"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 waist-band 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."