BREAKING THE RULES Page 10

  Quietly, so as not to disturb her, he got up and slipped into his jeans, got a clean shirt from the shelf and slipped outside to greet the morning.

  And what a morning! Across the valley, washed sparklingly clean by yesterday's rain, he saw the first rays of dawn strike the distant blue mountainsides, throwing into mystic shadow the valleys and hidden crevices. Closer in, the tops of aspens rustled as if in greeting and arrows of sunlight kissed the uppermost leaves with a blaze of color. He inhaled deeply, smelling damp earth and pine needles and the crisp under-note of the mountains themselves. Glorious.

  A tiny cracking branch drew his attention, and from the trees ambled a doe and her fawn, the fawn dancing to catch up. Upwind from him, the doe didn't sense Zeke's presence, and calmly nibbled leaves from a shrub.

  Mattie had to see this. Walking backward slowly, he turned the door handle without a sound and eased inside. She hadn't stirred. She sprawled over the bed, corner to corner, the posture of a sleeper who had nothing to fear. He was glad of that, at least.

  He touched her shoulder. "Mattie," he said in a deep whisper. "There's something you should see."

  She roused instantly and blinked up. "What?"

  "Be very quiet and come with me."

  She got up and he took her hand, putting a finger to his lips, showing her how to move silently. They slipped out the door. She looked bewildered at first, but he drew her close and pointed over her shoulder to the feeding doe.

  Her nearness unsettled him, but he didn't push her away, only watched the wonder dawn in those big eyes, watched the joy break on her face. They stood there for a long time, utterly still, his hands on her shoulders, until the deer tired of the spot and wandered into the trees.

  When the last shadows of the deer were out of sight, she sighed and leaned into him. Zeke stiffened momentarily, but the fit of her head beneath his shoulder was too perfect to resist. He left his hands on her fragile shoulders, too, let them just rest there without moving. They didn't talk. Mattie simply leaned on him and he just as simply braced her, moving his chin on her hair as they took in the grandeur of the mountain morning.

  Finally, she sighed. "Thank you, Zeke. I don't think I've ever seen anything that moved me as much in my life."

  He squeezed her shoulders, knowing this was the moment he ought to let go, step away. He didn't. Instead, he stroked her slim arms gently. "My pleasure."

  And it was. How often had he wished for someone with whom to share a moment like that? In spite of his father, he'd been close to his siblings and it was natural for him to wish for someone to see what he saw, to share those magical mornings with. He pointed toward the valley. "Did you see that?"

  "Yes. It's even more beautiful than I expected. You're so lucky to have a place like this."

  That was one way to look at it. "I am," he heard himself say. The weird motion – that strange hope – grew another notch in his chest. It scared him.

  "If you want to go back to bed, you can," he said, stepping away.

  "No." She ambled to the edge of the porch, gazing out at the landscape. He found his attention snagging on her strong legs, bare under the shorts. Without warning, he remembered the sight of her smooth, graceful back last night, the tiny glimpse of white breast he'd seen under her arm. The memory both aroused and shamed him. "I'm sorry about last night, Miss Mary."

  Impossible to read the look in her eyes just then. He was sorry if he'd said anything to break the spell of the magic, glorious morning. As awkward as a thirteen-year-old, he glanced away.

  "I peeked, too," she said, and a tinge of rose colored her cheeks.

  "No, you didn't. I kept my eyes on you."

  "Not last night," she said and folded her arms. "The day at the river, back in Kismet."

  He remembered the morning and grinned. "Guess we're even, then, huh?"

  She nodded, smiling in return.

  Just that fast, Zeke was slain. Early gold light washed over her, gilding the silky cap of hair, edging the curve of a small ear, cascading down her long white neck. Her tank top had slipped on one side, giving him a broad view of her shoulder. It would be so easy, he thought, so easy to flick those straps from her shoulders and send that ugly little shirt slipping away.

  The vision hurt. The swelling wish for – what? – collapsed like a balloon in his heart, and he remembered the others. Not so many as some might expect, but enough women to know he couldn't get it right, that he'd take what Mattie offered so generously, then destroy it, somehow or another. This time, he'd just leave it alone.

  "If you want to go on and get dressed," he said with effort, "we can have some breakfast. Maybe go hiking." That would keep them busy, at least.

  "Will you show me how that shower works first? I'm dying to get cleaned up."

  The shower. He stared at her for a long minute, willing himself to be an adult, to behave as if he'd learned how to control his more carnal impulses. Damn. The shower.

  "Is that a problem?" she asked. "I can just wash up, instead."

  "No. No, it's not a problem. Get your stuff and I'll show you how it works."

  * * *

  Barefoot, shirtless, Zeke led the way. Mattie followed, trying to keep her eyes to herself. It was hard. Each step he took made the muscles shift and ripple in his long, strong back, in his hips below the snug-fitting jeans, in his thighs.

  The shower stunned her. She'd been expecting a little building, like the outhouse. This was just a small wooden platform, built about a foot off the ground with wide slats to let the water pass through to the ground beneath. A pipe led from inside the wooden building with the sauna to a shower head on the wall. "This is it?" she asked.

  Zeke looked uncomfortable. "It works pretty well – I've got it rigged to draw water from the pool inside. It's not gonna be real hot, but it's warm enough." He showed her how to make the water run. "Short bursts work best. Get wet, then soap up and shower off."

  Mattie nodded.

  "I won't peek this time," he said. "Promise. I'll get breakfast going."

  "Thanks."

  He left her, disappearing around the building. He wouldn't be able to see her from the cabin, that much was sure, and it was very private land. No one but the deer and birds as audience.

  Still, she hesitated, standing next to the platform in the warm morning sunlight, her towel and fresh clothes hugged close to her chest as if in protection. She looked around, gnawing the inside of her lip.

  The vista of the valley was visible over the top of the trees from the shower, the same view as from the back porch of the cabin. She was sure Zeke had positioned it here deliberately, but all that scenery made her feel even more vulnerable.

  Maybe she could just wash up a little, forget about the shower. Except she itched all over from yesterday's dust and sweat and rainwater.

  Slowly, she put her things down and stood up, taking one more quick glance over her shoulder to see if there was anything or anyone around. There wasn't, of course. Just Mattie and the open vista.

  She took a breath and shed her tank top, then her shorts. A ripple touched her skin and all the parts that had never seen real, live daylight felt extraordinarily exposed. She stepped onto the platform.

  Standing there nude, with a soft breeze blowing over her, with that panorama before her, something happened. It wasn't shameful as she'd thought it might be. Nor was it arousing, though there was something empowering about shedding everything this way.

  A burst of something holy and wild and real filled her, and with great reverence, she gazed around her, feeling no longer an observer of the landscape, but a part of it. Without knowing why, she lifted her arms and tipped back her head to the sunlight, letting wind and sun touch her breasts.

  Had she ever been aware of her body like this? Had she ever known the comfort of her body, the wonder of having arms and legs and breasts and hips?

  Thank you, she breathed, but didn't know to whom she breathed it, Zeke or God or the mountain. As if in reply, a mountain blue
bird flitted nearby, whistling, and Mattie laughed.

  Following Zeke's instructions, she showered, and it was a delicious experience, as well. Going back up the hillside, dressed and clean, she found herself humming a song from the Song of the South, "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning."

  Zeke crouched on the porch, putting something in two little bowls. One held water, the other sliced canned peaches. "What's that for?" Mattie asked, rubbing a towel over her hair.

  "Rocky," he said, enigmatically. "You'll see. Come on inside. Breakfast is just about done."

  A smell of baking greeted her as she stepped inside, leaving the door open behind her. Zeke bent and took a heavy cast-iron muffin tray out of the oven, and the scent of the oversize muffins made her mouth water. "Poppyseed muffins?" she said lightly. "I'm impressed."

  "Well, don't be." He put the tray down on top of the stove and lifted his chin to an empty package of muffin mix. "Add water and pour."

  She smiled as she helped herself to coffee, still humming with the powerful sense of well-being that had engulfed her at the shower. "They smell good."

  "Go ahead. There's no butter, but you kind of get used to it without."

  Mattie took a steaming muffin from the pan. Holding the coffee in one hand, the muffin in the other, she wandered the room, her gaze snagging on a trio of snapshots stuck with thumbtacks to the wall by the bookcase. She'd missed them earlier, for they were somewhat hidden by the shadows. Now she leaned forward to examine them, munching her breakfast.

  The first was of a horse, beautiful even to Mattie's untrained eye – tall and lean with a glimmering black coat and a long tail. The next showed Zeke astride the horse, a worn cowboy hat on his head, smiling. She glanced over her shoulder, but he was studiously ignoring her to gaze out the door.

  The third photo pinched her. Zeke with his arm thrown around the shoulders of a tall striking blond woman. A man knelt nearby, holding a trophy of some kind. The woman looked at Zeke with the kind of hungry, worshipful expression on her face Mattie knew she'd often given him. In the background were the noses of three horses hanging over a fence like the one just outside. "Was this picture taken here?" she asked, pointing to it.

  "No." He didn't look around.

  Mattie lifted an eyebrow at the abrupt answer. The bear had a thorn in his paw, but she'd be damned if she'd try to pull it out. Not right now. "Who is the woman?"

  "Somebody I used to know." He still didn't look at her. His shoulders held a rigid tenseness that spoke volumes of fury.

  She tried one more time. "What did you win?"

  He stood up. "Nothing." The word was harsh, and he still didn't look at her as he poured a second cup of coffee. "Why don't you mind your own business?"

  Mattie smiled to herself as she walked away from the picture. Yes, sir, a big thorn. Going over to the stove, she took another muffin and peeled away the paper, settling in the single chair as she looked around her again with new eyes.

  Through the window, she saw the empty corral. Even she knew what a corral was. It held animals of some sort or another, and she would bet money this one had been built for horses. It had been a while, though, since there had been any in there, if there ever had.

  She touched the stallions on the blanket and glanced at Zeke. His tattoo was covered, but it did have the same stallion on it.

  She glanced at the books. Horses. On the wall hung a calendar. Horses. She looked at his boots. Not the kind of drugstore cowboy kind of boots she'd seen so often in Kansas City, but the real thing, hardworking boots she'd guess he'd owned for a long time.

  So what was a horse-crazy man doing on a motorcycle, flipping hamburgers in a nothing little bar in a nothing little town?

  She didn't have a chance to answer the question in her mind. At that moment, he turned around with a secretive smile. "Rocky's here."

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  Brian Murphy shed his coat with a furious gesture. "She can't just disappear like this!"

  Vince, peeking out the curtains of their motel room in Albuquerque, said, "We'll find her, Bri. Just a matter of time."

  "We don't have much time," Brian retorted, shoving his fingers through his red hair until it stood on end. "I've got work to do. If I don't get that bitch out of my way, the cops will get me first. Without her, there's no case."

  "I don't know why you didn't let me and one of the other guys take care of her. You could be home right now, drinking bourbon."

  Brian narrowed his eyes. "This is personal."

  "Yeah, well, I wish you'd mellow out. You're making me nervous." Vince flicked the curtain in place and picked up the phone. "I'm going to order something from room service. You want anything?"

  Brian shook his head no, then thought better of it. "Bottle of bourbon."

  He paced as Vince placed the call, unable to quell the restless energy that was his trademark. In an effort to curb the rage threatening to engulf him, he breathed in slowly, then out, trying to find his center.

  For a minute, it helped. Then he thought of Mattie again and the murderous fury returned. He'd outsmarted business partners, manipulated the law and the police and outmaneuvered some of the most powerful drug lords in the country – one naive woman would not be his undoing.

  It did not improve his mood to acknowledge the mistake was largely his own. He'd made the unforgivable error of underestimating Mattie O'Neal, seeing only a sweet, alluring secretary with a headful of simple dreams. He'd accepted her intelligence as his due, a necessary component in a wife, but his focus had always been on the nurturing end of her personality. What he'd seen in Mattie was an uncomplicated woman who'd make him an undemanding wife, and take care of their children. He'd never intended for her to find out that his fortune was built on shipping black-market guns and pharmaceuticals to profitable and illegal markets.

  Breathe in, breathe out. Who would have guessed Mattie could steal a car? Disappear for weeks on end? His stomach burned with a sick, furious churning as he thought of the wild-looking champion who'd whisked her away. She hadn't even given Brian a chance to explain – she'd shacked up with the first available man to come her way. It had taken him almost a year to get her into his bed. A lousy year.

  "Bourbon's here," Vince said, paying the waiter.

  Brian poured three fingers straight and tipped it back. The heat burned clear to his belly and performed its miracle of clearing his brain. "What'd you get on this Zeke Shephard?"

  Vince, sitting down to a sandwich and a beer, tugged a notepad from his suit coat. "Ran a horse-breeding operation west of her till two years ago when the business went bust. Not much else on him."

  "Partners? Family? Anything?"

  Vince nodded. "Had a partner by the name of John Reese. He married some horse society type and took over Shephard's business"

  Brian nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. "I'll shower and we'll go see him."

  * * *

  Rocky, it turned out, was a raccoon. He waddled onto the porch and paused cautiously, looking around, then eased up to the small bowls.

  "Oh, look!" Mattie cried softly, clutching Zeke's arm reflexively. "They really do wash things."

  "Yeah." He covered her hand on his arm as if to hold it there. The word was soft. "So danged cute."

  The raccoon took a peach in his tiny black hands and dipped it in the bowl of water, swishing it around thoroughly, rubbing at the fruit until he seemed satisfied and sat back on his haunches to eat it. He made a little noise, a soft growl of satisfaction.

  "Once," Zeke said softly, his deep voice resonant even at such a low level, "I put some spare biscuits out there and he washed them until they fell apart. Liked to broke my heart seeing him try to pick all those sloppy pieces out of the bowl."

  He slipped to one side on the chair, and motioned for her to sit down on the arm. Mattie did. "Does he let you come out when he's eating?"

  "Sometimes. Not usually when I've been gone, though. It's like he has to make sure all ov
er again that I'm not gonna eat him."

  Mattie smiled. The creature was unbelievably precious. The slim black mask over his eyes, the alert little ears. Like a cross between a sweet dog and a clever cat. "He looks smart."

  "They are." Zeke watched Rocky with a bemused expression on the handsome features, and the expression made her heart flip. "A neighbor used to have one when I was a kid. Caught it in the forest and brought it home. We used to take it pieces of banana and stuff like that. He was really cute.

  "But people all over started having trouble with chicken coops and vandalism. One old coot went out to his garage one morning and found a huge mess, oil cans on the floor, sand scattered all over the place, the curtains shredded." He chuckled. "For a while, the cops thought it was teenagers, but they found out it was that raccoon. He not only learned how to open his cage, but also how to keep his owner from knowing he could."

  Mattie laughed softly, but the animal heard her and paused, looking up from the peach with an alert ear cocked toward her. For long moments, they stared at each other through the open door. Mattie found herself gripping Zeke's shoulder, felt his hand tighten over hers.

  The raccoon dropped the peach he was eating, and Mattie thought with a pang that he was going to leave, that she'd chased him off. Instead, he plucked a new peach from the bowl and started scrubbing it clean.

  Realizing how she gripped Zeke's shoulder, she forced herself to let go of him. "I'm glad I didn't chase him away."

  He nodded. After a minute, he said gruffly, "The woman in the picture, her name is Amanda Shaw." He fell silent again, but Mattie waited without speaking, and he went on. "The guy is John Reese. He used to be my partner. They're married now."

  Mattie watched his face carefully. His gaze was fixed on the raccoon, so she saw Zeke in profile. The sharp cheekbones with the hollows below, the firm, sensual mouth, the black fringe of long eyelashes above the troubled green eyes. His hair swept back from a forehead tense with remembered – what? Fury? Sorrow?

  Regret. The small lines around his eyes looked taut, too, and she wanted to smooth the tightness away with her fingertips. Had he lost his love to his partner?