Barbara Dunlop - In Bed With The Wrangler

“Maybe if you let me keep my private business private.”

Okay, now that crack would probably impact on their future sexual relationship.

“Fine,” she huffed. “There’s this numbered holding company.” She pulled a note from her pocket and checked it in the dim light. “One-four-nine-five-eight, twelve-zero-ninety-three is registered in Liechtenstein with bank accounts in Liechtenstein, Switzerland and Grand Cayman. Its only asset is a company called Eastern Exploration Holdings. Eastern Exploration owns several parcels of property, mostly in the Bahamas. It also owns one company, Sagittarius Eclipse. One-four-nine-five-eight, twelve-zero-ninety-three is solely owned by Norman Stanton.”

The truck rocked to a halt in front of the ranch house.

“His last known address was in Boston, Massachusetts,” Amber finished.

Royce killed the lights and turned the key, shutting down the engine. “You don’t know where he is now?”

“Not yet.” She yanked up on the door handle, and the door creaked wide.

“But you’re looking?” Royce followed suit.

“We’re looking,” said Amber, sliding off the high bench seat and onto the dirt driveway. She’d taken to wearing a pair of tattered, flat, canvas runners she’d found in a closet by the back door. They weren’t as sturdy as the cowboy boots favored by everyone else, but they beat the heck out of the high heels she’d arrived in.

“How long will it take?” he asked as they headed for the porch.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was still testy.

Royce frowned at her.

“It’ll take as long as it takes. He could be hiding. He might have left the country.” She headed up the stairs. “Maybe someone warned him McQuestin was hurt, and he’s worried he’ll get caught.”

“Who would warn him McQuestin was hurt?”

Amber paused at the front door. “Maybe McQuestin.”

Royce turned the knob and shoved open the door. “McQuestin wouldn’t do that.”

She walked inside. “You’re putting a lot of faith in a man who’s been authorizing secret payments.”

“He has his reasons.” The door slammed shut, and Royce moved up close.

Amber turned, then drew back from the intensity in his eyes.

He moved closer.

She stepped back again, coming up against the wall in the foyer.

He braced a hand on either side of her, dipping his head.

“Royce?”

“Yeah?” He kissed her, and her protest was muffled against his mouth.

He kissed her again, softer, deeper, and a flame of desire curled to life in the pit of her belly.

His hands cupped her chin, deepening the kiss, pressing his strong body flush against hers, evoking near-blinding memories of the night before.

“What are you doing?” she finally gasped.

“It’s not obvious?” There was a thread of laughter deep in his throat, his warm breath puffing against her skin.

“No.”

“Makeup sex.”

“But I’m still mad at you.”

“You are?” He feigned surprise as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. He found the strip of bare skin at the top of her jeans, skimming his knuckles across her navel. “Then let’s see what we can do to change that.”

Royce feathered his fingertips across Amber’s stomach, the narrowing at her waist, the indentation of her navel and the small curve of her belly. Her skin was pale and supple, a light tan line at bikini level, barely above where the sheet covered her legs.

She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her blond hair, mussed at the moment, was thick and lustrous, reflecting the pink rays of the rising sun. Her eyes were deep blue, a midsummer sky right now, but they’d been jewel bright last night while they made love. Her lips were full, deep red and tempting.

Even her ears were gorgeous, delicate and small, while her neck was graceful, her shoulders smooth, and her breasts were something out of his deepest fantasy. Add to that her quick wit, her intelligence and her sense of fun, and she was somebody he could keep in his bed for days on end.

He’d had sex with plenty of women over the years, slept with only some of them, ate breakfast with fewer still. And in all that time, he’d never had an urge to bare his soul to a single one.

Now, he did.

Now, he wanted to tell her anything and everything.

He let his fingers trace the curve of her hip bone, made up his mind and took the plunge. “My father killed a man named Stanton.”

Amber’s head turned sharply on the stark white pillow. “He what?”

“Killed him,” Royce repeated, hand stilling, cupping her hip.

“Was it an accident?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was on purpose. Frank Stanton was having an affair with my mother.”

Amber’s eyes widened and she rolled sideways, propping her head on one elbow. “Did they get into a fight?”

“I guess you could say that. My father shot him.”

Amber stilled. The sun broke free from the horizon, and the pink rays morphed to white.

“Did your father go to jail?” Her voice was hoarse.

Royce shook his head. “He died that same day.”

Amber swallowed. “And your mother?”

“Died with my father. Their truck went off the ranch road in the rain. They both drowned in the river.”

“After he shot Stanton.”

“I always assumed he panicked.” Though Royce had never delved too deeply into his father’s possible motivations for speeding down the ranch road with his unfaithful mother. “There was no trial, of course. Everybody chalked the shooting up to a failed robbery, and the accident was ruled just that, an accident. For years, I thought I was the only one who knew the truth.”

“How did you know?”

“I found my mother’s confession letter.”

Amber sighed, eyes going shiny with sympathy. “Oh, Royce.”

“I burned the letter, and the secret was safe. But then, on his deathbed, my grandfather Benteen told Jared he’d heard the shot. When my father drove away, Benteen dumped the gun in the river because he didn’t want his son tried for murder.”

Royce had wished that Jared never found out. But now it was better that he had. “So, I know, and Gramps knew, and Jared knows.” Royce blew out a breath.

“Plus McQuestin,” Amber said softly, obviously putting the pieces together. “And somehow Norman Stanton.”

“Allowing him to blackmail my family.”

She lay back down. “To keep the secret?”

“Our reputation was important to Benteen.”

“But, millions of dollars’ worth of important?”

Royce had asked himself that same question, and he didn’t have a good answer. What the hell were Benteen and McQuestin thinking? His father couldn’t be tried. There wasn’t a man in the state who’d fault Royce’s father for retaliating against Stanton.

That left their mother’s reputation. And, as far as Royce was concerned, she’d made her own bed. He couldn’t imagine paying millions of dollars protecting a woman who’d betrayed her own family.

Well, from this point on, he and Jared were in charge, and not a single dime of Ryder money was getting into the hands of a Stanton.

“The payments stop now,” he vowed to Amber. “And I want to know everything there is to know about Norman Stanton.”

She put her hand on Royce’s shoulder. “You’re not going after revenge, are you?”

He turned his head to look her in the eyes. “I am going after my money.”

“Royce.”

He raised his eyebrows, all but daring her to argue.

She searched his expression. “I don’t want you to get yourself in trouble.”

His anger switched to resolve, and he couldn’t help but smile. Her sentiment was admirable, but completely unnecessary.