The amusement faded from his system, and, scowling darkly, he reentered his bedroom and shut the door. The next time someone came to his room unexpectedly he’d damned well better remember who it was that could be doing the knocking.
Hordes of people paraded through Carly’s dreams that night—her ex-husband, many of her friends and…Jake Banyon. All the dreams were disturbing, but the one about Jake was the worst; he wasn’t wearing even a towel in that dream, he was stark naked!
Carly awoke in a sweat, practically gasping for air. She jumped out of bed and ran to the window she’d opened before retiring, where she sucked in huge breaths of cool night air. She was not attracted to Jake Banyon, she told herself, she wasn’t! Dreaming of him naked was perverted. What was wrong with her?
“Oh, no,” she whispered as the details of that dream became much too clear in her mind. Banyon had been fully aroused and walking toward her with shadowed eyes, and she’d been on fire and…and…
Groaning, she covered her face with her hands. Why on earth would her brain devise such an erotic dream about a man she didn’t even like?
The next day, dressed in jeans and boots, with her long hair arranged in a single braid, Carly hiked around the compound, peering into barns and other outbuildings, and generally getting acquainted with the lay of the land. She found the garage and the car Jake had told her to use if she wanted, and she tried to picture him driving an ordinary car and found it hard to do. From what she’d seen of him so far, pickups and sports utility models seemed more his style. Instinct told her that his machismo was neither forced nor phony. He was so typically the western male—as portrayed in movies and novels, she thought cynically—that there was no way she could place him in any other scenario.
Moving on, she realized that there were no men about— not even one of the ranch hands. She stopped at a corral to pet a pretty palomino mare’s nose and thought of taking a ride. The mare seemed gentle and responsive to her voice and caresses, and being on a horse seemed like a wonderful way to spend a few hours.
But where were the saddles kept? There must be a tack room in one of the barns, she decided, and headed for the nearest one.
She was almost there when she heard music. She stopped to listen closer so she could determine where it was coming from. Her gaze swept the compound.
“The cookhouse,” she whispered, and veered from the barn to investigate that building. Inside was a large dining room, with numerous tables and chairs. She walked through that room to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. An older man wearing a white apron was peeling potatoes at the sink.
“Barney?” she said.
He turned around and grinned. “Ms. Paxton?”
Smiling, Carly walked in and offered her hand. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard Dad praise your cooking.”
Barney hastily turned down the radio, wiped his palm on his apron and heartily shook her hand. “That’s real nice to hear, ma’am, real nice. Your pa is a real nice gent, real nice.”
“Yes, he is, Barney, and please call me Carly.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll do that.”
Carly had to smile again. “It smells very good in here.”
“That’s cause I’ve got some cakes in the oven. Uh, everyone knows you arrived yesterday, but what did you do, eat alone in that big empty house last night?”
“Yes, I really didn’t feel like company.”
“Well, tell you what. Anytime you don’t want company at mealtime, you just come to the kitchen and I’ll prepare a nice plate you can take to the house. You don’t even have to walk through the dining room, if you don’t want to. As you can see, the kitchen has its own door.”
“That’s very kind, Barney, thank you. I’ll probably take you up on that offer.”
“Anytime, ma’am, anytime.”
“Well, I know you’re busy. It was good meeting you, Barney.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Carly started out, then stopped. “Barney, do you know the name of the palomino in the big corral?”
“Sure, that’s Goldie. Pretty thing, ain’t she?”
“Very. Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” Carly exited by the kitchen door. Barney was a dear, and Carly felt good because there was at least one person on the ranch she could talk to without worrying about how he might take what she said. That thought bothered her. Was she really worried over how Banyon might take anything she said?
“Not on your life,” she mumbled under her breath. Banyon might be the top dog in these parts, but he didn’t daunt her one little bit.
Even when he’s half-naked? A tingle went up Carly’s spine at the image that question provoked, and she tensed her lips in self-annoyance. That man was not going to get to her, not if he walked around completely naked, damn his arrogant hide!
Quick-stepping to the large barn again, Carly went inside and located the tack room. It was a beautiful day, and she wasn’t going to waste it by puttering in the house. There were a number of saddles on racks, and she picked one and carried it out to the corral. The golden mare was as gentle as Carly had thought and stood quite still while Carly put first a blanket, then the saddle, on her back.
Leading Goldie from the corral Carly mounted, and it was a marvelous sensation to be on horseback again. Exhilarated, Carly nudged the mare into a walk and headed for open country.
Jake and three of his men returned to the compound around noon. The others had their lunches with them, as they were moving cattle from one pasture to another in the southernmost portion of the ranch.
Riding up to the main corral near the largest barn, Jake pulled his horse to a halt and frowned. “Did someone move Goldie to another corral?” he asked.
All three men looked blank. One of them finally said, “Not that I know of, Jake,” and the other two agreed.
Jake looked at that empty corral and felt a discomfiting premonition in his gut. But it was a premonition without definition, and he honestly didn’t know what was causing it, except for the fact that he hadn’t asked anyone to move Goldie and someone had. Goldie was a valuable horse and she was in season. Jake had put her in this particular corral so he could keep a close eye on her. He’d been planning to mate her with Caesar, a pale blond thoroughbred stallion, when the time was right.
“Jake, maybe that wild stallion stole her,” one of the men said. “He’s getting bolder all the time. Maybe he came right into the compound this morning and stole Goldie while everyone was gone.”
Startled by that idea, Jake studied the high pole fencing of the corral and tried to visualize Goldie, or any other horse on the place, having enough space in the enclosure to get up enough speed to jump the fence. Mares in season and stallions accomplished remarkable feats to get to each other, but clearing that high fence from a short distance would be more than remarkable. It would be damn near impossible.
“I don’t think so,” Jake finally said. “I’m going to go and talk to Barney. Maybe he knows something.” Hurrying off toward the cookhouse, he heard the three men exchanging ideas about what might have happened to Goldie. None of their theories seemed feasible to Jake, and he closed his ears to them.
Entering the cookhouse kitchen, he got right to the point. “Barney, did you happen to hear anything unusual this morning?”
“Unusual? Like what, Jake?”
“Goldie’s not in her corral. Did any of the men come back and maybe