Wild Wyoming Nights

Emma reminded herself not to get used to it. As soon as filming was done, she would be back in LA, trying to carve out a life for herself while Carson McNeill would still be lord of all he surveyed in Cheyenne. She couldn’t afford to get used to the sort of help he offered.

“That’s more than generous.” Blinking, she straightened away from his touch, needing to stand strong on her own feet. “Thank you.”

He studied her for a moment longer before he gave a clipped nod. “I’d help you settle in myself but my stepmother has been in the hospital and my family is expecting me over there. I’ll see you in the morning, though. Help yourself to anything you need while I’m away.”

He moved toward the driveway where he’d parked his vehicle, but stopped when she didn’t join him.

She was still stuck on what he’d said about helping herself. While he was away.

Did that imply he’d be...with her when he returned?

The breeze blowing off the hills made her wrap her arms around herself, as a chill set in from the sweat that had dried on her skin after her run. A chill...or a pleasurable shiver. She didn’t know what she was feeling, but she knew she needed to get a handle on herself.

“What is it?” he asked, though he didn’t move toward her.

“I. Um. Just wondering.” Nerves skittered through her. “Where exactly will I be staying at the ranch?”

He frowned. “The bunkhouse and external buildings are filled to capacity with the ranch’s employees and with the film’s cast and crew. But there’s plenty of room in the main house. You’ll stay with me.”

* * *

Carson couldn’t stop thinking about Emma.

He sat beside his stepmother, who’d finally been transported to the Cheyenne hospital after a week in a medical facility nine hours away. She had been cleared for a flight on a fixed-wing medical plane at the family’s expense so she could recover closer to home.

And she was recovering, according to her team of doctors, even if Carson couldn’t see much improvement in her condition. At least she was off the ventilator now. And all three of his half sisters—Scarlett as well as Maisie and Madeline—had been in the room with her yesterday when she’d opened her eyes briefly, a sign Paige was pulling out of the coma.

That was why Carson didn’t consider it disrespectful that his thoughts wandered to Emma so often in the hours that he’d been watching over his stepmother in her private room. The door was closed to shut out most of the sounds in the hallway. A nurse came in every half hour to check monitors and adjust IVs, but other than that, the room was quiet except for a gray clock ticking on the far wall. His half sisters had left to grab some dinner and change before Scarlett—the youngest of the daughters Paige had with Carson’s father, Donovan—returned to relieve him.

Carson had plenty to worry about right now with overseeing the ranches, making sure the filming didn’t interfere with day-to-day operations, and beginning a private investigation into his stepmother’s past to see if there was any merit to the blackmailer’s claim. Yet as he sat in the big gray lounger between the window and the hospital bed, what concerned him most was Emma.

He’d been floored by the idea of any man raising a hand to her. The thought still made him sick hours later. He wouldn’t have been able to take his shift at the hospital tonight if she’d refused to settle into a suite at his house. Because at least now he had the satisfaction of knowing—thanks to a text from his housekeeper—that Emma was safely ensconced in his place, behind doors with a security code. She was surrounded by ranch hands who worked for him, plus a security guard he’d paid to ensure the equipment barns and horses under his care remained untouched for the duration of the filming.

Carson had already requested two more security guards to start tomorrow. One to ensure Emma’s safety. Another to patrol the grounds. They needed to keep a watch for Emma’s ex, but it would also help the McNeill family to monitor for any new threats from their mystery blackmailer. Emma’s past gave him a good justification for the additional security since his siblings had agreed not to tell their father about the blackmail note Scarlett had received during her visit to LA the day before Paige’s accident.

As for Emma—no one was getting close to her on his watch.

Except for him.

The thought didn’t just whisper across his consciousness. It roared and shouted. The kiss they’d shared had seared itself into his brain, making him realize that despite his good intentions where she was concerned, staying away from her for the next two weeks was going to be impossible. It would have been tough enough for him to keep his distance while they worked together on her riding. But now? All that combustible attraction was going to be front and center, 24/7.

But she had to stay with him.

He’d kissed her. Touched her. Shared her confidence. That made him want to protect her.

The wide door to Paige’s room creaked open and Scarlett backed into the room, juggling a balloon bouquet, flowers and a brightly striped duffel bag.

Carson shot out of his seat to give her a hand, darting around the rolling table with a water pitcher.

“Thanks.” Scarlett threw him a grateful smile, her long dark curls still damp from the shower. “I couldn’t resist loading up on things at the gift shop since we couldn’t bring the flowers from the other hospital with us.”

Carson set the hot-pink roses on the bedside table before tying the balloons to a handrail against the far wall. “I’ll make sure she gets more in the morning.”

When he finished the task, he hugged his sister, hating to see her look so worn-out. Not that he’d tell her as much. She was a beautiful woman, but she’d always considered herself less attractive than her older sisters. It was something about looking more like her mother, whereas the rest of them took after their dad. Carson knew it was baseless nonsense. But Scarlett had once filled his favorite boots with rocks and flung them into an irrigation pond after he’d told her she looked like a cartoon giraffe. He’d been twelve.

And he’d learned not to tease her.

“How are you holding up?” he asked as he pulled away, taking an extra minute to look in her eyes.

As the recipient of the blackmail note, Scarlett had borne an extra burden before their mother’s fall. She’d been given the message during a confrontation with one of the actors in Winning the West at a Hollywood nightclub. A guy she’d dated briefly. Scarlett had gone to LA, wanting to set the record straight with the dude before he showed up in Wyoming to do the film. During their argument, a man neither of them knew had slipped her the paper. The message implied that Paige had had a different identity prior to marrying Carson’s father.

Scarlett had been caught flat-footed when Paige had the accident before she could share the information. She’d told her siblings in the hospital, but regretted not speaking up sooner, during the hours when Paige had gone missing the night before.

“I’m fine.” She nodded, then went to work around Paige’s bed, straightening the already straight blanket, fluffing the pillow behind her mom’s head. “No news from the private investigator you hired to look into Mom’s past?”

“No.” Carson knew Scarlett hadn’t been keen on the idea, but her older sisters had been worried about the danger a blackmailer presented. “But in all fairness, the guy has only just started making inquiries.”

For the first few days after Paige’s fall, her health had been the number one priority and the family’s time had been consumed with that.

“Dad will be angry when he finds out.” Scarlett paused in her busywork, turning worried blue eyes toward her brother.

In the quiet of the room, the balloons bumped one another as they swayed from the air-conditioning blowing through a nearby vent.

“No, he won’t.” Carson had watched his stern father crack under the fears for his wife after her disappearance and then her fall. And even before that, Donovan McNeill had been dealing with his own father’s reemergence in their lives after a long period of estrangement. The stress of the last year had changed him. “He’s got enough to bear right now just worrying about her. He texted me a little while ago to tell you he’ll be in around midnight.”

The fact that Donovan had texted him in itself told Carson a lot about how his father had changed. Carson had opened his home to his estranged grandfather, Manhattan-based resort mogul Malcolm McNeill, when the old guy showed up in Cheyenne. Donovan hadn’t spoken to Carson for weeks afterward, refusing to acknowledge the billionaire father he’d bitterly cut out of his life decades ago. But now, Donovan seemed to have moved past that, too worried about his wife to care about the old grudge.

“Okay. Thanks.” Scarlett dropped into the chair closest to the bed and held her mother’s hand, careful not to bump the IV line. “How’s the filming going at the Creek Spill?”

Thoughts of Emma filled his head. Her scent. Her touch.

The danger she was in.

“Everyone is still settling in.” He wasn’t ready to say anything about Emma when they’d only just met. No matter that he’d moved her into his house. “Shooting starts tomorrow, though.”

Scarlett stared at him expectantly. Had his sister already heard rumors about him spending all day with a sexy stuntwoman?

“Damn it, Carson, don’t make me ask. Have you seen Logan King or not?” She leaned closer, one of her dark curls falling onto her forearm.

“Sorry.” He’d been so wrapped up in thoughts of Emma, he’d forgotten about her sister’s tangled connection to one of the stars of the film. “I’ve been busy making room for the extra stunt animals they brought for this thing. When they wanted to house animals, I didn’t realize they’d be high-strung Spanish dancing horses that needed a whole damn barn to themselves.”

“Spanish dancing horses?” Scarlett grinned. “You mean like Andalusians?” At his nod, she continued excitedly. “They’re some of the best-trained animals in the world. I doubt they’re high-strung.”

His thoughts strayed to Emma again, as he remembered her working on the complex commands with Mariana. The horses knew how to fall, roll and do a series of complicated jumps.

He’d started out the day worrying about how Emma would do with the animal. Now, he was far more concerned about how she’d fare with a bastard of an ex circulating among free men again.

Before he could respond to his sister, two nurses entered the room, pushing a rolling cart between them. It amazed him how many different tests they needed to run on patients.

“I’m going to let you handle things,” he murmured to his sister before kissing her on the cheek. “But I’ll keep an eye out for Logan and let you know how the shooting is going tomorrow, okay?”

She nodded while the nurses moved the cart closer. “Sure thing, Carson. Thanks.”

He didn’t need to check his watch as he left the hospital room. He knew that Emma would be long asleep by now back at his ranch. But that didn’t slow him down any.

He’d rest easier once he was at home, under the same roof with her, personally making sure she stayed safe. The fact that he would relive every second of that kiss in his dreams tonight was just an added bonus. And something he couldn’t help.

* * *

Emma stood on the balcony of the suite Carson had given her long after dinnertime, staring out at the ranch under the rising moon. She knew the moon was the same size everywhere, but right here, where she could see it break over the horizon, it was a huge white spotlight turned on the Creek Spill. She wrapped her flannel shirt tighter around her to stay warm against the cool night breeze. She hadn’t brought a bathrobe, so she’d put on the flannel over the pajama T-shirt she wore with an old pair of running shorts. Summer was warmer in southern California.

The balcony under her feet was made of smooth planks covered by a big woven rug in sunset colors. The wooden chairs were made of narrow logs, the knots still visible, the cushions as thick as her mattress back home. She’d switched off the lights in the room behind her so no one roaming around outdoors would see her up here.

Or at least they wouldn’t see her well. She’d been drawn outdoors by that big glowing moon, but now that she was out here, she took a minute to orient herself. The main house overlooked stables and a lighted swimming pool, along with numerous barns and sheds, all landscaped and much of it fenced. The buildings she could see, however, were small compared to the stables and barns where the stunt horses were kept and where Zoe was staying with many of the other crew members. She’d read online that the Creek Spill and its neighboring ranch, the Black Creek, were a combined fifty thousand acres, an amount of land that had boggled her mind.

It made her wonder how the owner of all that property had time to watch her ride a horse today.

Carson had an army of people working for him. She understood that now after meeting his housekeeper, who had shown Emma her room. A maid had brought up her dinner, which had been prepared by a cook. Knowing there were so many people on staff in the house had helped her feel a little less awkward about sleeping in Carson’s home. It wasn’t as if she was alone in the house with him.

Deciding she needed to stop thinking and start sleeping, Emma was about to return to her suite when a shadow emerged near the illuminated swimming pool.

A very male shadow.

The heavy shoulders and narrow waist told her as much. But she’d spent enough time admiring that particular masculine physique today that she didn’t have to guess who she was watching.

Carson McNeill had come home.

He stood at the deep end, facing the house. Facing her. She recognized his clothes from earlier; he must have just returned from his family obligation. She didn’t move, not wanting him to see her.

Wanting to watch him a little longer.

But then he raised his hands and dragged his T-shirt over his head. The light from the pool glinted off the bare muscle of his arms. She couldn’t see his abs in the shadows but her imagination supplied a picture of them just fine.

It was too late to shout down to him. Or at least, that was what she told herself. She seemed to have forgotten how to move, let alone speak.

His hand moved to his belt and he stepped out of his boots. Her mouth went dry when he reached for the button on his fly.

She gasped out loud when he stepped out of the denim.

That must have been what he heard. His head snapped up then, his gaze immediately finding her.

Her heart thudded so loud in her own ears she wondered if he heard that, too. Still, she couldn’t seem to lift her eyes from the slim-fitting boxer shorts that hugged his hips.

“Emma?” His voice smoked through her, heating her skin from the inside. “Is that you?”

Four

There would be no slinking back to her room now.

Emma struggled to find her voice, flustered to her toes to be caught gawking.

“Carson?” She feigned surprise, as if she’d been standing at the railing staring at the moon and not the almost-naked gorgeous man in the courtyard. “I—er—didn’t see you there.” She cleared her throat to smooth over the cracks in her voice. “It’s a little cool out for a swim, isn’t it?”

She couldn’t quite peel her eyes away from him. But it was dark enough he couldn’t possibly tell exactly where she was looking. She hoped.

He grinned, his teeth a flash of white in the moonlight. “Spoken like a southern California girl. And no, it isn’t too cold.” He backed up a step, retrieving his jeans and shirt. “I thought you would have been asleep by now or I would have checked on you.”

Moonlight played over his muscles as he slid the denim back up over his hips. The light in the pool cast a watery glimmer on his chest until he put his T-shirt on. Having him less naked helped her brain cells start functioning again, but she wasn’t forgetting what she’d seen any time soon.

“I’m fine.” She wondered what “checking on her” might have involved, though. “Mrs. Tillson made sure I had dinner and helped me get settled.”

She noticed he left his boots by the pool as he jogged across the pavers to the wooden staircase at the far end of the upper deck. The deck that led to her.

Straightening, she remembered what she was wearing. A flannel shirt over an outfit she normally wore to bed. It was decidedly lacking in coverage. While Carson climbed the steps, she discreetly adjusted the waistband of the shorts, easing them a bit lower on her hips to cover the tops of her thighs before wrapping the flannel shirt around her again.

Her heart thudded hard against her chest as he strode closer, his steps light on the planked decking that lined the whole upstairs floor along the back of this section of the house.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you need?” he asked as he reached her, his gaze missing nothing.

For one heated moment, she allowed herself to consider the question. Then reason returned and she shook her head. “I’m all set. And I appreciate the hospitality. I certainly never would have expected you to—”

He waved off her thanks, leaning on the rail as he faced her. “Don’t think twice about it. I will sleep better knowing you’re as safe as we can make you here.”

A different kind of warmth filled her at his kindness. “Thank you.” She soaked in the comfort of his protection for just a moment. His caring. Then she remembered his quick exit earlier. “Is everything all right with your family? I’m sorry that your stepmother is in the hospital.”

He looked out over the ranch for a moment, his jaw flexing. He nodded. “Things are better now. My stepmother has been in a coma since she fell in a hiking accident, but her doctors say she’s coming out of it.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been frightening for your whole family.” Her hand landed on his forearm. Squeezed. She had a tenuous relationship with her own mother, but she couldn’t imagine life without her. Jane Layton was the only family Emma had since her father’s suicide when she was three years old.

A cool breeze chilled her, sending a shiver up her spine.

“I just hope they’ll let her come home soon. Worrying about her has really taken a toll on my father.” Carson glanced over at her, frowning down at her bare legs. “You’re cold. Let’s find a spot to sit away from the wind for a minute and then I’ll let you get to bed.”

He palmed the space between her shoulder blades, steering her toward the seating area close to the French doors that led into her suite. As she dropped into one of the thick cushioned seats, he tugged a throw blanket off the love seat and laid it over her legs.

“It’s okay. I’m too wound up to sleep anyway.” She hadn’t anticipated her ex’s release from prison to churn up so many old insecurities, especially after the months she’d trained to feel strong and confident. She tucked the edges of the blanket—a soft wool blend—under her to keep the wind out.

“I ordered more private security starting tomorrow.” He lowered himself into the love seat, putting him at a right angle to her chair.

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