Her Rancher Rescuer Page 2

  He smiled and leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “The moment I leave this bathroom people are going to think...” He let the thought hang, but it didn’t take her long to understand his meaning. They would think that the two of them were locked in there together, doing God knows what.

  Her cheeks heated. They would think that she and Jack...that they were... As if her reputation weren’t tarnished enough! She pulled back, putting several more inches between them. “Oh, God. They are, aren’t they?”

  “There’s not exactly a back exit or a window to crawl through.”

  To illustrate his point, the door rattled, and a muffled voice outside said, “It’s locked.”

  “Why did you have to come in here?” She paced in front of the mirror. “I could have just licked my wounds and snuck away.” That was her usual M.O., after all.

  “Because I was worried about you.”

  His answer stopped her short. When had anyone really cared about her feelings? “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Why should you care? You hardly know me.”

  He nodded. “That’s true. But the few times we’ve been thrown together over the past few weeks, I’ve enjoyed your company. You’re a good dancer.”

  “A good dancer?” Things were starting to feel a tad bit surreal.

  “Yes, and you make me laugh. And I hate it when people aren’t treated fairly.”

  “So you rode to my rescue.”

  A strange look passed over his face ever so briefly, then was wiped away quickly by another charming smile. “I wouldn’t put it that way. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all.” He shrugged again. “I guess I didn’t think far enough ahead to actually getting you out of this predicament.”

  It sounded so much like something she’d do that she couldn’t help it. She gave a little laugh, putting her fingers to her lips.

  The door rattled again and Amy jumped. “You’re the genius hotshot. What are we going to do?”

  Jack casually put his hands into his pockets as he thought. “Well, if they’re going to talk, why don’t we give them something to talk about?”

  It felt like all the blood that had rushed to her face drained clear out. “If you’re proposing that we...in here...” Oh, my gosh. While the idea of a romantic interlude with Jack Shepard was more than intriguing, she wasn’t prepared for that. She didn’t do those sorts of things despite what people might think. Jack was a man of the world. He probably had women falling all over him all the time. World-class athlete turned business mogul? Yeah. And it wasn’t like she was a prude, but it was a long jump to hookup sex in a public bathroom.

  He chuckled. “No, not that. Though to be honest it’s an alluring idea. What I meant was, come back to the dance. Dance with me again to show everyone it doesn’t matter. And then I’ll drive you home.”

  That she didn’t dismiss the idea right away spoke volumes. Could she do it? Walk out of here with her head held high and ignore all the whispers? A little part of her said that she was treated the way she was because she perpetuated the perception. Why did everyone’s opinion of her matter so much, anyway?

  No one would be expecting a strong, confident woman who didn’t give a damn. And she really wanted to be that woman for once in her life.

  “We already danced twice,” he reminded her. “Spent time in a locked bathroom. All that will happen is that they’ll keep on believing what they already think to be true. And would that be so bad?”

  “That I’m a chaser and a...”

  Frowning, he put a finger over her lips. “Don’t say that word. Just don’t. You’re not.”

  His finger was warm and firm against the soft flesh of her lips and for a long moment their gazes caught and held. He didn’t like what she’d been about to say. She wondered why. Wondered if he really did have a rescue complex. There had to be a flaw somewhere. Jack Shepard was just a little too perfect.

  “Come dance with me. Otherwise you’re just running with your tail between your legs. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always preferred a good fight to a quiet retreat.”

  Easy for him to say. She’d be here in town long after he was gone. She’d be the one going to a bleak and dismal home night after night when what she really longed for was some color and excitement. With a sinking heart, she realized tonight would only be more ammunition for those people who would make her a laughingstock.

  She remembered the news reports in the sports pages after Jack’s ski injury. They hadn’t always been kind. They’d said something like “Fast on and off the hill.” Jack had faced a fair bit of nasty press in his day but he’d risen above it. She could do worse for a champion, she supposed.

  And then there were Callum and Avery, the bride and groom, and Jack’s sister, Taylor, who’d been surprisingly nice to her at Avery’s wedding shower. And her boss, Melissa Stone, who’d given her a chance with her job. She was pretty sure that working with Melissa had snagged her the invite to the wedding in the first place.

  But could she do it? Could she face them all with her head held high? It was a tall order, when she’d been aware of the whispers for years. Since she was ten and her dad had walked out. She’d heard the rumors that he’d left them for someone else. Had no idea if they were true or not, because her mother wouldn’t speak of him.

  “That’s a crazy idea.” She still had the urge to collect her coat and flee. It would be easier....

  “Probably. But if you run away, they win.”

  And then he smiled, a conspiratorial sort of grin that climbed his cheek and warmed the depths of his eyes. Like they were in cahoots. And in that moment Amy realized that she didn’t just think Jack was okay. She really, truly liked him. He would be a good person to have on her side.

  Her heartbeat quickened with nerves. “One dance, and then you’ll take me home?”

  “Cross my heart.” He made the motion over his left breast and then held out his hand. “Shall we?”

  She swallowed tightly, her throat constricting as she braced herself for whatever was on the other side of the door. “I’m game if you are.” The words sounded more sure than she really was.

  She put her fingers in his and squeezed. Lifted her chin and shook her hair back over her shoulders. He returned the squeeze of her fingers, giving her confidence. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

  Amy refused to look anywhere but straight ahead as Jack unlocked the door and swung it open. Half a dozen people were standing around, and out of the corner of her eye she saw someone from the club maintenance crew coming around the corner—presumably to unlock the locked door. She felt heat climb her cheeks but then Jack squeezed her hand reassuringly.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” he asked the room at large, tugging her behind him. She gaped. How could he sound so casual? So effortlessly charming? She hurried to keep up with him, which was difficult considering his long legs and her high heels. She could feel the stares on her back and had the oddest urge to giggle. Considering all the times she hadn’t wanted to make a spectacle and had anyway, this moment was surreal and more than a little comical. She’d pegged Jack as a lot of things—handsome, charming—but she hadn’t considered him chivalrous. There really was no other way to describe his actions tonight.

  She got her footing and evened out her stride, keeping her chin defiantly raised. Jack was right. This felt much better than slinking away as if she were guilty of something! The only thing she was guilty of was trying to help.

  The song playing was a fast one, so Jack steered her toward the bar first. “Tonic and lime for me, champagne for the lady, please,” he ordered, and in seconds a glass of fizz was placed in her hand. “Cheers,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “Come on.”

  He took her hand again and led her to the fringe of the floor. They paused and she took a lon
g drink of champagne, enjoying the bubbles as they exploded on her tongue. The last time she’d had champagne it wasn’t real champagne at all but the cheap fizzy stuff from the liquor store that cost less than ten dollars a bottle and was far too sweet. This was drier, with a bit of bite, and tasted expensive.

  And just like that she was reminded once more that Jack Shepard was a millionaire. Maybe even a billionaire. Not that he put on airs or anything, or threw his money around. It was easy to forget when he was here, in a place like this, dressed like all the other groomsmen. Truth be told, on a regular day 90 percent of the guys here would be in boots and Stetsons. Jack’s sporting goods empire was huge and he ran some sort of outdoor adventure ranch in Montana. He’d been an Olympic downhiller, just missing the podium in his one and only games before going on to make his mark in the business world. And she’d been locked in a bathroom with him for a good ten, fifteen minutes.

  The nervous giggle she’d been holding in slipped out.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” she answered, draining her glass of champagne and looking longingly at the empty flute. It would be gauche to ask for another, but oh, my, it was delicious.

  She noticed Jack give a nod to the DJ, and seconds later the song changed to something slower.

  He took her hand and led her to the floor. His fingers gripped hers, his other hand placed firmly on the hollow of her back as he drew her close. In her heels, she only had to tip her head a little to have her lips at the bottom of his ear. “You are used to people taking your orders,” she observed as their feet began to move.

  “Yes, I am. But only when I’m being reasonable.”

  “Are you ever unreasonable?”

  He lowered his chin and looked down at her, his expression unexpectedly serious. “Not as often as I used to be.”

  Something delicious swirled around in her tummy. “You mean you’ve left your bad-boy days behind?”

  “Mostly.”

  She blinked. “Mostly?” What did that mean?

  “Well, locking myself in a bathroom with you probably wasn’t the most reasonable move. Though I must say I did behave myself. Even you can’t deny that.”

  She was about to laugh when he said, “More’s the pity.”

  And the laugh died in her throat, replaced instead by an acute awareness of what could have happened in that bathroom. What everyone probably thought had happened....

  “They were going to talk regardless,” he said quietly, his lips against her temple as he read her thoughts. “This way they talk about you sneaking away with me instead of locking yourself away crying over him.”

  He was right. And she would rather that, than everyone view her as pathetic, as they normally did.

  As his hand rode perilously close to her tailbone, she recalled the scandal that broke just prior to the fall that messed up his knee for good. There’d been a photograph of him and a woman.... His coach’s wife, if she remembered correctly. Had he been in love with her? Licked his wounds in private? What secrets was Jack hiding beneath his cool, confident exterior? There had to be more to the man than what she saw. No one was that perfect.

  “Do you love him, Amy?”

  “What? Who?” she asked, confused.

  They danced along to the music, feet moving in perfect rhythm. “Rhys Bullock. Are you in love with him?”

  “God, no.” The denial came swiftly to her lips. Rhys was attractive, and for most of the women in Cadence Creek, the ungettable get. They’d gone on exactly one date and while he was nice enough, they hadn’t clicked at all. Catching the bouquet had been pure chance. And Rhys hadn’t exactly pushed her away during the dance. Rhys was a challenge to the female population of Cadence Creek.

  “Then why the tears?” Jack asked.

  She met his gaze. “Truthfully? Humiliation. It’s not every day that someone claims you’re the last woman on earth they’d want to date. Now be quiet, eh? I have a lot more fun when we’re not talking.”

  His eyes flashed at her. “Be careful, talking like that could get you into trouble.”

  “You promised to be honorable.”

  “I still have to drive you home. The night’s not over yet.”

  Again, the curl of excitement wound through her as he flirted. She was under no illusions. There was no future with Jack. He was not a romantic prospect or a ticket anywhere, nor did she want him to be. But he was fun and interesting and different and exciting, and at this moment those were fantastic attributes. It beat the hell out of chocolate fudge ice cream and a ten-year-old chick flick on cable.

  His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer against his length. He still wore his tuxedo jacket, unbuttoned, and her fingers pressed against the rich, thick material. She slipped her fingers beneath the lapel and felt the heat of his skin through the satiny material of his vest. “You have a lot of layers on,” she murmured, her lashes fluttering as the hand at her waist kneaded the top of her tailbone.

  She was deliberately tempting him. After they’d already set out the ground rules.

  “Say the word and they’re gone,” he answered, calling her bluff.

  She kept silent.

  “This is a killer dress,” he commented. “Little black dress sounds so simple. But it’s not simple on you.”

  “Is there a motive behind your compliments? Or are you just keeping up the charade?”

  “It’s the truth. You look beautiful tonight. The men of this town must all be blind if they can’t see it.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’m not a novelty.”

  “They’re blind and stupid, then.”

  She smiled. “You’re doing a good job, anyway.”

  “A good job?”

  “Of turning the situation around and puffing up my ego. You were right. A dance was a better idea than running off with my tail between my legs.”

  “We only forgot one thing.”

  “We did?”

  “Well, yes. If you want everyone to believe you don’t give a damn about Rhys.”

  Curious, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Suddenly she couldn’t hear the music, couldn’t see the other partygoers around them. She was oblivious to everything but Jack. The way he looked, all suave and debonair with his dark hair and bedroom eyes and broad shoulders. But more than that was the way he was looking at her. Like she was the only woman in the world. No one had ever, ever looked at her that way.

  It seemed the most obvious thing for a kiss to be the next step. They slid into it naturally, like they’d done it a thousand times before. Her head tilted slightly to the left, there was a first meeting of lips, then they opened a little wider as they tasted and explored. It felt strangely familiar and yet somehow brand-new. They kept it light, kept their hands where they belonged, especially considering they were in public. But it was a hell of a kiss all the same—the kind of kiss that made her toes curl in her platform pumps and goose bumps shiver over her skin. And when it was over her breath was coming a little bit faster than before. Wow.

  “If there were ever any doubt...” he said, putting the final bow on the top by touching his lips to her temple in a tender and intimate gesture.

  But his words made Amy go suddenly cold, like she was splashed with icy water. This wasn’t real. It was an act, a performance. A charity service. It was all about perception. Showing the town that she didn’t give a damn about Rhys Bullock and his insults.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  But Jack was smart. Especially for a guy. He squeezed her hand to get her attention. “You think because we let them see what we wanted them to see that it wasn’t real.”

  “What a charming way you have with words,” she replied drily, her gaze sliding away.

  “You think it was
an act.”

  “Wasn’t it? A lovely stage for me to save face for a few minutes. What’s in it for you, Jack? Something to keep you from being bored?”

  His jaw tightened. Had she struck a nerve?

  “Would that be so bad?”

  She hated that the immediate answer that came back to her was no. The problem was there was no excitement in Cadence Creek. No adventure or challenge. It was always the same, day in and day out. She longed to get out, but every time she thought of escaping she thought of leaving her mother alone and couldn’t quite do it. As much as she got frustrated with her mom, she worried about her. Amy was sure Mary was depressed. And she hardly ever went out.... How could Amy possibly leave her to fend for herself?

  “Well, it’s humiliation of a different sort.”

  “News flash,” he said in a low voice. “Being with you is a great distraction. There are far worse things than holding a beautiful woman in your arms.”

  “That might be nice if I thought you meant it.”

  A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he frowned. “Amy, we danced twice tonight already. It was fun. There was eye contact and we flirted. Did it occur to you that maybe I didn’t like the thought of someone like you being in that bathroom crying over some guy who’s not worth it?”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “No, it didn’t occur to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because in my experience most guys don’t give a good damn about my feelings.”

  “Then you’ve been hanging around the wrong men.”

  “No,” she corrected, suddenly feeling like telling the absolute truth. “It’s me. I’m messed up and guys try to stay away from that kind of crazy.”

  She was surprised when he burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  He looked down at her warmly. With—she would swear—affection. “Amy, I used to hurl myself down the side of a mountain at over eighty miles an hour. I like crazy. Besides, I don’t think you’re crazy at all. Misunderstood, maybe. But not crazy.”

  That he could be so astute momentarily silenced her. The music faded and he moved his hand at her back, letting her go but still holding tightly to her right hand. “Are you ready to go now, or would you like to stay a little longer?”