The Rancher And The City Girl

He nodded and gestured for her to get on with her story. He didn’t have all night to listen to her.

“A few months ago I was working on one of my boss’s accounts and I noticed something was off with the numbers. He was out of the office and I was answering a client’s questions. Anyway, the numbers weren’t adding up. I did a little digging and discovered that one of the vice presidents was massaging the numbers. He was juggling accounts in a way that’s illegal. Money would appear and disappear. I knew something was fishy. I should have just quit, but I couldn’t turn a blind eye. I dug a little deeper and discovered he was laundering money. I reported it to the government. The FBI agent I was working with needed more information to open a case, so I kept looking until I found it.”

She wrung her hands and looked around the room. He had a suspicion she wasn’t seeing the furniture Jeanette had so lovingly chosen, or the spectacular artwork she had purchased. No, the faraway look in her eyes let him know she was seeing something else entirely.

“Yesterday afternoon I was on my way to a meeting. I needed a pen, so I stepped into the supply closet to grab one. I overheard my boss talking with someone and heard my name. He told them to kill me and make it look like an accident.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “I waited until they were gone and got out of there. I knew I couldn’t go home.”

“Are you sure about what you heard? This sounds a little far-fetched to me.”

“I know what I heard.”

“Your imagination—”

“I’m not imagining anything.” Her voice rose and her eyes flashed. “I know what I heard. I know they want to kill me. If I die, the case dies with me.”

He closed his eyes. She could be lying, but he couldn’t imagine why she would bother. And she really did seem scared. Nobody could be that good an actress. But then, she had pretended to be Jeanette’s friend, so maybe she did possess the skill. Still, he couldn’t figure out why she would show up out of the blue. She didn’t stand to gain anything by coming to him.

“I’m sorry for bringing trouble to your door, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t go to my parents’ home. That’s the first place they’ll look. Same with Rodney and my friends. No one in New York knows a thing about you, so they won’t look here.”

“What about that agent you mentioned? The guy you told about this.”

“I called his office. They told me he’d been in a car accident. That’s pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”

“People have accidents all the time, Camille.” Still a sense of unease crept up his spine, which was a shock in itself, given the fact that he hadn’t felt anything since Jeanette’s death. Jericho paced the room for several minutes, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. It was just crazy enough to be true. She could be in danger.

But so what? She wasn’t his problem. She wasn’t his friend. Truth was, he’d categorize her as an enemy if he’d bothered to think of her, which he hadn’t. Still...

“We haven’t spoken in five years. You and your family disowned Jeanette simply because she fell in love with me. And now you expect me to step in and save you?”

Her shoulders sagged and her head dropped to her chest. After a few seconds she nodded, squared her shoulders, grabbed her purse and stood. “I understand. Sorry for bothering you.” She headed for the door.

He should let her go. After the way she had treated Jeanette it was no more than she deserved. He was under no obligation to help her. Surely there had to be someone else she could turn to. Except...she had come to him. Despite how much he detested her, he knew Jeanette had loved her like a sister. She’d loved the entire Parker family. And at one time they’d loved her. Jeanette had never given up hope that one day they would reconcile and become friends again.

Jeanette and Camille had grown up together. When Jeanette’s parents were killed in a plane crash when she was seventeen, the Parkers had taken her in. So no matter how much he loathed Camille, even if he would have been happy to never see her again in this life or the next, he would help her because her family had helped Jeanette.

“Wait.”

She turned and looked at him. If he’d seen even a hint of triumph in her expression he would have kicked her out without the slightest remorse. Instead her hazel eyes revealed trepidation and a sliver of hope. He knew then that allowing her to stay was the right thing to do. He could never send a woman into danger, no matter how much he hated her. If there was a way he could keep her safe, he had to do it.

“You can stay.”

Her knees wobbled, and she reached for the door. Unfortunately, she was too far away to grab it. He rushed forward and caught her as she collapsed, sweeping her into his arms. Her gentle scent wafted in the air and wrapped around him. Some random part of his brain noticed how well she fit in his arms, but he quickly banished the unwelcome thought.

“I’m okay. I can walk,” she said in a small voice that belied her words. “It was just a little weakness, you know, from all the nerves. I’ve been so scared.”

He ignored her protests and kept her in his arms until he reached the sofa, where he gently eased her onto the cushions. “When was the last time you ate?”

Her brow wrinkled, and she closed her eyes. “I’m not sure.”

No doubt she was running on adrenaline coupled with a good dose of fear. Now that she was safe, her strength was gone. “Here’s an easier question. When was the last time you slept?”

She laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know if that’s easier. I overheard the conversation around two yesterday afternoon. I freaked and rushed around the city in a panic for a couple of hours. I actually started toward Maine before thinking of coming here. I checked into a fleabag hotel in Virginia around two in the morning, but to be honest I didn’t sleep very well.”

He stood, needing to put some distance between them. “I’ll heat some soup. Give me your keys and I’ll put your car in the shed so it’ll be out of sight. I don’t think anyone will look for you here, but better safe than sorry.”

She grabbed his arm, and unwanted warmth shot through his body.

“Thanks, Jericho.” Her voice was small but earnest. “You’re saving my life.”

Uncomfortable with her thanks and even more uncomfortable with the way his body responded to the feel of her hand on his forearm, he snapped, determined to set her straight so she didn’t get the wrong idea about his motives. “I’m not doing it for you. I’m repaying a debt.”

“What debt?”

“Your parents helped Jeanette after her parents died and she had nowhere to go. So I’m helping you. When this is over we’ll be even and I’ll never have to lay eyes on you again.”

Telling himself it couldn’t possibly be pain he saw on her face, he stalked to the kitchen to warm up some soup. The sooner he got her fed and safely in the guest room, the better off he’d be. But somehow he had the feeling getting her out of his mind wasn’t going to be as easy as getting her out of his sight tonight.

Chapter Two (#ubf0dd9b0-ddec-5b4d-831d-6f448f858de7)

Camille looked around the kitchen as she sipped the chicken and rice soup. Spacious and up-to-date, the room still managed to remain in keeping with the rest of the farmhouse. The pink-and-green-flowered curtains and matching canisters on the soapstone countertops reminded her that Jericho may live alone now but there had been a woman here. Jeanette.

Camille closed her eyes on a wave of guilt. Had she really turned her back on her best friend simply because she’d fallen in love? True, Jeanette had broken Rodney’s heart, but she hadn’t meant to. She’d let him down as easily as she could. Yet Camille had refused to forgive her friend. She’d rejected every one of Jeanette’s overtures. Now Jeanette was gone and Camille would never be able to make things right between them.

Sorrow and regret filled her, turning her stomach. She put down her spoon, her appetite gone. The irony of her present situation didn’t escape her. She’d forced Jeanette out of her life because she’d chosen Jericho over Rodney, and now Camille was forcing herself into Jericho’s life. He was letting her stay only because of Jeanette.

“Is something wrong with the soup?” Jericho asked, his voice hard. It was as if he was waiting for her to complain. Was he looking for an excuse to throw her out? There was no way she would give him one.

She squelched a sigh, swallowed more soup, then looked at her reluctant host. “No. It’s delicious. It tastes too good to have come from a can.”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “A friend of mine is a chef.”

Male or female? For some insane reason the thought of another woman bustling around this kitchen disturbed her. She shoved that feeling, whatever it was, aside. She was a guest here. Her welcome was tenuous at best. She didn’t have the right to start asking questions about Jericho’s life. Still a part of her was curious about the man her friend had fallen so hard for. What was it about him that had been so appealing that it had caused Jeanette to break off her engagement to Camille’s brother?

One thing Camille now knew: Jericho was dependable. He might not like her—heck, he hated her—but he’d been willing to provide her with a safe haven. More than that, he hadn’t asked for a thing in return. True, he viewed it as repaying a debt, but if there was a debt, it wasn’t his to pay.

Her spoon clanked against the bowl, and she realized she’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t been aware she’d been eating.

“More?” Jericho asked.

She shook her head, then caught herself. Hadn’t her mother drilled into her the proper way to respond to a question? She must be even more tired than she thought. The soft light and the warmth of the room had lulled her into a calm she hadn’t felt since she’d first discovered the criminal activity at her firm. “No, thank you.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin and pushed away from the table. Grabbing her bowl, she stood, intending to wash her dishes in the ceramic farm sink beneath the large window. Even from across the room she could see the sink was empty; she didn’t want to leave a mess for Jericho to clean up later. Nor did she want to leave him with the impression that she was the spoiled rich girl he thought she was.

“I’ll take care of this,” he said, taking her bowl from her.

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.” His tone ended all discussion.