it’s dependable. It will take you anywhere you want to go.”
“I just want you to go to hell,” she cried, throwing the keys back at his feet. Then she spun around and ran toward the barn.
Matt stared at the keys for a moment, then turned and walked away. Marla might change her mind when her temper cooled off. Or she might decide to mow Rufus down. Either way, he wanted to help her out. She was a sweet kid when she wasn’t contemplating destruction of certain portions of his anatomy.
With Marla’s curse still ringing in his ears, Matt walked to the ranch house. Heat lightning flashed across the sky.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Matt looked up to see Rufus Tupper standing on the front porch. He wore a paisley silk robe and a pair of ostrich