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Well, maybe his cousins were properly impressed, but Vance was just frustrated that Randi had risked injury to stop the calf from hightailing it north. She’d scared him. She’d triggered protective instincts he hadn’t realized he had—didn’t want to have—for her.
She was a pain in the patoot. The proverbial thorn in his paw. He didn’t want to admire, respect or worry about her. That signified that she meant something to him. She didn’t. They were polar opposites. Their approach to life was diametrically different. She took everything seriously. And to the extreme.
Damn, he’d almost stopped breathing when he’d seen Randi dive at that calf that outweighed her by at least a hundred and twenty pounds. He’d had a horrible vision of dragging her trampled body back to Tate and hearing himself say: Here you go, Chief. Sorry I got your niece killed in the corral because she was trying too hard to live up to my expectations.
An hour later, when the feeder calves had been loaded in trailers and the weaning calves were penned up, Vance breathed a tired sigh. He’d watched Randi throw herself in front of another oncoming calf and he had suffered another near coronary. At that point he’d called time out and given her quick instruction on where and how to use the whip so she didn’t have to tackle a runaway calf.
The woman might not know jack about ranching and farming, but she’d certainly taken very seriously the sentence Tate handed down to her. That get-thejob-done, do-or-die attitude of hers was admirable, but it was making him nervous. He didn’t want to consider how he’d react if he had to sit by and watch her handle some crazed criminal that was avoiding arrest. The thought gave him the heebie-jeebies.
Criminey. This was not going to work, just like he’d told Tate. After one morning with Randi, Vance was ready to call it quits and pay the fine. The woman was affecting him on too damn many levels and he was so aware of her that it was driving him nuts.
“What’s next, boss?” she asked as she walked toward him.
Vance noted the grimace that bracketed her mouth and the limp she was trying very hard not to favor. It upset him all over again. He wasn’t accustomed to being upset. He was the kind who shrugged, smiled and got on with life.
“You’re hurt,” he blurted out accusingly.
She forced a cheery smile. “I’m fine.”
“Are not, damn it,” he growled down at her.
Randi tipped her head back to study his black scowl then glanced at Wade and Quint. “I thought you said Vance was the happy-go-lucky joker of the family. Doesn’t look happy now.”
Vance’s arm shot toward his pickup. “Just load up, Calamity Jane,” he demanded.
She opened her mouth to protest his sharp tone, clamped her lips together then did as she was told.
“Sheesh, you’re in a mood,” Wade teased. “She’s really getting to you, isn’t she, hotshot?”
“She is not getting to me,” Vance denied huffily.
“Oh, gimme a break,” Quint said, and smirked. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at her for the past two hours. She’s definitely getting to you.”
“I saw you grimace when she defended the pasture gate,” Wade put in gleefully. “You’re showing all the signs of a man with a woman on his mind.”
“Can you blame me?” Vance erupted uncharacteristically. Funny, this tormenting teasing between cousins had been more amusing when he was dishing it out rather than taking it. “The Robo Cop defied injury and death, right in my corral. I’ll be a basket case after riding patrol with her. No telling what brave deeds she plans to attempt in the name of truth, justice and the American way.”
“If you ask me, she’s trying to prove herself competent and worthy to you. Hmm, wonder why that’s so all-fired important to her?” Quint remarked.
“Good question,” Wade said, smiling wryly. “Could it be that you’re getting to her, too?”
“Are you two yahoos going to stand here harassing me or are you going to help?” Vance demanded crankily.
“Harassing is more fun,” Wade replied devilishly.
“I have to agree with Wade,” Quint seconded.
Swearing ripely, Vance shouldered past his cousins to climb into his truck. Dealing with this gutsy, fearless female was problem enough. Being hounded by his evil relatives was turning his stomach. Vance was beginning to wonder if he’d be able to get through the first day of his tortuous sentence without murdering one—or both—of his cousins. And don’t forget the very real possibility of getting Ms. Eager Beaver killed in a ranching accident, he mused uneasily.
EXHAUSTED, BRUISED AND unwillingly impressed by Vance’s commitment to his ranch, Miranda made use of his shower then changed into her uniform. There hadn’t been time to rush back to her apartment before she reported for patrol duty. There had been time at lunch, however, for her to make some hurried requests by phone. The secretive arrangements were her way of apologizing to Vance for the comedy of errors that had befallen him.
After contemplating the incidents of the past week Miranda decided the blame rested entirely on her shoulders. If she hadn’t taken her job—and herself—so seriously, hadn’t been so defensive about her physical attraction to Vance, they wouldn’t have ended up handcuffed together for seven long days and a considerable portion of the nights.
Fact was, Vance wasn’t what she’d expected. He was diligent, skilled and got on well with his family. He and his cousins combined forces to manage their ranches and help each other with various tasks. Part of the reason the Ryders could pull it off, she realized, was that Vance had a knack of neutralizing difficult situations with laughter and smiles. As much as Miranda loved her dad and brothers she wondered if they could work together with such ease.
Well, one day she’d have the chance to find out, she mused as she applied a thin coat of makeup. She was determined to fulfill her dream of joining her family at OCPD.
After a quick self-inspection in the bathroom mirror, Miranda veered into the hall. Earlier she’d taken time to admire Vance’s spacious home and countrified décor. Pictures of Vance and his cousins during their rodeo career hung on the walls of the paneled den. Trophies and silver belt buckles lined the shelves. She wondered if that scar she’d noticed on the underside of his chin was a battle scar from his wild rides on broncs while he traveled the suicide circuit.
Oh, yes, she’d been paying close attention while Wade and Quint filled her in on Vance’s past, during their short breaks. She’d discovered that the older generation of Ryder men had deeded their ranches over to their sons and headed south with their wives to a retirement village in Texas. They were living on the royalties of the oil wells that dotted these sprawling ranches.
She’d also learned that Vance had never wanted to do anything but excel on the rodeo circuit before he returned to run his ranch. According to Wade and Quint, ranching was in the Ryder blood. It wasn’t a job, they insisted, it was a way of life.
Miranda could relate to that because she’d never wanted to do anything except follow in her dad and brothers’ footsteps. You might even say she was driven to it.
“Should I strap on my six-shooters?” Vance asked as he followed her down the hall. “How much gunplay can I expect while patrolling with you?”
“You can leave your guns at home,” she told him as she led the way out the front door. “I’ll be the only one packing hardware on the night shift—” Her voice dried up when Vance snagged her arm and turned her to face him on the front porch.
“One request,” he murmured, staring somberly at her.
The feel of his lean fingers on her forearm was as gentle as a caress. She tried very hard not to respond to his touch. It was like trying not to breathe.
Damn, he was so easy on the eye, so big and brawny and totally male. The scent of his cologne threatened to lure her closer, but she stuck to her guns and kept her distance.
“What’s your one request?” To her dismay, her voice wobbled in helpless reaction to his devastating presence.
“Don’t scare me to death the way you did while we were separating cattle.”
His husky voice caused gooseflesh to pebble her skin, but Miranda willfully ignored the reaction and flashed a smile. “Not to worry, cowboy. I can guarantee that won’t happen.”
His shoulders sagged slightly. “Good. I didn’t like knowing you were hurt this morning but were too proud to admit it. I’m pretty sure I’ll like you a whole lot better without any bullet holes in you, so no daring heroics for my benefit, okay? I’ve already recognized the fact that you’re no lightweight, despite what I said in a snit of temper.”
His roundabout compliment and the teasing hint of concern flattered Miranda.
“You aren’t afraid to take risks and you don’t mind getting your hands dirty with hard work,” he added as his dark gaze skimmed over her face. “You don’t hover on the perimeters of life—you dive in headfirst. I respect those qualities and I can relate to them. But I still don’t like seeing you hurt.”
She was so flattered and pleased that she very nearly caved in and pressed an impulsive kiss to that sexy mouth that had driven her crazy each time she ventured close enough to appraise the shape and texture of it.
“For the record,” she murmured unsteadily, “I don’t hate you and I’m not out to get you.”
When he smiled rakishly her heart slammed against her ribs—and stuck there momentarily. “Maybe I’d like it better if you were out to get me,” he said in an ultrasexy voice as he inched closer.
He was practically standing on top of her, crowding her space, surrounding her with that magnetic male aura and staring at her mouth as if he wanted to devour her. She wondered how it would feel to have those sinewy arms wrapped around her and give into this fierce, illogical attraction that was growing by leaps and bounds.
Just one taste and touch. What could it hurt? You could like it too much, came the voice of caution. And that would be dangerous. This, she reminded herself, isn’t the kind of danger you’re equipped to handle so back off.
Swallowing hard, Miranda retreated from temptation. She pivoted to scuttle down the steps on legs that suddenly felt like cooked noodles. “We better get going,” she chirped. “I’m a stickler for punctuality.”
“Figured as much,” Vance said as he followed her to the squad car.
Miranda didn’t try to engage in conversation during the drive, just let silence reign supreme. She just kept sneaking peeks to study Vance’s profile in the dash lights. Of course, she’d been guilty of sneaking peeks at him every chance she got during the day. She was too aware of him, too aware of her attraction to him.
Now that she’d come to like him he was even more difficult to resist. But she had to resist that playful charm. She predicted he could be a heartbreaker if a woman began to care too much. Quint Ryder might have been a former ladies’ man of the family, but now that he was out of circulation she suspected Vance held the title and she didn’t doubt for a minute that he could live up to the family reputation.
When Miranda pulled up in front of Stephanie’s Palace, Vance stared questioningly at her. “Why are we stopping here? Checking for a liquor license or something?”
“Nope. This is where you get out, cowboy,” she said.
He frowned suspiciously. “Now look, Calamity Jane, you upheld your end of the deal today and I sure as hell intend to uphold mine. I’m not about to lounge around at dinner while you’re wolfing down a stale sandwich from Hoot ’N’ Holler and patrolling the streets.”
“Get out, Vance. I’m giving an order, just like the ones you gave me at your ranch. I obeyed them to the best of my abilities. I expect the same consideration from you. Now go!”
He opened his mouth to protest then clamped his jaw shut. “Okay, fine. But if you don’t come back in an hour so I can take my tour of duty I’m gonna be spitting mad. Got it?”
Miranda nodded. “Got it. Now beat it. I’m going to check the alleys to ensure the other downtown businesses are secured for the night.”
The instant he stepped from the car she whizzed off, before his guilty conscience could nip at him again and he tried to climb back inside. As for Miranda, she desperately needed some breathing space—some downtime away from the kind of temptation she’d never faced…until she ran headlong into Vance Ryder.
5
WHEN MIRANDA DROVE OFF, Vance stood by the curb until she disappeared from sight. Well, hell, he’d pretty much put her, and himself, through the paces during the day and now she was letting him off easy by allowing him to enjoy a leisurely meal. He’d have Steph dish up one of her fancy gourmet dinners-to-go and take it to Randi when she picked him up.
With that plan in mind, Vance entered the ritzy restaurant then stumbled backward in disbelief when dozens of people—his cousins included—bounded from their chairs to yell, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”
Vance stood there like a thunderstruck idiot while his friends, neighbors and family converged to shake his hand and pat him on the back.
Several minutes later, Vance cornered his cousins. “I thought you said you were throwing me a small family party this weekend,” he reminded them.
“We still are,” Wade replied. “This was Randi’s idea. She set it up.”
Vance’s jaw dropped open and his eyes popped like boiled eggs. “She did? When?”
“She called Steph at noon to make the arrangements,” Quint reported.
“Then she called Laura at school and asked her to make the phone invitations during her planning hour,” Wade added. “She also paid for the cake the chef prepared in your honor and bought the dinner you’re about to eat.”
Vance was floored—and that was putting it mildly. Randi had gone to all this expense and effort for him? He was stunned that she even remembered that he mentioned his birthday during their heated debate in Tate’s office.
Why had she done this? Hell, she couldn’t even be here to reap the benefits of a superb meal and fancy cake. And furthermore, he suspected she had no intention of swinging by to pick him up this evening. She intended for him to party until the restaurant closed at ten.
Feeling like a jerk for working her like a field hand all day, while she secretly set up this wingding, Vance put on his happy face and enjoyed the celebration in his honor. But it didn’t set well, knowing she’d outdone him. Plus, he knew she’d taken a pay cut for the shorter shifts she’d be working this week. She’d spent hard-earned money on him.
Well, he wouldn’t be so hard on her tomorrow, he promised himself as he settled in for a mouth-watering feast. Man, this was something. No one besides family had ever gone to so much effort to recognize his birthday. He wouldn’t forget her thoughtful gesture, either.
MIRANDA TRUDGED TO HER cracker-box apartment after her five-hour shift on patrol. Sitting for long hours in the squad car—after straining muscles during ranch chores—made her body stiffen like cured plaster. Every tendon and joint screamed in complaint until she half-collapsed in her recliner.
Ah, well, it was worth it to know she’d surprised Vance and compensated in some small way for getting them into this mess with the chief. No doubt, Vance had hooked up with one of the women attending the party and was celebrating his birth by practicing procreation.
The thought stung more than it should have. She and Vance had nothing going—except her itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny one-sided infatuation that was so inappropriate that it didn’t bear thinking about.
The abrupt rap at the door brought Miranda upright in her chair. “Who’s there?” she called cautiously.
“The birthday boy. Open up.”
Miranda wasn’t sure she wanted to open up—physically or emotionally—at the moment. She was too tired. But neither did she have the heart to ignore Vance on his birthday.
Wincing, she hobbled to the door to find Vance holding two foam boxes.
“A late dinner and a slice of birthday cake.” He invited himself inside then surveyed her apartment approvingly. “This is where Steph lived until she hooked up with Cousin Q. You’ve fixed it up nice.”
Miranda blinked. “This is where you strung all the colored lights and removed all the furniture, save the bed?”
“Yup,” he said as he walked over to set the containers on the small drop-leaf table. “Deep down, Quint appreciated the prank. He and Steph didn’t show their faces in public for three days. Good thing I stocked the kitchen with enough food to tide them over during their lovefest.”
“Considerate of you, joker,” she said, lips twitching.
“That’d be me. Considerate, helpful and cheerful.” He motioned her to the table. “Come take a load off. Bet you didn’t bother with supper, did you, Ms. Super-Duper Cop?”
When Miranda shook her head he sighed then said, “That figures. Now sit down and eat. I’ll fix you a drink.”
Miranda sank tiredly into the chair and lifted the lid of the box. The appetizing aroma made her mouth water and her empty stomach growl in anticipation.
Vance thrust a fork and glass of ice water at her. “No booze in the fridge,” he observed. “You a teetotaler?”
Miranda nodded, her attention fixed on the fabulous food.
“Great, Patti Perfect, you have no flaws or vices whatsoever, I suppose?” he asked as he straddled the vacant chair backward and draped his arms across the back.
“Overachiever,” she mumbled between delicious bites.
“Already pegged you as that,” he replied with a smile and a wink. “You’ve got the face of an angel and the heart of a lion. Anything else I should know about you since we’ll be partners on my ranch and on your police beat?”
“Single-minded dedication,” she admitted before she wet her whistle. “Strong sense of fair play and strict attention to rules and regulations.” She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. “Usually. You’re the exception. I suffered momentary lapses of sanity during our first few confrontations and now we’re both paying for it. Sorry about that.”
“You’re forgiven,” he said with a chuckle. “What else? What about scandalous affairs with married men that put you on this straight and narrow path to pursue this honorable quest for perfection?”
“None of your beeswax, buster,” she said darkly.
“What about a boyfriend waiting in the big city to slide a ring on your finger after you’ve landed a job alongside your dad and brothers?” he quizzed her.
She arched a brow at that. “I didn’t realize you were an expert at investigation and interrogation.”
When he grinned she inwardly groaned at the radioactive impact this man had on her. He was pure hell on her defenses.
“Turnabout is fair play, I always say. My cousins told me that you grilled them for information about me today.”
Miranda took offense. “I most certainly did not! They spilled their guts with no encouragement from me. They talked and I listened.”
