Fire Brand. Diana Palmer
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NED COURTLAND WASN’T as big as Bowie. He was lean and fairly tall, with dark eyes and skin and silver-streaked black hair. He looked pleasant enough, but there were hard lines in his face and a stubborn set to his chin. Gaby, who’d had years of practice sizing up potential interviewees, would have pegged him as a man who presented a calm front but had a strong will and a formidable temper. He had the look of authority that usually came with money. But all that, she reminded herself, could be part of his act if he was looking to deceive Aggie.
“Hello, darling,” Aggie said, laughing as she hugged Gaby. “What in the world brings you down here?”
“A two-week vacation that Johnny talked me out of last year,” she said with commendable acting ability. “And I seem to have arrived at a very bad time...” Her eyes went past Aggie to Ned Courtland.
“Not at all!” Aggie scoffed, although the man behind her didn’t seem overjoyed to find a resident house guest. “Ned, come here and meet Gaby. She’s the next best thing to a daughter in my life. I’ve told you all about her. Gaby, this is Ned Courtland from Wyoming.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Courtland,” Gaby said politely, and shook hands with him. He had a strong grip, and his eyes didn’t waver as they met hers. Good traits, she thought absently.
“Same here, Miss Cane,” he replied. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“I could postpone my vacation,” Gaby offered, feeling guilty and half mad at Bowie for dragging her into this.
Aggie made a familiar gesture with her hand. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with bangs, and she was wearing a red pantsuit that emphasized her olive complexion and dark, snapping eyes. She was still a pretty woman, and as capable in business as her late husband had been. She was not an easy woman to fool. Of course, she had been lonely, Gaby recalled.
“You aren’t about to postpone your vacation,” Aggie said firmly. “We’ll enjoy having you around while Ned gets an eyeful of the Arizona cattle business. He has cattle of his own, you know,” she added, and glanced up at the tall man with pure adoration in her eyes.
He smiled at her just faintly. “Just a few head, Aggie,” he murmured. “Don’t make me into a cattle baron.”
He didn’t look like one, Gaby had to agree. He was wearing a simple gray suit, which looked very nice on him, but it wasn’t an expensive suit. With it he wore cowboy boots and an inexpensive felt cowboy hat. The hat was cocked at a jaunty angle, but that seemed to suit him. Gaby wondered what secrets lurked in that calm, quiet face. Mr. Courtland didn’t look like a gigolo, whatever he really was.
“I have just this minute told Tía Elena to start setting the table for lunch.” Montoya grinned. “I will help her get the food to the table. Uh, shall I call Señor Bowie?”
Aggie blinked. “Call him in Tucson, you mean?”
“Actually, he’s in the swimming pool,” Gaby said, grimacing at Aggie’s rapidly changing expression. “He got here just after I did.”
“How sweet of the dear boy to come down to meet his tired old gray-haired mother, fresh from the cruise ship in Miami and the plane at the Tucson airport,” Aggie said through her teeth and a forced smile. “Do run and have him join us, Gaby.”
“I’ll do that very thing,” Gaby promised. She grinned at Mr. Courtland. “Bowie’s nice; you’ll like him,” she added, ignoring Aggie’s raised eyebrows and popping eyes.
“Nice? We are speaking of my son?” Aggie prompted.
“The big blond one.” Gaby nodded. She cleared her throat and moved toward the house. “I’ll go and get him. Excuse me, won’t you?”
She whirled and ran like wild for the pool area out back. Now Bowie had done it! It would take Aggie about ten seconds to put the whole plot together, and she was going to be out for blood when she realized what they were up to. She wouldn’t consider that they were trying to protect her. She’d think of it as meddling, and what’s more, she’d be right!
Gaby opened the door and scanned the pool, but Bowie was nowhere in sight. Perhaps, she thought, he’d already dressed and gone back into the house. But on an impulse, she went to the shower room and pushed open the door, not really expecting to find him there.
It was a mistake not to knock—she realized that immediately. He’d obviously just come out of the shower, because he was drying his hair. He lifted an amused eyebrow at her shocked stance and red face. He was totally nude from head to toe.
“Yes?” he asked in a perfectly normal tone.
Gaby knew that most twenty-four-year-old women had seen men like this. She had, in pictures, once or twice. But in the flesh, it was different, and especially when the man was Bowie. Without the civilizing veneer of clothes, he was devastating. He was tanned all over—lean muscle from head to toe, perfect symmetry, fine lines, blatant masculinity in every ripple and curve. She stared because she couldn’t help it. He was magnificent, in every sense of the word.
“I’m...sorry,” she croaked, trying to avert her eyes. “I didn’t think you were in here, so I didn’t knock. I should have...!”
“It’s all right,” he said softly. He tossed the towel aside and moved toward her, conscious of her jerky stance, her quick backward step. But he didn’t stop until he was towering over her. “There’s no need to run, Gaby,” he said. “I’m not dangerous.”
“Oh, I know that,” she wailed. “But Bowie...!”
“You’ve never seen a man like this,” he finished for her. “Okay. Now you have. It’s no big deal, honey. Even if I’m not in the habit of stripping in front of women, I guess I don’t really mind letting you look at me. What’s so important that it brought you flying in here?”
She knew her mind had stopped working. He made it sound matter-of-fact, but hadn’t he mentioned something about not letting other women see him this way? She was too confused to pick up on that.
“It’s Aggie,” she said, hot in the cheeks as she tried not to look.
His big hand tilted her eyes up to his black ones. “Aggie and her friend?”
She nodded. “Ned Courtland.”
His face went hard and his eyes began to glitter. “So he’s here. What’s he like?”
“He’s tall and rather intimidating, really,” she faltered. “Like you,” she added with forced laughter.
His fingers touched her cheek and he smiled at her. “Am I? In that case, I suppose I’d better put some clothes on. Hand me my jeans, honey, will you?”
He was getting really free with that endearment, and the thought sent tingling waves of feeling through her slender body. She searched around until she found his jeans, and by the time she had, he was wearing white briefs and shouldering into his blue plaid shirt.
She handed him the jeans with fingers that trembled. They were heavy, sporting the picture jasper belt buckle that Aggie had given him for Christmas last year.
As he took the jeans his free hand touched hers, curling around it. He eyed her with quiet concern. “It’s over. Nothing happened. You got an eyeful, but you’re old enough. No harm done.”
“Except to my nerves,” she said with a shy smile. “I’m sorry I came running in like that.”
“And I’ve already told you, I didn’t mind. Or would it make you feel better to know that if you’d been any other woman, I would have minded?”
She lifted her eyes, frowning. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got my own hangups.” He pulled on the jeans and fastened them with quick, deft movements. His lean fingers worked