Kiss Me

At the top of the stairs, the landing led both left and right. Chase went right and stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall.

“You’re in Maya’s old room,” he said. “There are two beds. Normally you wouldn’t have to share, but with everyone else arriving, we’re a little tight on space.”

For the second time since she’d met him, Phoebe saw the humor fade from Chase’s eyes. His mouth twisted slightly.

“I don’t mind if Maya doesn’t,” she said. “Plus, I’m here first, so I get to pick the good bed, right?”

Chase’s smile returned. “Right.”

He pushed open the door and carried her suitcases inside. Phoebe followed. The room was large and bright, done in various shades of lavender. A pansy-print wallpaper decorated the walls from the white chair rail up, with lavender paint on the bottom half. Two beds sat on either side of a big window covered with crisp white curtains. There was a dresser topped with a TV against one wall, two doors on another and a second window on a third.

“There’s a bathroom in there,” Chase said, setting her luggage on one of the beds. “The other door is the closet.”

“It’s great.”

“Want to see my room?”

Chase might be seventeen, but at that moment, he looked about ten. She nodded.

“I’d love to.”

“Sweet.”

He led her back down the hall to a room just off the stairs. Phoebe stepped into a messy room with a full-size bed, a massive computer and more electronic equipment than she’d ever seen outside of a Best Buy. Dials glowed, lights flashed, boxes beeped. Circuit boards lay scattered like so many discarded toys.

Chase sank into the only chair in the room and began typing on the keyboard.

“A couple of my friends and I are working on some really great special effects on the computer. You know, for websites. We’re also working on a robot, but it’s not going that great. I think the main problem is in the programming, but it’s hard to tell because everything else is screwed up, too.”

He finished typing and pushed back from the desk. Phoebe stepped forward and saw a three-dimensional swirling object on the screen. Chase handed her a pair of 3-D glasses. When she slipped them on and stared at the screen, the spiraling blob seemed to leap out at her.

“I like it,” she said, handing the glasses back.

He grinned and rose. “I have a baseball I caught when Zane took me to San Francisco a couple of years ago. It was a fly ball, bottom of the third. Dodgers against the Giants.”

He picked up the ball from a shelf above his bed and held it out for her inspection.

“Wow.”

“There’s also the—”

“I doubt Phoebe wants to see your entire collection of treasures right now.”

At the sound of Zane’s voice, they both jumped and turned toward the door. Phoebe had a bad feeling that she looked guilty...mostly because she felt that way. Which was crazy. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Zane stood leaning against the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. He looked strong and unmovable. Maya’s claims about Chase’s broken spirit didn’t hold water when compared with the teenager’s outgoing personality, but Phoebe couldn’t help wondering what Zane was thinking as he studied his brother.

“Is your room all right?” Zane asked her.

She nodded. “Everything is great.”

“Maya wants me to take you to dinner in town.” He glanced at his watch.

Feel the love, she thought, not sure if she should call him on his lack of graciousness. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

“Can we go to Margaritaville?” Chase asked. “I could go for nachos.”

“What you could go for even more is staying home and finishing cleaning all the guest rooms. There’s a pizza in the freezer. Elaine Mitchell’s going to pick up the greenhorns and Maya on Friday and bring them out to the ranch in her tourist van. You’ve got a lot of work to do before they get here.”

“But—”

Zane cut him off with a look, then turned back to Phoebe. “Meet me downstairs in an hour.”

Phoebe knew a dismissal when she heard one. Due to the fact that she was an uninvited stranger who had shown up with little warning, she didn’t feel that she was in a position to complain.

She gave Chase a quick smile, then moved toward the door. Zane stepped out of the way to let her pass. As she walked by him, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and swayed in salutation.

* * *

WHEN PHOEBE LEFT her room an hour later, she could hear Chase singing in a bedroom down the hall. She smiled. He was such a cheerful kid, a pure-hearted spirit. Forced to stay home and do chores, he’d decided he might as well make them fun.

She was a little nervous about spending the evening alone with his big brother, though. What would they talk about?

Zane was waiting for her at the base of the stairs. She stopped on the last step so that when he turned toward her, they were eye to eye.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything dressier,” she said. She’d changed into white jeans and a pale, dusty purple top with an embellished scoop neckline.

His gaze traveled to her feet and back to her face. She thought maybe she read masculine appreciation in his raised brows.

“You’re fine,” he said.

So much for any appreciation. On his part, at least. “Give me a moment while I bask in the glory,” she murmured and stepped past him to the front porch and then down toward his truck.

Zane got there ahead of her. A neat trick explained by his much longer stride. He towered over her. He’d changed clothes, too, into dark blue jeans and a fitted white T-shirt that showcased his hard-earned muscles. His dark hair was still damp. An image flashed through her mind of him in the shower, water running over his broad shoulders.

He opened the door for her, then helped her into the truck. The masculine scent of his soap and shampoo wafted toward her as he climbed in beside her, making her limbs melt into the leather seat.

This felt like a date. It wasn’t, but still. Phoebe sighed. Maya had promised her a distraction, and Zane was certainly that. Too bad he didn’t seem to like her one bit.

* * *

PHOEBE WAS A little relieved when Zane didn’t park outside Margaritaville. After Chase had mentioned wanting nachos, it would seem mean to eat there. Instead she and Zane walked into a place called The Fox and Hound.

The restaurant had lots of dark wood and booths. There were English hunting prints on the wall. Campy, Phoebe thought happily, following the hostess to a booth and sliding in.

She told herself the quivering sensation she felt inside was because she was hungry and had nothing to do with the man sitting across from her. Then she felt bad for lying, if only to herself.

She took the offered menu but didn’t open it. When they were alone, she glanced at Zane.

“Do you not like me or is this just your style?”

Zane’s gaze was steady. Almost laser-like. She wanted to squirm but didn’t. Nor did she look away.

“I like you fine,” he said at last.

The low gravelly quality of his voice was so nice, she thought, before the actual words sank in. “Really?”

He sighed. “Why are you surprised?”

“You aren’t exactly welcoming. I know you’re doing all this to teach Chase a lesson, so it’s not like you asked me to visit, but you didn’t have to take me out to dinner just because Maya asked you to.”

“You didn’t have to say yes.”

“I was hungry.”

“So was I.”

* * *

ZANE KNEW THAT he and Phoebe were no longer talking about the same thing. At least not when it came to hunger. She would be thinking fish and chips, and he was thinking more along the lines of naked.

He wanted to tell himself it was simply because he was a man and she was a woman, but he knew it was more than that. As he’d admitted, he liked her. She was cute and funny. When she looked at him with her big brown eyes, he wanted to grab Tango and ride his horse into the sunset to save something for her. Talk about idiotic. He barely knew her.

Yet there was something about Phoebe Kitzke. An innocence, maybe. No, that wasn’t right. It was how she seemed trusting. More fool her. Or maybe him.

Not that it mattered. Wanting wasn’t having. She was here as Maya’s friend. Possibly to keep watch over him so he didn’t hurt Chase. Because Maya wouldn’t trust him.

“You’re looking fierce,” Phoebe said.

Her hair was long and loose. Sexy. He deliberately steered his brain away from that line of thinking.

“My sister brings out the fierce in me.”

“Because of how she’s always thinking you’re too hard on Chase?”

“Maya talks too much.”

“She says less than you think,” Phoebe told him. “It’s more what she doesn’t say. She worries about Chase.”

“Everybody does.”

Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “She worries about you, too.”

He raised a brow. “I doubt that.”

Phoebe raised her shoulders, then let them drop back into place. “Okay, maybe she doesn’t say that exactly, but I know she does. We’re friends.”

“Being friends gives you insight?”

“Of course. It’s not like being family, but it’s close.”

“Family can be a pain in the ass.”

“Maybe,” she said, “but it has to be better than being alone.”

Maybe if he didn’t feel so responsible for Chase, he would be able to enjoy his brother more. As it was, he walked that precarious line between brother and father figure. He spent half the time annoyed with some of the boy’s boneheaded decisions and the other half worried the kid was going to screw up his own life.

“An optimist.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s important to be realistic.”

She leaned toward him. “It’s important to have dreams. To see the possibilities.”

He’d believed that once, he reminded himself. Before he’d destroyed what mattered most to his father. Before he’d understood that some things were unforgivable. No matter how much a kid tried to make them right.

Their server came by to take their drink order. Phoebe asked for a glass of red wine while Zane got a beer. When they were alone again, Phoebe leaned toward him.

“Tell me about Fool’s Gold.”

“What do you want to know?”

He was expecting a question about the tourists, or the history. Instead she surprised him by asking, “What do you like best about living here?”

“It’s what I know.”

She nodded slowly. “Because you’ve lived here all your life. I get that. You have a connection with the town and the rhythm of the seasons. You probably have friends from when you were really small.”

He stared at her. “You don’t need me around for this conversation, do you?”

She laughed. “Sorry. I can get carried away.”

“That’s okay.”

“So do you have friends from when you were little?”

“Sure.”

She glanced out the window. “I like the window boxes with flowers.”

“You should see this place at Christmas.”

Her eyes brightened. “All decorated?”

“Every inch.”

“That’s so nice.” She jumped a little in her seat. “Oh, wow. Do you get snow? Are we high enough for snow?”

“There’s nearly always a white Christmas.”

He had no idea why he was trying to sell her on the town. While he liked it well enough, he wasn’t looking to join the tourist commission or whatever it was called. What did he care if Phoebe was impressed by Fool’s Gold or not? Yet he found himself wanting her to think it was special.

Which made him a fool, and for the life of him, he couldn’t say why he was bothering.

* * *

C. J. SWANSON REFUSED to look at her husband, Thad. Instead she stared out the window and tried to ignore his words. He didn’t understand...he would never understand. Yes, the problem was with both of them, but somehow she always felt guilty. As if there was something wrong with her.

“They’re just kids,” Thad was saying. “Why would you want to deprive them of this vacation?”

“Why is it my responsibility?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Why do I have to be the bad guy? It’s not my fault that the couple going with them had a death in the family. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“C.J....” Thad reached out and touched the back of her hand.

She turned away again. “I can’t. You’re asking too much. What would be the point? We aren’t interested in them. They were horrible. That boy’s a thief, Thad. Have you forgotten? His sister is just as bad. She might not have taken the money, but I would bet you anything she put him up to it.”

“They’re just kids,” her husband said in his calm, reasonable voice. Normally she appreciated his willingness to see things clearly, without being blinded by emotion, but today he was really getting on her nerves.

“Con artists, you mean.”

C.J. tried not to sound bitter, but she didn’t think she was successful. After so many years of trying, after so many disappointments, she felt as if she had finally reached the end of the road.

She and Thad would never have children. Not their own and not any they adopted. She and her husband loved each other. They had a strong, healthy marriage. That would be enough—she would make it enough.

Beside her, Thad turned her hand over and laced his fingers with hers.

“I like them,” he said softly.

Her chest tightened. Of course he did. Because he was a good man. Because he always rooted for the underdog, whether it was in his personal life or in the courtroom. After fifteen years of practicing law, he’d been appointed to the bench where he could put all his idealistic notions into practice. Her husband, the man whom she had loved since the first moment she’d seen him seventeen years ago, would like a ten-year-old pickpocket and his con artist younger sister.

She turned her head to study his familiar features. The steady gaze of his blue eyes, the thinning blond hair worn in a conservative cut...not because he was conservative, but because he was cursed with unruly curls that made him look like an aging rock star. She visually traced the lines at the corners of his eyes and the firm set of his full mouth. He was a good man. A kind man. A man who loved her and never blamed her. He knew her better than anyone, knew what he was asking. How was she supposed to tell him no?

“All right,” she said softly. “We’ll take Lucy and Tommy on the cattle drive. One week, Thad. That’s all I’m willing to give them. Please, don’t expect to make it more.”

He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed her. “You won’t regret it.”

She didn’t answer. Instead she prayed that he was right. Between the two of them, they already had enough regrets for this lifetime.

CHAPTER FIVE

“GOATS?” PHOEBE ASKED as she stared at the array of large, open pens. Several horned goats nibbled on their breakfast of hay and some kind of grain. “Didn’t you say that the Castle Ranch has goats, too?”

“Those are dairy goats. Heidi makes cheese.”

Phoebe shrugged. “And that’s different how?”

“These are cashmere goats,” Chase grinned. “Just imagine the horror of discovering a cattleman raising goats. They’re Zane’s most embarrassing secret.”

She supposed the romance of the Old West didn’t lend itself to goats the same way it did to cattle, but as far as she was concerned, four-legged grazing animals were all pretty much the same.

She’d sure seen plenty on her tour. The Nicholson Ranch was nothing if not huge. As they’d been on foot, she and Chase had only explored a tiny bit of it. She didn’t know the going price of cattle on the hoof, or the per acre value of land in this part of the country, but from what she could tell, no Nicholson was ever going to die poor.

Better than that, the land had been in their possession for generations. Phoebe wondered what it would be like to have roots and a history—a place to belong. Family.

“If he doesn’t like goats, why does he have them?” she asked.

Before Chase could answer, a man on horseback rode over a crest in the property. One minute there had been green grass and blue sky, while the next a tall silhouette appeared. Zane. Phoebe watched, mesmerized. Her lone experience with riding a horse consisted of slow, sedate turns on a carousel. Not exactly the same as cow roping on the open range.

As she watched, he approached. He moved easily on the horse, riding or swaying or doing something so that he and the animal appeared to be one and the same. It was darned impressive.

As Zane got closer, his handsome features became clearer, which made her breathing increase. Chase might be the charming brother, but there was something mighty fine about Zane Nicholson.

Beside her, Chase groaned. “He’s going to make me help Frank put together the kits for the cattle drive.”

“What kits?”

Chase grimaced. “Supplies. Tents, eating utensils, first aid, that sort of thing. We have to take it with us and he’s basically made me Frank’s slave.”

Phoebe wanted to ask who Frank was. She also considered pointing out that if Chase hadn’t taken money from unsuspecting customers in the first place, none of this would have happened. But before she could say anything, Zane reined in his horse and dismounted. From the second his feet touched the ground, she knew it was going to be impossible for her to form coherent sentences.

However, Zane ignored her, instead turning his disapproving expression on his brother. “Frank’s looking for you.”

“I’ll get there.” Chase turned his back on his brother. “I was showing Phoebe the goats.”

“Frank’s waiting now. Folks’ll be arriving tomorrow. We need to be prepared. If we’re short on supplies, you’ll have to head into town and pick them up.”

Chase muttered something under his breath, but didn’t overtly argue with Zane.

“Take Tango with you,” Zane said, handing the reins to his brother.

Chase grabbed them, then turned his attention to Phoebe. Rebellion darkened his eyes and tightened his expression. “Sorry to cut this short. Maybe my brother will tell you all about the goats.” Some of his annoyance faded as a smile pulled at his mouth. “They hold a special place in his heart.”

With that, he left. Zane watched him go, then walked to the edge of the fenced pen and rested his arms on the top rail.

Dinner with Zane hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped. They’d started out okay, but early on, he’d gotten quiet. She wanted to tell herself it was because he had a lot on his mind, but in her heart, she had a feeling he simply didn’t find her interesting. Which was too bad, because he was the most compelling man she’d ever met.

“You think I’m too hard on the boy.”

His words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that it took her a second to catch up. “Not unless you’re beating him in secret.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe one corner of his mouth turned up. “I’ve thought about it from time to time.”

Phoebe made a quick mental list of Chase’s recent infractions, then admitted the possibility that he’d been a handful all of his life.

“Thinking and acting are two different things.”

Zane’s response was a quiet grunt. She tried to figure out if that was better or worse than a loud grunt. When she couldn’t come up with a decision, she turned her attention to the pen in front of them.

“Tell me about the goats,” she said.

“What do you want to know?”

Like she had a basic “Ten facts about goats” list she needed filled. “Are they friendly?”

Zane shot her a look that wasn’t especially pleasant...or flattering. Okay, so if he didn’t like the question he could have volunteered information on his own.

“They can be tamed. It takes time and effort.”

Somehow she doubted he was willing to put either into the goats.

“Chase implied it’s a problem for a cattle rancher to have goats. Is that true?”

Zane shifted his weight, then stepped back from the pen. “Come on,” he said and started walking.

Phoebe figured she had the choice to follow him or not. Even as she told herself he wasn’t very social and obviously didn’t like having her around, her hormones kicked in, sending instructions to her legs. Before she could decide if she wanted to follow Zane or not, she found herself dutifully trailing after him.

They circled around a barn, passing more pens with more goats. There were dozens and dozens of the horned, furry critters. An entire goat colony. Sort of a Nicholson Ranch Goat-ville.

Zane stopped in front of a pen filled with small goats. Instantly her kitten-and-puppy-loving heart contracted at the sight of baby goats. They were small and sweet-looking with big eyes and dark noses they had yet to grow into.

She crouched down by the fence and sighed. Her heretofore silent biological clock offered a soft but meaningful tick.

“Just weaned,” he said.

“They’re darling.”

“They’re for sale.”

Phoebe gasped. “You’re allowing some stranger to rip apart goat families?” The second the words were out, she realized how stupid they sounded.

“I didn’t mean that,” she said hastily as she scrambled to her feet. “It’s not as if goats have an actual social infrastructure that will be disturbed by separation or anything. And if they’re old enough to be weaned, then I guess they’ll be okay on their own.”

Zane’s expression remained unreadable throughout her monologue, for which she was really grateful. When she was done, he let the silence linger. A neat trick that made her words echo in her brain, sounding more ridiculous with each replay.

Finally he asked, “What did you say you did in LA?”

“I sell real estate.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Beverly Hills.”

“Ever been on a horse?” he asked.

“Just a wooden one.”

Zane turned away. She thought he might have muttered something under his breath. As it hadn’t sounded like “golly darn” she didn’t ask him to repeat it.

“Why did Maya drag you out here?” he asked.

Phoebe didn’t think telling him that Maya was hoping she would be a distraction, and a possible sex partner, would be something he was longing to hear.

“I needed a vacation,” she said. Unfortunately the statement came out sounding a whole lot more like a question.

Zane grunted.

Even annoyed and monosyllabic, he was still intensely appealing. Phoebe liked the way he squinted in the bright sun. Lines formed by his eyes, which gave him the appearance of being wise beyond his years. It probably wasn’t true, but hey, this was her bout of physical attraction and she could take it in any direction she liked...as long as she wasn’t foolish enough to act on it.

“Chase implied you hate the goats,” she said to change the subject and get the attention off her. “Why do you keep them?”

She expected him to say something like they made a lot of money—and based on how much she’d paid for her only cashmere twinset, she knew that had to be true. Or maybe that he was doing an experimental genetic ranch-type breeding program thing with them.

Instead he said, “My dad bought them. He saw them as a way to diversify. He wanted to end up with the biggest herd in the continental US.”

Oh, man. Phoebe wanted to stomp her foot on the soft grass and offer up her version of a four letter word. This was not right. Maya had always painted a picture of Zane that was coldhearted, taciturn and humorless. In her mind he’d been more of a robot than a real person. Which had made her instant—and somewhat embarrassing—physical attraction interesting, but not significant. Because there wasn’t a real person inside. But if Zane was human and nice, she could be in real trouble. After all, a man who kept goats just because his dad had liked them couldn’t be all bad. Right?

“Were you and your father close?” she asked.

“No.”

Phoebe almost laughed. For one split second she’d been so darned sure she had a window into the real Zane Nicholson. Her heart had melted at the thought of getting to know the inner man. So much for that theory.