Phantom Waltz Page 3

  Dumb. It was forty minutes after the hour. He wouldn’t show up this late.

  She raced down the hall, braking to a stop well back from the threshold. Leaning forward, she flipped on the porch light, unlatched the special dead bolt her brother Zeke had installed not far above the knob, and opened the door. The first thing she saw was a pair of dusty riding boots. Her gaze trailed up from there as she sat back in her chair, taking in an expanse of lean denim-clad legs.

  “Oh!” she said, her heart skittering in a way that made her disgusted with herself. What was it about him, anyway? He put his pants on the same way other men did. He was nothing so special. “I thought it was one of my brothers.”

  “Nope.”

  He was taller than she remembered—broader through the shoulders. Standing over her as he was and illuminated by golden light, he seemed to loom. Tonight he wore a faded denim jacket over the chambray shirt, the front plackets hanging open to reveal the muted wool plaid lining. The faint and not unpleasant smell of horses and hay rolled off of him. The black Stetson was in place, its brim tipped forward, shadowing his eyes. As before, those eyes glinted at her, only this time, instead of gunmetal, she was reminded of tarnished silver.

  What was she thinking? Tarnished silver? Brother. He probably practiced that smoldering look in the mirror so all women within a mile would fall over like nine pins when he smiled. Well, count her out. He was mouthwatering to look at, but so was cheesecake, and cheesecake was a heck of a lot safer.

  “You need a peephole,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “It’s not safe to open up until you know who’s out here, especially when it’s almost dark.”

  He looked and sounded enough like one of her brothers to be a clone, which helped slow her racing heart.

  “A peephole at my height? It’s a little difficult to identify a man by his fly.”

  A startled laugh escaped him, the sound a gravelly “humph” that jerked his broad shoulders. “Not so difficult.” He grasped the large silver buckle at his waist, tipping it toward the light for her to see. “Mine’s flagged with my initials.” He turned slightly to display the back of his belt, which was personalized as well. “You can tell who I am, coming or going.”

  She stared at the lettering on the ornate silver as he turned to face her again. “So I see.”

  He nudged back his hat, placed a hand on the door frame, and cocked a hip, his opposite knee bending with the shift of his weight. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

  His voice rang with sincerity. Bethany steeled herself against it. “I’m sure you had a good reason.” No excuse he gave her would be good enough. He was forty minutes late, he hadn’t phoned. In her book, that was unpardonable.

  He smiled slightly. “I tried to call. You didn’t answer the phone.”

  “You did?” She’d had him pegged as more imaginative. “How strange. I haven’t heard the phone ring, and I’ve got call waiting.”

  The long look he gave her made her feel as if her skin was turning inside out. She had a feeling he could tell she’d been crying. His lips tucked in at one corner, deepening the crease in his cheek. It wasn’t really a smile, more just a quirk of his mouth, but his eyes came into play, crinkling at the corners to lend warmth to his expression.

  “I know I wasn’t dialing wrong. I double-checked the number.”

  An awful thought occurred to Bethany. She glanced over her shoulder. “My cat,” she whispered.

  “Say what?”

  “Shortly before six, I heard her knock something over. I’ll bet she bumped the guest room extension off the hook again.”

  “Ah. Mystery solved.”

  She started up the hall. “Please come in, Ryan. I’ll only be a minute.”

  She imagined her brothers arriving en masse to check on her because she didn’t answer the phone. The very thought made her cringe. It went without saying that Jake would not approve of Ryan’s being there.

  Once in the guest room, Bethany saw that the phone had indeed been knocked off the hook. As she returned it to the cradle, she lectured herself. Okay, fine. He had tried to call her, just as he claimed, and she’d jumped to conclusions, thinking he’d stood her up. It followed that he probably had a good reason for being late. But that didn’t mean she had to let her foolish heart get the best of her again. He was taking her out on a date only to be nice. She would enjoy the evening. No hoping for anything more, no wishing for anything more.

  She took a deep breath, feeling better almost instantly. When the evening was over, she’d have a nice memory to treasure, and perhaps he would as well.

  This didn’t have to be complicated unless she allowed it to be.

  When she reentered the hall, he was still standing in the doorway. She saw that he was studying the tole paintings that hung on the entryway wall, compliments of her brother Hank because she couldn’t reach that high to drive the nails. “That silly cat. She gets on the nightstand and knocks into things.”

  He hooked a thumb at the paintings. “You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you, but not really. I’ve had lots of time to perfect my brushstrokes.” She stopped a few feet shy of him and folded her hands. The touch of his gaze warmed her cheeks. “I hope my brothers didn’t try to call. They’re terrified I’ll fall or something. I keep telling them it’s silly to worry, that I managed just fine living alone in Portland for six years. I may as well talk to a wall.”

  “Protective?”

  “Horribly. If one of them couldn’t get through, he’d notify the others, and they’d all race over here.”

  He grinned and arched an eyebrow again. “Is that a warning?”

  “You might say that. According to them, I’m too trusting.”

  “And are you?”

  “I think my brothers greatly overestimate my appeal. Either that, or there aren’t nearly as many wolves on the prowl as they seem to think.”

  Studying her upturned face, Ryan thought she was pretty damned appealing, and he didn’t blame her brothers for being protective. It had been a while since he’d gone out with a woman whose expression was so open. She probably wasn’t a very good judge of male character, and she could obviously be very easily hurt. Her eyes were red from crying, her dark lashes spiked with wetness. Knowing he’d been the cause of her tears made him feel like a skunk.

  “I really am sorry I couldn’t make it on time. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  “Not at all. I just figured something had come up.”

  He imagined her watching the clock, then finally giving up on him, convinced he hadn’t come because he didn’t want to spend the evening with her.

  “It’s been one of those awful days. Then, to top it off, one of my mares went into early labor. Her first foal, and she had a really rough time.”

  “Oh, no. Is she all right?”

  The concern Ryan saw in her big blue eyes looked genuine. Most of the women he dated got their noses out of joint when they learned they’d played second fiddle to a horse or cow, a frequent occurrence in his line of work. “Yeah, she’s fine now. Happy as a clam and proud as punch of her new baby.”

  “That’s good. What was the problem?”

  “The foal was large and got turned wrong.”

  “Oh, my. That can be tricky. Did you have to call out a vet?”

  To Ryan’s surprise, she seemed sincerely interested, yet another rarity. Most women only asked about the goings-on at his ranch to flatter his ego. “I called the vet out to be safe, but as it happened, I got the foal turned by myself. I really am sorry. The mare’s sort of special to me. Shortly after she was born, her mama’s milk dried up, and I had to bottle-feed her. We got pretty tight.”

  It occurred to Ryan that he seldom bothered to explain himself like this. He was a rancher, and things happened. When an emergency came up, making him late for a date, that was just the way it was.

  Looking into Bethany’s gentle gaze, he found it difficult to take such a hard line. “She was really scared,” he
heard himself saying.

  “Oh, of course she was, poor baby, which probably made giving birth even more difficult for her.”

  Ryan nodded. “I’m sure our ranch foreman, Sly, and the vet could have handled the situation, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave her.”

  “Please, don’t apologize, Ryan. If you’d left her to keep a silly date, I’d feel awful. We assume a big responsibility with our pets.”

  Pets? Ryan supposed Rosebud was a pet to him, though it was something he never admitted. “She’s a very expensive horse.”

  “Uh-huh, and that’s why you stayed, because if something had gone wrong, you would have lost tons of money.”

  He chuckled and tugged on his ear. “Yeah, there was that, but mainly it was the apron strings tied to my belt loops. I’m her mama.”

  She laughed at that, her expression softening as if she understood exactly what he meant.

  “Why do I get this feeling you like horses?”

  “Probably because I do.” She leaned forward in her chair. “I have to know. Was it a colt or a filly?”

  “A colt.”

  “What color?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

  “A little sorrel. Cute as a button, all gangly legs and knobby knees, with a big, bulbous nose. And his ears are so gigantic, I swear he’s part donkey. But he’ll pretty up in a few hours.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, her smile wistful. “He sounds so sweet! I haven’t seen a brand-new foal in so long, I can’t remember when.”

  The yearning in her expression made Ryan want to scoop her out of that chair and take her to his ranch. As the feeling took hold, he wondered what was happening to him. No woman had tugged on his heartstrings like this in a good long while. Strike that. No woman, period, had ever made him feel like this.

  Uncomfortable with the turn of his thoughts, he glanced at his watch. “Well, you about ready?”

  “You’re running really late, Ryan, and I’ll slow you down even more. If you’re one of the sponsors, you need to get there as fast as you can. It might be better if I just stay here. Maybe another time.”

  “Baloney. You aren’t going to slow me down that much, and I won’t have nearly as much fun without you.”

  As he said that, Ryan knew he meant it—maybe more than was wise. What was he thinking? There was no way in hell she could ever fit into his life.

  “Where’s your coat? It’s gonna get chilly out there if the wind picks up.”

  Obviously eager to go, she wheeled around and buzzed across the entry to a coat tree. She lifted a blue parka from a lower hook and started to poke an arm down one sleeve.

  Remembering his manners, he commandeered her jacket. It was more difficult to perform this courtesy with a chair getting in the way, but he tugged and stuffed until he got the garment on her. In the process, he accidentally brushed his hands over soft places. By the time he stepped around to lift her hair from under her collar, his guts were in knots. Those long, dark tresses slipped through his fingers like heavy silk, the strands still warm from her body.

  She glanced back. “I need to get my purse. My keys are in it.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I’ll run and get it. Watch your toes.”

  A few seconds later when she returned to the entryway, Ryan scooped her from the chair. She gave a startled squeak and grabbed his neck. Her purse, dangling by its strap from her slender wrist, thumped his arm. “Oh, God, don’t drop me!”

  Ryan hadn’t meant to frighten her. “Easy, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Even with the parka insulation as padding, he could feel her heart pounding where his left hand curled over her ribs. “Relax,” he whispered, his breath stirring tendrils at her temple. “You weigh hardly anything, and I swear I won’t let you fall.”

  Her voice quavered as she said, “I can’t catch myself, you know.”

  He wouldn’t have let go for anything. “If something happens and I go down, you’ll think you’re a basket of eggs. I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  “No, not at all. I’m fine. Really.”

  She looked up, and he got lost in her big eyes. He had no idea how much time passed before he realized he was standing there like a dumbstruck fool.

  “It really isn’t necessary for you to carry me until we reach the fairgrounds, Ryan. My van’s equipped with a lift, and I—”

  “We’re going in my truck.”

  “We are? Oh, I don’t know. It’s much less hassle to take my van.”

  “Sweetheart, trust me. I’ve got it all figured out. I’ll lock up when I come back in for your chair. Is everything turned off, or should I do a walk through before I close up?”

  “Everything’s off.”

  He set off down the hall, his boots tapping on the waxed floors. As he turned to carry her out the front door, she cast an anxious glance at the wood ramp over the porch steps. “I hope you’re surefooted. That indoor-outdoor tends to get slick on cold evenings like this.”

  “You’ll think I’m a mountain goat. Are you sure I’m not hurting you? You’re awfully tense.” He flashed her a grin that he hoped might help her to relax. “Clutching my neck like your life depends on it.”

  “It does.”

  He chuckled at that. As he drew to a stop beside his truck, he executed a smooth maneuver, bending slightly at the knees to open the door, then nudging it wide with his arm. He heard her gasp as he swung her up onto the gray, contoured bench seat. She grabbed the handgrip above the door as if she was afraid she might pitch headfirst onto the concrete when he turned loose.

  “I’ve got you,” he assured her again.

  Bethany could feel that he did. His hands were locked over her hips. Unlike many paraplegics, she had feeling there. The pads of his thumbs seemed to burn holes through her jeans.

  “Steady on?” he asked, lifting a questioning brow.

  She felt like a pea balanced atop a totem pole. Big man, big truck—a monstrous burgundy Dodge Ram. The seat seemed a long way from the ground. But then he settled her back so the contours embraced her, which made her feel safer. “Yes, I’m steady on.”

  He ran his hands under her knees, lifting to reposition her legs, which had flopped as they landed. Her cheeks went hot. That made warning bells go off. She wouldn’t feel embarrassed if one of her brothers lifted her legs.

  He reached behind her to tug the seat belt across her body. She was about to tell him she could buckle up by herself, but before she got the words out, metal rasped, and the next second, he was adjusting the strap to lie at an angle over her chest. The side of his hand grazed the peak of her right breast, making her nipple tighten. She thanked heaven for the concealing fluff of her parka and wondered, with some trepidation, if she was going to live through the evening.

  She might not survive, Bethany decided a few minutes later. Ryan Kendrick was driving in the wrong direction. At the edge of town, he took an exit onto the freeway. The huge Dodge purred to life as he depressed the accelerator and opened it up to cruise at seventy. He turned up the heater to be sure she was warm. Then he flipped on the stereo, filling the cab with the honeyed voice of John Michael Montgomery. It was a lovely, comfortable ride. She just wished she knew where he was taking her.

  It was absolutely absurd, but her mind chose that moment to remember every dire warning her brothers had ever given her. That abuse of handicapped women was alarmingly common, that there were sexual perverts who preyed on disabled females, and that she must never forget how helpless she was. Her brothers maintained that it would be sheer madness if she went anywhere with a man without first giving everyone in the family his name, his tag number, and a full physical description, just in case he happened to be a creep.

  Typically of her, she hadn’t listened to those warnings, and now here she was, going heaven knew where with a man she knew very little about. Even worse, she’d been so afraid of Jake’s reaction, she’d told no one about the date.

  As Ryan drove, he pulled a cordless Norelco from the
console. A second later, the hum of the shaver filled the cab as he began removing his five o’clock shadow. “I hope you’ll excuse me. I usually slick up before a date, but this evening I didn’t have time. I know I must look like hell and smell like a horse.”

  He looked and smelled wonderful to her. He also seemed to grow larger by the moment. When he returned the shaver to the console, he drew out some aftershave. While steering with his elbows, he splashed some of the scented astringent into a cupped palm, rubbed his hands together, and then slapped it on his cheeks. She nearly jumped at the loud sound of his palms connecting with his jaws. She’d get a mild concussion if she hit herself that hard. The woodsy, masculine smell of the cologne drifted to her.

  Still steering with his elbows and, she hoped, keeping one eye on the road, he returned the bottle to the compartment and removed his hat to finger comb his wavy black hair. After finishing his ablutions, all of which he performed without letting up on the accelerator, he settled the Stetson back on his head, glanced in the rearview mirror, and winked at her.

  “This is as good as it’ll get. Next time, I’ll shower twice. How’s that?”

  There was that “next time” again. Bethany returned her gaze to the road, convinced that at least one of them should be watching it. A grin tugged at her mouth. If he had nefarious intentions, he was certainly going to a lot of trouble to smell nice before he attacked her.

  “I’m not making you nervous, am I? I’m used to doing ten things at once.”

  “No, you’re not making me nervous,” she said, still struggling to suppress a smile. “I am sort of curious about where we’re going, though.”

  He slanted her a look, the twinkle in his eyes evident even in the dim light. “It’s a surprise.”

  Everything about him was a surprise. “That sounds fun. What kind of a surprise?”

  “If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise. What fun would that be?”