A Second-Chance Proposal

Above their heads a cloud drifted by and the moon washed the deck in light. Dylan faced her again. “If I’m innocent, that means the real killer is out there. And you know what’s really scary?”

She was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

“He’s living with my mother.”

“YOU THINK your stepfather shot Jilly Beckett?” Cathleen asked.

“I do.” He glanced at her, then forced his gaze back out into the night. It was impossible to forget, for even one minute, that she was naked in the hot tub. Not that he could see much—beyond the dark outline of her breasts. But just knowing was enough.

He’d come here with the faintest of hopes and almost no expectations, never guessing the gods would choose to mock him in this way. He had a need, like a deep thirst, to drink in the sight of her. Still, he’d noticed she got restless and uncomfortable if he looked at her for too long.

“When did you arrive at this conclusion?”

“It took me longer than it should’ve,” he admitted. “I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.” That he’d lost the love of his life. That he’d probably be an old man before he was finally able to ranch his own land again. That his own mother thought he was a vicious murderer…

But last month he’d been hospitalized—first serious injury since he’d started rodeo life—and the downtime had given him plenty of opportunity for reflection.

“Assuming you’re right, what can you do about it?”

“I don’t know. But my mother is living with this creep. I’ve got to come up with something.” A conclusion confirmed by his recent conversation with Jake. He wondered if Cathleen had the same concerns. “Have you seen Rose lately?”

“No. After our wedding was canceled, dropping in for coffee seemed inappropriate. How about you? Have you kept in touch?”

He heard the recrimination in her voice, as if she expected the answer to be no. But he’d tried. “Mom didn’t answer any of my letters or accept my calls.” He rubbed a dirty spot on the knee of his jeans and wondered if he dared ask. What the hell, she could only say no.

“I plan on dropping in on her tomorrow. I don’t expect she’ll be thrilled to see me, but if you were there, too, she probably wouldn’t slam the door in my face.”

Cathleen had always been a favorite of his mother’s. When they’d announced their engagement, Rose had said she was glad because she’d thought of Cathleen as a daughter for many years already.

“I heard she was ill and not accepting visitors at all.”

“Yeah. Jake said as much, too.” And he didn’t know what to make of it. His mother had always been a little shy, but she’d been friendly and hospitable once she got to know a person.

“Chances are that even if we drop by, she won’t let us in.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She examined his face, then nodded. “I suppose it’s worth a try. It would be good for her to see you.”

He stirred the chlorinated water with one hand. “You know Mom isn’t the only reason I came back to Canmore.”

“You’re talking about your ranch, I suppose.”

Actually, he’d been talking about her.

“Lots has changed at the Thunder Bar M,” she told him. “The ranch isn’t even being operated anymore. Your mom and Max have moved into town.”

“Yeah—Jake told me. He said Max hired some kind of caretaker to look after the place. Do you know who it is?”

“Danny Mizzoni. He’s living in the main house, with his wife and two kids.”

Dylan swore. “That drug-head?” The man had been convicted of selling narcotics to thirteen-year-olds at the local junior high. “Wasn’t he in jail when I left town?”

“Danny was paroled a year after we were engaged. And Max was reelected mayor of Canmore, on a pro-development platform.”

Canmore, just fifteen minutes from Banff National Park, had always been a battleground between those who wanted to capitalize on the town’s proximity to the famous park and those concerned about preserving the natural beauty and wildlife habitat of the surrounding area.

“Pro-development. Well, that figures.” Lots had changed, all right, and it made him tired. Mentally, as well as physically. A good night’s sleep was what he needed. Trouble was, he didn’t have a bed for the night. Not yet, anyway.

He noticed how flushed Cathleen’s face was getting. As she allowed her feet to float up and out of the water, he could see that even her toes had turned red.

“I’m not a chef, darlin’, but I’d say you’ve been cooked.”

“I usually limit myself to twenty minutes. You’ve kept me in here almost double that, I’d guess. Why don’t you go into the kitchen for a drink. I’ll join you in a minute.”

He smiled. A gentleman would probably do just as she’d asked, or, at a minimum, retrieve the towel draped on a nearby lounge chair, then turn his back as she slipped it around herself.

But both options seemed kind of dull to him. He glanced from the towel back to her, then raised his eyebrows. Without a word spoken, it was out there. Dare you.

She glared at him.

He faked a yawn. “This is real comfortable. I could sit here all night.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course, if you were to offer me a room, that would probably be even more comfy.”

“Bastard,” she muttered. Then, even as he was congratulating himself on a hand well played, she added, “I’ve had enough.”

She stood, and took her time climbing out of the tub and replacing the lid.

Her body gleamed. Taut muscles, curved lines, gorgeous legs. In the moonlight her skin was honey-brown—except for the creamy places protected from the summer sun by her bikini.

She turned away from him to reach for her towel. Methodically she patted off the moisture beaded on her skin—then tossed the towel back onto the chair.

Completely naked, completely beautiful, she strolled to the patio doors, then turned back casually. The coldness in her eyes slapped down his libido as effectively as a pail of cold water over the head.

She hated him. Almost immediately he rejected the impression. She was still angry, that was all. She’d get over it.

“Good night,” she said, her hand on the patio door.

So she was really going to do it. Leave him out here, with no method of transportation back to town. He schooled himself for the added insult of having the door locked in his face.

“About tonight…” she said.

“Yeah?” His confidence surged. After all, once she’d loved him. Once he’d been her best friend.

“There’s an extra stall in the barn,” she said. “If you’re desperate, you can have that.”