Vixen In Disguise. Kara Lennox

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      “Yes!” When his cocky grin slid away, she quickly added, “It’s a complicated situation, but I’ll explain it. Later.”

      “When?” he pressed.

      “Tomorrow.”

      “Tonight.”

      “Okay, all right.”

      “Midnight.”

      “Eleven. I’ll be in bed by midnight.”

      “I hope so.” Wade’s eyes burned like two hot coals.

      She should have known better than to mention the word bed. Anne searched her brain for a private meeting place, but Wade provided one for her.

      “At the ranch. The old red barn that’s used to store hay. You know it?”

      She nodded.

      “I’ll be waiting.”

      Again she nodded.

      “If you don’t show, I’ll come find you.” He turned and sauntered away.

      Anne didn’t doubt him. She also wouldn’t blame him if he was really angry with her. But when she’d left him last May, it had seemed her only choice. She hadn’t counted on an emotional entanglement when she’d set off for the Mesquite Rodeo in her borrowed cowgirl duds, eager to blow off some exam-induced steam.

      Eleven. If she left the house late at night, her parents naturally would ask where she was going. The truth would just lead to a whole lot of questions she didn’t want to answer. She would have to slip out under their radar.

      She wouldn’t dream of standing Wade up. If she didn’t show, he would probably have the nerve to come knocking on her front door.

      Anne’s parents showed up mere moments after Wade’s departure. Her father, looking every inch the country squire, wore an official-looking badge that said Judge. He smiled and waved when he caught sight of her, then immediately sobered.

      “Your mother says you’re not feeling well.” His round, jovial face, which disguised a keen intellect that could cut his legal opponents to ribbons, was etched with concern.

      “I’m fine. Just tired.” She smiled, reassuring him. “Let’s go home and put our feet up,” Deborah said, sliding an arm around Anne’s waist. “They gave your dad a pie for judging the contest.” She pointed to a shopping bag looped over her arm. “We can warm it up and have it with ice cream.”

      “Don’t mention pie,” Milton said with a grimace. “I may never eat pie again.”

      “Oh, that’ll be the day,” Deborah said. Anne relaxed slightly as they all climbed into her father’s gold Cadillac. Her parents were good people, and they loved her unconditionally. When they pushed her too hard or tried to impose their opinions on her, Anne had to remind herself that everything they did, they did out of love for her. She had come late into their lives—her mother was forty when Anne was born. They had doted on her her whole life, and they only wanted the best for their daughter.

      SLIPPING OUT OF THE HOUSE was easy. When her parents were engrossed in TV, Anne tiptoed down the back stairs and out the French doors to the patio, then around to the garage. Their driveway was at the top of a hill, so Anne didn’t even have to start her car. She put her blue Mustang—a graduation present from her father—into Neutral and coasted into the street, breathing a relieved sigh when no one called to her.

      The whole escapade felt a little childish, she thought as she started the car’s engine half a block away. But the previous few months had upset her parents greatly, and she refused to do anything to cause them more worry.

      She knew where the Hardison Ranch was. Even if she hadn’t visited there since she was a young girl, everyone knew. It was the biggest cattle operation in Cottonwood, and old Pete Hardison had been one of the town’s first residents. Pete had struggled in the early days. Then he’d struck oil and become a millionaire overnight—and adopted the lifestyle to prove it.

      The oil bust in the eighties had all but ruined the overextended Hardisons, but Pete’s grandson, Jonathan—Wade’s oldest brother—had caught the ranching bug. He’d taken hold of the ranch and brought it back to prosperity over the past dozen years.

      When Anne pulled up to the Hardison Ranch’s white gates, she found them open. She rumbled over the cattle guard and up the red dirt drive, meandering through some mesquite trees before she saw the old barn, looming dark in the night.

      She was five minutes late. The barn looked black inside, completely uninhabited, but she sensed Wade was there. She could almost feel him. He didn’t seem the type to play games—that was her specialty. If he’d said he’d be here at eleven, he probably was here.

      She parked and climbed out of the car. The night had taken on a slight chill, and the brisk breeze blew up inside her jumper, making her wish she’d put on jeans. She shivered slightly, but more from apprehension than the cold.

      The huge double doors of the old-fashioned red barn were slightly ajar, enough that she could squeeze through. “Hello?” she called out as her eyes tried to adjust to the almost total darkness.

      She heard the strike of a match, then saw the flare not ten feet in front of her. She could just make out Wade’s strong features as he lit a kerosene lantern that looked like an antique. The lantern glowed to life, and Anne could see the cavernous barn was full to the rafters with hay.

      “Why were you standing here in the dark?” she asked. “And is it safe to have a lantern in here? All this hay…”

      Wade hung the lantern on a hook. “Lots of questions. I like the dark. And the lantern is safe, so long as we don’t get so wild we knock it over.”

      Anne’s heart did a flip-flop. If he was trying to unnerve her with his innuendo, he’d succeeded.

      Chapter Two

      Wade held on to the illusion of confidence like a two-year-old with a security blanket. He tried to pretend Annie showing up here tonight was no big deal. In truth, he’d been terrified she would blow him off.

      But Annie had come. She was standing before him, looking like a mirage in the lantern light, her green eyes keeping a wary watch on him. Which meant that maybe she was still interested.

      He leaned against a stack of round hay bales and folded his arms. “So, Annie, what’s your story? Why the big deception?” he asked, his tone intentionally casual. “And why the disappearing act?” She’d really thrown him for a loop when he’d awakened that Monday morning after the rodeo to find her gone.

      He wasn’t like a lot of the guys on the circuit who slept with any buckle bunny who came along, making empty promises then awkward goodbyes when it came time to move on to the next rodeo. Not that he was a monk, but he’d thought Annie was special—different.

      Worth his time and attention.

      Though they’d made no promises, he’d felt so good when he was with her that he’d been silently plotting ways he could keep her hanging around. He’d thought she felt СКАЧАТЬ