The Rancher and the City Girl Read online

  She wrung her hands and looked around the room. He had a suspicion she wasn’t seeing the furniture Jeanette had so lovingly chosen, or the spectacular artwork she had purchased. No, the faraway look in her eyes let him know she was seeing something else entirely.

  “Yesterday afternoon I was on my way to a meeting. I needed a pen, so I stepped into the supply closet to grab one. I overheard my boss talking with someone and heard my name. He told them to kill me and make it look like an accident.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I waited until they were gone and got out of there. I knew I couldn’t go home.”

  “Are you sure about what you heard? This sounds a little far-fetched to me.”

  “I know what I heard.”

  “Your imagination—”

  “I’m not imagining anything.” Her voice rose and her eyes flashed. “I know what I heard. I know they want to kill me. If I die, the case dies with me.”

  He closed his eyes. She could be lying, but he couldn’t imagine why she would bother. And she really did seem scared. Nobody could be that good an actress. But then, she had pretended to be Jeanette’s friend, so maybe she did possess the skill. Still, he couldn’t figure out why she would show up out of the blue. She didn’t stand to gain anything by coming to him.

  “I’m sorry for bringing trouble to your door, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t go to my parents’ home. That’s the first place they’ll look. Same with Rodney and my friends. No one in New York knows a thing about you, so they won’t look here.”

  “What about that agent you mentioned? The guy you told about this.”

  “I called his office. They told me he’d been in a car accident. That’s pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”

  “People have accidents all the time, Camille.” Still a sense of unease crept up his spine, which was a shock in itself, given the fact that he hadn’t felt anything since Jeanette’s death. Jericho paced the room for several minutes, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. It was just crazy enough to be true. She could be in danger.

  But so what? She wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his friend. Truth was, he’d categorize her as an enemy if he’d bothered to think of her, which he hadn’t. Still...

  “We haven’t spoken in five years. You and your family disowned Jeanette simply because she fell in love with me. And now you expect me to step in and save you?”

  Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to her chest. After a few seconds she nodded, squared her shoulders, grabbed her purse and stood. “I understand. Sorry for bothering you.” She headed for the door.

  He should let her go. After the way she had treated Jeanette it was no more than she deserved. He was under no obligation to help her. Surely there had to be someone else she could turn to. Except...she had come to him. Despite how much he detested her, he knew Jeanette had loved her like a sister. She’d loved the entire Parker family. And at one time they’d loved her. Jeanette had never given up hope that one day they would reconcile and become friends again.

  Jeanette and Camille had grown up together. When Jeanette’s parents were killed in a plane crash when she was seventeen, the Parkers had taken her in. So no matter how much he loathed Camille, even if he would have been happy to never see her again in this life or the next, he would help her because her family had helped Jeanette.

  “Wait.”

  She turned and looked at him. If he’d seen even a hint of triumph in her expression he would have kicked her out without the slightest remorse. Instead her hazel eyes revealed trepidation and a sliver of hope. He knew then that allowing her to stay was the right thing to do. He could never send a woman into danger, no matter how much he hated her. If there was a way he could keep her safe, he had to do it.

  “You can stay.”

  Her knees wobbled, and she reached for the door. Unfortunately, she was too far away to grab it. He rushed forward and caught her as she collapsed, sweeping her into his arms. Her gentle scent wafted in the air and wrapped around him. Some random part of his brain noticed how well she fit in his arms, but he quickly banished the unwelcome thought.

  “I’m okay. I can walk,” she said in a small voice that belied her words. “It was just a little weakness, you know, from all the nerves. I’ve been so scared.”

  He ignored her protests and kept her in his arms until he reached the sofa, where he gently eased her onto the cushions. “When was the last time you ate?”

  Her brow wrinkled, and she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure.”

  No doubt she was running on adrenaline coupled with a good dose of fear. Now that she was safe, her strength was gone. “Here’s an easier question. When was the last time you slept?”

  She laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know if that’s easier. I overheard the conversation around two yesterday afternoon. I freaked and rushed around the city in a panic for a couple of hours. I actually started toward Maine before thinking of coming here. I checked into a fleabag hotel in Virginia around two in the morning, but to be honest I didn’t sleep very well.”

  He stood, needing to put some distance between them. “I’ll heat some soup. Give me your keys and I’ll put your car in the shed so it’ll be out of sight. I don’t think anyone will look for you here, but better safe than sorry.”

  She grabbed his arm, and unwanted warmth shot through his body.

  “Thanks, Jericho.” Her voice was small but earnest. “You’re saving my life.”

  Uncomfortable with her thanks and even more uncomfortable with the way his body responded to the feel of her hand on his forearm, he snapped, determined to set her straight so she didn’t get the wrong idea about his motives. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m repaying a debt.”

  “What debt?”

  “Your parents helped Jeanette after her parents died and she had nowhere to go. So I’m helping you. When this is over we’ll be even and I’ll never have to lay eyes on you again.”

  Telling himself it couldn’t possibly be pain he saw on her face, he stalked to the kitchen to warm up some soup. The sooner he got her fed and safely in the guest room, the better off he’d be. But somehow he had the feeling getting her out of his mind wasn’t going to be as easy as getting her out of his sight tonight.

  Chapter Two

  Camille looked around the kitchen as she sipped the chicken and rice soup. Spacious and up-to-date, the room still managed to remain in keeping with the rest of the farmhouse. The pink-and-green-flowered curtains and matching canisters on the soapstone countertops reminded her that Jericho may live alone now but there had been a woman here. Jeanette.

  Camille closed her eyes on a wave of guilt. Had she really turned her back on her best friend simply because she’d fallen in love? True, Jeanette had broken Rodney’s heart, but she hadn’t meant to. She’d let him down as easily as she could. Yet Camille had refused to forgive her friend. She’d rejected every one of Jeanette’s overtures. Now Jeanette was gone and Camille would never be able to make things right between them.

  Sorrow and regret filled her, turning her stomach. She put down her spoon, her appetite gone. The irony of her present situation didn’t escape her. She’d forced Jeanette out of her life because she’d chosen Jericho over Rodney, and now Camille was forcing herself into Jericho’s life. He was letting her stay only because of Jeanette.

  “Is something wrong with the soup?” Jericho asked, his voice hard. It was as if he was waiting for her to complain. Was he looking for an excuse to throw her out? There was no way she would give him one.

  She squelched a sigh, swallowed more soup, then looked at her reluctant host. “No. It’s delicious. It tastes too good to have come from a can.”

  The corners of his mouth turned down. “A friend of mine is a chef.”

  Male or female? For some insane reason the thought of another woman bustling around this kitchen dis
turbed her. She shoved that feeling, whatever it was, aside. She was a guest here. Her welcome was tenuous at best. She didn’t have the right to start asking questions about Jericho’s life. Still a part of her was curious about the man her friend had fallen so hard for. What was it about him that had been so appealing that it had caused Jeanette to break off her engagement to Camille’s brother?

  One thing Camille now knew: Jericho was dependable. He might not like her—heck, he hated her—but he’d been willing to provide her with a safe haven. More than that, he hadn’t asked for a thing in return. True, he viewed it as repaying a debt, but if there was a debt, it wasn’t his to pay.

  Her spoon clanked against the bowl, and she realized she’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t been aware she’d been eating.

  “More?” Jericho asked.

  She shook her head, then caught herself. Hadn’t her mother drilled into her the proper way to respond to a question? She must be even more tired than she thought. The soft light and the warmth of the room had lulled her into a calm she hadn’t felt since she’d first discovered the criminal activity at her firm. “No, thank you.”

  She wiped her mouth with her napkin and pushed away from the table. Grabbing her bowl, she stood, intending to wash her dishes in the ceramic farm sink beneath the large window. Even from across the room she could see the sink was empty; she didn’t want to leave a mess for Jericho to clean up later. Nor did she want to leave him with the impression that she was the spoiled rich girl he thought she was.

  “I’ll take care of this,” he said, taking her bowl from her.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I insist.” His tone ended all discussion.

  “Thanks.” She waited quietly as he washed her dishes, wiped them dry and placed them in the cabinet beside the sink.

  He leaned against the counter and stared at her. For all his concern about feeding her, his eyes were remarkably cold, his voice remote. “I’ll show you where you can bunk while you’re here.”

  Bunk. A cowboy word. Not a word she was used to hearing on Wall Street. It had a nice ring to it. Soothing. It conjured up images of honorable men on the range who would ensure no harm came to anyone. Hopefully, this horse ranch in North Carolina and its owner could provide the protection she needed until the danger passed. And it had to pass, didn’t it? She forced that worry away. She was safe for now, and that was what she would focus on.

  Camille followed Jericho through a narrow hall and up a flight of stairs. A gray and burgundy runner centered on the old oak risers muffled their footsteps. The house wasn’t as large as the Chicago Gold Coast mansion where she’d grown up, but it was a good size and quite cozy. Jericho led her past a closed door and paused briefly before a second.

  He opened the door a few inches. “This is the guest bathroom.”

  She caught a glimpse of a white pedestal sink before he closed the door.

  He opened a door farther down the hall, and she hurried to catch up with him. “Linen closet.” He pulled out towels, folded sheets and two blankets, then handed them to her before shutting the door with a definite click. What? Did he think she would steal his linen?

  He crossed the hall and opened another door but didn’t step inside. “You’ll be sleeping here. This is the only bed you’re welcome in.”

  She gasped, and her cheeks heated with remembered embarrassment. Before she could think up a suitable reply, he’d vanished back down the hall. She heard the stairs creak under his feet, and a minute later a door slammed.

  Truthfully there was nothing she could say to justify her behavior all those years ago. She had bribed her way into his hotel room and gotten into his bed. Not one of her proudest moments. She hadn’t actually planned to seduce him. She just wanted to prove to Jeanette that Jericho wasn’t the man he claimed to be so Jeanette would return to Rodney and things would get back to the way they were supposed to be. She’d expected Jericho to take her up on her offer. Then she would be able to tell Jeanette what he’d been willing to do.

  She’d been wrong. Jericho had taken one look at her, his face twisted with disgust, and left the room. She’d waited for Jeanette to confront her about her behavior, but she never had. Apparently Jericho had never told Jeanette about the incident. That one horrible secret had weighed Camille down for years and was one of the reasons she’d worried Jericho would turn her away.

  Physically and mentally exhausted, and sick and tired of the thoughts that continuously circled her mind, Camille removed her shoes and dropped onto the bare mattress. It was firm and cool and seemed to wrap her with comfort. She’d put on the sheets in a minute. She just needed to close her eyes for a bit and block out everything.

  After a while, she forced herself to get up before she fell into a deep sleep. She grabbed her towels and crept to the bathroom. When she found a new toothbrush and toothpaste inside the mirrored medicine cabinet, she nearly shouted for joy. It seemed an eternity since she’d performed her simple grooming routine.

  She had a brief internal debate, then concluded that she could not possibly wear her underwear a third straight day. Two days in a row was bad enough. Slipping off her panties and bra, she washed them by hand and left them on the side of the tub to dry. She’d slept in her clothes last night, and it looked like she would be doing the same again since she didn’t think Jericho would lend her a T-shirt to sleep in. She was lucky he was letting her stay in his house. She wouldn’t push it by asking for some of his clothes. The idea of wearing something that belonged to him seemed too intimate anyway, so she couldn’t summon the nerve to ask him. Still, she was relieved to know she didn’t have to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She was safe. That had to count for something.

  * * *

  Jericho closed the shed door, then walked across the yard to the barn, Shadow circling his heels. The dog had been a surprise birthday present from Jeanette. Her last gift to him. The pesky dog provided the only type of companionship Jericho wanted even if Shadow couldn’t follow the simplest command.

  Shadow didn’t make subtle hints about getting on with his life or give unsolicited advice. The dog didn’t presume to know what Jeanette would have wanted for him. The dog simply let Jericho be himself, feeling—or as the case may be, not feeling—whatever he wanted.

  Jericho went to each stall, checking on the horses. Although he’d settled them for the night before Camille’s sudden appearance, he needed distance from the woman who’d invaded his home, disrupting the solitary life he now preferred.

  There was a time when he’d been a people person. He’d enjoyed the company of others and had entertained for both business and pleasure. His house had been the gathering place for his friends and he’d held many an impromptu party. His parents had raised him to seize the day. He’d embraced his father’s mantra: No day is more important than this one. No breath more valuable than the one you are taking. Make each moment count.

  He’d done that. He’d wrung every bit of pleasure out of his life. He’d met Jeanette while he’d been visiting his sister in Chicago. One look was all it had taken for him to realize they were made for each other. She’d made him appreciate his life even more. He’d been content before he’d met her, but once they’d married, his joy had known no bounds.

  When she died from complications from her pregnancy, she’d taken the best part of him with her. He no longer felt joy with each day and struggled to find value in each breath. He’d be the first to admit that he’d become a hermit. He’d shrunk his business, dismissing all but two ranch hands and limiting his interactions with them to the barest minimum. He’d removed himself from the world, and only the most stubborn of his friends insisted on coming to the ranch. He had managed to survive their occasional intrusions. Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to deal with Camille’s constant presence in the same way.

  Turning out the lights, he made his way back to the house. T
he moon was bright, lighting his way. Not that he needed it. He’d grown up on this piece of land and knew it like the back of his hand. When times had gotten tough, his grandparents had sold off all but the fifteen acres surrounding the house. Over the years, his parents bought back thirty acres. Jericho had worked hard to earn money and had bought back the remaining 340 acres that had been part of the Joneses’ original property. He’d intended to purchase two hundred additional acres last year, but the desire to expand and build upon what had once belonged to his forefathers had died on a clear February morning along with all of his other dreams.

  The kitchen was dark, but he didn’t switch on the light. He could still picture Camille sitting at the table sipping her soup despite himself. As a proud woman, she wouldn’t appreciate knowing just how frayed she’d looked. The flight from danger and all the worry had stripped away her haughtiness, leaving her almost humble. No doubt after a good night’s sleep her usual self-centered personality would rear its ugly head.

  Not that Camille was ugly. Far from it. With light brown skin, high cheekbones, full lips and hazel eyes, she had a face that was far too beautiful to be considered anything short of remarkable. Of course, she personified the saying about beauty being skin deep. He knew the ugliness that lurked beneath the surface better than anyone. Despite how vulnerable she’d appeared tonight, he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking she’d changed.

  He had no intention of turning his life upside down just because she’d dropped in out of nowhere, disturbing his solitude. He was not about to alter one single thing in his life just to suit her. If she thought for a moment that he was going to entertain her, she had another thought coming. In fact, the less he saw of her, the better off he would be.

  That settled, he climbed the stairs and went to his lonely bed wondering if tonight would be the night he would finally be able to sleep.