Picking Up Cowboys Read online

  Rubbing the spot with one hand, she threw another glance up the staircase. He hadn’t seen her. How humiliating it would have been. She started to push herself to her feet, when she noticed the bag had unsnapped itself and a few of the contents spilled onto the floor.

  Great. She scooped a pair of jeans, and a dark blue sweater back into the bag. Grabbing the tightly rolled sheath of papers, she started to put them back in the bag. The rubber band holding them together caught on the metal clasp and snapped, the papers scattered everywhere.

  Catherine scooped them together and tried to make the edges neat. She was preparing to roll them back into a coil when some of the letters jumped out at her and formed into words. Aspen Trails.

  Catherine chewed on her bottom lip in indecision. She shouldn’t snoop. But this did concern her if it concerned her ranch. Tossing one final glance up the stairs, she unrolled the papers and laid them flat on the floor, placing a hand in either corner to keep them from rolling back up.

  Aspen Trails Luxury Resort. Luxury resort? She glanced over the rest of the form. It was a blueprint. A blueprint for a hotel, tennis courts, and a sauna. Catherine felt her blood start to pump through her veins with a little more force. What in the—

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Gage stood at the bottom of the stairs, accusation shining out of his eyes. He held a scant white towel over his hips.

  Catherine slowly rolled the papers back up, pushed herself to her feet, crossed to the large fireplace and threw the blueprints into the flames.

  Gage rushed down the stairs and into the living room, as though he might save the documents. But it was too late.

  *

  “You are not turning this place into some tourist trap.” Catherine’s chest heaved with each word and Gage couldn’t help letting his gaze follow the movement.

  “I never intended to.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling superior and smug until he had to make a grab for the slipping towel. He knotted it more firmly around his waist.

  “Then what were those blueprints?” Catherine’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Gage shrugged. “They were for a high-quality luxury resort.”

  Catherine nodded her head. “A tourist trap. Forget it. It won’t happen in this lifetime.”

  Gage moved into the room, stopping a few feet in front of her. “Just tell me your price, Catherine. Whatever it is, I’ll pay it. No more games. Just a price.”

  Her blue eyes darkened to the color of gray storm clouds. “There is no price. You can’t buy me.”

  “Everyone has a price.”

  “You really believe that?” Her shocked expression confirmed she didn’t.

  Gage felt his mouth twist with irony. A Claiborne with a conscience. It must be an act. She was one heck of an actress, he’d give her that. She’d almost had him convinced she was sincere.

  “I know it.”

  “You’re wrong,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a fierce pride.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Even if I did have a price, I wouldn’t sell this place to you.” Her lips curled up in a sneer. “I’d find another buyer just to spite you.”

  Rage curled through Gage swift and white hot. He grasped her arms and hauled her against his chest, lowering his face until his words breathed onto her lips.

  “This place is rightfully mine and I will have it.”

  “When pigs—”

  Gage stopped her exasperating mouth the only way he knew how, he lowered his head and slammed her lips shut. Catherine gasped and stiffened in his arms. What would it feel like to channel all her pent-up energy and passion into more worthwhile pursuits?

  He brushed his lips over hers gently, feather-lite. Catherine gasped in shock. He knew she’d been expecting a kiss of anger. Gage took advantage of the shock, slipped his tongue between her lips and stroked gently along the inside of her mouth.

  Her arms came up and buried themselves in his hair. Perhaps he’d been using the wrong approach with Catherine. It seemed gentle persuasion worked much better. His thoughts slammed to a halt at the feel of her firm breasts pressed against his bare chest and the low, cat-like purr which emitted from her throat.

  He’d never felt anything quite like this. He’d experienced passion and chemistry but this was something totally different, elemental. As though his body and soul were both being engaged in the kiss.

  Ridiculous. He pushed her away, noting the dazed look in her eyes and the tantalizing way her hair tumbled around her shoulders.

  He wouldn’t allow himself to get involved with her. What he was feeling was lust, pure and simple. And he had every intention of using it to his full advantage. Then why did he feel a twinge of guilt at the expectant awe in her eyes? It was all an act. She was trying to trick him, just as her father had. No doubt she’d learned every trick in the book from him.

  “If you touch me again, I’ll take a branding iron to you.” Catherine’s chin lifted and her eyes spit blue fire.

  Admiration for her courage and spirit coiled around him. He didn’t want to admire her. She was the enemy. But to be able to back away from a kiss like that and tell him to never touch her again, she had to be the strongest woman he’d ever met. Either that or the kiss hadn’t affected her as it had him.

  chapter four

  Catherine wanted to collapse to the floor and give up the fight against knees which had turned to useless lumps of flesh. Kisses weren’t supposed to knock you to your knees and leave you breathless. That only happened in fairy tales, and she’d never particularly admired Cinderella. Why hadn’t the woman thrown her step-mother and sisters out on their ears and taken control of her own life?

  “You can’t kiss me out of my ranch.” Catherine’s voice came out sounding calmer than she felt. She tried to ignore the broad expanse of his chest. A faint sprinkling of dark hair covered his torso. Catherine bit her lip hard to keep from reaching out and running her fingers over it.

  Gage lifted an eyebrow and opened his mouth as if to comment, but the silence of the night was broken by a sharp whinny. Catherine spun around, startled. Normally, the barn was far enough from the main house to escape any carrying sounds of the horses. Tonight the snow acted as amplification, carried the sound into the room and pierced through Catherine’s soul, calling to her.

  “Peanut,” she whispered.

  Catherine almost tripped over herself as she rushed to the chair where she’d deposited her coat, hat and gloves. Her fingers felt numb as she tried to tug the cloth over them and she fumbled and dropped the leather gloves twice. Please God, don’t let it happen now. Not now! Not in the middle of a snowstorm. She couldn’t lose her best friend in the world.

  “What’s wrong?” Gage was leaning against the frame that separated the living room from the foyer, one leg hooked casually over the other.

  “Peanut. She must be in labor,” Catherine tossed over her shoulder as she slammed out the door.

  She didn’t have time to be nice. Peanut never had easy labors and there was no way a vet could get to them in this weather. Besides, he was the last person she felt like being nice to at the moment.

  The treads on her boots skittered as she hit the iced-over surface of the front walk, trying to find purchase on the glassy covering. Catherine recovered her balance and continued at a slower but still frantic pace.

  The rusty hinges on the heavy door creaked as she opened the barn. The interior was dusty with hay particles and only faint bits of light shone through the slats in the top corner of the wall. Catherine sneezed, sniffled, and hurried to flip on the overhead lights.

  “Peanut?” The horse wasn’t in sight, which could mean only one thing. She was on her side, writhing in agony.

  Catherine hurried to the horse’s stall and dropped on her knees beside the horse. She hurriedly took Peanut’s head in her lap and stroked the horse’s silky, chestnut neck.

  “It’s okay, old girl. You can do this.”

  Tears blurred her visio
n and Catherine had to blink them away. Her father had given her Peanut on her sixteenth birthday. The one gift he’d ever given her that she knew he’d put some thought into. Not money, not recycled winnings from his gambling, but something she could love and care for.

  She dropped her forehead to the horse’s and tried to offer whatever comfort she could. The colt was undoubtedly breech as all of Peanut’s offspring had been. Catherine shivered. She had no idea how to turn the baby horse inside its mother. One slip and she would not only kill the colt but quite possibly Peanut as well.

  Gage pulled his coat tighter around his neck. White whirlwinds of snow twirled around his boots and his breath came out in clouds of vapor. Catherine had rushed out of the house so fast, she’d forgotten to shut the front door behind her. He’d had to take the time to rush upstairs and throw on a shirt and slacks, socks and shoes.

  Gage cursed himself for all kinds of a fool, but the sight of her slipping on the ice as she’d rushed to the barn had made him decide to follow her. She was going to break her neck. Someone had to watch out for her, he told himself. It wasn’t that he cared, but how would he get her to a hospital in this weather?

  Of course he didn’t care about her, why would he? She was the enemy. And he’d remind himself of it every day for the next twenty years if he had to. The barn door stood slightly ajar and he wedged his way inside. A stall at the far end stood open, so he made his way towards it.

  The sight of Catherine sobbing over an apparently sick horse slammed into his gut. His heart clenched and then started beating somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. Gage swallowed several times and blinked against the sudden moisture in his eyes. Stupid cold weather. It was making his eyes sting.

  “That won’t help your horse.” His voice cracked on the last word and he coughed to cover the weakness.

  Catherine bolted upright and quickly glanced away, but not before he spotted the dampness on her cheeks. She’d been crying. Gage’s gaze dropped to the horse. Brown sides heaved in and out as though the very act of breathing required more effort than she could muster. After a moment her stomach rippled as the baby inside shifted itself, trying to force its way out.

  “Breech?”

  Catherine nodded. “All of her foals have been breech. Normally the vet comes, but…”

  She trailed off and gestured helplessly toward the drifting snow building steadily against the half-open barn door. Catherine’s shoulders rose and fell as she took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t stand to see her in such pain. He knew he should be relishing it, victorious over the suffering of his enemy, but a part of him ached with her. Her love for this creature reached out and wrapped around him like memories from his childhood.

  “Let’s see if we can help her.” He shrugged off his coat and let it drop to the floor. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he dropped to his knees and gently laid his hands on the mare’s protruding midsection.

  “D-do you know what you’re doing?” Catherine’s blue eyes were filled with the trust of a small child who believed Santa would slide down the chimney and nestle her secret wish beneath the Christmas tree.

  He hoped he didn’t have to disappoint her. “I’ve helped horses through this before, but it’s been years.”

  Catherine nodded and stroked Peanut’s head to keep her quiet. Gage finished his examination of the horse. The colt was coming breech, Peanut was weakening from the strain, and the baby would have to be turned.

  Catherine’s gaze collided with his and she seemed to understand without him saying a word what had to be done. She gently laid Peanut’s head on the soft, sweet smelling hay and rose to her feet.

  “I’ll gather what we need,” she said softly.

  A few minutes later, she returned with several heavy blankets, hot water and an assortment of other items. She gently draped one of the blankets over the top half of Peanut and arranged the other so the new colt would have a soft landing. A high-pitched bray of pain broke the silence. Catherine grimaced and settled the horse’s head back on her lap. “Let’s get going.”

  Gage nodded and gently went to work, slowly—inch by agonizing inch—he turned the horse. After about fifteen minutes, he glanced up, satisfied Peanut could give birth, if she possessed the strength. “We’ll let her try it on her own now.”

  “Thank you,” Catherine whispered, her slender fingers stroked the white patch between the horse’s eyes.

  Peanut lay utterly still, shuddering from time to time. Gage began to grow worried. Perhaps he should go ahead and pull the colt out, although it was better if Peanut could give birth on her own.

  “Come on, Peanut.” Catherine leaned over the horse and gazed in her eyes. “You can do this, girl. Come on!”

  Her forehead was gathered in a frown of intense determination, reminding him of the gentle softness of her features just after he’d kissed her. Gage felt an unfamiliar tug at his heart again. Catherine Claiborne was unlike any other woman he had ever known, which was the only reason she had this strange effect on him. The one thing he must never forget, she was Mustang Claiborne’s daughter.

  No matter how many tears she shed for a horse or the way her delectable, rosebud lips stirred him, she had been trained by the best swindler this side of the San Juan Mountains. Avoiding her glance when she looked up, he busied himself by running his hands over the horse’s flanks.

  The flesh tightened and spasmed under his fingers. A grin broke free despite his effort to stop it. “She’s having contractions.”

  Catherine felt a sharp, burning in her throat as Gage’s hands brushed softly over Peanut’s sides. Desire burned through her fierce and alive as the memory of their interrupted kiss branded itself on her heart. Closing her eyes, she forced the emotions under control. The kiss had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced or dreamed it could be. At five, Catherine’s goal had been to be special in her father’s eyes. At ten, she’d broken a leg trying to bust a bronco to please her father and earn his love. At seventeen, she’d missed her prom because her father was sick and said he needed her.

  It seemed her entire life she’d been trying to please a man, to feel special. In one moment, one earth-shattering, ground-shaking, head-spinning moment, Gage had made her feel special. That kiss had wrapped around her like a comfortable old quilt. It had been like coming home after a weary journey. And she wanted more, God help her. He was the enemy and the only thing she could think of was his lips.

  His full, molded lips, so beautiful they could have been carved with an artist’s chisel. Sometimes straight and firm with determination, and sometimes soft and full with eager vitality for life.

  Stop it, Catherine Claiborne, she scolded herself in her best imitation of a motherly inner voice. He wanted to destroy what she loved most about her home, the peace and solitude. She couldn’t afford to show the slightest weakness where he was concerned. And any more kissing should be completely out of the question.

  Her eyes drifted to his lips again. The first kiss was a fluke. That was it. If he kissed her again, she wouldn’t feel a thing. He’d simply caught her by surprise. Her reaction hadn’t been passion but shock. She would just have to make sure he kissed her again, so she could prove her theory and get over this ridiculous fixation over his mouth. One more kiss wouldn’t hurt.

  Peanut’s soft huff of breath broke Catherine out of her half-dazed inspection of his lips. She gently massaged the horse’s neck as the mare strained to bring new life into the world. The colt slid onto the soft, fresh mound of straw, all gangly legs and wet, spiky fur.

  “Is it okay?” Catherine watched as Gage gently rubbed a cloth over the baby’s nose and cleared away any mucus.

  “It’s not breathing.” Gage leaned over the horse and massaged its chest cavity.

  “No,” Catherine whispered. After everything they’d been through to try to save mother and baby, it was unthinkable one might not make it.

  A breezy, high-pitched gasp filled the stall. Catherine laid Peanut’s head on th
e straw and rose to her knees. “Is it breathing?”

  “I think so.” Gage’s smile was full of satisfaction and a definite triumph.

  Another wheeze and finally a full gasp of air. The horse lurched to its wobbly legs, collapsed to its knees and rose again.

  “You did it girl.” Catherine stroked Peanut’s neck again.

  “We need to try to get her up, Cat.”

  Catherine’s gaze flew to Gage’s but he didn’t seem to be aware of the familiar, affectionate shortening of her name. Opening her mouth to call him on it, Catherine thought better when the foal collapsed to its knees again. Time to argue later. Right now they needed to take care of these horses.

  Working together and using a halter, they managed to lurch Peanut to her feet. The mare stood swaying for a moment but seemed to gain strength from their softly spoken words of encouragement and even managed to nuzzle a few oats. Within thirty minutes, the colt braced its spindly legs and began nursing.

  “I think they’ll be okay now,” Gage raised a hand and placed it on her shoulder.

  All her nerves jumped to attention and rushed to make contact with his hand, creating heat at that spot. Nerve overload, that’s all it was. She was not attracted to him. Couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be.

  His deep voice lowered yet another octave, sending chills raising over the hot nerve endings. “Did the labor scare you?”

  “Scare me?” Catherine tilted her head to the side. She hadn’t really thought about it at the time, she’d been too concerned for her horse. “I suppose. It was a difficult labor.”

  “Most labors are easy, I understand.” Gage’s cheeks flushed a dull red. “Well, maybe not easy, but not life or death.”

  “Peanut has problems every time.” What an odd conversation. Why would he even care if her other horses had easy labors or not? Now his thumb was stroking circles over her collarbone. Catherine wished he’d stop, it was hard to concentrate. Only because it irritated her though, she didn’t like what he was doing. She wouldn’t let herself like it.