The Other Side Of Paradise

She nodded.

He eyed her for a minute, then told her to wait. He went outside, then returned with a pistol. “You won’t need this, but keep it handy anyway. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

He raised one black eyebrow as if impatient with the question. “In case you need to scare off a nosy bear or mountain cat. Or a rustler or two.”

A frisson jolted down her spine. She hoped no one came around while she was there.

Jonah studied her again. “The idea of bears and pumas doesn’t seem to bother you, but having humans around does. Why is that?”

“Well, I’ve never shot anybody before,” she admitted.

“Have you ever fired a gun?”

“No.”

He gave a grunt that said he’d expected as much. Moving close, he showed her the pistol and how it worked. When he was satisfied she understood how to use the weapon, he laid it on the bunk with the blankets. “Keep it close. It won’t go off accidentally,” he added. “It has a heavy pull.”

She had a sudden image of a man holding a gun. Standing in the shadows, she’d watched while the man who might have been her father had jumped into his pickup and driven out of the parking lot, throwing gravel in an arc behind the tires.

The man with the gun had gone back inside the building while she stayed perfectly still so he wouldn’t see her. She’d remained behind the garbage cans when the door had closed behind him and finally fell asleep there, waiting for her father to come back for her.

“What is it?” a voice broke into her thoughts.

“What is what?” she asked.

“Are you scared to stay here?”

She shook her head. “I was just thinking of something. Something that happened a long time ago,” she said when he continued to observe her. She returned his stare, aware of defiance rising in her. “You’re looking at me the way one of my schoolteachers did, with that ‘I don’t know what you did, but I know you’re guilty’ expression.”

His piercing stare eased. “She must have been related to one of my teachers. She thought anybody with Indian blood must be up to no good.”

“You’re Native American?”

“An eighth. My scalping tendencies have been diluted to only a twinge now and then.”

She burst into laughter at the sarcastic remark.

“What?” he demanded.

“I tried to get a scalping party together once, but no one would join in. I wanted to shave off the principal’s hair the same as he did to new kids in the school.”

Mary stopped smiling as a mixture of emotion, too fast to read, swept over Jonah’s features. “That was a mean thing to do to kids,” he said.

“Yes, it was. But I suppose it was a cheap way to solve the problem.”

She stopped the words with an effort, aware of his keen gaze on her, assessing every nuance, every weakness she disclosed. She hated being the least bit vulnerable, but she couldn’t look away…couldn’t move…

He held her glance while he took one step closer. When he reached out and removed her hat, tossing it on one of the bunks without a glance, she remained where she was although everything in her said she should run…run.

With a deft touch, he removed the two long hairpins, then the stretchy band that held her braid securely.

“Don’t,” she said, but the word came out feeble, more like a gasp than a protest.

“It’s okay,” he said as if soothing an animal. “I just want to look. I won’t hurt you.”

She felt her hair fall around her shoulders and to a point at her waist as he loosened the thick strands. Finally he ran his fingers through the long mass from her scalp to the ends.

Like a rabbit too frightened to move, she stood there, heart pounding, while he looked his fill. When he removed her glasses and laid them on the rough wooden table behind him, she didn’t utter a sound.

“Beautiful,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice. He gathered a fistful of her hair in his hand.

Like the child she’d once been, she felt helpless while others scrutinized and talked about her as if she couldn’t hear their hurting, insulting words. Shards of old pain and anger swept through her. She knocked his hand away and took a defensive step backward.

He blinked as if coming out of a trance and muttered a low curse. “I’m sorry,” he at once apologized, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve never touched an unwilling woman in my life.”

The anger in his eyes was real and directed at himself, she realized. With a stiff nod, she accepted the apology.

His frown smoothed out as he moved back, putting some distance between them. “I must admit I’ve never been mesmerized by a woman, either. That dark hair combined with those blue eyes is a stunning combination.”

She twisted the unkempt locks into a bun and crushed her hat over the lot before it could fall in unruly waves around her face. With her glasses in place, she felt safe once more.

“I can see why you hide behind those,” he said, his manner wise but sardonic at the same time. “Like the sirens calling to the Argonauts, no mere man can long withstand the temptation—”

“I’m not a siren,” she interrupted hotly. “I don’t try to attract anyone’s attention.”

“Honey, you don’t have to try,” he told her softly. With a shake of his head, he walked out the door, leaving it open as he left. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mary went outside, tense and alert until he rode out of sight. He’d left his earlier mount hobbled with the other two horses. She wondered if he would have stayed the night had she been a cowboy instead of a cowgirl and if that odd episode hadn’t taken place inside the tight quarters of the cabin.

The tension eased out of her shoulders. Some instinct deep inside said that she could trust him. Over the years, she’d learned to rely on her instincts about a person.

Once it had saved her from one of the seedy men who always seemed to hang around the racetracks looking for a sure tip on a winner. He’d trapped her in a stall, but had backed away quick enough when she’d calmly faced him, sharp tines of a pitchfork pointing directly at him, and gave him a cool smile that said she would be delighted to run him through.

Taking a seat on a boulder as she perused the peaceful scene in the meadow, she laid her hat aside and massaged her scalp, her thoughts centered on the cabin and her boss.

His hands had been strong when he’d showed her how to fire the gun, his fingers lean and purposeful as he demonstrated the correct technique on the trigger. But he’d been so very gentle when he’d gathered her hair into his fist and brushed the ends against his chin.

Mixed emotions—longing, caution, old hurts—tangled into a knot in her belly. Leaping to her feet, she saddled her spare mount and rode around the meadow, moving the cattle into a closer bunch as twilight shadowed the landscape.

She wouldn’t be foolish, she vowed. She was never foolish. No one got to her, not now, not ever.

* * *

Jonah finished counting up the receipts and checked the total against the cash and credit card charges. They were the same. Good.

Yawning he closed out the accounting program on the computer, locked the safe, then went into the sun room adjoining the tiny office. After closing the curtains on the bank of windows that lined three walls, he undressed, showered in the tiny bathroom and was in bed by five after eleven.