Lone Star Baby Scandal(4)

“Yeah,” he answered as he began to cut into the perfectly grilled steak. “So far Everest is doing all right.”

When a company stopped gaining and growing at a rate Clay thought was acceptable, he did as he had always done in the rodeo arena: he studied. And studied some more. He’d compiled statistics on every working bull in the circuit and its method of removing a rider from its back. Was the bull a spinner, a kicker, did it rotate its shoulders and if yes, in what direction and to what degree? What were its weaknesses and its merits? He took into account age and lineage and any other factor he could find on any one cow and by the time he pulled up to the rodeo arena, he knew every bull in the lineup inside and out. It didn’t matter which one he drew, he knew more about it than the owner did. The same went for the industries where he did business.

But knowledge was only a part of the puzzle. Where it ended, Clay’s tenacity took over. When he set his mind on something, accomplishment was usually just around the corner. He had a knack for business, was a genius with numbers and statistics, and developing and running a company came as naturally to him as breathing was for everyone else.

But something was going on. If she couldn’t figure it out, she would have to wait on Clay to tell her. Oftentimes that wasn’t until he had managed to solve the problem. She wasn’t usually called in unless things were nearly out of control and he needed her help. She supposed all she could do at this time was watch his body language and be prepared for anything.

“Aren’t you going to finish your lunch?” Clay asked as she stood and walked toward the door.

“Not really hungry. See you later.”

“You pulled me all the way back to the house with a lecture on eating right—then you don’t eat?”

She shrugged. “I’ll get something later.”

With a sigh of frustration Clay picked up his full plate, a napkin, cutlery and his drink and disappeared inside of his office, closing the connecting door between their offices. Drexler was one of the men who’d helped Clay develop Everest. What the exact purpose of his call was, Clay hadn’t said. He played his cards pretty close to his chest until his idea took root or problem was solved.

If anyone called him an entrepreneur to his face, he would laugh it off and respond by saying he was just an old cowhand who had run into some luck. In truth he was a shrewd and intelligent businessman who seemed to have a natural ability to turn dust into gold.

The bull that changed his life years ago didn’t merely crush his leg and open his belly. It figuratively ripped open his heart, challenging his mind and his spirit. As his injuries healed, inside he’d carried frustration, rage, sadness, a touch of hopelessness and always a hint of the bitterness he tried to hold back. Emotions he managed to conceal from most people he couldn’t hide from her. Sophie knew that handsome face better than she knew her own. She could tell when he thought someone was lying, when he was holding back his anger, when he thought something was inappropriately funny. She knew when the sparkle that lit his emerald-green eyes meant to come forward or turn tail and run. Most women made the mistake of running the wrong way—straight into his arms. A few weeks later, whatever they’d had—or thought they’d had—was over and no doubt they were still wondering what had happened.

She hoped she would never again see the pain Clay tried to hold inside. Or the fury. But some of it was still there. The hurt, the bitter embarrassment and pure rage that his ex-fiancée had caused. Sophie had to surmise that was the reason he still hadn’t dated very much since the accident.

He was the most intelligent man she knew. He had a remarkable sense of humor that was slowly coming back. But it was his deep emerald-green eyes and the rare smiles on a face that still took her breath away even after the five years she’d been an employee. His hands, callused and powerful, could be gentle when he touched a woman, as if he were stroking a newborn foal. The spicy cologne mixed with his natural scent drew females like bees to a flower. Except Clay Everett was certainly no flower. He was hard, raw and pure male.

The accident and subsequent changes he’d had to make in his life shortened his temper and did nothing to improve his attitude. If anything it gave him a dangerous edge, which ironically, to most women, was even more appealing. The same power that held a one-ton bull beneath him was still harnessed inside him; in the bedroom a woman knew it was there. And Sophie knew firsthand just how sexy the man could be after that night of too many cocktails and too many steamy looks at the masked charity event in May.

The next morning, as the sun appeared over the distant hills, she had slipped from the room, dressed and headed for her car. It had taken all weekend to shake herself loose from the spell he’d cast, and even then her life would never be the same. She could feel it. But Monday morning when it was time to report to the Flying E for work, she’d done so with her head held high. She’d brushed past him straight into her office space with a brisk good-morning and refused to look straight into his eyes. That night had been a mistake and it would not be repeated. If he had any ideas to the contrary, the quicker he forgot them the better for all concerned.

It was just too bad no one had given Clay the memo.





Three

Friday morning Sophie opened her eyes and focused on the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. Seven o’clock. She had the day off. The local weatherman had predicted beautiful weather and she knew exactly how she was going to spend the day. After tossing back the covers, she stood from the bed and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Clay was in Dallas attending a meeting with some of his stockholders, so the day was her own. She had a chance to take a beautiful horse and roam over fifty thousand acres of Texas hill country just waiting to be explored. Since moving his office to the ranch and her own relocation to Royal, Texas, she had taken advantage of Clay’s generosity in allowing her to borrow one of his many horses and ride to her heart’s content.

Foregoing her usual morning coffee and dry toast, she drove the six miles to the Lazy E Ranch. After pulling her car up next to the barn, she entered the main building and headed down the right-hand hallway. The smell of freshly cut alfalfa and sweet-corn molasses swirled around her on a gentle breeze. She heard Hopper nicker before she reached his stall.

Clay had been surprised that first day he’d found her in the main barn. After she explained that she’d been raised with horses and really missed them, he had quickly assured her she was welcome to ride any horse at the ranch during her time off. It became addictive. She’d chosen a black-and-white paint named Hopper. He seemed as eager to leave his stall for an adventure as she was to leave the office. In no time she had checked his hooves, given him a quick brush and thrown a saddle on his back. After that first glorious day, Sophie never missed the chance to go riding.

About the time she led him out of the barn toward the north gate, Clay’s voice hailed her. Surprised, she turned toward him.

“Well, good morning,” she said, coming to a stop. “Did you cancel your meeting?’

“Yeah. I have to go into Dallas next week anyway so I decided to meet with the stockholders then,” he explained. “It’s a beautiful day. Mind if I tag along?”

Yes. “Of course not.” She tossed the reins over Hopper’s neck near the saddle and gave him a friendly pat. “So has the doctor given the okay for you to swing up into a saddle?”

“I haven’t really asked for permission.”

“And you’re doing it anyway.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

“I think I can still mount pretty good. I don’t expect to have any problems.”

Ornery man. She refused to take the bait. She’d glanced once at his face. His eyes glistened and a shadow of a smile touched those succulent lips. It was the look of a shared secret he was daring her to tell. Their night together had been incredible but it absolutely would not happen again.

Sophie watched as his long strides carried him toward the bank of stalls that housed some of the top quarter horses in the state. Clay’s limp was evident. The horses welcomed him with soft knickers; they watched Clay pass by with large brown eyes, their ears alert. The road to recovery had been long and she had to admire his tenacity, his determination to regain 100 percent dexterity. He had amazed the doctors whose predictions for his future were not so bright. She had firsthand knowledge of just how physically fit the man was, which was why his coming with her made her nervous. In the weeks after their night together, Sophie had used the increasingly busy days in the office as an excuse to prevent any mention of that night they’d shared. If Clay had picked up on what she was doing, he’d said nothing. He had never brought it up and neither had she. But this wasn’t the office. She owed it to him not to mention any business concerns and thereby allow him to escape the rat race for a few hours. But it also left her without the barrier to more personal conversation. She had no idea what she would say if he introduced mutual attraction into the conversation.

Today with the cooler temperatures, Hopper was full of spunk and ready for an adventure. Clay returned with his choice of mount, a large chestnut gelding. When both horses were saddled and ready to go, they rode toward the main gate that opened onto the eastern pasture.