LITMIR.BIZ

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more like a down-on-his-luck cowboy, a drifter. It was better not to take a chance. Honey slowly backed away.

      With no wasted movement, the cowboy reached out a hand and caught her wrist. He didn’t hold her tightly, but he held her, all the same.

      Honey stood transfixed by the feel of his callused fingers on her flesh. “I’ll scream if you don’t let go,” she said in a miraculously calm voice.

      The cowboy grinned, his teeth a white slash in the darkness. “No you won’t.”

      There was a coiled tension in the way he held his body that she recognized. Cale had been like that. Ready to react instantly to any threat. Suddenly her curiosity was greater than her fear. She stopped straining against his hold. Instantly his grasp loosened, but he didn’t let go.

      “I’ve been standing out on the front porch watching you through the window, waiting for a chance to talk to you,” the drifter said.

      So, she wasn’t crazy. Someone had been watching her all evening. His eyes weren’t visible beneath the brim of his hat, but she felt the hairs rise on her nape. He was watching her right now. She ignored the gooseflesh that rose on her arms as he caressed her wrist with his thumb.

      “I’m listening,” she said. Regrettably the calm was gone from her voice.

      “I know you’re having some trouble handling things all by yourself at the ranch and—”

      “How could you possibly know what’s going on at the Flying Diamond?”

      “Dallas told me how things are with you.”

      She exhaled with a loud sigh. “I see.” He was no stranger then, although just who he was remained a mystery.

      “It wouldn’t have been hard to tell you’ve got problems just by looking at you.”

      “Oh? Are you some kind of mind reader?”

      “No. But I can read people.”

      She remained silent, so he continued, “That frown never left your brow all evening.”

      Honey consciously relaxed the furrows of worry on her brow.

      “Judging from the purple shadows I saw under your eyes, you aren’t sleeping too well. You aren’t eating much, either. That dress doesn’t fit worth beans.”

      Honey tugged at the black knit dress she was wearing. Undeniably she had lost weight since Cale’s death.

      “Not that I don’t like what I see,” the cowboy drawled.

      Honey felt a faint irritation—laced with pleasure—when his grin reappeared.

      “You’re long legged as a newborn filly and curved in all the right places. That curly hair of yours looks fine as corn silk, and your eyes, why I’d swear they’re blue as a Texas sky, ma’am.”

      Honey was mortified by her body’s traitorous reaction as his eyes made a lazy perusal of her face and form. She felt the heat, the anticipation—and the fear. She recognized her attraction to the man even as she fought against it. This tall, dark-eyed drifter would never be reliable. And he had danger written all over him.

      “Who are you?” Her voice was raspy and didn’t sound at all like her own.

      “Jesse Whitelaw, ma’am.” The drifter reached up with his free hand and tugged the brim of his Stetson.

      The name meant nothing to her; his courtesy did nothing to ease her concern. She stared, waiting for him to say why he had sought her out, why he knew so much about her when she knew nothing about him.

      He stared back. She felt the tension grow between them, the invisible electrical pulse of desire that streaked from his flesh to hers. Unconsciously she stepped back. His hold on her wrist tightened, keeping her captive.

      His voice was low and grated like a rusty gate. “Dallas told me about your husband’s death. I came here tonight hoping to meet you.”

      “Why?”

      “I need a job.”

      The tension eased in Honey’s shoulders. She released a gust of air she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Despite what he’d said, the way he’d looked at her, he hadn’t sought her out to pursue a physical relationship. She couldn’t help the stab of disappointment, when what she ought to feel was relief. At least now she knew how to deal with him.

      “I can’t afford to hire anyone right now,” she said. “Especially not some down-on-his-luck drifter.”

      The smile was back. “If I wasn’t down on my luck, I wouldn’t need the job.”

      She couldn’t hire him, but she was curious enough about him to ask, “Where did you work last?”

      His shoulders rolled in a negligent shrug. “I’ve been…around.”

      “Doing what?” she persisted.

      “A little cowboying, some rodeo bull riding, and…some drifting.”

      Bull riding. She should have known. Even Cale had never ridden bulls because he had thought it was too dangerous. Drifting. He was a man who couldn’t be tied to any one place or, she suspected, any one woman. The last thing she needed at the Flying Diamond was a drifting cowboy who rode bulls for fun. Not that she could afford to hire him, anyway.

      Just today she had discovered over fifty head of cattle missing—apparently rustled—from the Flying Diamond. That loss would cut deep into the profits she had hoped to make this year. “I can’t hire anyone right now,” she said. “I—”

      The back door opened, revealing the silhouette of a large man in the stream of light. “Honey? Are you out here?”

      She recognized Dallas, who was joined at the door by Angel.

      “Are you coming in?” Dallas asked Honey.

      “Yes. Yes, I am.” She took advantage of Dallas’s interruption to slip from the drifter’s grasp. But he followed her. She could feel him right behind her as she stepped onto the porch.

      Honey turned to the stranger to excuse herself and gasped. The harsh light from the kitchen doorway revealed the man’s features. She was suddenly aware of his bronzed skin, of the high, broad cheekbones, the blade of nose and thin lips that proclaimed his heritage.

      “You’re Indian!” she exclaimed.

      “The best part of me, yes, ma’am.”

      Honey didn’t know what to say. She found him more appealing than she cared to admit, yet the savage look in his eyes frightened her. To her dismay, the drifter put the worst possible face on her silence.

      His lips twisted bitterly, his grating voice became cynical as he said, “I suppose I should have mentioned that my great-grandfather married a Comanche bride. If it makes a difference—”

      Honey flushed. “Not at all. I was just a little surprised when I saw…I mean, I didn’t realize…”

      “I’m used to it,” he said. From the harsh sound of his voice it was clear he didn’t like it.

      Honey wished she had handled the situation better. She didn’t think any less of him because he was part Indian, even though she knew there were some who would. She turned back to Angel and saw that the young woman had retreated into the safety of Dallas’s arms.

      “I came outside for some air,” Honey explained to Dallas. “And I met someone who says he’s a friend of yours.”

      Dallas propelled Angel ahead of him onto the back porch and pulled the kitchen door closed behind him. “Hello, Jesse. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

      Jesse shrugged again. “I got free sooner than I thought I would. Anyway, I could have saved myself the trip. Mrs. Farrell says she can’t afford to hire anyone right now.”

      Dallas

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