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The thought of anyone trying to throw him off his own land almost made Cody laugh out loud. Remembering how thrilled his foreman had been to find out that Mollie and her grandmother had railroaded him into taking his place on this nutty Western safari, Cody met that threat head-on.
“You be sure to do that,” he said, turning to walk to the back of the wagon.
A moment later a string of expletives exploded from beneath the heavy sack canvas. “Where in the hell do you think you’re going, lady? The Sagebrush Hilton?”
Dodging a flying hair-blower, Danielle did her best to ignore the look of utter disbelief the wagon master wore as he turned to face her.
“Whoever packed this thing must not have the sense God gave a gnat.”
Danielle stiffened at the unflattering description as she helplessly watched him pile the luggage from the back of the wagon onto the ground. Gesturing to the modern conveniences spilling out of the bags with a dismissive air, he inquired, “Do you really think there are plug-ins along the Oregon Trail? Do you think the coyotes care whether you’re wearing makeup or not? If you do, I’d suggest that you load Troop Beverly Hills up right now and spare us both two long weeks of agony. This trip is dangerous enough, and I can’t be bothered playing nursemaid to a wagonload of spoiled, rotten brats who have no business being on the open range!”
Danielle glared at him as if she were seeing the devil himself up close and personal. When she spoke, her words dripped honeyed sarcasm. “You obviously need a refresher course in geography. The last time I checked Denver, Colorado is a ‘fur’ piece from Beverly Hills, ‘Californy.’ And, for your information, I wouldn’t take your help if you tied a pink bow around that fat cowboy hat of yours and begged me!”
What if I tied it somewhere else? Cody was tempted to ask but felt certain that that, too, fell well outside the realm of political correctness. Leave it to some city slicker to come marching into camp self-righteously spouting political platitudes about equal treatment of the sexes while simultaneously expecting to be treated like the Queen of Sheba.
It mattered little to Danielle that not ten minutes earlier she had entertained the exact same thoughts about the girls’ extra baggage. Right now all she wanted was to wipe that damned grin right off her wagon master’s smug face.
With a start, Danielle realized that she was being baited. Clearly, Cody Walker was hoping to goad her into packing up her girls in a fit of righteous indignation and heading back to the city. Well, this ornery cowboy had another think coming if he believed lightening the load for the horses meant dumping Troop No. 83!
Mostly from upper-income families, these girls had everything that money could buy, and precious little of the commodities that fuel real self-esteem: their parents’ time and attention. Bored with shopping malls and too much unrestricted time on their hands, the girls had been looking forward to this excursion for a long time. It was a rare opportunity for them to shuck off the brittle masks they put on as part of their daily makeup routine and to simply be kids for a while. The image of their disappointed faces strengthened Danielle’s resolve. Dynamite wouldn’t loosen her determination to finish that which she had started.
“And get your hands off of that. It’s mine!” she sputtered at the sight of her suitcase in Cody’s hands.
Grabbing it from him, she gave a hard tug. The latch on the old piece of luggage snapped apart, raining clothes in all directions.
“Damn it!” Danielle cried in frustration as Cody hopped out of the wagon bed and bent to help her reassemble her things.
“Just leave me alone!” she snapped, wondering what more could possibly go wrong.
The answer to that question lay on top of the pile of clothing now heaped upon the dirt—a pair of simple cotton briefs.
Cody straightened as if a snake were coiled on top of her things. His eyebrows shot up as if to question whether someone with hair the color of hers really wore anything so prim beneath her clothes.
Only the fact that this rough-and-tough cowboy was blushing like a schoolboy could make her believe that he wasn’t enjoying her discomfort. His embarrassment fed her own as she remembered how Scott had needled her about her sensible, boring undergarments. Little had she realized at the time that he had based his comparative analysis upon live models. Maybe that was why she was so defensive about this man’s reaction to her modest cotton briefs. Hotly reminding herself that she was far too practical a woman to spend a couple of weeks trekking along the Oregon Trail in a sexy, little thong, she mumbled under her breath, as much to Scott as to the tongue-tied cowboy in front of her, “You disgusting pervert!”
She snatched her underwear from the ground and wadded it into a ball in her hand. “By the time I’m done reporting you to your superiors, you’ll be lucky to be the ‘master’ of any little red wagons in a children’s parade!”
Considering that all he’d meant to do was help, Cody thought the insult totally uncalled-for. Mollie, who had spent the last two years trying to force him back into the dating game, would have laughed to have heard the term “pervert” applied to her father. Since her mother’s death, he hadn’t been in the least tempted by any of the women on the road who threw themselves like rose petals at his feet. As far as that went, he’d had his share of ladies’ underwear flung upon the stage when he was performing, and they were a whole lot skimpier than the surprisingly plain pair that had his cheeks blazing like some twelve-year-old caught peeking in the lingerie section of a clothing catalog.
Angry that he felt the need to defend himself, Cody placed both hands on either side of her face. Eyes that turned gunmetal with anger flashed a feral challenge as he lowered his mouth to within inches of hers.
“I’m no pervert,” he countered, raising himself to his full, intimidating height. “And I damned sure don’t disgust you. I think you’re just scared that if I kissed you, you might like it more than you’re willing to admit.”
He said it just to provoke her, hoping the dare would ignite sparks of fear in those phenomenal eyes and send this infernal woman and her wacky troop running back to the relative safety of the big city. But to his surprise, Cody actually found himself seized by an irrational urge to cup that defiant upturned chin between his palms and savor those full, pouty lips at length. Considering that his first impression of this woman had been that she was definitely not his type, the intensity of attraction that he was feeling for this virtual stranger was startling. The truth of the matter was, he hadn’t been drawn this way to another woman since Rachael had passed away, and it frightened him to think that he was suddenly no longer dead to desire.
There was one sure way to prove he was mistaken. A simple little kiss would settle the matter once and for all. But unlike Sleeping Beauty, Cody had no hope of ever awakening from the long slumber into which he had fallen. The few stale kisses he had allowed himself over the past few years had simply served to reinforce the fact that that special feeling just wasn’t there—and never would be again.
Danielle stood her ground with hands defiantly poised on her hips.
“I’d like to see you try!” she challenged without thought of the consequences of such a dare.
“Glad to oblige, Red.”
One hand captured the back of her head and pulled her close. Before Danielle had time to protest, he pressed a searing kiss upon her.
His lips were firm and demanding. His tongue slipped inside her mouth to make a thorough exploration and an electrical promise. Her knees turned to rubber as Danielle sagged against the solid wall of his chest. Her heart was pounding so loudly she wondered if its wild staccato beat could be heard for miles around.
God must have palmed the earth with one hand and sent it spinning out of control on a sudden whim. Danielle steadied herself by wrapping her arms around the sturdy column of Cody’s neck and answering him demand for demand. How long had it been since she had been kissed like this?
Never, she realized weakly. Never with such passion, such urgency, such reckless need. Vaguely aware of the corresponding shock registering in a pair of sky-blue eyes that mirrored her own bewildered reaction, Danielle’s eyelids grew heavy as she surrendered to the white-hot flames that consumed them.
Cody hadn’t been sure what he’d find in her. The woman’s red hair screamed “fire” but the cool aqua waters of her eyes shouted “ice.” The heat radiating from her was a shock to his system, rekindling feelings in him that he’d thought long ago extinguished. Desire born of a long stretch of self-inflicted denial burst into flame. Having forgotten what it was to hunger for such things, he found himself a starving man at a banquet, longing for more than just a chaste morsel, aching for an end to his gnawing loneliness.
Winding his fingers in the silky thickness of her hair, Cody leisurely explored the inside of her mouth. Her taste was sweet and tempting. Tempting enough in fact to make him entertain thoughts about taming this wild, fascinating creature in his bed and at least temporarily easing the grief that held him prisoner.
The mere thought pumped icy guilt into blood that was running too hot and fast.
It occurred to Danielle that should her daughter stumble upon this scene, it would be impossible to explain how she had come to be wrapped in some strange man’s arms. No justification of how she had come to be ravaged could possibly placate Lynn’s shrill and certain indignation.
Placing her palms firmly against Cody’s chest, she pushed him away. Hard.
Then she reminded herself to breathe. Surely it was only the altitude that made it so difficult to coax the thin oxygen into her lungs.
“Your ego is bigger than your ten-gallon hat,” she wheezed, wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt.
She wasn’t quite sure whether it was anger or mirth tugging at the corners of Cody Walker’s mouth as he stepped back and checked the position of the sun against the sky.
“That may be,” he replied, swinging gracefully up into the saddle. “But it’s just about time to go, so unless you’re willing to volunteer that red head of yours to act as a night beacon, I’d suggest you round your troop up and get them ready.”
With that he wheeled his horse around, leaving Danielle alternately cursing and admiring the receding view of his snug-fitting jeans.
Chapter Two
Despite Danielle’s repeated self-assurances that she didn’t give a hoot about what Cody Walker thought of her appearance, she nevertheless tightened the bonnet strings beneath her chin. The allusion to Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer had cinched it. Never had she ever met a more infuriating, insulting, or presumptuous man in all of her life.
Nor one as sure of his overt sexual appeal. At the mere thought of the mind-numbing kiss that he had laid on her out of the blue, something tight and hot clenched deep within her. Tingling from head to toe, Danielle had enough sense left to resent the continuing quivers that she was unable to dismiss through sheer willpower alone. Just who did Cody Walker think he was, grabbing her up like some desperate old maid grateful for any measure of a virile man’s attention?
A blush climbed the nape of her neck. Imagining how Cody must relish her complete lack of self-control, Danielle assumed his own presumptuousness was born out of years of taking such liberties whenever he felt like it. Someone needed to explain to this Western Don Juan that going around kissing unsuspecting women might just land him in a messy little sexual harassment case. Lucky for him it wouldn’t be her. Right now all she wanted from the man was distance—and plenty of it.
Determined to believe that her reaction to his kiss had more to do with the onslaught of heat exhaustion than with any mutual attraction between them, Danielle was grateful to be past those kinds of girlish feelings. The other den mothers, she’d noticed, seemed to have no such compunctions about acting their age. Clearly her less-than-fond sentiments toward the despicable Mr. Walker were not shared by her fellow sponsors who fluttered around their long-legged wagon master like hummingbirds around nectar. She seriously doubted whether any of them would be lodging any complaints in a court of law if he chose to return their attention.
It really was something to watch how gracefully Cody Walker managed to step around their every snare without giving the slightest offense. Apparently it was impossible for these ladies to be angry with a man who so cavalierly swept off his hat and wickedly smiled into their eyes, ensuring that each felt he was secretly flirting with her. The only one, it seemed, from age thirteen up, immune to their wagon master’s charms was Danielle herself.
Assuming that she was the only one who had been slung over his shoulder like prehistoric chattel, she couldn’t hold the other women’s weakness against them. Just the memory of his arms around her sent a curling heat unfurling in her body in pleasurable waves that threatened her grasp on reality. And the cold, hard reality was that Danielle had been married to just such a charmer, a man willing to share more than his winning smile with his female associates.
Danielle grimaced. She had been a perfect ninny, naively accepting at face value those all-too-frequent stories about having to work late. Had she not decided to drop by the office one night with some Chinese takeout, she would have never discovered her husband and an eager young trainee in a compromising position atop his desk. And Scott would more than likely still be playing her for a sucker. A lance pierced her heart at the memory of the awful night that had stripped away the last vestiges of her pride.
Never again, Danielle told herself fiercely. No, thank you.
Consciously hardening her heart against the rawboned cowboy leading their wagon train with the sinuous potency of a mountain lion, she reminded herself that there was no room in her life for any man at the moment, and most assuredly not for one who made her so achingly aware of the sexual dearth in her life.
Stumbling along in the deep ruts of the Oregon Trail in a pair of high-laced boots, Danielle had plenty of time to consider the decision that had brought her here. What at the time had made perfect sense seemed infinitely stupid when studied beneath the glare of the midday sun. Unlike other mothers who had high-powered jobs and pressing social engagements, Danielle had nothing to tie her down but a dreary list of entry-level Help Wanted ads. So when Lynn had come home from a Prairie Scout meeting one afternoon, echoing Hildy Fustis’s request to sponsor the troop on this Oregon Trail Trek, she’d succumbed to her daughter’s not-so-subtle arm twisting. It actually sounded like a pleasant alternative to spending the entire summer cooped up in a small, un-air-conditioned apartment with a budding teenager whose mood swings were as unpredictable as they were disconcerting.
Lately Lynn had donned the surly, snide attitude considered chic among her peers, even going so far as to verbalize how “crummy” their circumstances were in comparison to her friends’. Scott hadn’t been around enough for Lynn to miss him much, but she did openly miss her daddy’s money and was especially concerned how the lack of it could possibly jettison her from the “in” crowd at school. Lynn simply couldn’t understand why her mother’s pride had kept her from accepting more than the minimal child support payment from a man who obviously could afford more. Danielle didn’t have the heart to tell her that Scott had employed the best lawyer money could buy to avoid paying a penny more than he had to.
Hoping that an educational excursion into the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming would be just the ticket to reestablish the open, loving relationship she had once shared with her daughter, Danielle figured she’d teach Lynn something about the things that money couldn’t buy—things so obviously lacking in the expensive lifestyles of Lynn’s friends.
Feeling the hot sun beating down upon her, Danielle berated herself for such ingenuous optimism. Even though it probably included a bimbo on the crook of his arm, the trip to Disneyland that Scott had been dangling before Lynn’s nose for months could only look all the more appealing after a few days of this grinding ordeal. She grumbled beneath her bonnet that all her good intentions had accomplished was to land her smack-dab in the middle of hell with the devil himself as a wagon master.
With characteristic determination, she turned from such negative thoughts to the windswept landscape they were traversing. A land seemingly barren, it fostered hope of fresh beginnings. Ever-changing, it challenged the strong and mocked the weak. With consideration to the future, Danielle attempted to assess her own abilities. Her lack of college was proving to be a major stumbling block in securing a good job. Years ago when she had first broached the subject of pursuing a degree, Scott had immediately and firmly put the quietus on her hopes, blithely assuring her he would always be there to take care of her. All she had to do was hang tight to his rising star.
Choking on the memory, Danielle scanned a mental list of job possibilities. Other than dead-end minimum wage positions, the only thing she could come up with was the possibility of turning her cooking ability into something more substantial than a hobby. Insisting that they entertain frequently, Scott had demanded gourmet meals to impress his business associates. Over the years Danielle had satisfied the most discriminating palate. Beneath a bright, unclouded sky she pondered the possibility of starting her own catering service. Of course, starting one’s own business took money, and at the moment the only thing more obviously missing from her life than financial stability was sex. That was the only reason, she assured herself, that Cody Walker’s impetuous kiss had knocked her for such a loop.
“Just look at the way those jeans fit him,” Lynn sighed, interrupting her mother’s thoughts with adolescent adulation.
Ray Anne Pettijohn, who was pushing a handcart beside her, agreed. Both girls’ gazes lingered upon the fascinating fit of Cody Walker’s backside to his saddle. Their crushes were as obvious as the blinding sun overhead and every bit as scorching to Danielle.
“You’d do better to judge a man by the size of his heart rather than the cut of his jeans,” she suggested wryly.
Lynn rolled her eyes at the advice. “You judge ‘em the way you want, Mom, and I’ll judge ’em my way.”
Danielle bit her tongue. She couldn’t help but wonder just how enamored chubby Ray Anne would be when she discovered their sexy wagon master had confiscated her hidden stash of candy bars back at the rendezvous site.
Danielle’s new boots chafed almost as much as her daughter’s infatuation with the high-handed Mr. Walker. The only bit of comfort she had derived over the past couple of hours was from the fact that the driver assigned to their wagon was none other than Mollie, the bright-eyed pixie who had so enthusiastically welcomed them aboard. While her own troop inanely discussed the waning appeal of musical groups with bizarre-sounding names and enumerated at length the reasons why their parents should allow them to date at the ripe old age of thirteen, Mollie was busy citing various points of interest.
The child was as taken with a jackrabbit lippety-lopping across the trail as she was with the prairie dogs lining up outside their holes at her shrill whistle. When a herd of antelope kicked up their heels and left the wagon train eating their dust, Mollie’s laughter rang across the open range like tinkling chimes, her blue eyes sparkling with love for the vast land they were traversing.
As they slowly wound their way toward the Sweetwater River, Split Rock cast a long shadow over the sagebrushed plains. After just a few short hours of choking down trail dust, Danielle came to understand how that famous landmark had become such a beacon of hope. Eager for a taste of water that truly must have been sweet indeed for those trail-weary pioneers desperate to fill their canteens and wash away the grime of an unforgiving land, she was glad when Cody Walker signaled the wagon train to stop for lunch.
A short while later he approached their group, carrying two large cardboard boxes.
“How’s everything going?”
That low-pitched voice of his sent a string of tingles to every nerve ending in Danielle’s body. Luckily the need to reply was negated by a dozen adolescent voices trilling an enthusiastic response in unison. The fact that he was responsible for making them whittle down their belongings to “regulation size” had done nothing to lessen their infatuation with the romantic figure their wagon master struck in the saddle.
Cody’s grin revealed two devilishly deep dimples at the sides of his mouth as he queried, “How about you, Red?”
“Just fine,” she lied over the blisters on her heel. “And, by the way, my name is Danielle. I’d appreciate it if you used it.”
“Pretty name,” he commented.
Surprised by the warmth evoked by the remark, Danielle felt oddly empty inside except for the steady rhythm of her pounding pulse.
“But,” he added with an infectious grin, “Red suits you better, temperament-wise.”
“Go away!” she snarled, clenching her hands into fists at her sides.
“But I brought you a present,” he protested.
“Let me guess—boxes of dynamite to blow us back to Beverly Hills?”
Ignoring the sarcasm, Cody set his load down. Nestled inside were sacks of flour, sugar, and salt, some dried meat, powdered milk, molasses, a burlap bag filled with fruit, a similar one of potatoes, an odorous lump of sourdough, and lots and lots of beans.
Dumbfounded, Danielle looked down at the contents and back up into pair of eyes so blue it hurt to gaze at them too long.
“You were expecting takeout maybe?” he asked.
That damned grin of his could have buttered a Thanksgiving turkey.
“Hardly,” Danielle snapped, the reference to fast food making her stomach grumble.
Unable at the moment to cope with fixing anything that didn’t come straight out of a microwave, she proceeded to pass out fruit and jerky to the girls, promising them a more filling dinner later.
Cody couldn’t help but compare Danielle’s carefree attitude with his late wife’s preoccupation with fixing three balanced, nutritional meals for her family every day. Here was apparently yet another modern woman willing to put her own needs before those of the children depending on her. What was most puzzling to Cody was why he was at all attracted to someone who was the exact opposite of what he admired most in a woman.
Swinging himself back into the saddle, Cody started to leave but was detained by a small hand pressed lightly upon his knee.
“Excuse me, sir,” Sheila Pooly said in a squeaky voice. Undeniably the prissiest girl in the troop, she was squinting up at Cody’s sunlit profile as if he were God Himself.
“You can just call me Cody,” he said with an encouraging smile.
Scanning the vast expanse of the plains, Sheila posed her question as delicately as possible. “Where’s the...ah... Porta Potti?”
Like resounding thunder, their wagon master’s laughter exploded across the prairie.
Overhearing the conversation, Mollie, too, burst out laughing, and soon everyone within earshot was privy to the city girl’s faux pas. The native Wyomingites hooted with glee as their wagon master pointed to a thick clump of sagebrush.
“Over there,” he guffawed.
The location to which he pointed hardly provided any privacy. Sheila blushed furiously, and Danielle’s eyes flashed like summer lightning, burning a hole right through Cody.
Keenly aware that he had just wrinkled the suit of armor in which these girls had dressed him, Cody felt a stab of guilt at the wounded look in Sheila’s eyes. Maybe he was being too rough with Troop Beverly Hills. The disconcerting thought took him back in time to his own callow youth. How many times had he himself been ridiculed as a country bumpkin when he had been lost in the big city trying to peddle those first humble, heartfelt songs?
Remembering his promise never to become such a selfindulgent big shot that he was beyond simple kindness and common courtesy, Cody hastened to lessen the sting of Sheila’s humiliation.
Bestowing a slow smile upon the girl that made her blush from the top of her blond head to the bottom of her boots, he said with a wink, “I’ll tell you what. There’s a rest stop just over the next hill. If you’d like, you can hop on back of ol’ Champ, here, and I’ll tote you on over there.”
That wink was Sheila’s undoing. She nodded her head gratefully. Cody reached down and in one graceful move pulled her up behind him in the saddle. Squealing with delight, the girl waved to her friends as they galloped over the hill.
When they returned a few moments later, Sheila wore a look of simpering adoration. Danielle thought it obvious that she couldn’t wait to share every heart-quickening minute with her friends who were certain to be green with envy.
That their wagon master had assuaged Sheila’s feelings only slightly mollified Danielle. As far as she was concerned, Cody Walker was brutish and insensitive. Maybe Sheila’s question had been silly, but the extent of camping that these girls shared was limited to backyard sleep-overs. In her opinion, it was as reprehensible for a grown man to make poor Sheila the butt of his joke as it was to lump everyone from the city into the category of utter simpletons. It hadn’t escaped her notice that some of the other Prairie Scouts were now openly referring to them as Troop Beverly Hills. Since Danielle had firsthand knowledge of who had coined that particular phrase, she intended to give that John Wayne wanna-be a piece of her mind the first chance she got.
Like bright but fragile posies, the girls were beginning to droop beneath a sun too hot. What had once sounded romantic and adventurous was quickly proving to be a lot of hard work. Their meager lunches had worn off long ago, and fatigue was beginning to manifest itself in the guise of petty sniping.
“Knock it off!” Danielle commanded, determined to nip such thoughtlessness in the bud. “Time won’t pass any faster if you pick at each other. We’ve got a long way to go and two weeks to prove we’re women enough to handle whatever this trail has to throw at us. I expect not to be defeated from within our own ranks before the end of the very first day.”
She hated sounding so gruff, but this wasn’t exactly a picnic for her, either. It had been a long time since she had put such rigorous demands upon her body, and it was reacting with aching indignation. By the time the wagon train rolled to their final stop of the day, they had traveled a little under eight miles, and Danielle was sure her feet had a blister to show for each one of them.
