Every Move You Make

Mariah paused in front of him and picked up the clip still on the ground. “Drop something?”

Zach grimaced and accepted the ammunition pack, then stepped aside to let Mariah put Claude inside the cab of the truck.

Claude spit on the ground near her boots. “Don’t think this is over, Clayborn. Because it’s not. Not by a long shot.”

Mariah closed the truck door then pulled a cell phone out of her front pocket and placed two calls—one to the authorities to pick up Ray, another to what he thought must be the horse owner to pick up his animals.

She clapped the phone closed and turned to look at him.

“Handle a gun often, cowboy?”

Zach grinned. “Not often.”

“We’ll have to fix that if we’re going to work together.”

The prospect of working with Mariah Clayborn took on a whole different sheen. Zach watched her round the truck and take a couple of leather leads from the bed, wondering what else the fiery Texas lass would have in store for him. And wondering how quickly he could see if she performed as well in bed as she did on the back of a horse.

3

NOW THAT’S MORE LIKE IT.

Mariah drove back to the office feeling psyched and energized, mentally ready to deal with anything and everything, even the news about her latest ex and his wedding plans. Well, mostly ready, anyway. If the handsome man next to her made her think of hot and heavy honeymoons, it was solely because his case involved a missing wedding dress. And her reluctance to feel in any way attracted to him had nothing to do with his lack of skill with a gun in a state where it was almost a requirement that a person know how to handle one, and own at least one or two…or ten or twelve. Her reluctance was because, let’s face it, he was as far away from her type as it was for a man to get.

If a little part of her mind reminded her that what she thought was her type appeared not to be her type…well, she was ignoring it.

“Anything happen while I was away?” Mariah glided into the office on triumphant wings, holding the door open for Zach behind her.

George looked up from where he was idly playing a game of Spider Solitaire on his computer, appearing not to have budged more than an inch since she’d left him a couple of hours ago. “Nope.”

Mariah looked to their visitor, feeling her stomach bottom out again, like it did every time she glanced his way. She figured it was probably the effect he had on most women, simply because of his tremendous looks. “Zach Letterman, meet my cousin George Clayborn. George, Zach.”

Zach crossed the office and offered his hand. George glanced at it, raised his brows then got to his feet to give Zach’s hand a shake. “How do you do?” George said.

Zach appeared not to know how to respond, and didn’t.

Mariah rounded her desk, happy to find most of the damage from the morning’s drenching of her chair had dried out. Still, she repositioned the plastic bag she’d laid across it earlier before sitting down.

“Did Buckley come over to take a look at the roof?”

George nodded. “Yeah. Said he’d come by with the materials in a couple of hours and patch it up.”

“Did you get an estimate on what it would take to redo the entire roof?”

“He said he couldn’t get to a job that big for two months anyway, so the patch is all he can swing now.”

She noticed Zach eyeing the hole above her desk. He grinned at her. “Do something to anger the gods?”

The gods? “I figure if I had, I’d be toast right now.”

He chuckled then pulled a nearby chair closer to the front of her desk.

“Did you get Ray?” George asked.

“Of course. Don’t I always?”

“Oh.” Her cousin looked around on top of his desk and lifted his clean blotter. “Justin called. He wants you to call him back at this number.”

ZACH HAD NEVER SEEN anyone go so pale. Where moments before Mariah’s face had been full of color and her eyes had danced with excitement, now she looked as if someone had just hit her in the stomach.

“A client?” Zach asked, referring to the caller.

“An ex.”

The way she said it made it sound as if she had a whole battalion of exes. Zach squinted at her.

“He, um, just got engaged.”

“Ah,” he said, as if that explained everything. “To you?”

“No,” she said a little too curtly. “Not to me. The word never even came up while we were dating.”

“And that was?”

“Five days ago.”

Zach lifted his brows. “Fast worker, your ex.”

“Fast workers, all three of my exes. Only not with me.”

She made busy with her hands as he watched.

Zach silently pondered the striking woman not three feet from him. If he bought what she was trying to sell him, he’d think it didn’t bother her one iota that her latest ex was engaged to someone else. In all honesty, he couldn’t say it bothered her in the way one might expect. She didn’t appear heartbroken, on the verge of tears or particularly sad that the man she had dated was about to bite the big one.

She did, however, appear highly agitated. As if she could go after another four Claude Rays, on foot if necessary, to expend the energy that radiated from her. An energy that intrigued him, drew him in, made it impossible for him to look anywhere but at Mariah Clayborn. The woman was fascinating.

He absently rubbed the back of his neck. What was he thinking? He was supposed to be focusing on the case. His first case. And here he was entertaining ideas of how he and Mariah might expend some of that primo energy she exuded.

“So, the case,” he said slowly.

She blinked at him as if having forgotten he was there. “The case? Oh. Yes.” Talk about your grimaces. Mariah wore one that could go up against the best of them. “The case of the missing wedding dress.”

He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Where should we start? A trip to Hobby Airport?”

She picked up the telephone receiver, dialed information, then dialed the airport, consulting a fax that resembled the fact sheet he had folded in his front shirt pocket.

Zach looked over at George, noticing the way he tuned in to the goings-on without really appearing to. George glanced at him and Zach grinned.

“It’s not there,” Mariah stated.