The Rancher & Heart of Stone (21 page)

“Is this desperate or what?” he asked miserably. “It’s the only thing going on in Jacobsville for the foreseeable future, unless you want me to sign us up for the summer square-dancing workshop,” he added grumpily. “I’ll never get to see Nellie.”

“I like dancing,” she replied. “It’s okay. You can sneak out and nobody will even miss you. Then you can say you had a stomach upset.”

“You’re a genius,” he exclaimed.

No, she was just getting good at lying, she thought. She still was concerned about Boone’s perception and Clark’s headlong fling into disaster. And in the back of her mind was the thought of her father and Jock and their schemes.

* * *

T
HINGS
WERE
ROUTINE
at work. She and her mother were getting along for the first time. Even Carly was kinder to Keely. And it seemed that the work she did around the house was slowly appreciated, right down to her cooking. She felt as if she had a new lease on life.

But on Saturday morning, while she was worrying over the one good dress she had that she was wearing to the dance, there was a phone call.

She answered the phone herself. Her mother was sleeping late—she and Carly had gone out on the town the night before—and she was expecting to hear from Clark. But it wasn’t Clark.

“Has your mother put the house on the market yet?”

She knew that voice. It wasn’t her father’s. It was Jock’s.

She hesitated, sick with fear.

“Answer me, damn you!”

“N-no,” she stammered. “She hasn’t...yet...”

“You tell her she’d better get moving. I know what she and your father did. He may not want to tell, but I will. You hear me, Keely?” And he slammed the phone down.

Keely wouldn’t have understood the threat even a week ago. She understood it now. She couldn’t very well go to Hayes Carson and tell him that her mother had been accessory to a homicide. There could be no protection from that quarter, especially if Hayes found out who the homicide had been. Clark couldn’t help her, either. She didn’t dare involve Boone. She sat down, sick and frightened, and wondered what in the world they were going to do.

* * *

L
ATER
,
WHEN
E
LLA
woke up, Keely had to tell her about the phone call.

Ella was hungover, but she sobered quickly. “Jock knows, then? I was afraid Brent would get high enough to tell him.”

“What can we do?” Keely asked miserably.

Ella drew in a long breath. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about this.”

“You don’t have the time!” Keely said. “What if he goes to the sheriff?”

Ella looked at her daughter and actually smiled. “Thanks,” she said huskily. “It means a lot, after the way I’ve treated you, that you’d mind if I went to jail.” She shrugged. “Maybe it would be just as well to get it out in the open, Keely. It’s been so many years...if I had a good lawyer...”

“Yes,” Keely was agreeing.

She glanced at the younger woman, so hopeful, so enthusiastic. Ella knew that no judge in Jacobs County would let her walk away from a homicide; not when the sheriff’s brother was the victim, regardless of how much time had transpired between the death and the present. Keely was young and full of dreams. Ella was long past them. But she might be able to do something to save her daughter. She might be able to spare Keely, if she had the guts to do what was necessary.

“We’ll work something out,” she assured the younger woman. “You’re going to that dance with Clark, aren’t you? He’s very nice. Maybe he’ll marry you.” Her eyes looked dreamy for a moment. “He’s a good man. He’d take care of you, and you’d have everything you wanted.”

“Clark and I are just friends,” she said.

Ella glanced at her curiously. “It’s his brother, isn’t it? I didn’t do you any favors with the lies I told him. I could call him up and tell him the truth.”

“No,” Keely said at once.

Ella stared at her. “You loved him, and I screwed it up for you. I’m sorry.”

“He thinks I’m much too young for him,” Keely said with a sad smile. She was remembering the way Boone had talked to her at the library and hating circumstances that had robbed her of even a chance with him. Now that she knew the truth about her parents, any sort of a relationship with him would be impossible. Boone Sinclair, with his sterling reputation and impeccable bloodlines, wouldn’t stoop so low as to marry the daughter of drug users and murderers.

“You look so sad,” Ella said. “I really am sorry.”

“I know. It’s all right,” she replied.

Ella got up. “You’d better finish pressing your dress. I’d offer you one of mine,” she added, “but you’re much too slender.”

“Thanks for offering,” Keely said gently.

Ella smiled back, and something twisted deep inside her as she recalled how cruel she’d been to her child. She was sorry about it now. Maybe she could make amends. Maybe, just maybe, she could spare Keely any more heartbreak if she went about it right.

* * *

C
LARK
WAS
RIGHT
on time to pick up Keely. She was wearing a pretty green velvet dress that clung lovingly to her pretty figure all the way to her shapely ankles, with a fox stole that belonged to her mother. Ella had insisted that she take it. She also had high heels that were expensive and pretty, another loan from Ella, who wore the same shoe size. Keely had no evening shoes at all, never having had occasion to wear them. Her blond hair was clean and shiny, neatly combed, and her eyes were full of dreams.

“You look gorgeous,” Clark said suddenly as he helped her into the car. “I mean it. You really do.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Clark.”

He got into the car, thoughtful. When he frowned like that, he reminded her of Boone.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I was thinking that I’ve been using you and it’s wrong.”

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s what makes it so bad,” he replied. “I’m doing things I don’t like just to keep Boone from asking questions about my girlfriend.” He glanced at her. “If I really cared about her, I’d be doing things differently, wouldn’t I, Keely?”

She was surprised by his attitude, and the question. “You’re in love. It makes people do odd things.”

“Am I? In love, I mean?” He accelerated around a curve. “I’ve invested in a king’s ransom of jewelry and designer clothes for Nellie. She hasn’t refused a thing. In fact, she’s made suggestions about what I could buy her that she’d like best.” He glanced at her. “I can’t get you to accept a pair of inexpensive earrings.”

She flushed. It sounded very much as if Boone had made some idle comment that had started his brother thinking about things.

“I don’t like jewelry.”

“Of course you like it, Keely. All women like jewelry,” Clark replied. “But you won’t accept it from me. You won’t even tell me why.”

She bit her lip. “It would be like accepting payment for helping you out.”

“And that’s wrong?”

“In my world, yes, it is. A small present at Christmas is one thing. But expensive jewelry, that’s something else.”

“That’s what Boone says. His girlfriend was hinting that she’d like a diamond collar. He said she could whistle for it. He didn’t have to pay women to go out with him. She was really mad. She stormed out without another word.”

“I’ll bet she came back,” Keely said sadly.

“Of course she did. Boone’s loaded, and he’s a dish, and he’s relentlessly chased by every spinster south of Dallas.”

Keely’s heart sank. Of course he was. Boone was every woman’s dream. He was certainly Keely’s.

“It started me thinking,” Clark continued. “And not in a good way. If Nellie loved me, she’d be wanting to buy things for me.”

“She couldn’t afford your taste, Clark,” she murmured dryly.

He thought for a minute and then laughed. “Well, no, she couldn’t. But it’s the point of the thing, Keely. She hasn’t bought me anything since we started dating. Not even a handkerchief or a music CD. Nothing.”

“Some people aren’t givers.”

“Some people are gold diggers, though,” he replied.

She leaned back against the seat with a little sigh. “I guess so. I’ve never understood why. I love working for what I get. My paychecks may be small compared to a lot of others, but every one thrills me. I worked with my own hands for what I have.”

“Boone admires that.”

“Does he?” She tried not to sound impressed.

“Not that he wants to. He does his best to ignore you.”

“I noticed.”

“Maybe he’s right, Keely,” he said solemnly. “You’re very young, even to be going out with me.”

She threw up her hands. “What is it about my age? For heaven’s sake, I’ll be twenty on Christmas Eve!”

He smiled. She made him feel good. She always had. She and Winnie were closer to him than any other two women on earth.

“You’re the nicest friend I have,” he said out of the blue. “I’m going to start treating you better.”

“Are you, really? Then if you want to get me something...”

“Anything!” he interrupted. “I mean that.”

“I’d love to have mats for my car.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Mats. You know, those black ribbed things that go on the floorboard. Just for the driver’s side,” she added quickly. “It was used, so it didn’t come with the original equipment, and Dr. Rydel’s parking lot isn’t paved. I have to walk through mud to get to my car when it rains.”

Clark was still absorbing the shock. Nellie had asked, petulantly, for a diamond pendant she’d seen advertised in a slick magazine and here was Keely asking for a single mat for her damned car.

“Not anything expensive,” she said quickly, fearing she’d overstepped. “I mean, for Christmas. I’m going to get you something, too, but it will be inexpensive.”

He pulled up at the community center, feeling two inches high. He turned to her in the car. “You make me ashamed,” he said quietly.

“Of what?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Never mind. We’d better go in. I think we’re a little late.”

“My fault,” she said, smiling. “You had to wait while I found my purse.” She held it up. “It was an old one of Mama’s. She let me have it, and her cell phone, and she loaned me her fox fur—” she waved it at him “—and her shoes—” she held up one foot to show him.

He could have wept. She never asked for a thing. She wouldn’t let Winnie loan her anything at all. He’d never felt so bad in all his life. He’d used her as a blind for his great love affair, put her in a position where Boone could savage her if he ever found out what she’d been doing and never even gave a thought to the consequences.

“Tonight is the last time I’m hiding Nellie behind you,” he said suddenly. “I’ll go off with her, this once. But from now on, I’m taking her right into the front door of my house.”

“Have some catsup handy, won’t you?” she teased. “Boone will have her for supper.”

“I know that. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to let him have a bite of her. For once, maybe she’d show her true colors.”

She stopped smiling. “It might not be as bad as you think,” she said softly. “I mean, she might care about you and still like jewelry.”

“She might rather have just the jewelry,” he returned cynically.

A big SUV pulled up into the parking lot. He grimaced. “She’s early.” He looked at Keely. “Want me to walk you in?”

She shook her head. “I can do it all by myself.”

He handed her a ticket. “You’re taking that, even if it’s all you’ll let me give you. I’ll be back before you miss me.”

She knew better than that. He might talk good, but he was still under Nellie’s spell. She’d have him convinced by the end of the evening that he couldn’t live without her. Poor man.

“Have fun,” she said.

He harrumphed. “You have fun.”

She got out of the car, closed the door and waved. She didn’t look toward Nellie. She would have happily thrown rocks at her if it would have spared Clark.

* * *

M
USIC
POURED
OUT
into the cold night air. They were playing a Latin number. She imagined all the town’s excellent dancers, including Matt Caldwell and Cash Grier, were out on the dance floor dazzling the spectators. She was looking forward to watching them.

She gave her ticket at the door, tugged the fox fur closer and moved into the huge room where a live band was playing.

“I thought you’d be along when I heard Clark mention that he bought tickets,” a deep, amused voice said behind her.

She turned and looked up into Boone Sinclair’s dark, soft eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

K
EELY
COULDN
’
T
MANAGE
a single word. Boone caught her hand and tugged her into the community center with him.

“Should I ask where Clark is?”

She felt as if her feet weren’t quite on the floor. “No need. I didn’t see your car.”

“That’s because I didn’t drive it here. I brought one of the trucks and parked it out back. I doubt Clark even noticed.”

“He didn’t.” She looked around. “Is Winnie here?”

He hesitated. “No.”

She stopped walking so that he had to stop, too.

He looked down at her appreciably, his dark eyes lingering on the way the emerald-green dress fit her slender, pretty body. “Green suits you,” he mused.

“Winnie didn’t come...?” she prompted.

“Kilraven said he wasn’t coming,” he replied. “She said it was useless to let men she didn’t even like parade her around the dance floor.”

She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Maybe she has a point.”

He lifted an eyebrow and looked wicked. “Maybe she does.”

She felt suddenly uneasy. She looked around again, for Misty this time.

“She’s not here.”

Flushed, she looked back up into his amused eyes.

“I came alone,” he told her. “I mentioned that I wasn’t buying diamonds for a casual date and she took offense.”

“I heard.”

“Oh? Was Clark impressed?”

“Yes. But don’t count on it lasting any length of time,” she added. “Once he’s alone with her, he’ll forget everything he said.”

“No doubt.” He pursed his lips. “Do you dance, Miss Welsh?”

Her heart skipped at the way he said it. He had no date, and he’d come anyway. And he was looking at her as if he could eat her. That was thrilling, even if she couldn’t hope for anything more.

“I do,” she replied. She sounded breathless.

He took the fox stole and her purse and laid them on a table next to where Cag Hart and his wife, Tess, were sitting. “Do you mind watching them?” he asked.

Tess grinned. “Not if I get to try on that stole.”

“Help yourself,” Keely invited with a big grin.

Tess wound it around her neck and struck a pose. She batted her eyelids at her husband. Her blue eyes twinkled in their frame of red hair.

“I’m not buying you a dead fox,” Cag informed her haughtily.

Keely recalled that Cag had watched the “pig” movie and gave up eating pork. She wondered if he’d recently seen any other animated animal films.

Tess looked up and grinned. “There was this foxhound movie...”

“Will you stop?” Cag muttered, looking oddly flushed. “I like animals.”

Tess bent over and kissed him. “So do I. But this animal has probably been deceased for a number of years....”

He burst out laughing and kissed her back.

Boone tugged Keely toward the dance floor.

He slid one arm around her waist and pulled her closer, easing his fingers in between hers. She stumbled with nerves as he propelled her expertly into the slow rhythm, and he laughed, deep in his throat.

She felt like a fox, running for cover. Her heart was racing, her breath was stuck somewhere south of her windpipe. She barely noticed the music. She was too aware of Boone’s powerful body against hers, the scent of his breath, the smell of his cologne. He made her feel weak and shaky all over.

His hand spread against her back over the soft velvet. “I like this dress,” he murmured at her forehead.

“It’s very pretty,” she began.

“I like the way it feels,” he corrected.

She laughed nervously. “Oh.”

He nuzzled her cheek, so that she lifted her eyes to his. “Nineteen years old,” he said quietly, studying her. He looked guilty.

She frowned. “You know, age isn’t everything.”

“If you trot out that tired old line about it being the mileage,” he threatened softly.

“It’s true, though,” she replied.

He smoothed his fingers in between hers as they moved lazily to the music. “You’ve heard from your father, haven’t you?” he asked suddenly.

She jerked in his arms.

He nodded. “I thought so. You’ve been jumpy since you walked in the door.”

She felt miserable, when she remembered what her mother had said about Hayes Carson’s brother. She would carry the guilt for her parents’ actions until she died. And Hayes was trying to look out for her, not knowing the truth.

“Come here.”

He stopped dancing, caught her hand and led her out the side door onto the dark patio, where only a strip of light from the room inside showed on the stones of the flooring.

“Tell me what’s worrying you,” he coaxed.

She leaned her forehead against his chest. If only she could. But Hayes was his friend. “It was Jock who called. He made threats. My father wants Mama to sell the house and give him the money,” she said heavily. “He’s got something on her, something he can use, if she doesn’t do it. She’s afraid of him.”

“What does he have on her?”

She groaned softly. “I don’t know.”

He tilted her chin up. “Yes, you do, Keely,” he argued, searching her eyes in the dim light from the patio windows inside.

Her eyes were tormented. “I can’t tell you,” she said sadly. “It isn’t my secret.”

His fingers caressed her chin. “You can tell me anything,” he said, his voice deep and soft and seductive. “Anything.”

He made her want to tell him. He was powerful and attractive. He made her blood run hot through her veins. She wanted to kiss him until the aching stopped. She couldn’t tell him that, of course.

She didn’t have to. Boone read the subtle signs of her body and her breathing and drew a conclusion. Slowly, so that he didn’t frighten her, he bent toward her mouth. “I should be shot,” he whispered.

His breath tasted of coffee. The exquisite feel of flesh against flesh in such an intimate way made Keely’s head spin. She’d rarely been kissed at all, and never like this. His skill was apparent.

But he seemed to lose control, just a little, as the kiss lengthened. His mouth grew quickly hungry. His arms contracted and riveted her to the length of his body, bending her into its hard contours. She stiffened helplessly at the intimacy, to which she was completely unaccustomed.

Boone lifted his head, surprised by her posture, by her reaction. She responded as if she’d never been held and kissed in her life; as if the demanding ardor of an adult man was unknown to her. And perhaps it was. He considered what he knew of her life from Winnie’s vague comments.

He let her move back, just a step, but he didn’t let her go. “It’s all right,” he said softly, smiling. He framed her face in his big hands and held it where he wanted it. His thumb gently pulled down her lower lip as he bent again. “All we have to fear,” he quoted amusedly, “is fear itself...”

It was different this time. He didn’t demand. He teased her lips, brushing them in brief little caresses that made her want more. His hands smoothed back her hair. They moved down her back, to the curve of her hips, and coaxed her closer. She shivered at the contact and for an instant his mouth became demanding. But when she stiffened, he relented at once.

It was like a silent duel, she thought, fascinated. He advanced, and when she hesitated, he withdrew. It was as if he knew the difficulty she felt, as if he was aware of how new and frightening these sensations were to her. He calmed her, coaxed her, until she began to relax and stop fighting the slow, steady crush of his mouth.

“That’s it,” he whispered when she sank gently against him. “Just don’t fight it. Don’t fight me. I won’t hurt you.”

She knew that. But it was still difficult to give herself over to someone who didn’t know about her past. She was terrified not of his exploring hands, but of what he might find if he persisted.

So when she felt his fingertips teasing just around the edge of her breast, she jumped and pulled back.

She expected an explosion. Once, just once, she’d given in to temptation in her adult years and agreed to go out with a salesman who came through town. He’d grabbed her in the car and she’d jerked away from him. He’d been furious, snapping at her about girls who teased. And then he’d forcibly run his hand over her shoulder and her breast. She could never forget the look of utter horror in his face. He’d pushed her away from him. He took her home without a single word. He hadn’t even looked at her when she got out of the car. It wasn’t as bad as the date she’d had at the tender age of sixteen that had ended in such trauma. But it was bad enough. That was the last time she’d ever gone out with a man on a date.

But Boone wasn’t angry. In fact, he looked pleased rather than offended at her lack of response.

He withdrew his hand and traced her swollen lips with it. “Well!” he exclaimed softly, and he smiled.

She was worried. “You aren’t...mad?”

He shook his head. “Virgins need gentle handling,” he whispered, and bent to kiss her, tenderly, when she blushed.

When he drew back, his expression was solemn and gentle. He smoothed over her hair, touched her cheek, her mouth, her chin. “When are you going to be twenty?” he asked after a minute.

“Chr-Christmas Eve,” she stammered.

“Christmas Eve. In four months.” He kissed her eyelids closed, smiling against them. “We’ll have to do something very special for your birthday.”

“We? Oh, you mean Winnie and Clark and you?”

He lifted his head and searched her eyes. “Why wouldn’t you think I meant just you and me?” he queried.

“There’s Misty,” she reminded him.

He frowned, as if he didn’t know who she was talking about. The magic seemed to seep away. He withdrew his hand and became aloof. “Misty,” he repeated.

The magic drained out of the night. He became the distant stranger, the aloof man of the past. At that moment, he looked as if he’d never considered touching Keely.

She wrapped her arms around herself against a chill that didn’t come from the night air. “It’s getting cool,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yes, it is.” He moved away from her, deep in thought. He paused to open the door for her.

She went through it without looking up. She said nothing. He said nothing. She went to the refreshment table and got a small cup of soda and sat down with it over against the wall.

She watched Boone stop at a group of cattlemen and stand talking to them. Her eyes darted around to see if Clark had returned. When she glanced toward the group of cattlemen again, Boone was gone. She didn’t see him again.

* * *

C
LARK
PICKED
HER
up. He looked disheveled and out of sorts.

“The pearls were the wrong color,” he said dejectedly. “She wanted pink ones. I got gray ones.”

“I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her and grimaced. “I hated leaving you there alone,” he confessed. “I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“It was all right,” she said. “I liked the music.”

“You’re the nicest friend I’ve ever had,” he said after a minute. “But you shouldn’t let me take advantage of you like this.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

He gave her a rakish grin. “Good girl.”

“What’s our next project?”

He sighed. “I really don’t know. I’ll let you know when she decides if she wants to see me again.”

“She will,” she said with conviction.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

D
R
. R
YDEL
WAS
raising more hell than usual when Keely went in to work the next Monday.

“I told you to reorder that low-fat dog food last week,” he was raging at their newest clerk, Antonia.

“But I did, Dr. Rydel,” she said, near tears. “They had it on back order.”

He made a rude sound. “And I suppose the urn containing Mrs. Randolph’s old cat is also on back order?” he added sarcastically.

Antonia was red by this time. “No, sir, I forgot to check on it is all. I’m sorry,” she added quickly.

It didn’t make any difference. He stood in front of her and glared. She burst into tears and ran into the back.

“Oh, nice job, Doctor,” his colleague, Dr. Patsy King, muttered. “She’ll quit and we’ll have to break in yet another clerk. How many is that so far this year? Let me think...six, isn’t it?” she added with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

Bentley glared at her. “Four!”

“Oh. Only four.” She rolled her eyes. “That makes me feel better.”

“Don’t you have a patient waiting, Dr. King?” he drawled, eyes flashing.

She sighed. “Yes, I do, thank God, but I came out here to get our clerk to schedule her next appointment. I suppose I’ll be doing that myself!” She looked pointedly toward the back where Antonia was audibly sobbing.

He cursed.

She made a face. “Oh, like that’s going to help!” she grumbled. She sat down in Antonia’s chair and used the computer to schedule the next visit for her patient. While she was at it, she added up the charges and printed out a sheet listing them.

“I could help you do that,” Keely offered.

“No, you could not,” Dr. Rydel muttered. “I need you to help with examinations, not making appointments.”

“Speaking of which, Keely, could you carry this dog out to Mrs. Reynolds’s car for her?” Dr. King asked, and smiled gently.

“Of course,” Keely answered at once, and walked off with Dr. King, leaving a fuming Dr. Rydel behind.

* * *

A
FTER
THAT
MORNING
,
it was open war between the two senior veterinarians in the practice. Dr. King was three years younger than Dr. Rydel, married with two children, and she needed her job. But she threatened to leave if he didn’t stop using the clerks for target practice. Keely and the senior vet tech and the other veterinarian, Dr. Dave Mercer, tried to keep out of Dr. Rydel’s way until his temper improved. Nobody knew what had set him off, but he was like a prizefighter walking down the street wearing boxing gloves. He was spoiling for a fight.

It was a relief for Keely when the workweek was over and she could get away from the tension. She was still mooning over Boone and reliving the tender kisses he’d shared with her on the patio of the community center. She didn’t understand his behavior at all. Everything had been fine until she’d mentioned Misty. Then he’d withdrawn as if he’d felt guilty about touching Keely. He’d left the dance rather than risk having to talk to her again.