Beneath the Stetson

“Very well. Meet me at the club at ten in the morning. I’ll show you where to get started.”

“I’m a highly trained computer specialist, Gil. I shouldn’t have to take up more than a week of your life.”

Too bad. He glanced at his watch. “Come say goodbye to Cade.”

In his office, he watched, perturbed, as once again his son lit up at seeing their visitor.

Gil’s son beamed. “I unlocked three more levels, Bailey.”

She nodded. “Good for you.”

Cade looked at his dad. “Are you gonna call her Bailey?”

“I suppose I will,” Gil admitted. “She’s going to be around for a while.”

Cade grinned charmingly. “That’s good.”

Gil pinched the boy’s ear. “Behave, brat. I don’t need your help finding women.”

Bailey’s face turned crimson, affording Gil a definite sense of satisfaction. It was fine by him if she felt uncomfortable. It was only fair. She was messing with his life from stem to stern in all sorts of ways. Not the least of which was his recalcitrant libido. The sooner she finished what she had to do and left town, the better.

* * *

Bailey arrived at the Texas Cattleman’s Club fifteen minutes early the following morning. A heat wave still held the area in an unseasonable grip. Though by no means reaching the brutal temperatures of July and August, the day was plenty warm. Which meant that the winter clothing Bailey had brought with her was stifling.

Deciding she could maintain a professional demeanor without her blazer, she stripped it off and laid it carefully in the backseat of the car. Rolling up the sleeves of her white silk blouse, she breathed a sigh of relief as she immediately felt cooler.

In all honesty, part of her warmth stemmed from the prospect of facing Gil Addison again. Gil was in the clear as far as the investigation went, but she was going to have to work with him to some extent in order to do her job. The fact that she was attracted to him complicated things.

As she approached the club, she assessed the physical features automatically. Built around 1910, the large, rambling, single-story building was constructed of dark wood and stone with a tall slate roof. For over a century, it had been an entirely male enclave. In the past couple of years, however, a handful of women had finally been admitted as official members. During her stay in Royal, Bailey had heard rumblings of discontent. Not everyone thought change was a good idea.

Despite her early arrival, Gil was waiting for her in the lobby. Guests were admitted only in the company of a member. She wondered if Gil felt he was betraying his position by bringing Bailey into the mix.

She greeted him quietly and looked around. High ceilings gave a sense of spaciousness even as dark floors and big leather-upholstered furniture created a cozy, masculine space. “Nice,” she said. “Is Cade with you?”

Gil pointed to the room just to the left of the entryway. “The old billiards room has been converted into the new day care center. I promised Cade if he behaved nicely for a couple of hours, he could join us for lunch.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “Your son is a pretty awesome kid.”

“I happen to think so.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets. Today, perhaps in deference to his position as president, he wore a tweed blazer over a white dress shirt. He hadn’t given up his jeans, however. Although Gil hadn’t worn his hat inside his own home, apparently within the walls of the club, a Stetson was de rigueur.

It wasn’t fair, Bailey thought desperately. How was she supposed to be businesslike when everything about him made her weak in the knees? Well, almost everything, she amended mentally. His arrogance was hard to take. She had come up against Gil’s bullheadedness in her initial interview with him. Pushing for answers had been like a futile military assault against well-fortified defenses.

Gil was a man accustomed to steering his own course. Though she didn’t pick up any vibes that he scoffed at the idea of a woman working in law enforcement, nevertheless she suspected he didn’t like having to cooperate.

As they walked down the hall toward Gil’s TCC office, she asked the question that she should have asked the day before. “Have you been to see Alex since he’s been found?”

Gil pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the solid oak door. Ushering Bailey inside, he nodded. “I did...but since he’s lost his memory, the visit was rather pointless. He had no clue who I was.”

“Were you close before he disappeared?”

“Close enough. Not bosom buddies, but we knew each other pretty well.”

“You probably should go see him again when you have a chance,” she said. “You never know when a face or voice might jog something loose.”

“I’ll think about it....”

She placed her purse and briefcase on a low table. She and Gil were standing in what appeared to be an outer reception area. More masculine leather furniture outfitted this small space. Someone had added a stuffy arrangement of artificial flowers, perhaps hoping to soften the ambience. But with various examples of taxidermy staring down from overhead, it was hard to imagine any woman feeling at home here.

Apparently, the office itself was through the closed door a few steps away. “I don’t want to snarl up your day,” she said. “If you don’t mind writing down the user name and password...and giving me a quick rundown of the program you use to input information, I should be able to work on my own.”

Gil smiled, genuine amusement on his face. That expression alone was enough to shock her. But the momentary appearance of an honest-to-God dimple in his tanned cheek took her aback. “Did I say something funny?”

He stepped past her to open the other door. “See for yourself.”

Expecting to discover the customary computer and printer equipment inside, she drew up short at the sight facing her. A dozen wooden file cabinets, four drawers high, lined the opposite wall. By the window, a deep bookshelf housed a collection of thick leather ledgers. Dust motes danced in a sunbeam that played across a patterned linoleum floor. A battered rolltop desk sat just to the left, its only adornment a brass placard that said President.

She held up her hands in defeat. “You can’t be serious.”

Gil leaned in the doorway, his relaxed posture in direct opposition to her own state of mind. “There’s something you need to understand, Bailey. The Texas Cattleman’s Club is an institution, certainly as much a part of Royal’s history as the churches and the mercantile or the feed store and the saloon. Men have come here for decades to get away from wives and girlfriends...to play poker and make business deals. Anyone who walks through the door as a full member has money and influence.”

“And your point?”

“Heritage and tradition are etched into the walls. The guys around here don’t like change.”

“Which is why the child care center drew so much controversy.”

“Yes. That, and the inclusion of women. So it shouldn’t come as any surprise to see how we keep records. The good old boys may have their iPads and their internet, but when it comes to the TCC, the old ways are the only ways. At least so far.”

“So there’s hope for modernization?”

“Maybe. But I can’t force it on them. It has to be a gradual process. If I’m lucky, and if I can spin it the right way, they’ll think it was their idea to begin with.”

“And it won’t hurt matters if a few of the old guard ride off into the sunset in the meantime.”

“You said it, not me. The TCC was here before I was born, and it will be here long after I’m gone. I’m under no illusions that being president gives me any real power. It’s more of an honorary title, if you want to know the truth.”

“I’m sure they think a great deal of you.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Why, Ms. Collins. Was that a compliment?”

The teasing grin caught her off guard. Apparently, dumping her in a dusty room full of nothing but file folders sweetened his mood. “I doubt you need compliments of any kind, Mr. Addison. In fact, I’m surprised your head isn’t already too big for that clichéd cowboy hat.”

“Don’t insult my hat,” he said solemnly, though his eyes were dancing. “Since I’m stuck with you for the foreseeable future, we might as well drop the formality, don’t you think?”

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

“Not for a minute,” he said promptly. “But I figure it’s my job to keep an eye on you...Bailey.”

The way he said those two syllables made her stomach curl with something that felt a lot like desire. But such an emotion was doomed to wither on the vine. Despite her unwilling host’s humor, she was not deceived. Her presence at the TCC was tolerated at best.

For a man who was innocent of any wrongdoing, Gil seemed curiously suspicious of authority. Was there something in his past that made him so? What did he have to fear from Bailey? Nothing that she could see. So perhaps it was government interference in general he hated. Not a particularly uncommon attitude, especially in this neck of the woods. But she felt the sting of his disapproval nevertheless.

Maybe in time she could prove to him that she was more than an outsider meddling in his business. She liked to think they could get to a place where he regarded her as something more than a nuisance. In a tiny corner of her heart, she wondered what it would be like if she and Gil were on the same side. If no walls between them existed. If they could be just a man and a woman. Exploring the sweet lure of attraction.

“I suppose I’d better get started,” she said, trying not to let him see the way her hands trembled and her breathing quickened at the thought of actually being on friendly terms with the sexy rancher.

“Start where?”

“Are you genuinely interested, or is that another suspicious question?”

He shrugged, straightening and running a hand across the back of his neck. “A little of both, I guess.”

She nodded, deciding not to take offense at his honesty. “My plan is to pull all the files of the people I interviewed in the initial investigation. I’ll comb through them and see if anything stands out.”

“In other words, you’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Despite what television and movies would have you believe, law enforcement is seldom glamorous.”

“Why did you choose this career path?” he asked, his gaze reflecting genuine interest.

Bailey hesitated.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “None of my business.”

“No. It’s okay. I suppose I was debating how to answer that. As a teenager I would have told you I wanted to serve my country.”

“And that’s not true?”

“It is true, but I’m not the starry-eyed idealist I was back then. And I’m a little more self-aware, I think. I’ve come to understand that I do what I do because I wanted to make my father proud of me.”

“I’m sure he must be.”

She grimaced. “Not really. He wanted me to go into the military. He’s a career army guy. But that never seemed like the right fit for me, so state law enforcement was my compromise. I thought he would come around eventually, but he hasn’t.”

“Parents can be shortsighted. Do you regret your choice?”

No one had ever asked her that. Her job was fulfilling and she was good at it. But she wasn’t sure it was going to be her life’s work. “To be honest, I wanted to be a musician. I’m pretty good on the guitar and the piano. I took advantage of almost all my electives when I was in college to sign up for music courses.”

Gil stared at her. Hard. As if trying to see inside her head. “You’re an interesting person, Bailey Collins.”

She might not be the most experienced woman on the planet, but she knew when a man wanted her. The look in Gil’s eyes was unmistakable. There was enough fire and passion in his dark eyes to make her body go liquid with longing. She had felt the spark the first time they met and doggedly ignored it because he was a potential suspect.

But Gil was innocent, and the feelings were still there. If she encouraged his interest, things might get very intense during her time in Royal. The truth was, she was afraid that getting involved with someone who played a role in her investigation was unprofessional at best. Keeping a clear line between business and pleasure was not going to be easy.

She met his gaze reluctantly. “So are you, Gil. So are you.”

He jerked when she said his name. As if her utterance of that single syllable shocked him. Now the frown returned in full force. “I have things to do,” he said gruffly. “Are you all set?”

If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was ready to beat a hasty retreat. “I’m fine,” she said. “How long do I have before we meet Cade for lunch?”

“A couple of hours. He gets a snack at the center, so I made a reservation in the dining room for twelve-thirty. Does that work for you?”

“Of course. And will I be able to come back this afternoon and pick up where I left off?”

“Yes. Feel free to leave everything out. I’ll lock the door when we go to eat, and no one will bother your papers.”

“You’re being very accommodating all of a sudden.”

“I’ve been pretty rough on you,” he admitted, his neutral gaze hard to read. “I know you’re merely doing your job. I don’t like it, but I suppose there’s no point in shooting the messenger.”

She took a step in his direction just as he did the same. Suddenly they were nose to nose in the small office. Her hands fluttered at her sides. “Thank you, Gil. Your cooperation makes my life a lot easier.” She heard the huskiness in her voice and winced inwardly. Her eyes were level with his throat. They stood so close to each other she could see the hint of a dark beard on his firm, sculpted chin.

Without warning, Gil slid his hands beneath her hair, thumbs stroking her neck. He tipped her face up to his, their lips mere centimeters apart. His beautiful eyes teemed with turbulent emotion “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you, Bailey Collins?”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, knowing full well what he meant but wanting to hear him admit that the attraction wasn’t one-sided.

His lips brushed hers in a caress that could barely even be called a kiss. She leaned into him, wanting more.

But straight-arrow Gil Addison was a tough man. “Women and government are always trouble. When you put both in the same package, there’s likely to be hell to pay.”

Three

Bailey leaned against the desk for a full three minutes after Gil left the room, her legs like spaghetti. She had wanted to know if he had felt it, too, the heated connection between them. Now she had irrevocable proof. It was a wonder the tiny room full of aging paper hadn’t gone up in flames on the spot.

Fanning her hot face with one hand, she reached for her briefcase and pulled out her laptop and portable scanner. It was one thing to contemplate seducing the steely-eyed rancher, but another entirely to realize that all he had to do was touch her and she melted.

She was here to do a job. Before she contemplated any hanky-panky, she needed to get her priorities in order. Fortunately, she had made a plan already, so even though her concentration was shot, she was able to follow through with her agenda.

The method of attack was fairly simple. Using a list of interviews from her earliest days in Royal, she pulled file folders methodically, keeping them in alphabetical order. Though she hadn’t anticipated the complication of not having anything digitized, she would cope. As long as she didn’t do something stupid like knocking a pile of paper off the desk, she should be able to proceed with relative efficiency.

Thirty minutes later she had finished reading through three folders and had developed a throbbing tension headache. She banged her fist against her forehead. Not only was much of the information not typed or organized in any discernible fashion, but the handwritten portions were barely legible.

To call this mess record-keeping was generous. It was impossible to compare one file with the next, because every member’s information was different. Other than an initial sheet that documented simple details such as name, address and date of initial membership, all the other pages were a hodgepodge of business deals, sporting records and family connections.

It took her another half hour, but she finally managed to come up with a spreadsheet that allowed her to input the pertinent items that might be of use in the investigation. Her stomach growled more than once. She hadn’t eaten breakfast, too nervous about meeting Gil again to be very interested in food.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. The minutes crawled by. Perhaps she was bored with the job, or maybe she was looking forward to lunch with Gil and his precocious son. Her distraction didn’t bode well for the days ahead....

* * *

Gil prowled the familiar halls of the club, pausing again and again to greet and chat with men he had known for years, many of them since he was a child at his father’s side. He was comfortable within these walls, centered, content. The Texas Cattleman’s Club had suffered a few growing pains lately, but it would survive and thrive.

Tradition and stability were important. Which was why Gil had passed the day-to-day running of his ranch over to other hands so he could concentrate on his son’s well-being. One day, everything Gil owned would go to Cade. Cade would get married, settle down and hopefully have better luck in the romance department than his father had.

What really stuck in Gil’s craw was the knowledge that the genesis of his unease sat not far away, her beautiful head bent over a stack of dull club papers, trying to find dirt on someone who might be Gil’s friend. Perhaps the real problem wasn’t that Gil didn’t trust Bailey. Perhaps what bothered him the most was the notion that someone in Royal could have committed such a terrible crime.

Alex was back home, true. But a man with no memory was as vulnerable as a baby in the middle of a busy city street. How would Alex know if the perpetrators came at him again? How would anyone ever know what evil roamed the streets of Royal if Alex never remembered?

For years, Royal had been a great place to live, to raise a family. Occasionally the sheriff was forced to contend with cattle rustlers. And once in a while a two-bit drug dealer might try to set up shop. Of course, there were the usual domestic disturbances, or teenagers letting off steam on a Saturday night. But all in all, Royal was a pretty safe place.

At least it was until Alex Santiago had disappeared. The local and state authorities had crawled all over the town in the beginning. There were rumors of a potential drug war or maybe even bad blood between Alex and Chance McDaniel, who had appeared interested in the same woman. But since that time, everyone Gil knew intimately had been marked off the suspect list.

Which was all well and good except for the fact that still no one knew who the kidnappers were.

Maybe Gil should be more helpful to Bailey. He wanted his town back to normal, and Bailey wanted to close her case. So perhaps it was in Gil’s best interest to help her. The sooner she was finished, the sooner she would leave town and go back to Dallas. That would be the smartest thing that could happen.

Gil didn’t need the complication of an uncomfortable sexual attraction that was not likely to go anywhere. Already, Gil’s son liked Bailey. Which meant that soon Cade would be weaving scenarios where Bailey became his new mom. Gil had seen it happen before. The boy’s unwavering fixation on finding a mother meant that Gil no longer dated in Royal.

Not that he ever had dated much. When his physical needs became too demanding, he either dealt with them via a cold shower, or he met up with an old female friend in another town who was as uninterested in a serious relationship as Gil was. Those encounters left him feeling empty and oddly restless. But Gil had yet to find a woman who came even close to what he thought his son needed.

Bailey was a career woman whose job involved a lot of travel. Though Bailey and Cade had clicked at their first meeting, Bailey didn’t strike Gil as the nurturing type. Cade had lost so much. If and when Gil ever remarried, it would be to a woman with traditional values, a woman who believed in the importance of being a full-time parent.

Gil had played that role for a very long time. And never once regretted his decision. Cade’s sweet spirit and outgoing personality were proof that Gil had at least done something right. But Cade would soon be going to school full time. As much as Gil would miss his son, he was looking forward to once again taking an active role in the management of the Straight Arrow.

What he and Cade needed was a down-to-earth woman, one who would supervise the domestic staff, plan meals for the housekeeper to carry out and organize social events...tasks Gil had no interest in at all.

That paragon of a woman was out there somewhere. Gil had to believe she was, because the prospect of spending his entire life as a single parent and a single man sounded very lonely indeed.

At ten after twelve, he gave up the pretense of being busy and headed back to his office. Bailey didn’t appear to have moved at all since he left her two hours ago. She was surrounded by stacks of paper. Her fingers flew with impressive speed over the keys of her laptop computer.

She didn’t even notice when he came in.

He cleared his throat. Bailey’s head snapped up as she glared at him. “It wouldn’t hurt you to knock,” she said. “You scared me to death.”

“It’s my office,” he responded mildly. “You’re only visiting.” He grabbed a ladder-back chair and turned it around, straddling the seat. Bailey was behind his desk, so he now faced her across the cluttered surface. Her thick russet hair was drawn back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Tendrils waved around her face. Her work must have been frustrating, because the vibe he was getting from her was definitely harried. “Problems, Bailey?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You knew how impossible this was going to be, didn’t you?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I have the utmost faith in your capabilities.” He paused. “Any luck?” He didn’t really want to get involved in what he considered a breach of privacy for the members of the club, but at the same time, he didn’t want to be blindsided with any surprises.

She gnawed her lip, her gaze flitting back to the computer screen. “It’s a little early to tell. But I do have some questions about this man.” She shoved a folder toward Gil. “According to his file, he’s been cited three separate times for fighting on club property. Do you know if he had any kind of grudge against Alex Santiago?”

Gil glanced at the name on the tab and shook his head, grinning. “Just a good ole boy who gets rowdy when he’s had one too many beers. We keep track of such incidents, just in case, but our policy is to prevent members from doing damage to themselves or anyone else. Someone usually takes the offender home and keeps his keys until the following day. I know this guy, Bailey. He didn’t kidnap Alex.”

The slight frown between her brows deepened. She handed him a second file. “And this one? He filed a formal complaint when the club hired a Hispanic chef. His letter includes a number of racial slurs.”

Gil flipped open the folder and shook his head. “You’re grasping at straws. There are bigots everywhere. But that doesn’t mean this guy had any reason to kidnap Alex.” He touched her hand briefly, surprising himself when he felt a zing of something from the simple contact. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be stirring up unnecessary trouble?”

“What do you mean?”

She was so earnest, so dedicated to her work. And clearly able to take care of herself. Even so, Gil felt a distinct urge to protect her. Her white silk blouse was thin, thin enough for Gil to notice the outline of a lacy bra. Despite her extensive training and her credentials, she seemed vulnerable and surprisingly feminine even taking into consideration her deliberately bland and professional clothing.