Reunion of Revenge
Kathie DeNosky
Thirteen years ago, Nick Daniels had been minutes away from marrying Cheyenne Holbrook when the wedding came to a startling halt. Forced out of town by Cheyenne's powerful, menacing father, Nick vowed to return and seek revenge on the woman he believed had turned on him.Now, an unexpected inheritance made Nick the owner of a Wyoming ranch–and Cheyenne's boss. All Nick's fantasies for revenge were about to come true. But first he'd have to fight off some other desires. Ones that involved tempting Cheyenne into his bed–and marching her down the aisle once and for all….
From the desk of Emerald Larson, owner and CEO of Emerald, Inc.
To: My personal assistant, Luther Freemont
Re: My newly discovered grandson, Nick Daniels
My grandson, Nick, will be leaving at the end of the week to take over running the Sugar Creek Cattle Company in Wyoming. Please be advised that he won’t be particularly happy when he discovers that his ranch foreman is the woman he was to have married thirteen years ago. To ensure the success of my plan and avoid the fallout of his displeasure, I am instructing you to intercept all calls from him until further notice.
As always, I am relying on your complete discretion in this matter.
Emerald Larson
Reunion of Revenge
Kathie DeNosky
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
KATHIE DENOSKY
lives in her native southern Illinois with her husband and one very spoiled Jack Russell terrier. She writes highly sensual stories with a generous amount of humor. Kathie’s books have appeared on the Waldenbooks bestseller list and received the Write Touch Readers’ Award from WisRWA and the National Readers’ Choice Award. Kathie enjoys going to rodeos, traveling to research settings for her books and listening to country music. Readers may contact Kathie at: P.O. Box 2064, Herrin, Illinois 62948-5264 or e-mail her at kathie@kathiedenosky.com.
For Charlie, Bryan, David and Angie, for loving me in spite of my eccentricities.
From the desk of Emerald Larson, owner and CEO of Emerald, Inc.
To: My personal assistant, Luther Freemont
Re: My grandson Nick Daniels
My grandson, Nick, will be leaving at the end of the week to take over running the Sugar Creek Cattle Company in Wyoming. Please be advised that he won’t be particularly happy when he discovers that his ranch foreman is the woman he was to have married thirteen years ago. To ensure the success of my plan and to avoid the fallout of his displeasure, I am instructing you to intercept all calls from him until further notice.
As always I am relying on your complete discretion in this matter.
Emerald Larson
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
One
“Drop that roll of wire and back away from your truck.”
Nick Daniels took a deep breath and tried to ignore the jolt of awareness that shot from the top of his head all the way to his feet. It had been thirteen long years since he’d heard that soft, feminine voice. But if he lived to be a hundred, he knew he’d recognize it anywhere, anytime. The melodic sound had haunted his dreams and left his body aching with unfathomable need too many nights for him to ever forget.
“I told you to put that down and step away from the truck.”
At the sound of a shotgun being pumped, Nick slowly lowered the coil of barbed wire to the tailgate of his new truck and raised his gloved hands to show he was complying with her command. Then, turning to face the reason he’d left Wyoming one step ahead of the law, he smiled sardonically. “It’s been a long time, Cheyenne.”
The widening of her eyes and the slight wavering of the double-barrel shotgun she pointed at him were the only indications that she was the least bit surprised to see him after all this time. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing out here, Nick Daniels, but I’d advise you to get in your truck and go back to wherever you came from. Otherwise, I’ll call the law.”
He took a deep breath as he stared at her. Damned if she wasn’t more beautiful now than she’d been at sixteen. Her long brown hair, streaked with golden highlights, complemented the healthy glow of her sun-kissed skin and her aqua-green eyes to perfection.
His gaze drifted lower. Her pink tank top caressed her torso, fascinating the hell out of him and giving him more than a fair idea about the size and shape of her breasts. He swallowed hard as his gaze drifted even lower. She’d always been a knockout in a pair of jeans, but the well-worn denim hugged her hips and thighs like a second skin and emphasized how long and shapely her legs were.
He diverted his gaze back to the gun in her hands. He’d do well to forget how good she looked after all this time and concentrate on the fact that she was ready to blow his ass to kingdom come.
“Go ahead and call the sheriff. Last time I heard, it wasn’t against the law for a man to mend a fence on his own property.”
“It’s not your land. It belongs to the Sugar Creek Cattle Company. And you’re trespassing.”
He shook his head as he took a step toward her. “No, I’m not.”
“I swear I’ll shoot you if you don’t stop right there, Nick.”
“That wouldn’t be very neighborly of you, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.” She released the safety on the shotgun when he moved forward.
From the sharp edge he’d heard in her voice, he knew he’d hit a nerve. He inched a little closer. “You used to like when I called you sweetheart.”
She shook her head. “That’s past history. Now, get in your truck and disappear like you did thirteen years ago.”
“Why would I want to do that? This is my home.” With the gun barrel still pointed at the middle of his chest, he wisely chose not to point out that her father had been behind his disappearing act back then, or that he was damned tired of a Holbrook trying to run him off his own land. “If you’ll remember, the Sugar Creek ranch has been in my family for over a hundred and twenty-five years.”
“If you’ll remember, you gave up the right to this land a long time ago.” Was that bitterness he detected in her voice?
“That’s where you’re wrong, Cheyenne.” Easing forward a bit more, he was almost close enough to reach the shotgun. “I still own this place, lock, stock…” He lunged forward and, grabbing the shotgun, shoved it away with one hand at the same time he reached out to wrap his arm around her waist. “…and barrel,” he finished, pulling her to him.
“Turn me loose.” She pushed at his chest as she tried to wiggle from his grasp.
“Not until we get a few things straight.” The feel of her soft body squirming against his was heaven and hell rolled into one shapely little five-foot-two-inch package. He did his best to ignore it. “When you point a gun at a man, you’d better be prepared to use it, sweetheart.”
“I was.” She sounded breathless and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear he felt a slight tremor pass through her.
Shaking his head as much in answer to her statement as in an attempt to clear his mind, he whispered close to her ear, “You and I both know you could never shoot me, Cheyenne.”
“Let me have my gun back…and I’ll show you.” There was no doubt that she shivered against him this time.
He couldn’t resist teasing the side of her neck with his lips. “Not until you calm down.”
Her labored breathing quickly reminded him of the changes in her body since the last time he’d held her. At sixteen, Cheyenne Holbrook had had a figure that sent his hormones racing around like the steel bearings in a pinball machine. But that had only been a hint of the woman she would become. Her breasts were fuller now and her hips had a slight flare that promised to cradle a man and take him to paradise when he sank himself deep inside her.
When his lower body tightened, he cursed himself as the biggest fool God ever blessed with the breath of life. He wasn’t an eighteen-year-old kid anymore. He was a thirty-one-year-old man and should have mastered at least a modicum of restraint.
“Turn me loose.”
When she pushed against him this time, he let her go, but held on to the gun. He shook his head when she reached for it. “I’ll hang on to this for a while longer.”
“Suit yourself.” She reached for the cell phone clipped to her belt. “It’s not going to stop me from calling Sheriff Turner and having you arrested for trespassing.”
“You do that.”
Her finger hovered over the phone’s dial pad as she glanced up at him. “You aren’t worried about being arrested?”
“Why should I be? I own the Sugar Creek.” He shrugged as he placed the shotgun on the tailgate of his truck, well out of her reach. “You, on the other hand, are on my land.” He stopped short of adding that her father and the sheriff would have a hell of a time getting him to leave again.
“I don’t think so.” She impatiently brushed a silky strand of hair from her cheek as she glared at him. “Emerald, Inc. is the corporation that bought your ranch after you and your mother left.”
“The hell you say.” He removed his leather work gloves, then, tucking them into the waistband of his jeans, he folded his arms across his chest. “And just how would you know that?”
She looked hesitant a moment before taking a deep breath and defiantly looking him square in the eye. “I’m the foreman of the Sugar Creek Cattle Company. Don’t you think I’d know who my employer is?”
Nick couldn’t believe it. Cheyenne’s father, the judge, had actually allowed his precious daughter to work? And at a job where she might actually get her hands dirty? Interesting.
It appeared that Emerald Larson had omitted a couple of important details when she told him she was his grandmother and gave him back the ranch. She’d explained her reasoning behind having his mother sign documents stating that the identity of his father would remain a secret until she deemed he was ready to learn the truth. She’d even solved the mystery of who had tipped his mother off about his impending arrest the night they left Wyoming when she told him that she’d had a private investigator reporting his every move from the time he was born. But she hadn’t mentioned anything about Cheyenne Holbrook being the ranch foreman. And as soon as he went back to the house, he was going to call Wichita and find out what other surprises the old gal had in store for him.
“I know this is going to come as a shock to you, but I really am the owner of this spread,” Nick said.
Cheyenne paled, then stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t believe you. When Luther Freemont from the corporate office called me just last week to discuss my quarterly report, he didn’t mention anything about Emerald, Inc. selling the Sugar Creek.”
Nick wasn’t surprised to hear the name of Emerald’s personal assistant. She trusted the man implicitly and relied on him to be the liaison between her and most of the managers of the companies she owned.
“I’ll tell you what, Cheyenne.” He picked up the shotgun and emptied the shells from its chamber before handing it to her. Then, pocketing the ammunition, he pointed to the truck she’d parked several yards away. “Why don’t you go back to your father’s ranch and give old Luther a call?”
“Don’t think I won’t,” she said, raising her stubborn little chin a notch.
“After you hear what he has to say, we’ll go from there.” Nick pulled his work gloves from the waistband of his jeans and prepared to finish mending the section of fence he’d thought looked weak before he went back home to call Emerald. “Be over at my house tomorrow morning at nine.”
“Why?”
She didn’t look at all happy about having to see him again. And he knew as surely as he knew his own name that she didn’t for a minute believe he was telling the truth about owning the Sugar Creek.
“We’ll have to discuss the terms of your contract.” He grinned. “And the last I heard, it’s pretty common for a rancher and his foreman to work together running a ranch.”
In an obvious test of wills, she glared at him for several more seconds before turning to stalk back to her truck.
As Nick watched her leave, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the gentle sway of her delightful little backside as she walked away. She still had the ability to take his breath away with her beauty and with no more than a touch she could make him harder than hell in less than two seconds flat.
But he’d do well to remember that her father was the mighty Judge Bertram Holbrook, the most ill-tempered, acrimonious son of a bitch on two legs. A man who had half the county officials in his pocket and the other half scared to death he’d turn his wrath their way.
And if Holbrook had his way about it, Nick would still be rotting away in jail, simply because he’d tried to marry the man’s only daughter.
The next morning, as Cheyenne drove the five miles between the Flying H and the Sugar Creek ranch houses, she wondered for at least the hundredth time what she could do about the situation. When she’d talked to Luther Freemont after her confrontation with Nick, she’d developed a splitting headache. He’d confirmed everything Nick had told her and, feeling as if her world had once again been turned completely upside down, she’d ended up lying awake the entire night, reliving the past and worrying about what the future held for her and her father.
It had taken her years to get over the devastation when Nick walked away from their relationship—from her—without so much as a backward glance, and seeing him after all this time had shaken her more than she could have ever imagined. But when he’d grabbed her to take away her gun, she couldn’t believe the awareness that coursed through her traitorous body. At the feel of his rock-hard muscles surrounding her, she’d grown warm from the top of her head all the way to her toes and drawing her next breath had taken supreme effort. It had also scared her as little else could.
When they’d been teenagers, she’d thought the sun rose and set around Nick. He’d been two years ahead of her in school and the best-looking boy in the county. With his dark blond hair, charming smile and tall, muscular build, he’d been every sixteen-year-old girl’s dream and every father’s worst nightmare. Her pulse sped up as she remembered the heart-pounding excitement she’d felt the first time Nick had turned his sky-blue eyes and charming smile her way. She’d instantly fallen head over heels in love.
But her father wouldn’t hear of her having anything to do with Nick. He’d told her the boy was nothing but bad news and a heartache waiting to happen. He’d never explained why he felt that way about Nick, but unfortunately, she’d found out the hard way that her father had been been right.
When he and the sheriff had stopped her and Nick from getting married the summer between her junior and senior year of high school, Nick had disappeared that very night. She’d waited for months, hoping for a phone call, a letter—anything that would explain why he’d abandoned her. But there had been no word from him at all and she’d finally come to the conclusion that just as her father had said, Nick Daniels was trouble with a great big capital T. He hadn’t even had the common courtesy or the courage to face her and tell her it was over between them.
But now he was back. And worse yet, he was her boss. How could fate be so cruel?
Seeing him again had been more than a little disturbing. But when he’d announced that he owned the Sugar Creek Cattle Company, the situation had become downright impossible.
She’d hoped when she questioned Mr. Freemont he would tell her that it was all a lie and that she had corporate’s blessing in having Nick thrown off the property. But without elaborating on the details, Luther Freemont had verified that Nick Daniels did indeed own the Sugar Creek and that, in accordance with her contract, she was locked into working for the cattle company for the next four years, no matter who the owner was.
Parking her truck at the side of the big, white two-story Victorian house, she swallowed around the lump clogging her throat. She hadn’t dared tell her father about the latest development. He wasn’t well and hearing about Nick’s return would only upset him and possibly cause more problems. And until she figured out what she could do about the situation there was no reason to worry him unnecessarily. Besides, she was doing enough stressing for the both of them.
As she grabbed the manila folder on the seat beside her and got out of the truck, she prayed for a miracle. She didn’t really expect one, but at this point, divine intervention seemed to be her only hope of escaping the current mess she found herself in.
When she climbed the steps of the wide wraparound porch and knocked on the door frame, instead of Nick, a heavy-set woman of about sixty opened the screen. “You must be Cheyenne Holbrook.” She stepped back for Cheyenne to enter the foyer. “I’m Greta Foster. My husband, Carl, and I have been the caretakers here at the Sugar Creek for several years, but I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
Cheyenne wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t met. Before Nick left, her father had forbidden her to go anywhere near the place. And after she’d become the ranch foreman a little over six years ago, she hadn’t ventured this far onto the Daniels property because it only reminded her of the shattered dream she’d had when she was sixteen.
She was supposed to have been Nick’s wife and lived here with him and his mother in this big, wonderful house. While he ran the ranch, she was going to teach school and together they were going to raise a houseful of children and live happily ever after.
Removing her red ball cap, she shook her head to dispel the last traces of her troubling thoughts. “I’ve talked to Carl on the phone several times to let him know some of the men I supervise would be working close by, but I’ve never actually been here.”
“Well, now that you have, you’ll have to drop by more often.” Greta’s smile was friendly as she motioned toward a closed door across from the great room. “Nick’s waiting for you in his office. Would you like something to eat or drink? I just took an apple pie out of the oven and made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“No, thank you.” Cheyenne smiled and raised her hand to knock on the office door. “I’m hoping this meeting won’t take long.” At Greta’s surprised expression, Cheyenne hastily added, “I need to make a trip to the feed store for some supplies before Harry closes for lunch.”
Apparently satisfied with her explanation, Greta nodded. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
As the woman moved down the hall toward the back of the house, Cheyenne took a moment to settle her jangled nerves. The last thing she wanted to do was go through with this meeting, but the choice had been taken out of her hands.
Before she could change her mind and run as far away as her old Ford truck could take her, she knocked, then opened the door. “Nick?”
He was sitting at a large oak desk, talking on the phone. “I’m glad to hear that you and Alyssa had a good time on your honeymoon in the Bahamas.” Nodding for Cheyenne to come in and sit in the chair in front of his desk, Nick laughed at something the person on the other end of the line said. “Let me know when you hear more from Hunter about his E.M.T. courses. Talk to you later, Caleb.”
When Nick hung up the phone and turned his attention on her, his easy expression faded. “I take it you spoke with Luther Freemont?”
Unable to relax, she sat on the edge of the leather armchair and pushed the folder across his desk. “Mr. Freemont told me that you were the owner of the Sugar Creek now and that I should discuss the terms of my contract with you.”
His expression unreadable, he stared at her for several tense seconds before he picked up the file and flipped it open.
Cheyenne’s cheeks grew increasingly warmer the longer he scanned the contents of the file. When she’d signed the contract to work for the cattle company, Mr. Freemont had assured her that the terms of their agreement would be handled with complete discretion and only a handful of people would know the real reason she’d signed away ten years of her life.
When Nick finally looked at her, his questioning expression had her wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. “Would you like to explain all this, Cheyenne?”
Humiliated beyond belief, she bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. When she felt in control enough to get the words out, she proudly raised her head to meet his gaze head on.
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” She took a deep breath. “Not only do you own the Sugar Creek, you own my father’s ranch, as well.”
Two
Nick couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d been zapped by a juiced-up cattle prod. How ironic that the eighteen-year-old boy Judge Bertram Holbrook had tried his best to ruin all those years ago had not only returned to reclaim his ranch, he owned the good judge’s ranch as well. If what the man had tried to do to him hadn’t been so low and vindictive, Nick might have laughed out loud. But one look at Cheyenne’s pretty face told him there was more behind the story than met the eye.
“All this contract tells me is that I own the Flying H and you have four more years left on a ten-year work agreement.” Shoving the folder aside, he sat back in the leather desk chair. “Why don’t you fill me in on the details?”
He could tell that was the last thing she wanted to do. But when she raised her eyes to meet his, there was a defiant pride in their aqua depths that he couldn’t help but admire.
“Daddy had a stroke six years ago. He’s been partially paralyzed on his left side and in a wheelchair ever since.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cheyenne.”
Nick knew how much she loved her father and how hard that had to have been for her. And no matter how much he despised the man, Nick didn’t like to hear of anyone’s suffering.
She glanced down at her hands. “When I dropped out of school to come home to care for him—”
“You had to quit school?” She’d always wanted to become a teacher and he hated that she’d had to give that up.
“I only had a couple of semesters left, but Daddy needed me more than I needed to finish school.” She shrugged, but he could tell it still bothered her. “There wasn’t any money for my last year at the university anyway.”
Nick frowned. Bertram Holbrook had always been one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the county. Or at least, that’s what he’d always led everyone to believe.
“Surely—”
“No.” Obviously embarrassed, she suddenly rose to her feet and walked over to the window between the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. “Do I have to spell it out for you? We’re broke. The only thing keeping us from being homeless is that contract.”
He didn’t know what to say. As far as the judge was concerned, Nick couldn’t have cared less. But Cheyenne didn’t deserve the burden of having to pay for the sins of her unscrupulous father or be forced to give up her dreams.
“What happened?” he asked, when he finally found his voice.
Her shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world rested on them a moment before she finally turned to face him. “Daddy had made some ill-advised investments and when the stock market took a nosedive, he was too incapacitated from the stroke to sell before he lost most of his portfolio.”
“He had a lot of Web site stocks?” Nick guessed, remembering the crash of the Internet stocks several years back.
“What was left wouldn’t even cover our utility bills for a month,” she said, nodding. “Then, when the doctors told us he couldn’t work any longer, things went from bad to worse.”
“What about insurance and a pension? He should have had the same paid benefits that other county and state officials have.”
Something didn’t ring true about the whole situation. Either the judge had been an extremely poor planner or his thirst for money and power had finally backfired on him. Nick suspected it was the latter that had finally brought the man down.
She walked back over and sank into the chair. “After Daddy had the stroke and couldn’t work, there wasn’t enough money to keep up the premiums on the insurance and he’d withdrawn everything in his pension fund to invest in the stocks.”
Nick would have thought the judge had more sense than to deplete every resource he had. But then, greed could do that. And if there was ever a more greedy, power-mad human being than Bertram Holbrook, Nick had never met him.
“You didn’t know any of this?”
“No.” She rubbed her forehead with a trembling hand. “Daddy never discussed finances with me. He always told me that I’d never have to worry about those things.”
Nick would bet every dime he had that finances weren’t the only things the man had kept her in the dark about. “I’m sure it all came as quite a shock when you found out.”
She nodded. “I had no idea what we were going to do. Fortunately Emerald, Inc. contacted me about buying the Flying H right after I came to the conclusion there was no alternative but for us to file for bankruptcy.” Her cheeks colored a deep rose. “Then, when it became clear there wasn’t enough money from the sale of the ranch to pay off Daddy’s medical and rehabilitation bills, Mr. Freemont told me the corporation would pay off the rest of our creditors, allow us to stay in our home and pay me a modest salary if I signed a ten-year contract to be the ranch foreman of the newly formed Sugar Creek Cattle Company. At the end of that time, our debts will be considered paid in full and I’ll be free to renegotiate my contract or move on.”
If Nick had thought things were strange before, they’d just taken a turn toward bizarre. But the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like Emerald had learned of the Holbrook’s money problems and, in the bargain, seized the opportunity to mete out a bit of revenge for the judge’s treatment of him and his mother all those years ago.
Unfortunately it wasn’t Bertram Holbrook who was having to pay the price for Emerald’s retaliatory actions. Cheyenne was the one who’d practically sold herself into servitude to bail the old man out of his financial woes. And it didn’t sit well with Nick one damned bit that his indominable grandmother had obviously been taking advantage of Cheyenne.
“Do you mind if I keep this for a couple of days to look over?” he asked, picking up the contract. If there was a way to get them both out of this mess, he intended to find it. “I need to figure out if you owe me or Emerald, Inc.”
She shrugged one slender shoulder as she rose to her feet. “You might as well, since it appears that I work for you now, instead of Emerald, Inc.”
“Where are you going?”
From the look on her face, she couldn’t wait to end their meeting. “Unless you have something more you want to discuss, I’ve got work to do.”
He did, but first he wanted to talk to Emerald. “I’ll go over this and see what the exact wording is, then we’ll discuss it tomorrow afternoon while we inspect the herds.”
“Can’t you do that on your own?” She sounded close to going into a panic at the thought of spending time with him.
Nick smiled. “I could, but it’s standard practice for the foreman to show the new owner around. Besides, I’m sure I’ll have a few questions about the way you’ve been running the operation.”
Clearly unhappy, she hesitated a moment before she nodded. “Fine.” Walking to the door, she turned back. “I’ll be here tomorrow after lunch. Be ready.”
“I’ll have the horses saddled.”
“The truck would be faster.”
“I’d rather ride.”
She glared at him for several long seconds before she finally nodded. “All right…boss.” Then, opening the door, she walked out into the hall and slammed it shut behind her.
Once he was alone, Nick inhaled deeply. He hadn’t drawn a decent breath since Cheyenne had walked into the room. He wouldn’t have believed it was possible, but she was even prettier today than she’d been yesterday. Her turquoise T-shirt had brought out the blue-green of her eyes and the sun shining through the window behind her when she’d turned to face him had accentuated the golden highlights in her long brown hair.
His temperature soared at the mental image and shaking his head at his own foolishness, he did his best to ignore the tightening in his groin. But then, it had always been that way with Cheyenne. From the first moment he saw her at the homecoming dance his senior year, he hadn’t been able to think of anything but making her his wife and living out the rest of his days trying to prove himself worthy of her.
Thinking back on that summer after his high school graduation, he still couldn’t get over how naive they’d been. He and Cheyenne had gone steady throughout his senior year, even though her father had forbidden her to have anything to do with Nick. Neither of them had understood the judge’s intense dislike of Nick, but they’d managed to sneak around to see each other at school functions and met in town every Saturday afternoon to hug and kiss their way through a double-feature matinee at the movie theater. And despite Bertram Holbrook’s concentrated efforts to keep them from seeing each other, by the end of the summer they’d fallen in love and were desperate to be together.
Nick couldn’t remember which one of them had hatched up the plan to run away and get married. Truth to tell, it really didn’t matter. It was what they’d both wanted and they’d heard that for a couple of hundred bucks the clerk over in the next county would issue a marriage license to anyone, whether they were of legal age or not. So he’d worked at the feed store on weekends and saved every dime he could until he had enough to make Cheyenne his bride.
Then, one hot night in late August, he’d picked her up at the house of one of her friends and they’d driven across the county line to get married. But just before they were pronounced husband and wife, the judge and his cohort, Sheriff Turner, had shown up to stop the ceremony.
Nick rubbed the tension gathering at the back of his neck. Until yesterday afternoon, his last remembrance of Cheyenne had been watching her sob uncontrollably as her father led her away from the little church to his car.
But things had a way of working out for the best. Marrying his high school sweetheart had been the lofty illusion of an eighteen-year-old boy with more hormones than good sense. He was a grown man now and no matter how alluring he found Cheyenne, there was no danger of falling under her spell a second time.
Besides, after discovering that his father was an irresponsible player who had thought nothing of walking out on not one, but three women he’d impregnated, who was to say that Nick hadn’t inherited the same “love ’em and leave ’em” gene? After all, he was the one who’d lost interest in every relationship he’d had since leaving Wyoming.
Picking up the contract, he scanned the contents of the document a little closer. There had to be a clause concerning termination of the agreement—a way to free them from having to work together.
His frown turned to a deep scowl when he found it. In the event that Cheyenne quit or her position as foreman was terminated for any reason, the balance of the money immediately became due and payable to Emerald, Inc. No exceptions.
He should have known Emerald would cover all the bases. She hadn’t gained the reputation of being an invincible force in the boardroom or become one of the richest, most successful businesswomen in America by accident.
As he dialed his grandmother’s private number, he took a deep breath to control his anger. Although he no longer had feelings for Cheyenne, he didn’t like the idea of Emerald taking advantage of her or circumstances that were beyond her control.
Instead of Emerald, Luther Freemont answered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Daniels. Your grandmother is unavailable at the moment. May I take a message?”
Nick could tell the man had him on the speakerphone and knew the old gal was probably sitting right there at the desk listening to every word he said while her assistant ran interference for her. “Maybe you can help me, Luther. I have a few questions about Cheyenne Holbrook’s employment with the Sugar Creek Cattle Company.”
There was a long pause before the man spoke. “What would that be, sir?”
“I’d like some more information on Ms. Holbrook’s salary, the balance on what she owes Emerald, Inc. and if she’s my employee or Emerald’s.”
Another long pause signaled that the man was most likely looking to Emerald for direction. “I’m not at liberty to say, sir. I’m afraid you’ll have to discuss that with Mrs. Larson.”
Irritated with the entire situation, Nick muttered a pithy curse. “Tell Emerald to give me a call as soon as possible.”
“I’ll be sure to do that. Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”
Nick couldn’t resist teasing Emerald’s stiff and formal personal assistant. “As a matter of fact, there is, Luther.”
“Yes, sir?”
“You sound like a robot. Loosen up and stop being such a tightass.”
“I’ll take that under advisement, sir,” the man said with a hint of laughter in his voice.
Nick grinned when he heard the definitive sound of a woman laughing in the background a moment before the connection ended.
“Daddy, I have to go up to the summer pastures to check the herds this afternoon,” Cheyenne said as she put their lunch plates in the dishwasher. “Will you be all right until I get back?”
Her father nodded as he backed his wheelchair away from the table. “I’ll be fine, princess. Gordon called this morning to tell me he’s going to stop by for a while.” He chuckled. “I’m sure he’s got some hot piece of gossip he’d like to share.”
Cheyenne smiled wanly. She’d never cared for Sheriff Turner, but he and her father had been friends for over twenty years and her father always looked forward to his visits.
She kissed her father’s cheek. “There’s some lemonade in the refrigerator and peanut butter cookies in the cookie jar if you two get hungry.”
Smiling, he patted her arm. “What would I do without you, princess?”
“I’m sure you’d do just fine, but that’s something you won’t ever have to worry about.” Checking her watch, she gave him a quick hug, then grabbed her truck keys from the counter. “You and Sheriff Turner stay out of trouble.”
Her father laughed. “Now what could a county sheriff and a crippled old judge possibly do to get themselves in hot water?”
“Let me think.” Tapping her index finger on her chin, she acted as if she had to give it a lot of consideration. “I’m sure you’ll turn down the extra cigar that Sheriff Turner just happens to bring with him?”
“Of course I’ll turn it down. Just like I always do.” Her father’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I wouldn’t think to do anything else, princess.”
They both knew he was telling a fib. The sheriff always tried to time his visits to coincide with her working on another part of the ranch in order for her father to smoke a cigar—something his doctors had advised him to cut out. But he had very few pleasures left in life and she decided the occasional cigar he enjoyed once or twice a month while he visited with his best friend wasn’t going to do that much harm.
Smiling, she opened the door to leave. “Just remember, if the sheriff wants to have a cigar there’s no smoking in the house. You’ll both have to go out onto the back porch.”
Her father waved for her to leave. “You just be careful out there in the pastures. You might run across a wolf, or worse.”
Cheyenne’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. She wouldn’t encounter a wolf somewhere along the way, she’d be riding right along beside one.
Nodding, she ducked out the door before he had a chance to see the guilt she knew had to be written all over her face. It had been three days since she’d run across Nick repairing that section of fence and she still hadn’t found the courage to tell her father about him being back in the area or that he owned the very house they lived in.
For one thing, she wasn’t sure how her father would react. He’d already had one stroke. She certainly didn’t want to run the risk of him having another when he learned that she was working for Nick. And for another, she didn’t want or need to listen to him tell her how disreputable Nick was or that she’d do well to steer clear of him. She knew firsthand how unreliable Nick was.
Cheyenne sighed heavily as she climbed into her truck and drove the five miles to the Sugar Creek ranch house. She really didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. Even if they figured out who held the promissory note—Emerald, Inc. or Nick—heaven only knew she didn’t have the money to repay it in order to get out of the work agreement.
Ten minutes later, when she pulled into the ranch yard and got out of the truck, the first thing she noticed was the bay and sorrel geldings standing saddled and tied to the corral fence. They were waiting for her to take Nick to see the cattle company herds—his herds. But he was nowhere in sight. And that suited her just fine. The less time she had to spend with him the better off she’d be.
Walking over to the horses, she patted the sorrel gelding’s neck. She’d been more humiliated than she’d ever been in her life during their meeting yesterday when she’d had to tell him that she and her father were practically destitute. But that hadn’t stopped her from noticing that the boy she’d once loved with all her heart had grown into a devastatingly handsome man or that whenever he turned his deep blue eyes her way, her chest tightened with an ache she’d thought she’d long ago gotten over.
“You’re late.”
Her stomach did a little flip at the sound of Nick’s deep baritone and, turning around, she found him standing with one shoulder propped against the edge of the barn door, his arms crossed over his wide chest. She swallowed hard and tried not to notice how his chambray shirt emphasized the width of his shoulders or how his worn jeans hugged his muscular thighs and rode low on his narrow hips. As he pushed away from the barn and walked toward her, her pulse sped up and she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
“I had things to do,” she said, hating the breathless tone of her own voice. “Besides, this shouldn’t take long. Both herds are pastured within a few miles’ ride of each other.”
He nodded as he untied the two horses, then handed her the sorrel’s reins. “I need to be back before supper.”
“We’ll be back well before then,” she said, mounting the gelding.
“Good. I have plans.”
Cheyenne couldn’t believe the twinge of disappointment coursing through her. She couldn’t care less if he had a date. She really couldn’t. As long as he left her alone, he could date and bed the county’s entire female population and it wouldn’t bother her one bit.
“If you’d like to postpone checking the herds, it won’t bother me. I have other things I need to be doing anyway.”
He effortlessly swung up onto the bay and rode up beside her. “No, I want to see what we’ve got so that when I go to the auction tomorrow night, I can compare what we have to what’s being sold. Then I’ll have a fair idea of how much I can get when I sell our cattle.”
“You’re selling out?”
Panic sent a cold chill snaking up her spine and caused her stomach to twist into a painful knot. If he sold everything, how was she supposed to pay off the remainder of her debt?
“Don’t worry, you’ll still have a job,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “I’m starting a new breeding program that will make the Sugar Creek a major force to contend with in the beef industry. And I can’t do that with the cattle we have now.”
“You’re not going to start raising some obscure breed that no one has ever heard of, are you?”
“Not hardly.” Laughing, he shook his head as they nudged the horses into a slow walk. “The Sugar Creek has always raised Black Angus and we always will. The same as the Flying H. But they’re going to be free-range cattle. No more supplements, growth hormones or commercial cattle feed. We’re starting an all-natural operation.”
Relieved to hear that she wouldn’t have to worry about finding a way to pay back money she didn’t have—at least for now—she nodded. “Free-range stock of all kinds are becoming very popular.”
“It’s getting bigger by the day and we’re missing out on a fast-growing market.” When he turned his head to look at her, he adjusted the wide brim of his black Resistol so that their gazes met. “The way I figure it, between the two ranches there’s a little over a hundred and fifty thousand acres of prime grazing land and plenty of good grass to cut for hay to feed the cattle in the winter months.”
He definitely had her interest. It could take several years for an operation like that to reach its peak. Maybe if he was busy planning how many acres he’d use for graze, how many for hay and where and how to market the beef, she’d be free to do her job and get through the next four years of her contract without having a lot of contact with him.
“When are you going to start selling off the herds and bringing in the new stock?”
“Within the next couple of weeks. I’m going to talk to the auction house tomorrow night about selling off the cattle in lots of ten to fifteen. I think I’ll get more out of them that way.”
She frowned. With the cold Wyoming winter just around the corner, it seemed like a bad time to be bringing in a new herd. “When will the new stock arrive?”
“Next spring.”
Glancing over at him as they rode across the pasture behind his house, she couldn’t help but wonder where she fit into the equation. With no stock to feed or any need to chop ice for the cattle to get water from the ponds and streams this winter there really wasn’t going to be any work for her to supervise.
When they reached a gate at the back of the pasture, she started to dismount, but Nick was quicker and jumped down from the bay to open it. “I’m betting you’re wondering what you’ll be doing with your time this winter.”
She led the bay as she rode the sorrel through the opening into the next field. “Well, now that you mention it, it did cross my mind.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. There’ll be more than enough work for both of us.” Taking the bay’s reins, he swung back up into the saddle. “After the herds are sold, we’ll be busy planning how many acres per head of cattle we’ll need, how we intend to rotate them and how many acres of hay we’ll need to cut in the summer to get them through the winter.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “We? Why can’t you do that yourself?”
He stared off across the Sugar Creek Valley at the Laramie Mountains in the distance. “I’m changing your job description. From now on, you’ll be working in the office and I’ll be out supervising the men and managing the daily operation.”
“Excuse me?” She reined in the gelding at the edge of the creek the ranch had been named for. “What office are you talking about?”
Stopping the bay, he shrugged. “My office at the Sugar Creek.”
Cheyenne felt a chill travel from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. How on earth was she going to keep her distance from him if she had to work in his office? In his home?
“You mean until the new cattle arrive in the spring?”
He shook his head. “From now on. I’ve missed being out in the fresh air and feeling like I’ve actually accomplished something when I go to bed so tired that I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed out loud as she urged the sorrel across the slow moving, shallow water of Sugar Creek. “Give me a break. You can’t tell me you’d rather be out in weather so cold your breath freezes on your lips or so hot that you feel like your brains are baking inside your hat.”
“I’m serious, Cheyenne.” He rode up the bank on the other side of the creek. “I’ve been stuck being a desk jockey for the past eight years and I’m tired of it.”
It wasn’t any of her business nor did she care what he’d been doing for the past thirteen years, but curiosity got the better of her. “What kind of job did you have?”
“I developed software for a bank’s online customers to pay bills and transfer funds from one account to another.”
“You graduated from college.” She couldn’t keep from sounding wistful.
“Yep. I have a degree in software development and computer applications.”
“And you gave up all that to come back here to shovel manure and cut yourself to ribbons stringing barbed wire fence? Are you nuts?”
He grinned. “Put that way, it doesn’t sound real smart, does it?”
Laughing, Cheyenne shook her head. “I’ll bet your mother is very proud of you for earning your degree, but fit to be tied that you won’t be using it. She always wanted you to go to college.” It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t asked about his mother. “By the way, how is she doing?”
His smile faded and stopping his horse at the top of a rise, he gazed out over the herd of sleek black cattle grazing in the shallow valley below. “Mom died about a year after we moved to St. Louis. She never knew that I went to college, let alone graduated.”
“Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She’d always liked Linda Daniels and hated to hear of the woman’s passing. “Had she been ill?”
Cheyenne knew from experience how hard his mother’s death had to have been for Nick. She’d lost her own mother when she was very young and had it not been for the love of her father, she wasn’t sure she would have survived. But Nick hadn’t had anyone to lean on. His mother had never married and it had always been just the two of them.
“Mom knew she didn’t have long to live when we left here,” he said quietly.
“Was that why you went to St. Louis? I think I remember you mentioning that your mother had a cousin there.”
Nick turned to stare at Cheyenne. The sincerity in her blue-green eyes convinced him that she didn’t have a clue why he’d run away in the middle of the night like a coyote with a backside full of buckshot. And that had him wondering just what the good judge had told her about his disappearance the night they were to have been married.
“That’s where we went to live,” he said, turning his attention back to the herd of cattle in the valley below. “But that wasn’t the reason we left here.”
He could tell from her intense stare that she was baffled by his answer, but she didn’t pursue the issue further. Instead she reined her horse toward the path leading down into the meadow. But the gelding balked, then gingerly held his front hoof off the ground as if it might be injured.
“I think we have a problem,” Nick said as they both dismounted to examine the sorrel’s left front leg. Bending down, he gently examined the inside center of the animal’s hoof. “The sole looks swollen.”
“It’s probably a stone bruise.”
Straightening, he nodded. “That would be my guess. Looks like we’ll have to ride double.”
She shook her head as she patted the gelding’s neck. “It’s only a few miles. You go ahead and I’ll walk him back.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He took the reins from her. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to ride back to the house and leave you out here alone with a lame horse.”
“You can go faster without me.” She took a step back. “You said yourself that you have a date tonight and I certainly don’t want to be the cause of you being late.”
Nick stared at her for several long seconds. Had there been a bit of sarcasm in her voice?
He knew he should let it go, but some part of him had to know. “Does it bother you that I might be seeing someone, Cheyenne?”
“Not at all.” Her laughter was as hollow as the old bee tree out behind his barn. “I don’t know why you’d wonder something like that. I gave up caring what you do a long time ago.”
He knew she was lying and for reasons beyond his comprehension, he wanted her to admit the truth. “You never could lie worth a damn, sweetheart.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are.” He stepped forward and putting his arm around her waist, drew her to him. Lowering his voice, he whispered close to her ear. “You don’t like caring, but you do.”
“D-don’t flatter yourself, Nick Daniels. What you do or who you do it with is none of my concern.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
The breathless tone of her voice and the tremor he felt pass through her slender body belied her words and, unable to stop himself, Nick pushed the brim of her ball cap up out of the way and lowered his head. “Let’s just settle the issue here and now.”
Three
When Nick covered her mouth with his, Cheyenne’s heart began to pound like she’d run a marathon and every cell in her body tingled to life. She tried to remain unaffected, tried to fight the heat filling every fiber of her being. She didn’t want to feel anything for him but contempt.
This was the man who had broken her young heart all those years ago, the man who had left her behind without a word or even a backward glance. He’d proven what her father had said about him to be right on the money—there wasn’t anything more to Nick Daniels than a handful of empty promises and a boatload of heartaches. But try as she might, she couldn’t stop the honeyed warmth flowing through her veins or the overwhelming need to kiss him back.
At eighteen, Nick the boy had kissed her with the soft, innocent reverence of youthful love. But as his lips moved over hers now, then urged her to open for him, she found that Nick the man kissed her with a thoroughness that caused her head to spin and made every bone in her body feel as if it had been turned to rubber.
When he tightened his hold and she felt the hard contours of his body pressed to her much softer curves, her pulse throbbed and she gave up all pretense of resisting. His breathtaking exploration of her tender inner recesses stole her breath and wiped out all thought of the past, present or future. At the moment, all she wanted to do was savor the delicious sensations flowing from the top of her head all the way to her curled toes inside her scuffed boots.
With her hands trapped between them, she had to grasp his shirt in order to keep her balance. But the flexing of his rock-hard pectoral muscles beneath the fabric sent her pulse racing and caused her knees to give way completely. Moving his hands from her back to cup her bottom, he positioned his leg between hers to help support her.
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