A Measure Of Love. Lindsay McKenna

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СКАЧАТЬ she have to look like a waif? The robe was too big on her; the sleeves were below her fingers and the bottom of it dragged around her bare feet. His anger began to dissolve as he took in her slender form, graceful carriage and her proud look. Her hair was dry and had obviously been combed. It was shimmering and glossy even in the murky light of the rainy day. He wondered what her hair would look like out in the sun. Would her eyes also sparkle and dance in the light, and not look as they did now, dark in her narrowed gaze?

      “I was looking for my clothes,” Jessie told him, forcing her voice into a more neutral tone.

      “Millie’s taking care of them. They were wet.”

      She allowed her hand to drop and faced him squarely. He had harsh features, broad shoulders and a barrel chest. But Jessie lived more on her instincts than on what she saw initially in any person, and she switched to that internal radar. Perhaps it was the color of his eyes, their dark blue cast that carried hidden pain in their depths. Or the wry twist of his mouth. Jessie couldn’t be sure. She felt that he was a man who was carrying tremendous burdens; some, if not all of them, sad. Rafe Kincaid was not happy outwardly or inwardly, and that struck Jessie’s heart.

      “I wanted to leave, Mr. Kincaid. I don’t feel I’ve started off on the right foot with you. What I’d like to do is find the nearest motel, spend a couple days recuperating from the accident and then come back to the Triple K.” Her voice became more firm, and she held his stare. “There’s unfinished business between us. I was sent here to straighten it out, not make more of a mess for you.” She slowly sat down on the arm of the flower-print couch, her hands in her lap.

      “What do you know, an honorable agent.” Rafe crossed his arms.

      Jessie’s lips compressed, and her eyes turned a dark cinnamon color. “Sarcasm is not going to help the situation, Mr. Kincaid.”

      “You should have told that to the first agent, Ms. Scott.”

      “Joe Allen is new. And young. He was just a little too eager, that’s all.”

      With a snort, Rafe circled the room, never allowing his gaze to leave her. The backlight from the window outlined her in radiance; almost as if she were ethereal. “So why’d they send you, Ms. Scott? To dodge my questions by putting a pretty face in front of me?”

      Jessie gasped and then winced as her head began to pound. Gently she rubbed her temple, holding on to her anger. “What are you implying?”

      Rafe smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s obvious to me. It should be to you, too,” he drawled.

      Color heightened in her pale cheeks, and this time Jessie wasn’t embarrassed–she was mad. “Mr. Kincaid, I could lower myself to your level of needling me with innuendos, but I’m not going to. One of us has to conduct themselves in a professional manner. I know you had words with Mr. Allen. And judging from what he told us, he wasn’t honest and up-front about why he came to you in the first place.”

      Rafe came closer until he stood directly in front of her. Ruthlessly he stared down at her, yet she didn’t pull back. A grudging admiration shot through him. “And you’re honest?” he prodded.

      She held his stare. “Yes, I am.”

      Rafe turned abruptly and walked back toward the door. If she had been snippy or pushy, he’d have wanted to throttle her. Instead, the inner calm he felt around her had appeased him. He halted and turned. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

      “What?”

      He nodded. “You’re staying here. The closest motel is sixty miles away. The doctor said you were to stay in bed until tomorrow.”

      Jessie’s lips parted. “But–my car. I can drive to the motel.”

      “Really?” he goaded softly. “I haven’t seen many cars with a broken axle travel very far.”

      “Oh, no. Are you serious? A broken axle?” She closed her eyes. Nick and Mr. Humphries were going to have her head on a platter.

      “I’m having some of my men drag it out of the pines. The rental agency has already been contacted, and they’ll be bringing out a tow truck to have it taken back to Denver.”

      Jessie opened her eyes. At least he wasn’t a total bastard. No, he wasn’t one at all. Millie had told her earlier how he had rescued and carried her back to the ranch. She owed him for that. “I see…. Thank you for calling them.”

      “Look,” Rafe said gently, his conscience needled by the bleakness in her eyes and voice, “why don’t you get back to bed and rest? Millie will bring you dinner around six.” Then he disappeared as quietly as he had come.

      A quiver moved through Jessie. Rafe’s voice had dropped into that dark, low tone again, and she had felt as if he had reached out and physically stroked her. Touching her breast, Jessie breathed deeply, trying to still her fluttering heart. Rafe was more of a man than she had ever met. Of course, how many men had she met other than her ex-husband? Not many. With a determined look on her face, she slowly stood, allowed the dizziness to pass and then walked back to the brass bed. She would have to call Nick and tell him what had happened. But not now. First, she somehow had to persuade Rafe Kincaid to allow her to investigate the mustang killings. She lay down and almost immediately fell asleep.

      * * *

      Rafe’s eyes smarted and he blinked. The figures swam before him. It was nearly one in the morning. Time was a robber when he tried to balance the budget: rob Peter to pay Paul, and practice a form of financial wizardry that would get them through the spring. Suddenly Rafe found himself wondering about Jessie. Dammit, he’d done it again. He’d had a hell of a time concentrating on the budget: his mind was always wandering back to her, her soft but firm voice and the glimpse of fire he’d seen flash in the depths of her eyes. God! He dropped the pencil, rubbing his face wearily.

      A sound caught his attention. Was Millie up? Impossible. She always went to bed around ten every night. Rafe hauled himself to his feet and walked quietly into the hall toward the direction of the noise. At the entrance to the living room, he halted. Jessie was standing near the open flames of the stone fireplace. His breath jammed in his chest as he saw the way the molten gold of the fire bathed her long thick hair as it fell in careless abandon over her small shoulders. A warm feeling trickled through his heart; she looked like a waif in the huge robe she had on. Then he noticed how drawn her face was, and the tired way she put her hand on the mantel to support her weight. “Are you all right?”

      Jessie’s head snapped up, and she whirled in his direction, her mane of hair flying about her shoulders. “My God, you scared me to death! Do you always go sneaking around like that?”

      A sour grin tugged at his mouth as he walked toward her. “I heard a sound and came out to investigate.”

      Her heart was banging away in her throat, and she pressed her hand against the pulse there. “I thought everyone was asleep.”

      “So did I.”

      She grimaced, placing her hand back on the mantel. “I thought ranchers went to bed early and got up early,” she muttered, managing a slight smile to match his.

      Rafe leaned his elbow on the mantel and studied her more thoroughly by the firelight. The room was dark and quiet, with the exception of a few cattle lowing now and then, out in the paddocks near the barns. “Most ranchers this СКАЧАТЬ