It Takes a Cowboy. GINA WILKINS

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Joseph grinned as he looked at Blair’s rapidly retreating back. “I think you flustered her, Mr. McKay.”

      Scott returned his grin. “I think you’re right.”

      And you ain’t seen nothing yet, pretty Blair Townsend.

      * * *

      BLAIR WISHED just once Jeffrey would look happy to see her after they’d spent a day apart. But when she stopped by her aunt’s house to collect him after the auction, he greeted her with the same unenthusiastic mumble she heard from him every afternoon when she picked him up after work. Her retired aunt, Wanda, lived next door to Blair, so Jeffrey stayed with her after school until Blair got home—a convenient arrangement for all of them.

      “Did you like the videos we rented for you to watch this afternoon?” Blair asked Jeffrey.

      He tossed his shaggy hair out of his face—he refused to wear a neater, more conservative cut, and Blair hadn’t insisted on that yet since there had been so many other problems to tackle. “They were kind of lame,” he grumbled about the films she had so carefully selected. “I wanted to see the new slasher movie. All the guys have seen it but me.”

      “I don’t think all the fourth graders at your school have seen that movie. I’m sure there are plenty of parents who agree with me that it isn’t suitable for children your age.”

      Jeffrey shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.”

      “Get your things and we’ll go have dinner.”

      He ambled off without looking back.

      Blair turned to Wanda Townsend, who hovered nearby. “Was he much trouble?”

      Wanda shook her gray head, her eyes dark with concern. “He just sat in front of the TV all afternoon, watching those films. I asked if he wanted to go outside and play, but he wasn’t interested.”

      It had been Wanda’s late husband, Edgar, who had started the law office Blair managed. She and her uncle had been discussing Blair leaving her stressful, incredibly demanding position with a firm in Chicago and becoming a partner in Edgar’s practice. Just as she had decided to agree to his offer, Edgar had died of an unexpected heart attack, leaving his practice to Blair. It still distressed her that they’d never had the opportunity to work together. Instead, she’d had to scramble to catch up with his cases and keep his office afloat. She’d lived here only six months and was just beginning to feel comfortably settled in Lightning Creek when her brother, Kirk, had arrived with his motherless son in tow. Three days later, Kirk was off on another of his crazy get-rich-quick schemes, and Blair had been left with her sullen, resentful nephew. Six months had passed since that day, and there had been only a couple of telephone calls and a postcard from Kirk since.

      Wanda had tried to help with the boy, but never having children of her own, she’d often been at a loss in the face of Jeffrey’s moodiness. Blair had no experience with children, either, but she’d made a valiant effort to give the boy a good home. She’d bought and read dozens of parenting books, spent several hours in consultation with the counselor at Lander Elementary School and had tried to help Jeffrey find friends and interests here. Her efforts had been met with little reward. Every time she thought she was getting through to him a little, he pulled back again.

      He seemed to make a determined effort to hold other children at a distance. His grades were not good, though Blair knew he was much brighter than he let on. He refused to participate in sports, Scouts or any of the other diversions Blair suggested to him. And he was growing increasingly belligerent toward authority. She was becoming more and more worried that Jeffrey was a prime candidate for the Lost Springs Ranch for Boys—either that or reform school.

      Was it any wonder she’d gotten desperate enough to buy him a role model for a weekend?

      Jeffrey trudged into the room, dragging his backpack behind him. “I’m ready.”

      “Tell Aunt Wanda thank-you for letting you spend the afternoon with her.”

      Jeffrey gave Blair an annoyed look, but muttered, “Thanks.”

      “You’re welcome, dear. I’ll see you Monday after school.”

      “Yeah. See ya.” Jeffrey headed for the door.

      Blair and her aunt exchanged worried glances. “I really think you should consider getting him some professional counseling,” Wanda murmured. “Maybe there’s a medication that could help him.”

      Blair cleared her throat. “Actually, I’m taking Jeffrey to see someone next week. Someone who has a great deal of experience with troubled boys.” She saw no need to add that her expert was a cowboy, not a counselor, especially since her aunt seemed so encouraged by the news.

      They were both getting desperate, it seemed.

      * * *

      BY WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, Blair was beginning to wonder if Scott McKay had forgotten all about her. If they were supposed to get together on Friday, they needed to make plans. Coordinate their schedules. Perhaps make a list of the things she wanted Scott to talk about with Jeffrey.

      She would feel a lot better about all of this if she could just make a few lists.

      Maybe she should call him, she thought, sitting in her office Wednesday afternoon, too distracted to concentrate on the stacks of paperwork piled on the desk in front of her. Scott hadn’t given her his number, but she imagined it would be easy enough to get it from Lindsay Duncan. She could call him and simply ask if something else had come up. Or if he’d perhaps changed his mind.

      But he was the one who had talked her into agreeing with this outing, even after she had decided it wasn’t such a good idea, she reminded herself. Why should she call him? It was his responsibility to follow up on his offer.

      Still, she had paid sixty-five hundred dollars for a weekend of his time....

      Her phone rang just as she was telling herself she should probably write off the donation and forget the whole thing. She picked up the receiver. “Blair Townsend.”

      “Ms. Townsend, this is Carolyn Roberts. I work for Scott McKay.”

      “Yes?”

      “Mr. McKay asked me to call you to inquire if ten o’clock Friday morning is a convenient time for you and your nephew to meet him.”

      Blair wondered why Scott hadn’t called her himself. She glanced at the calendar, though she knew nothing was written on it for Friday. She’d been keeping that day open for this. “Ten o’clock will be fine. Where does he want me to meet him?”

      “At the Lightning Creek airstrip. Do you have a fax machine?”

      Blinking in surprise at the unexpected question, Blair replied, “Yes, I do. Why—”

      “If you’ll give me your fax number, I’ll send you the list of items Mr. McKay recommends that you bring with you.”

      A list? While Blair approved of lists in general, she wondered why Scott was sending her a list of supplies. Just what was he planning, anyway? “May I speak to Mr. McKay?” she requested, thinking this would be much easier without the middleman—or rather, middle person.

      “Mr. СКАЧАТЬ