LITMIR.BIZ

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around for the phone, then paused as she caught sight of her surroundings. For a moment, she felt as Alice might have when she stepped through the looking glass. The small porch flanked by cedars had given her the wrong impression. Instead of an old farmhouse, she found herself in a home that looked like a color layout for Better Homes and Gardens. A series of floor-to-ceiling windows made up one entire wall of the huge room. To her right, a wide staircase led down to a lower level, and to her left was an open, airy country kitchen.

      A bold Indian-blanket pattern covered the sofa she rested on. Its brickred, hunter-green and royal-blue tones were reflected in the room’s brightly colored accents. Matching love seats flanked the sofa and formed a cozy seating area arranged at the edge of a large, patterned rug. Polished wooden floors and a rough beam ceiling lent added warmth to the room.

      Looking over the open counter into the kitchen, she watched Sam move deftly, getting ice, a plastic bag and a towel. He seemed at home in the kitchen. That didn’t exactly fit the rugged cowboy images she remembered.

      He returned and handed her a small ice bag. “For that bump on your head.”

      “Thank you.” Cheryl took the bag and held it to her temple. He placed a second pack carefully around her ankle.

      For such a big man, he had gentle hands. She shivered when he touched her bare skin. Abruptly, she pulled her foot away. “I can manage.”

      Her rapid heart rate had to be from the pain and nothing else. “You have a fabulous home,” she said to distract him when he shot her a puzzled look.

      “You were expecting a dilapidated log cabin?” An engaging sparkle glinted in the depths of his eyes.

      “Oh, not in Kansas,” her reply was quick and flippant. “Everyone knows there aren’t any trees out here. I was expecting a soddy.”

      “A soddy?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I’m impressed you know the term. Sorry to disappoint you, New York. We don’t live in sod houses anymore.”

      “Don’t tell me you have electricity and indoor plumbing, too?” she asked in mock amazement.

      He stood and grinned at her. “Smart aleck. Make your phone calls. I’ll let Granddad know we have a guest for the night.”

      Cheryl worried briefly that his grandfather might be someone who would recognize her, but her other concerns pushed the worry aside. She had more pressing problems. She picked up the phone and punched in Damon’s cell phone number. When he finally answered, he had little sympathy for her dilemma.

      “This tour is a showcase of my work. A second-rate dancer can make it look second rate. How can you do this to me?”

      “I’m sorry, Damon. It was an accident. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can get another rental car.”

      “How bad is your foot?” he asked with grudging concern.

      “Only a sprain. It’ll be fine in a few days.”

      “I hope so. I don’t need to remind you that good reviews mean good attendance, and good attendance means better funding for the company. If this tour doesn’t go well, we’ll all be looking for work.”

      “I know. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

      “Two days! We open in Kansas City in two days. Don’t let me down, Cheryl. Work is hard to find when word gets out that a dancer is unreliable.”

      It was a threat—one she didn’t dare ignore. She was on her way up in her career, but Damon Sands could make things hard for her if he chose.

      “I’ll be there,” she promised. Nothing was going to keep her from finishing this tour.

      “You’d better be,” he snapped and hung up.

      The last call she placed went to the rental car company. They weren’t happy with her either. She’d just finished that conversation when Sam walked back into the room.

      “You’re looking kind of glum, New York. Is your boyfriend mad at you for standing him up?”

      She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. “My boss, not my boyfriend, and, yes, he’s angry. This tour is important to him, and to me.”

      “Tour?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

      “I dance, remember? My ballet company is on an eight-city tour for the spring. We’ve been performing in Tulsa for the past two weeks. We were scheduled to give a one-night-only performance at the University Theater in Manhattan tonight. From there, we go on to Kansas City for a week, then two weeks in Denver, two weeks in Salt Lake City, then Reno, Fresno and San Francisco.”

      “How’d you get separated from your company?”

      “That is a long story.”

      “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you,” he said, sitting beside her.

      He was right. She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice as she recounted the tale that had landed her almost in his lap. Literally.

      “My sister called a few months ago to tell me she was getting married. She knew I’d be on this tour, so we planned her wedding to coincide with a break in my itinerary. The wedding was today.”

      “Your sister lives near here?”

      “In Wichita. We had it all planned,” Cheryl said with a shake of her head. “I flew from Tulsa to Wichita for the wedding. I couldn’t get a flight into Manhattan today so I rented a car. The rest you know.”

      She pushed back a strand of hair and sighed. “My company will travel to Kansas City tomorrow with or without me.”

      She wouldn’t think about what would happen if she couldn’t join them—if her foot was broken, not just sprained, and she couldn’t work for weeks.

      “We can’t do anything about it tonight,” Sam said.

      He was right. She would simply have to make the best of it.

      “I doubt the road to Manhattan is even open now,” Sam continued. “Soon as the weather clears, I’ll get you to Kansas City even if we have to ride Dusty all the way.”

      The twinkle in his eyes proved he was trying to cheer her. She held up her hands clasped together and begged, “Not that! Please! Not another ride on Dusty.”

      “Now, that will hurt his feelings.”

      “Not as much as he hurt my behind.”

      Cheryl gazed at Sam’s amused face feeling oddly happy in spite of her predicament. It was easy to trade banter with him. Why was that? He was everything that she had loathed, once upon a time.

      Still smiling, he stood and held out his hand. “Come on. I’ve got the perfect answer for your saddle sores. I ran a bath for you while you were on the phone.”

      She brightened. “That’s right. You did promise me a hot bath to get me to come home with you.”

      “And you accepted, cheap date that you are.” He picked her up, and she circled his neck with her arms.

      Her pulse began to race once more, and she didn’t try to delude herself—it wasn’t due to the pain in her foot. She tried for a nonchalant tone. “Obviously, I need to raise my standards. Next time you’ll have to promise me chocolate and roses.”

      His gaze met hers for a long instant. “It’s a deal,” he said softly. She looked away first.

      He carried her through a doorway beyond the kitchen and through a huge bedroom to the bath. The room, tiled in stark black and white, held a large, black whirlpool tub in one corner, while a separate shower area took up the opposite wall. Inviting steam rose from the tub.

      She stared in amazement. “Wow! This is awesome.”

      “Compliments can go to my ex-wife. It’s her design.”

      “She

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