Mysterious Mountain Man. Annette Broadrick

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      “Looks like your noon rush just arrived,” he drawled, grinning. Mel hurried to the kitchen while Betty reached for the stack of menus, a smile on her face for the children.

      * * *

      Rebecca Adams had been following the arrow-straight highway east out of El Paso for what seemed like hours, looking for the Dry Gulch Café. The desolate West Texas terrain had so mesmerized her with its sameness that she almost drove past the small settlement without noticing it. She was almost upon it before she noticed the sign advertising the café.

      She peered at the cluster of weathered, gray buildings while hurriedly braking to make the turn. There were only two vehicles in the gravel parking lot—a minivan and a pickup truck.

      Rebecca quickly glanced into the rearview mirror of her rental car, thankful there was no one to see that she hadn’t bothered to signal her intentions as she pulled off the highway. She parked neatly beside the angled truck and turned off the car engine.

      She’d left Seattle early that morning and hadn’t paused in her travels since. Woody had told her that the only people he’d found who seemed to know anything about Jake Taggart were here at this café.

      She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She was here now, ready to begin her search for the elusive Mr. Taggart. She’d made up her mind that nothing was going to stop her from finding Jake and talking to him, no matter what she had to do.

      She quickly ran a comb through her dark, shoulder-length hair, powdered her nose and checked to make sure she still had on her lipstick. Her wide-set gray eyes stared back at her apprehensively from her compact mirror. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever been so nervous before, but then she’d never had to deal with such high stakes before. She couldn’t afford to lose this particular gamble.

      She could think of any number of people she would have preferred to look for besides Jake Taggart. She’d never understood her father’s enthusiasm about the man. He may have been a genius at what he did for the company, but he’d been an impossible person to get to know.

      She’d always taken pride in the fact that she could figure most people out. She’d made human behavior her main study, but Jake had always managed to elude her analysis.

      As soon as she stepped out of the car, Rebecca paused to straighten her slim dark skirt and adjust the tailored matching jacket that stopped a few inches above the mid-thigh length of her skirt. She reached for her briefcase, which held her purse, and straightened, inwardly seeking the professional calm that carried her through her daily working routine.

      The gravel made walking in heels difficult. She picked her way carefully across the dusty expanse. The last thing she needed was an injury of some sort out here in this godforsaken wilderness.

      She was relieved to reach the smoother surface of the picturesque porch, which held a cluster of chairs—straight-backed and rockers—and a couple of tables. She glanced around her, perplexed by the evidence of her own eyes. Had Jake Taggart actually grown up in this area? In no way did it fit the image of the man she remembered.

      The sagging screen door protested with a squeal when she pushed it open and stepped inside.

      Her appearance seemed to have frozen the few occupants in the room into suspended animation. Every eye seemed to be trained on her. A casually dressed man and woman occupied a nearby booth with two small children. The little girl sat in a high chair at the end of the table, while the boy was perched on a booster seat beside his father.

      All four stared at her as though she’d just stepped off a space ship and was there to make inquiries of the local inhabitants.

      The woman behind the counter stood with a forgotten coffeepot in her hand, her eyes round as she stared at the newcomer.

      Only the cowboy in the back seemed uninterested in her. He sat with his chair leaning against the wall, balanced on two legs, as though he had nothing better to do than to hang around a café all day. His thick black hair was worn too long, brushing his collar and tumbling across his forehead. He’d glanced at her when she’d first walked in, then he’d looked away as though unimpressed, while casually twirling a pair of sunglasses by one of the earpieces.

      Rebecca gripped her briefcase tighter and approached the woman behind the counter.

      “Good afternoon, miss,” the woman said before Rebecca could speak. “Are you here for lunch?”

      Intent on her mission, Rebecca paused, feeling a little off-balance. For the first time in several hours she realized she hadn’t eaten since she’d left home. She took in the room in another sweeping glance before replying.

      “I—uh—yes, actually, that would be nice.”

      She was a little irritated with herself for not thinking about eating here. The woman must think her ridiculous to appear surprised to be offered a meal in a café. What, after all, had she expected? She certainly hadn’t walked into a lending library!

      Rebecca noticed an empty booth in the back and had started toward it before she realized that she would be sitting near the cowboy. She certainly hoped he didn’t think she was trying to get his attention!

      Taking another firm grip on her briefcase, she straightened her shoulders slightly and continued toward the back of the room without looking at anyone.

      “Hello, Rebecca,” a deep voice drawled from somewhere close by.

      She spun around, almost losing her balance. How could anyone here know who she—? Only one person could possibly recognize her. Her gaze darted around the room before she made eye contact with the cowboy, who continued to watch her without moving from his comfortable, laid-back position.

      For the first time since she’d entered the café Rebecca really looked at the man leaning his chair against the wall.

      “Jake,” she whispered almost to herself as she stared at him. Her breath seemed caught in her throat. Whatever her expectations had been for this trip, finding Jake within moments after her arrival had never crossed her mind.

      He took his time looking at her, allowing his gaze to wander from the top of her head, lingering over the trim-fitting suit, before pausing on her now dusty pumps.

      Eventually his gaze met her eyes. “What brings you to these parts?” he drawled. “Did you make a wrong turn somewhere?”

      In the year since she’d last seen him, Rebecca had forgotten how his low voice had always caused her spine to tingle in a most unexpected and unprofessional way. The tingle was back, darn it, and they’d barely exchanged any words. She stood taller in an effort to combat her unwanted reaction to the man.

      The waitress spoke from directly behind her. “You can sit anywhere, miss. Just pick a spot and light.”

      Rebecca glanced around at the waitress just as she heard the other two legs on Jake’s chair hit the floor.

      “She’ll take the back booth, Betty,” he said, straightening in slow motion to his full height. “Bring her Mel’s special. Let’s show the city lady what down-home cookin’s all about.”

      Gently he touched Rebecca’s arm and guided her over to the booth. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she numbly slid onto the bench seat, staring at him as СКАЧАТЬ