Buch lesen: «A Fool's Gold Novel»

CHAPTER ONE

SHANE STRYKER WAS DETERMINED enough to never walk away from a fight and smart enough to know when he’d been beat. The beautiful redhead dancing on the bar might be everything he wanted, but pursuing her would be the worst decision he could make.

Her eyes were closed, her long, wavy hair swayed in rhythm with her body. The sensual beat of the music hit Shane square in the gut. He shook his head. Okay, it hit him lower than that, but he ignored it and the draw he felt. Women who danced on bars were trouble. Exciting, tempting, but not for him. Not anymore.

He might not know her, but he knew the type. Attention-seeking. Deadly—at least for a guy who assumed marriage meant commitment and monogamy. Women like the one on the bar needed to be wanted by every man in the room.

Slowly, regretfully, he turned away from the woman and headed for the exit. He’d come into town for a beer and a burger. He’d thought he could catch the game, maybe hang with the guys. What he’d found instead was a barefoot goddess who made a man want to forget all his hopes and dreams in exchange for a single smile. His dreams were worth more, he reminded himself, glancing over his shoulder one last time before stepping out into the warm summer night.

* * *

ANNABELLE WEISS OPENED her eyes. “It’s easy.”

“Uh-huh.” Her friend Charlie Dixon put down her beer and shook her head. “No.”

Annabelle climbed off the bar and put her hands on her hips. It was her attempt to look intimidating. Kind of a feeble gesture when she considered the fact that Charlie was a good eight or ten inches taller and had muscles Annabelle didn’t want to know existed.

She was about to make her case, maybe even throw in a line that it was for the children, when the mostly female crowd broke into spontaneous applause.

“Great dance,” someone called.

Annabelle spun in a circle. “Thank you,” she called. “I’ll be here all week.” She looked back at her friend. “You have to.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

Annabelle turned to Heidi Simpson. “You talk to her.”

Heidi, a pretty blonde who had recently gotten engaged, glanced up from studying her diamond ring. “What? Oh, sorry. I was busy.”

“Thinking about Rafe,” Charlie grumbled. “We know. He’s wonderful, you’re happy. It’s getting annoying.”

Heidi laughed. “Now who’s cynical?”

“It’s not news. I’ve always been cynical.” Charlie grabbed her beer and led the way back to their table. The one they’d abandoned when Annabelle had offered to show them both the dance of the happy virgin.

When they were seated, Annabelle turned to Charlie. “Look, I need to raise money for my bookmobile. Being in the town festival is the best way for that to happen. It’s a ride on a horse. You know how to ride. You even own a horse.”

Charlie’s blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not dancing on a horse.”

“You don’t have to. The horse dances. That’s why it’s called the Dance of the Horse.”

“Mason is not a horse who dances.”

Heidi leaned forward. “Annabelle, this is your bookmobile project. You’re the one who has the passion. Why don’t you do the dance?”

“I don’t know how to ride.”

“You could learn. Shane could teach you. I’ve seen him working with the rodeo cowboys. He’s very patient.”

“I don’t think there’s enough time. The festival is ten weeks away. Could I really learn to ride a horse well enough for it to do the dance by then?” She turned to Charlie. “More than a thousand years ago the Máa-zib women left everything they knew and migrated up to where we are today. They were powerful women who wanted to make a home for themselves. They settled here and their strength and determination flows through all of us.”

Charlie sipped her beer. “Good speech and no, I’m not doing the horse dance.”

Annabelle slumped over the table. “Then I’ve got nothing.”

Heidi poked her in the arm. “Like I said, do the dance yourself. You’re the one always going on and on about the Máa-zib women protecting their daughters from sacrifice by leaving. They were tired of their daughters being killed before they’d ever had a chance to live so they came here where they could be free. Embrace that spirit.”

Annabelle straightened. She was hardly the type to lead a parade, she thought. She was quiet, more of a behind-the-scenes person.

She opened her mouth to say “I can’t” but the words got stuck. Because she could if she wanted. She could do a lot of things. But all her life, she’d been conventional in an attempt to fit in. From trying to please her parents to making herself over to suit every guy she’d ever dated. She considered herself accommodating, not strong.

Charlie stared at her. “You okay? You look funny.”

“I’m a pushover,” Annabelle said. “A doormat, in the most honest, unflattering terms.”

Heidi and Charlie exchanged looks of concern. “Okay,” Charlie said slowly. “You’re not having a seizure, are you?”

“No, I’m having a revelation. I’ve always been the one to bend, to sacrifice what I wanted for another person’s needs and desires.”

“You were just dancing on a bar,” Heidi said with a shrug. “It doesn’t get more independent than that.”

“I wasn’t drunk. I was showing Charlie the dance of the happy virgin in an effort to convince her—” She shook her head, then stood. “You know what? I’m going to do it. I’m going to learn the dance myself. Or learn to ride. Whatever. It’s my bookmobile. My fundraiser. I’m taking charge. I’m putting myself out there. The spirit of the Máa-zib women lives on in me.”

“You go, girl,” Charlie told her.

* * *

“YOU WERE HOME EARLY last night.”

Shane turned off the water in the barn and glanced up to see his mother walking toward him. It was barely dawn, but she was up and dressed. More important, she carried a mug of coffee in each hand.

He took the caffeine she offered and swallowed gratefully. Visions of a fiery redhead had haunted the little sleep he’d managed.

“Jo’s Bar turned out to be more interesting than I’d thought.”

May, his still-attractive, fifty-something mother, grinned. “You went to Jo’s Bar? Oh, honey, no. That’s where the women in town hang out. There’s shopping and fashion playing on the TV, not sports. You should have talked to your brother about where to catch the game. No wonder you didn’t stay out late.” She reached out her free hand to stroke the nose of the mare hanging her head over her stall door. “Hello, sweetie. Are you adjusting? Don’t you love Fool’s Gold?”

The mare nodded, as if agreeing that all was well.

Shane had to admit his horses had settled in more quickly than he’d anticipated. The drive from Tennessee had been long but the end results worth the journey. He’d bought two hundred prime acres in the foothills outside of town. He’d already drawn up plans for a house and, more important, stables. Construction would start on the latter within the week. Until then he was boarding his horses in his mother’s stable and he was staying up at the house with her seventy-four-year-old boyfriend, Glen, Shane’s brother Rafe, and Rafe’s fiancée, Heidi. Talk about a crowd.

Shane reminded himself he was doing exactly what he’d always wanted to do in a place he planned to settle down. He had the horses, the land, family close by enough to make it feel like home but, once his house was built, not so close that they would get in the way. If only he could get the image of that woman out of his head.

“Mom, do you know—”

He bit back the rest of the question. His mother was the kind of woman who would know everyone in town. Give her a name and within fifteen minutes she would get back to him with four generations’ worth of details.

He wasn’t looking for trouble. He’d already done that, had married and then divorced the kind of woman who haunted a man. He’d had enough excitement to last him until he was ninety. Now was the time to settle down. To find someone sensible, someone who would be satisfied knowing that one man loved her.

His mother looked at him, her dark eyes so much like his own. Her mouth curved in a slow, knowing smile.

“Please, please say you’re going to ask me if I know any nice girls.”

What the hell, he thought, then shrugged. “Do you? Someone, you know, regular.” No one like the bar-dancing goddess.

His mother practically quivered. “Yes and she’s perfect. A librarian. Her name is Annabelle Weiss. She’s lovely. Heidi was telling me Annabelle wants to learn to ride a horse. You could teach her.”

A librarian, huh? He pictured a plain brunette in glasses, cardigan buttoned up to her neck and practical shoes. Not exactly exciting, but that was okay. He’d reached the place in his life where he wanted to have a family. He wasn’t looking for someone to rock his world.

“What do you think?” his mother asked anxiously.

“She sounds perfect.”

* * *

“RETURNING TO THE SCENE of the crime?”

Annabelle grinned at her friend. “There was no crime.”

“You know that and I know that, but rumors are flying, missy.”

Annabelle held open the door to Jo’s Bar, then waited while Charlie preceded her into the brightly lit business. It was lunchtime in Fool’s Gold and women already filled nearly a dozen tables. Jo catered to the female population, decorating with girl-friendly colors like mauve and cream. During the day the big TVs were either off or turned to shopping and reality shows. The menu had plenty of salads and sandwiches, with discreet calorie counts listed to the side.

Annabelle followed Charlie to a table and took a seat.

“Everyone is talking about you dancing on the bar.”

Annabelle laughed. “I don’t care. It was for a good cause. Even if it didn’t convince you to be in my festival. But that’s okay. I’m going to do it myself.” She frowned. “You are telling people I wasn’t drunk, right?”

In fact she hadn’t bothered to finish her single glass of wine. Getting on the bar last night had been more about feeling unsettled than wanting to show off and had nothing to do with any alcohol in her system.

Charlie grinned. “I swear, I’m sticking to the one-glass-of-wine story. The archaeologists were intrigued, though. I think the dance of the happy virgin is giving you street cred with them.”

“Yes, because they’re so wild.”

Last fall, construction workers on a building site had blown away a bit of the mountain, exposing Máa-zib gold. Archaeologists had stormed in to take charge of the discovery. After the pieces were researched and catalogued, they would be returned to the town.

“Are you helping them?” Charlie asked.

“I’m more unofficial liaison,” Annabelle told her. “My minor in Máa-zib studies gives me enough information to be annoying to the professionals.”

“Most professionals need a little annoying.”

Annabelle appreciated the loyalty. “Then my work here is done.”

The door opened and Heidi walked in. She saw them and waved.

Heidi hurried over. “Shane said yes. He’s going to teach you to do the horse dance. Well, ride a horse. I don’t think his mom mentioned the dancing.”

“Probably better to sneak up on him with that one,” Charlie said.

“You’re right.” Heidi grinned. “He’s a successful horse guy. He’s not going to be into the dancing thing. You’ll need to introduce the idea gradually.”

This was what she loved, Annabelle thought happily. Her friends and, for the most part, her life. She had a great job in a town she adored. She belonged. If she got a twinge of envy when the light caught Heidi’s gleaming diamond engagement ring, well, that was okay, too.

In truth, she didn’t care about the rock—it was what the rock represented that gave her a couple of pangs. Love. Real love. Rafe wasn’t trying to change Heidi. He didn’t accept only parts of her. He was all-in. Annabelle had never had that. Her revelation from last night had stayed with her. She wanted more than conditional love. She wanted it all—or nothing. Messy, inconvenient love, where both parties gave with their whole hearts.

Not that she had a bunch of guys lining up, begging her to take a chance.

She pulled a folder out of her large tote. “I have the information I promised.” She withdrew the pictures she’d taken at the two florists in town, along with pricing sheets.

Heidi sighed. “You’re amazing and wonderful and I really appreciate the help.”

Charlie bristled. “Hey, I tasted cake. I wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

Heidi looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“Okay, I would taste cake for just about anyone but I did it for you because you’re my friend.”

“You two are the best,” Heidi said, her eyes getting bright. “Seriously. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Charlie held up a hand. “I swear, if you start crying, I’m outta here. You’re emotional. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Yes. I’m sure. It’s just everyone is being so wonderful about the wedding.”

Heidi had been engaged all of two weeks, which wouldn’t be notable except the wedding had been scheduled for the middle of August, giving everyone barely two months to get it all arranged. Heidi’s only family was her grandfather, so Annabelle and Charlie had stepped in to help with the details.

They looked over the flowers. Heidi studied arrangements and prices. They paused when Jo stopped by their table to find out what they wanted for lunch.

“By the way,” Jo said, handing them each a small card with a price list, “the party room is going to be opening in about a month. You were asking about it for the bridal shower.”

Heidi leaned forward. “You’re making it like you said?”

Jo grinned. “Yup, just as girly as the rest of the bar, with very flattering lighting. Lots of tables, a private bar, big-screen TV and a small stage. I’m working on the menu right now. We can do appetizers and finger sandwiches or regular meals. Whichever you want.”

“Champagne?” Heidi asked.

“Lots.”

“I love it,” Annabelle said. “Want to have your shower here?”

“The room can hold up to sixty,” Jo told them.

“You wouldn’t have to limit your guest list,” Charlie told her.

“Sounds like a plan,” Heidi said happily.

Annabelle nodded. “We’ll get back to you on dates.”

“Great.” Jo took their lunch orders. Salads for Annabelle and Heidi and a cheeseburger for Charlie.

“Fries for the table,” the firefighter added, then glared at her friends. “I know you two. You’ll steal mine otherwise.”

“I would never do that,” Annabelle lied cheerfully.

* * *

“HI. I’M ANNABELLE WEISS.”

Shane looked up from the saddle he’d been cleaning and immediately came to his feet. Instead of a mousy, stern-faced woman wearing glasses, with an oversize cardigan and stockings bagging around her ankles, he stared into the slightly amused green eyes of the petite, redheaded bar dancer.

She had on one of those tight, strappy dresses women liked to wear and men liked to look at. Which was usually the woman’s plan all along. It was white, with flowers scattered all over. Skinny strips of fabric had been braided together to hold the whole thing up. The dress was fitted, following her impressive curves to just above her knee.

Technically she was covered, with not a hint of anything risqué showing. But the outline of her body was enough to bring the strongest of men to his knees. Shane would know—he was a breath or two away from going down in a heap.

His first instinct was for self-preservation. Moving forward wasn’t an option—that would put him too close to her. So he took a step back and nearly tripped over the stool he’d been sitting on. The stool started to go over. He grabbed for it, as did the woman. His fingers somehow got tangled in hers and damn it all to hell, there it was. The to-the-groin jolt of awareness, of hunger.

“You’re Shane, right?”

He inched away from her and managed a quick nod as he twisted the rag he held in his fingers.

“Heidi said you were willing to teach me how to ride.” Her expression shifted from entertained to confused, as if she was wondering why no one had mentioned he was a can or two shy of a six-pack.

“A horse,” he clarified, then wanted to kick himself. What else but a horse? Did he think she was here to learn to ride his mother’s elephant?

One corner of Annabelle’s perfect, full mouth twitched. “A horse would be good. You seem to have several.”

He wanted to remind himself that he was usually fine around women. Smooth even. He was intelligent, funny and could, on occasion, be charming. Just not now, with his blood pumping and his brain doing nothing more than shouting “It’s her, it’s her” over and over again.

Chemistry, he thought grimly. It could turn the smartest man into a drooling idiot. Here he was, proving the theory true.

Aware he was still holding a rag in one hand and leather cleaner in the other, he set both on the battered counter.

“You’re interested in pleasure riding?” he asked, careful to keep his voice even.

Annabelle sighed. The action caused her chest to rise and fall. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to rip his gaze away.

“Actually, it’s kind of complicated,” she admitted.

Complicated? He didn’t think so. She was a beautiful woman. He was a man who had to have her or the world would come to an end. What could be simpler?

Only she wasn’t talking about what he was thinking and if she knew what was on his mind, she would run him through with a pitchfork, tear screaming into the afternoon, then back her car over him for good measure. Not that he would blame her.

But he knew better. He was a regular guy looking for a regular kind of life. He knew women like her. Make that, he’d known one woman like her. He’d married her and then had been tormented all through his marriage. Women like her wanted men—all men. They weren’t happy unless the world was drooling over them. No way he was going to make the same mistake again. No falling for wild women who could turn him on with a single breath. Right now, boring sounded excellent.

“I’m a librarian in town,” she began.

“You sure about that?”

The words popped out before he could stop them.

Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “Fairly. It’s my job and so far no one has told me to go away when I show up for work.”

Smooth, Stryker, he thought. Very smooth.

“I was expecting someone wearing glasses. You know. Because librarians read a lot.”

The raised eyebrows turned into a frown. “You need to get out of the barn more.”

“Probably true.”

She hesitated, as if not sure he was being funny or just incredibly slow. “Okay.”

Telling her the truth wasn’t an option. Admitting she was the sexiest creature he’d ever seen and that the reason he sounded so much like a mindless idiot was because all his blood was pooling in his groin would most likely cause her to bring him up on charges. Starting over seemed the only option.

“Tell me what you had in mind,” he said, staring into her eyes, determined not to even think about the steady rise and fall of her chest, or the way her painted toes on her tiny feet were just so darned cute. “Let me guess. You’ve wanted to ride since you were a kid?”

Annabelle laughed. “Have you seen me? Horses are big animals. Why would someone as small as me want to risk my life on the back of something that could crush me with a thought?”

As she spoke, she shifted, holding out one gorgeous leg to show him the four-inch heel on her sandal.

He supposed she’d done it to make a point about her height. All he could think was that she was small enough and light enough that supporting her weight would be easy. The image of them up against a wall, her legs around his waist as they…

He closed his fists against the visual, reminded himself that his mother knew he was meeting with Annabelle and thought about horse racing stats. When that didn’t help, he worked a couple of fractions in his head.

“Size has nothing to do with it,” he said, then wanted to hit his head against the wall. “Jockeys are small and they control fast, powerful horses.”

Amusement danced in her green eyes. “Sure. Logic. The last male refuge.”

He managed a smile. “I work with what I’ve got. So we’ve established riding wasn’t a childhood dream.”

“Hardly. Although I would have loved to be a ballerina. Anyway, I need to ride because I’m raising money for a bookmobile. We just finished up the new media center the first part of this year. It’s wonderful.”

“Isn’t a bookmobile old-school?”

“As in anyone can get anything off the internet, including a book?”

He nodded.

“I wish. We have a lot of shut-ins who can’t get to the library and don’t own computers. Older couples up in the mountains who don’t come down in the winter. A few folks in wheelchairs. That sort of thing. Right now we have a sad little van that makes trips, but it can’t hold much in the way of material. Plus, I was hoping to raise enough to have a few laptops and portable Wi-Fi, so we could introduce the shut-ins to the magic of computers. Open up their worlds.”

He hadn’t thought of anyone still being computer illiterate, but realized there was probably a fair percentage of the population either unable or unwilling to step into the electronic age.

“I’ve already picked out my dream vehicle,” she said, her voice crackling with excitement. “It’s huge and has four-wheel drive. That means it can go up into the mountains in winter.”

“How much do you need to raise?”

“A hundred and thirty-five thousand dollars.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “That’s a lot of vehicle.”

“Some of the money will go for stocking it with books and computers.”

“And the Wi-Fi.”

“Right.”

So much for simply handing her a check. “So how does learning to ride fit into all this?”

She smiled. “This is where we test how much you learned in history class. I’m going to ride in a ceremony celebrating the Máa-zib tribe.”

Shane grimaced. “That class was a long time ago.” He paused, then nodded as something he’d learned in fourth or fifth grade drifted into his brain. “They settled the area eight hundred years ago. Maybe more. They’re Mayan women who founded their own civilization here. And maybe there was something in the news about gold recently?”

“You were a good student.”

“Not really. I would rather have been outside.”

“Not me. I always had my nose in a book. Anyway, yes, those are the basics. At the end of summer, there will be a festival that will include authentic Máa-zib crafts and lectures, and me on a horse performing the traditional ride of the female warrior. It’s more of a dance, really. Technically it’s called the Dance of the Horse.”

“You’re going to dance on a horse?”

“No. The horse is going to dance while I ride it.”

This time Shane remembered about the stool when he took a step back. “Do you have a dancing horse?”

“Um, no. I thought maybe we could work on that, too.”

He took another step back. “You want me to teach you to ride and teach a horse to dance?”

“Isn’t that possible?”

Her gaze settled on his, rendering him immobile, so when she moved closer, he was unable to ease away. She smiled up at him and put her hand on his arm.

“Heidi said you’re gifted when it comes to horses. It’s just a little dance. A few steps. For a good cause.”

He doubted she was doing anything extraordinary. In most parts of the country, a beautiful woman touching a man’s arm was considered a perk, not the least bit dangerous. But she wasn’t just any woman. This was the one he’d seen dancing on top of a bar. The one he, for reasons of chemistry and Fate having a hell of a good time at his expense, found irresistible.

Why couldn’t she have been the cardigan-wearing boring stereotypical librarian he’d been expecting? Or maybe librarians weren’t like that at all. Maybe they were all wild, like Annabelle, and the cardigan thing was a giant joke they played on a world too self-involved to see the truth. Either way, he was lost. Lost in a pair of green eyes and a sexy smile that hit him like a fist to the gut. Only it wasn’t a fist and the parts of him responding weren’t exactly his gut.

He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. Not only because the bookmobile was a good cause but because his mother would give him a look that told him how he’d disappointed her. Despite crossing thirty a few years ago, he couldn’t stand that look.

“I’m a tough, macho guy,” he growled, then held in a groan as he realized he’d spoken out loud.

Annabelle raised her eyebrows, then stepped back. “I’m, ah, sure that’s true. Big horse man.”

He swore under his breath.

Before he could figure out how to extricate himself from the conversation and somehow recover what was left of his dignity, he heard a loud neigh from one of the corrals. He turned and saw the white stallion standing by the gate, his dark gaze fixed on Annabelle.

She turned in the direction of the sound. “Oh, wow. That horse is beautiful. What’s her name?”

“His. Khatar. He’s a stallion. Arabian.”

And a sonofabitch, Shane thought. The kind of horse who wanted to make sure everyone knew he was in charge. Khatar’s previous owner had been too aggressive, trying to break the horse’s spirit. Now Shane had to fix the mistake, which was turning out to be a challenge. But he would do it—he had to. He had way too much money riding on the physically perfect animal.

He turned back to Annabelle. Even in her four-inch heels, she barely came past his shoulder. He figured he could get her on one of his calmer geldings and have her riding in a week or two. As to the dancing, he would deal with that later. When he could speak in full sentences.

“When do you want to start?” he asked, impressed he was able to string the words together.

She turned back to him and smiled. “How about tomorrow?”

“Sure.” The sooner they started, the sooner they would be finished. Better for both of them to get her out of his life. She could go on tormenting other men and he could stop acting like an idiot. It was close enough for him to call it a win.