It Takes a Cowboy

But he was the one who had talked her into agreeing with this outing, even after she had decided it wasn’t such a good idea, she reminded herself. Why should she call him? It was his responsibility to follow up on his offer.

Still, she had paid sixty-five hundred dollars for a weekend of his time....

Her phone rang just as she was telling herself she should probably write off the donation and forget the whole thing. She picked up the receiver. “Blair Townsend.”

“Ms. Townsend, this is Carolyn Roberts. I work for Scott McKay.”

“Yes?”

“Mr. McKay asked me to call you to inquire if ten o’clock Friday morning is a convenient time for you and your nephew to meet him.”

Blair wondered why Scott hadn’t called her himself. She glanced at the calendar, though she knew nothing was written on it for Friday. She’d been keeping that day open for this. “Ten o’clock will be fine. Where does he want me to meet him?”

“At the Lightning Creek airstrip. Do you have a fax machine?”

Blinking in surprise at the unexpected question, Blair replied, “Yes, I do. Why—”

“If you’ll give me your fax number, I’ll send you the list of items Mr. McKay recommends that you bring with you.”

A list? While Blair approved of lists in general, she wondered why Scott was sending her a list of supplies. Just what was he planning, anyway? “May I speak to Mr. McKay?” she requested, thinking this would be much easier without the middleman—or rather, middle person.

“Mr. McKay is in Japan. He won’t be back in this country until Thursday evening.”

“He’s in Japan?” Blair parroted blankly.

“Yes. He left all the information he thought you might require. He said if you have any questions, you should feel free to call me and I’ll relay them to him.”

It sounded like more trouble than it was worth; much easier to simply go along with Scott’s plans. Had that been his intention?

Carolyn Roberts recited her telephone number, which Blair quickly jotted down. “Call me anytime tomorrow if there’s anything you need. I’ll fax Mr. McKay’s list to you within the half hour.”

Blair felt a bit dazed when she hung up the phone. What was Scott doing in Japan and why had he had his—secretary? assistant? housekeeper? mistress?—whatever she was, call Blair? And what was this list being faxed to her?

She prowled the office for ten minutes before the fax machine rang. She practically pounced on the pages it spat out. One look at the list had her sinking bonelessly into her chair again.

Clothes for three days—jeans, T-shirts, lightweight jackets. Hiking boots. Sunscreen. Toiletries. Favorite pillows and teddy bears.

“Cute,” she muttered, reading the last. “Where on earth are you planning to take us, Scott McKay?”

She should probably call Carolyn back immediately and tell her the weekend was off unless Scott called personally to discuss his plans—even if he had to call from Japan. Blair didn’t care for surprises, and she was not an outdoorsy type. This list hinted strongly at both possibilities.

But then she pictured Jeffrey hiking along a nice trail, enjoying the fresh air and wonders of nature, responding—despite himself—to Scott’s easy, cheerful banter. Apparently, Scott had arranged for them to stay in a rustic lodge or cabin. Perhaps he could take Jeffrey fishing or something, which would give them a chance to talk while male bonding. Blair wouldn’t mind sitting on a porch swing with a good book while Scott tried to communicate with her nephew. She hadn’t had a vacation in the entire year since she’d moved to Lightning Creek—nor the year before that, actually—and she could use a break.

Maybe she’d even do a little hiking herself, she mused, imagining a leisurely amble along a well-marked path with frequent stops to sniff a wildflower or read a park information sign.

She’d lived in Wyoming for a year and hadn’t even seen Yellowstone Park yet. Was that where Scott was taking them? She supposed that wouldn’t be so bad. And most important, perhaps Jeffrey would enjoy it.

She would go through with this, she thought. But only for Jeffrey.

What other reason could there be?

* * *

“WHO IS THIS GUY we’re going to meet?” Jeffrey asked, not for the first time, as Blair drove toward the airport Friday morning.

“His name—as I’ve told you before—is Scott McKay. He’s a rancher and a businessman. A former resident of Lost Springs.”

“Oh, great,” Jeffrey grumbled. “A geek.”

“He’s not a geek,” Blair corrected. Not even close, she thought with an unwelcome mental image of his strong, bare chest. She ordered herself immediately to stop doing that.

Jeffrey tossed his brown hair out of his face. “So where are we going? Why’d we pack all that stuff?”

“I’m not sure where we’re going, exactly. Scott’s going to surprise us. It should be fun,” she added, trying to convince herself as well as her nephew.

Jeffrey’s grunt was not encouraging. “I guess it beats being in school,” he muttered.

“Just let yourself have a good time, okay, Jeffrey? It’s okay to have fun. And listen to Mr. McKay. There are probably a lot of things you can learn from him.”

Jeffrey rolled his eyes and slumped in his seat, looking as if he were on his way to a root canal. Blair had to try one more time to put him in the proper frame of mind for this experiment. “Come on, Jeffrey. Surely you like being outdoors. Having adventures. Seeing new things.”

“I like having adventures with my dad. Not with strangers.”

The boy’s sullen response made Blair’s heart ache. She was trying so hard to repair the damage her careless, irresponsible brother had caused this child. But she was beginning to believe it was something she couldn’t accomplish alone.

“Just give Scott a chance,” she repeated quietly. “Maybe you’ll like him.”

The boy shrugged. “What does it matter if I like him or not? He won’t be around long. Nobody is.”

“I will be,” Blair told him firmly. “Don’t you doubt that.”

Her nephew merely looked out the window beside him, his expression unreadable, much too contained for his years. Either he didn’t believe her reassurances that she wouldn’t abandon him, as everyone else in his life had, or he was afraid to believe her for fear of being disappointed yet again. But she knew she still had a long way to go before she reached him—if ever.

CHAPTER THREE

SIPPING STRONG airport coffee, Scott lounged in the metal building that comprised the office of the one-strip airport that served the private pilots of the Lightning Creek area. There weren’t many people around this morning—a couple of other pilots preparing for takeoff, a mechanic who’d been hired to work on someone’s two-seater, the airport owner, and his wife, who served as his partner and assistant. Scott enjoyed airports like this one and had visited dozens of them across the country, finding a bond with other flying enthusiasts who owned small aircraft.

He kept his eyes on the gravel road that approached the airport from town, watching for Blair’s car. Surely she would have sent word if she wasn’t going to show. He imagined she was a little annoyed with him for not calling her himself, but he’d been very busy since the auction. He’d had to leave most of the arrangements for this weekend to Carolyn, his invaluable, long-suffering assistant. And besides, he thought sheepishly, he hadn’t wanted to give Blair a chance to refuse. His ego had taken enough shots from her after the auction.

It was going to take an even bigger blow if she stood him up today. Had she decided he wasn’t qualified to talk to her nephew, after all?

But then he spotted a neat little white sedan bumping down the road toward the airport and he relaxed, somehow knowing it was Blair. It looked exactly like the kind of car she would drive, he mused with a smile, thinking of his own customized four-by-four. He glanced toward the green-and-white Cessna 172 waiting by the runway, already prepped for flight. He hoped neither Blair nor her nephew was a nervous flyer. Teenage boys usually liked flying, wouldn’t admit their fears even if they had them.

He was generally comfortable with teenagers—even the surly ones. He made it a point to hire several for afternoon and summer work at the ranch, believing that honest work was a boost to any kid’s self-confidence. He hoped he would get along well with Blair’s nephew, maybe even have a positive influence on the kid. It was too bad that he and Blair had been interrupted before they could talk more about Jeffrey. It would help if he knew more about their circumstances—how Blair had ended up with the kid, why the boy was so angry and rebellious, what she had done so far to get through to him.

He tossed his foam coffee cup in an overflowing trash can and headed outside to greet them as the car turned into the graveled parking lot. Maybe he’d give the boy a flying lesson, he thought, remembering when a kindly old pilot had given him his first lesson. Teenagers usually loved to be behind the wheel of anything that moved.

He stopped in his tracks when Blair and her nephew—her very short nephew—climbed out of the car. Her nephew was most definitely not a teenager, Scott realized immediately. He couldn’t be more than ten years old.

This was the boy Blair wanted to have buckle down and plan the course of his life? The one she worried wasn’t taking his studies and his future seriously enough? The kid didn’t look old enough to spell future, much less to blueprint it!

Rapidly revising several of the plans he’d made for the upcoming weekend, he turned his attention to Blair. She looked great, he noticed. She was dressed more casually than the last time he had seen her, in snug jeans and a forest-green camp shirt unbuttoned over a white T-shirt. Her feet were laced into a pair of hiking boots that looked small enough to fit her young nephew.

He was hit again with the attraction he’d felt for her when he’d met her after the auction. Whether dressed in her professional lawyer clothes or this outdoorsy outfit, she looked spectacular. But it was more than just her appearance that appealed to him; he was drawn to the intelligence in her eyes, the challenge in the tilt of her chin, the confident yet undeniably sexy way she walked. “Hi, Blair.”

“Good morning, Scott.” Her manner was briskly polite, as if she were greeting one of her legal clients rather than a weekend companion. “This is my nephew, Jeffrey. Jeffrey, this is Scott McKay.”

Jeffrey tossed his longish, center-parted hair out of his face and subjected Scott to an intense scrutiny. Scott had the sensation that the boy didn’t miss one detail of his appearance, from his breeze-tossed hair to his denim shirt, faded jeans and scuffed western boots. And he got the distinct feeling the kid wasn’t particularly impressed with what he saw.

“Hi, Jeff. How’s it going?” Scott said casually, careful not to be overly friendly.

The boy shrugged and mumbled something.

He looked so damned young, Scott thought again. So small in his oversize jersey and baggy jeans. So vulnerable behind the defiance in his snub-nosed face. Looking at this boy, Scott recognized emotions he had thought long since behind him.

He cleared his throat, determined to show the kid a good time this weekend—for Jeffrey’s sake, and not just because he wanted to impress the boy’s aunt. “Did you bring the stuff I suggested?” he asked Blair.

She nodded. “It’s in the car.”

“Great. Want to help me load the plane, Jeff?”

“The plane?” Blair repeated as the boy shrugged again. “We’re going in a plane?”

He raised an eyebrow. “We’re at an airport. Did you think we were going by submarine?”

Jeffrey chuckled, then looked rather surprised that he had done so. Blair glanced at him quickly, her expression softening. And then she turned toward Scott again. “I thought you flew in this morning and wanted to meet here for convenience.”

“No, we’re flying. You like flying, Jeff?”

“I’ve never been in a little plane,” the boy answered, glancing at the two-, four-and six-seaters parked nearby.

“I bet you’ll like it,” Scott predicted, then moved toward the back of Blair’s car. “The stuff’s in the trunk?”

In response, she opened the trunk, still looking a bit worried. “Have you chartered a plane? Who’s our pilot?”

“It’s my plane, and I’m the pilot.”

“You’re a, um, good pilot, I hope?”

Grinning at her, he quipped, “You bet. I’ve had my license for a whole week tomorrow. Bought it out of the back of a magazine. You know, one of those ads that begin, ‘You, too, can soar like an eagle....’”

“That’s not funny.”

“Jeff thought it was. He’s smiling.”

The boy immediately changed his expression to a scowl. “Am not.”

Scott knew better than to push it. “Whatever. Got all your stuff?”

Jeffrey pulled a grubby backpack out of the car and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay.”

Blair locked the car, slipped her purse beneath her arm and turned toward Scott with the general air of a turkey at Thanksgiving. “We’re ready.”

Scott grinned and slung an arm around her shoulders for a quick, bracing squeeze. “Trust me,” he said. “it’s going to be a very interesting weekend.”

* * *

BLAIR INSISTED that Jeffrey should take the copilot’s spot in the little four-seater Scott led them to. She explained that she would be much more comfortable in the back, though she was really hoping Jeffrey would find the ride more exciting in the front. She wanted so badly for him to take pleasure from the weekend, to show some excitement about anything. Maybe if he enjoyed being with Scott, he would be more likely to listen when Scott talked to him.

Buckled very tightly into the snug back seat, she watched as Scott matter-of-factly showed Jeffrey all the instruments and gave him a quick explanation of their purpose. After he started the noisy engine, she wasn’t able to hear much of what they were saying, but she noticed that Jeffrey seemed to be listening closely as Scott continued to talk.

She remembered the look of surprise on Scott’s face when she and Jeffrey had climbed out of her car. What was it about Jeffrey’s appearance that had startled Scott? Whatever it was, he had recovered quickly. He’d been quite pleasant to the boy since, using a man-to-man tone that Jeffrey seemed to respond well to. Blair was aware of how much her nephew hated being talked to like a cute little boy.

The plane began to move, the engine noise increasing. Blair swallowed and tightened her seat belt. She wasn’t afraid of flying commercially, but small planes made her a bit nervous. This was the smallest she’d ever been in. And how did she know Scott was a good pilot? Was she crazy to put her life and her nephew’s in the hands of a man she hardly knew?

She kept her eyes on Scott as he taxied the plane to the end of the runway. He’d slid a pair of aviator sunglasses onto his nose, and that, combined with his headphones, made him look the part of a competent pilot. She began to relax a bit, reassured, perhaps, by the image he projected. There was just something about this guy that inspired confidence—which probably explained why she was here with him now.

The engines revved and the plane began to roll down the runway, picking up speed until it lifted, then climbing rapidly until the ground was far beneath them. Blair yawned to clear her ears, looking from the vista beneath them to her nephew’s face. It was the first time in weeks that Jeffrey had looked genuinely enthused. She began to take heart that she had done the right thing this weekend, after all.

Forcing herself to relax, she leaned back against the seat. The droning engine noise cocooned her, isolating her from Scott and Jeffrey in the front. She could see their mouths moving and hear an occasional word, but she made no real effort to follow their conversation. She looked out the window for a while, then pulled a book out of her tote bag. It was a recent nonfiction bestseller, a densely written dissection of the political overview for the U.S. in the new millennium. She’d intended to read it for some time but had been too busy to tackle it. She planned to get well into it this weekend while Scott worked with Jeffrey.

A couple of days of reading and relaxation while someone else took care of her nephew, she thought with a sigh. This weekend might just prove to be well worth the money she’d spent for it.

She read the first page of the book, then glanced toward the front of the plane again. Scott was half turned in his seat to look at Jeffrey, leaning slightly toward the boy as he pointed to one of the cockpit gauges. The midmorning sun filtered in through the tinted glass, highlighting his glossy brown hair. His aviator glasses covered the upper half of his face, and his deep, intriguing dimples flashed beneath them. Had she been standing, her knees would have gone weak. As it was, she sank back into her seat, suddenly unable to look away from him. The wave of sheer physical attraction caught her unprepared, held her motionless for several long moments.

She didn’t have time for this, she reminded herself. The circumstances were all wrong, considering that Jeffrey was sitting right there in front of her. And Scott McKay was hardly her type, anyway. She had never allowed herself to get involved with anyone strictly on the basis of physical attraction. And she couldn’t see how she and Scott could have anything in common—even if he felt a modicum of answering attraction for her.

As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked over his shoulder. “You doing okay back there?” he asked, raising his voice over the engine noise.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.” She forced her attention to her book, not that she was able to concentrate on it. Her gaze kept drifting toward the front seats, and even she didn’t believe her feeble mental excuse that she was only checking on her nephew.

She was so involved in what was going on inside the plane that she hardly noticed the landscape passing beneath them until they started to descend. She noted then that they were headed toward a grass landing strip carved out of a stand of trees surrounded by mountains. She saw no lodge or resort nearby. Surely Scott had a place for them to stay. He didn’t expect them to sleep on the ground, did he?

Her stomach tensed as the plane seemed to dive straight toward the trees. The runway hardly looked long enough as they approached it. The trees and mountains loomed on either side, crowding closer the lower they dropped. At the last minute, she squeezed her eyes shut, keeping them that way until the landing was over. She opened them only when the plane came to a complete stop—still apparently in one piece.

Scott was looking at her when she opened her eyes. He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he looked amused. “Sorry,” he said. “Grass strips are a bit bumpier than paved runways.”

Annoyed with her momentary cowardice, she cleared her throat. “It didn’t bother me at all,” she lied. “You weren’t frightened, were you, Jeffrey?”

The boy looked insulted. “No. I thought it was sort of cool.”

Sort of cool. High praise from this particular boy, Blair mused. She supposed the landing hadn’t been so bad, after all, if it had been fun for her nephew. She looked out the window, noting that the surrounding landscape was beautiful but untamed. The only building in sight was a metal hangar at one side of the airstrip. A heavy padlock dangled from the wide sliding doors. Scott revved the engine just enough to taxi toward the building.

He pulled up almost to the doors, then parked and killed the engine. The sudden silence was startling. Blair’s ears were still buzzing; she shook her head slightly to clear them. Her voice sounded too loud when she asked, “Where are we?” She didn’t even know if they were still in Wyoming.

“The outback,” Scott replied with a grin.

She frowned. “Where?”

“Out back of nowhere.” He opened his door and hopped lightly out of the plane, leaving Blair staring after him in confusion. While Scott unlocked the padlock of the hangar, Blair and Jeffrey climbed out of the plane, Blair a bit stiffly. Scott disappeared into the building and reappeared moments later driving a sturdy-looking Jeep. He parked nearby, jumped out and, with Jeffrey’s help, began to transfer their belongings from the plane to the Jeep. Blair wondered again where he was taking them, but she was afraid to ask, considering the last answer he’d given her.

When the Jeep was loaded, Scott asked Blair and Jeffrey to help him push the plane into the hangar. He blocked the wheels, closed the doors and secured the massive padlock again. Then he turned to them, rubbing his hands and looking satisfied. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Blair asked, following him to the Jeep.

“Farther out back,” he quipped, opening the passenger door for her. “You sure ask a lot of questions, Counselor.”

“I like to know what’s going on,” she answered a bit primly, watching Jeffrey scramble into the back seat.

Scott held out a hand to assist her into the high vehicle. “Don’t you like to be surprised? Just go with the flow?”

“Not particularly,” she admitted. “I’m a planner. A list maker.”

He chuckled. “Not this weekend, you’re not.”

He closed her door and loped around the front of the vehicle to his own seat behind the wheel. “Everybody buckle up,” he said, starting the engine. “The ride gets bumpy.”

Where was he taking them? Blair was beginning to wonder again what on earth had gotten into her at that bachelor auction.

* * *

“THIS IS IT? This is where we’re staying for the weekend?” Blair stared in disbelief at the cabin tucked into the side of a wooded mountain. They’d spent forty-five minutes negotiating heart-stoppingly steep and winding roads to get here. The cabin hardly looked big enough for one person, much less three. And where were the other cabins? The lodge? The restaurant?

“This is it. What do you think, Jeff?” Scott asked casually.

Apparently deciding he’d been much too agreeable so far that day, Jeffrey scowled. “Looks like a dump to me.”

That was unfair, Blair thought immediately. The cabin was small, but tidy and obviously in good repair. “It is not a dump,” she said firmly. “It’s a nice little cabin.”

Jeffrey shrugged.

Apparently unperturbed by the boy’s mood change, Scott opened the back of the Jeep. “Let’s get our stuff inside and unpack so we can start having fun.”

Blair was afraid to ask what Scott’s idea of fun might be.

To her relief, the cabin was larger than it had appeared from the outside. They entered a good-size main room. Blair noted immediately that, despite the rustic appearance of the place, the furnishings were of good quality, heavy wood with a hand-rubbed finish, the couch sporting duck-print tapestry cushions. Hunting prints hung on the wood-paneled walls. A rock fireplace dominated one wall, and another was made up of bookcases, crowded with paperback and hardcover novels. A spiral staircase in one corner led to a loft, which obviously served as a sleeping area, and two closed doors probably indicated more bedrooms downstairs. An eat-in kitchen opened off the back of the main room. The cabin was isolated but certainly beat sleeping on the ground, she decided.

“Hardly a dump,” she murmured to her nephew, who only shrugged in response.

“Anybody hungry?” Scott asked, carrying the last load in from the Jeep. “Why don’t we stash our stuff and then have lunch? Jeff, your bedroom is the far door there. It’s just big enough to turn around in, but it’s got a bed. I’ll take the other small bedroom. Blair, the sleeping loft is yours.”

She suspected he was giving her his usual room. “I don’t mind taking one of the small rooms.”

He shook his head. “These two share a bath. The loft has its own bathroom. It will be more comfortable for you, I think. Jeff, help your aunt carry her things up while I stash some of this other stuff.”

Jeffrey had already settled onto the couch. “She can carry her own stuff. It’s not that heavy.”