One Stubborn Texan Page 5

  “Have you ever heard of him talk about relatives in the Las Vegas area?”

  “Not that I recall.” Russ needed another distraction to delay Sydney from interrogating him. Otherwise, he was going to have to lie outright to her and he didn’t want to do that. “Are you hungry?”

  “After the breakfast I had at the Periwinkle? Not likely. By the way, you were right about the sweet rolls.”

  “Then would you mind reaching around to the cooler behind my seat and getting a snack for me? I haven’t had lunch.”

  “Okay, sure.” She unfastened her seat belt and twisted her body around so she could lean between the bucket seats. Her skirt rode up on her thigh and Russ drank in an extended, appreciative and unapologetic look. Her legs were long for such a petite woman and she definitely had good muscle tone.

  “Do you want pretzels, an apple or a granola—Oh, yuck!” She pulled back and rubbed furiously at her face. “That dog is in the car. He stuck his tongue in my ear.” She sounded utterly disgusted.

  With a sinking stomach Russ glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t planned on this outing being a threesome. Sure enough, though, Nero crawled out from under a tarp in the backseat. At some point when Russ had turned his back—probably when Sydney was distracting him—the sneaky old hound had climbed into the back of the Bronco so he could come along for the ride.

  Nero shoved his head between the bucket seats and madly sniffed at Sydney, who had her hands protecting her face from his inquisitive tongue.

  “Nero, go lie down,” Russ said in a loud, stern voice.

  The dog gave him a surprised, injured look before reluctantly retreating to the cargo area behind the backseat.

  “He’s gone now,” Russ said to Sydney.

  She started digging in her purse for something. “Does he go everywhere with you?”

  “Most places,” Russ answered. “But today he’s a stow-away. I think he likes you.”

  “Likes me? He tried to take a bite out of my ear.”

  Russ looked over at Sydney’s pink shell of an ear, which certainly didn’t bear any teeth marks. “In twelve years, Nero has never bitten anyone. He’s not about to start with you. He licked your ear.” Maybe the dog liked the body lotion she used. Russ himself wasn’t immune to her delicate scent and thought that licking her ear wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

  “He was tasting me,” she insisted. She’d found a moist towelette in her purse and was energetically washing the side of her face, her neck and any other place with which Nero might have come into contact.

  Russ sighed and tried to drag his gaze back to the road, which wasn’t easy since she was wiping her cleavage. He was pretty sure Nero hadn’t licked there.

  Still, the Nero incident was a perfect reminder. Just when he was starting to like Sydney, she gave him another reason why he shouldn’t.

  “What sane person doesn’t like dogs?” he couldn’t help asking. “What’s not to like? Dogs are the ultimate embodiment of unconditional love. Even if I’ve only been gone ten minutes, Nero greets me like a long-lost friend. He lives for someone to scratch him behind the ears or give him a doggy treat. Dogs have simple needs.” Not like women, he almost added.

  “You can save your breath. No private detective likes dogs.”

  From the corner of his eye, Russ noted the rise and fall of her chest. His initial guess had been correct. She was afraid of dogs.

  He shrugged. At least Nero’s timely show of affection had taken Sydney’s mind off Russ’s family.

  “Do you still want a snack?” Sydney asked, regaining her composure.

  “That’s okay. We’ll be at our destination before too long, and I’ll grab something then.”

  She tugged down the hem of her short skirt and put her seat belt back on, peering over her shoulder every so often to ensure the dog remained in the cargo area.

  “How come you’re so afraid?” he asked.

  “I told you, I’m not afraid of dogs. I’m just not fond of them.”

  “So you’ve never been bitten?”

  She hesitated. “Well, yeah, I was. Just one more reason not to like dogs. You can’t trust them. They may fool you into thinking they’re domesticated, but one false move and they’ll turn on you.”

  “How old were you when you got bitten? Or was it more than once?”

  “Once was enough,” she said with a shiver. “I was five. A neighbor’s chow jumped me when I was riding my bike down the sidewalk. He’d always been friendly before that.”

  Russ knew about dogs and bikes. He’d been chased down a time or two by territorial farm dogs. “A moving bicycle awakens some dogs’ prey instinct. The chow probably thought you were a very large rabbit.”

  “Exactly my point. At any moment, they can revert to the wild.”

  “So can people,” Russ couldn’t resist pointing out. He’d seen enough dog-eat-dog behavior in Vegas to convince him of that. “But that doesn’t mean you should dislike and avoid all people.”

  “I’m sure your dog is a sterling example for the whole species, but I still don’t trust him. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings.”

  Russ laughed. “It’s your loss, missing out on the love of a good dog. That’s okay. Both Nero and I still like you.”

  She eyed him curiously, apparently not sure how to take his flirting. When he grinned back at her, she looked away.

  Another spear of guilt needled him. What kind of a degenerate flirts with a woman he’s lying to?

  “Did the chow hurt you badly?” he asked, feeling sympathy for the small child she once was.

  “I spent a week in the hospital and another three years in and out of surgery.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of it.” No wonder she didn’t trust dogs. No wonder she was afraid—even if she refused to admit it. He glanced over at her, giving her a frank examination. “I don’t see any scars.” At least, none that weren’t covered up by clothing.

  She reached over, took his right hand off the steering wheel, and placed it under her hair at the back of her neck. “Feel the bumps?”

  He nodded, running his fingers along her skin as if he were reading braille. Bumps or no, her neck felt nice.

  “I wear scarves for a reason. But I did have an exceptional doctor. He got rid of most of the scars.”

  “But not the ones in here.” He lightly touched her temple, then quickly returned both hands to the steering wheel where they belonged.

  “Dogs sense something in me—hostility, maybe. I give off some scent only they can smell. If I walk into a pet shop, all the dogs start barking like they have rabies.”

  “Nero likes you. Why else would he kiss you on the ear?”

  At the sound of his name, the dog’s head popped up from behind the backseat. Sydney stiffened, though she said nothing.

  “Nero, lie down.”

  Nero’s hopeful eyebrows fell as he disappeared once again behind the seat. Sydney relaxed.

  Figuring they’d talked enough about dogs, Russ kept Sydney distracted by pointing out a landmark here and a rock formation there. She responded with seeming interest, sometimes asking a question or simply nodding thoughtfully.

  “It’s beautiful out here, even in the winter,” she conceded. “Even a confirmed urbanite like me can appreciate that.”

  After they’d been driving for about twenty minutes, Russ pulled off the main road and onto a rutted dirt road that challenged the Bronco’s suspension. Five minutes later, he stopped at a washed-out bridge that had once spanned Deer Creek, a ribbon of water with a steep, rocky bank.

  Stately oaks, scrubby mesquite and maples crowded the road from both sides and climbed the distant hills, their brown, bare trunks interspersed with evergreen junipers. One thing Russ loved about the Hill Country was the way the landscape varied from bare, brown rocks to gentle hills and valleys coated with buffalo grass to lush woods.

  “Wow.” Sydney gazed through the windshield at a landscape that was picture-postc
ard perfect, even when the trees were bare of leaves. “Is this a state park or something?”

  “Actually, it’s private land owned by some hospitable friends of mine,” he said as he cut the engine. “But it butts up against a park creating an uninterrupted chunk of wilderness.” Big enough to support some of the threatened animals that needed large areas to range, like bobcats and cougars. But he wisely chose not to mention critters of any kind to Sydney. If she was afraid of old Nero, he couldn’t imagine how she would react to a cougar.

  “Have we stopped here for a reason?” Sydney asked.

  “No bridge.”

  “Can’t we…go around?”

  “Sorry, but from here we have to hoof it.”

  “What? How far?”

  “Only about four miles.” Not giving her a fair chance to object, he opened his door and jumped down, leaving her gaping.

  Chapter Five

  Sydney shut her mouth. Four miles? Why was she panicking? She could do four miles. In New York terms, that was forty blocks. She walked that far some days. And on the treadmill, she ran as many as five or six miles. Piece of cake.

  Anyway, she had a feeling Russ enjoyed forcing her out of her comfort zone. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d startled her.

  Sydney opened her door, looked down at the red mud, grimaced and jumped down. Her feet sank into the soft earth and she was grateful for the hiking boots. Her suede, high-heeled shoes would have been instantly ruined.

  It felt good to stretch her legs after the cramped confines of the truck. It was actually a pretty big truck, but it had felt cramped, given the two overwhelming presences she’d been forced to share it with. Just the thought of that beast lurking in the back made her break out in goose bumps. As for Russ—well, his presence was threatening in an altogether different way. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel like hiding from him; in fact, she’d had no trouble confiding highly personal information, especially strange for her given that she was usually slow to trust strangers.

  She closed the door to the truck and stretched her arms up over her head, taking in a deep breath of country air. Lord, what she wouldn’t give to have this quality of air where she lived.

  A sharp bark startled her and she whirled around. The dog was still safely confined in the back of the Bronco.

  “He just wants to get out and explore,” Russ said from behind the truck. He opened the rear door.

  Sydney shuddered and stepped to the other side of the road, where she wouldn’t have to look at the beast. While Nero explored, Russ turned his attention to hauling out a couple of backpacks.

  “What do we need those for?”

  “It’s always a good idea to be prepared when hiking into the wilderness.”

  “Please don’t tell me the dog is going to hike with us.”

  Russ sighed. “No, he’ll stay in the truck.”

  Thank goodness for small favors. Sydney might actually enjoy a nature hike, but not if she had to worry about a dog putting his muddy paws all over her or slobbering on her clothes. Besides, dogs were genetically wolves. In the wild like this, wouldn’t it be easy for one to revert? And Nero was big, maybe bigger than a chow.

  “He might like to come with us,” Russ continued, “but I don’t take him hiking anymore. Last time I did, he took off after a rabbit and didn’t come home for two days. When he finally showed up he was more dead than alive.”

  The dog kept his nose to the ground, checking everything out, then came to the exact spot where Sydney had stood and sniffed the ground madly. Nero then followed her trail around the Bronco and stopped right in front of her, giving a sharp bark. Sydney cringed. The beast was hunting her. Why couldn’t Russ see that?

  “Nero!” Russ called, and the dog went to his master’s voice. Russ loaded him back into the cargo area. He opened all the windows a few inches, then locked the dog inside.

  With Nero taken care of, Russ shouldered his backpack with economical movements, then nodded toward Sydney’s. Determined to rise to whatever challenge he placed before her, she shrugged into the pack, then let Russ adjust the straps, aware of his strong, capable hands, brown from the sun even in winter. When he readjusted the collar of her blouse, his fingers brushed against bare skin and she shivered.

  “Cold?”

  “A little,” she fibbed. Actually, she was warm, verging on hot, thinking about the feel of those hands against her skin. Just move a little to the left….

  The pack adjusted to his satisfaction, he stared at her an uncomfortably long time, as if sizing her up—or maybe guessing her lascivious thoughts. She hoped not. “Is it too heavy?” he finally asked.

  She took a few steps, getting used to the weight. “I can handle it.”

  Russ raised an appreciative eyebrow, but said nothing.

  Sydney, who’d never hiked in the country or gone camping her whole life—and who’d never had a desire to do so—was actually looking forward to the hike now. She wanted to show him she wasn’t some pampered princess. Even if she didn’t like walking on dirt.

  Russ led the way down the steep bank to the edge of the creek bed, offering a hand to help Sydney. She shook her head, then wished she hadn’t been so proud when she slid partway down on her butt. Thankfully, he didn’t see her lapse in grace. But her skirt was probably ruined.

  They walked alongside the creek for a while, then crossed to the other side on a natural bridge formed by a tree trunk. This time, she didn’t hesitate to take the hand Russ offered. No way was she going to fall in a cold creek, even if it looked to be only a few inches deep.

  The climb out of the creek bed was easier and from there they took a rough footpath through some scrubby trees. The path wasn’t difficult, and Sydney was able to fully enjoy her surroundings.

  The scenery was breathtaking, with sheer limestone cliffs, pockets of heavy woods and open areas of barren rock. For most New Yorkers, her included, Texas evoked images of deserts. Cactus. Ranches and oil wells. She’d been to Austin a number of times to visit Aunt Carol, but she’d seldom ventured beyond the city limits before this trip. She never would have guessed she would encounter this kind of scenery.

  The sounds of the wind in the trees, the chatter of birds, the crunch of dead leaves under her feet—they were all foreign yet intriguingly familiar to her. Surely she’d soon tire of a steady diet of this Daniel Boone stuff, but one afternoon wouldn’t hurt her.

  They passed a waterfall that emptied into a deep, mysterious-looking pool and Sydney thought about how refreshing it would be to swim here on a hot summer day.

  She wondered if Russ ever swam here. And if so, did he skinny-dip? Her face heated at the mental image taking shape and she shook her head to banish it before she became so distracted she smacked into a tree trunk.

  As they topped a grassy rise and entered a meadow, Russ dropped back to walk next to her. “Tired?”

  “No. I’m used to walking. At home, sometimes it’s faster than braving the traffic. Disappointed?”

  He grinned. “You must really want to see those papers.”

  She did. And yet she wasn’t all that optimistic about what she would find. Russ said he hadn’t gone through the boxes. For all anyone knew, they could be filled with old newspapers or recipes.

  What was the real reason she’d been so eager to accompany Russ to his cabin? And why hadn’t she asked him more than a few superficial questions?

  She knew the answer, she just hated to admit it. Russ had already told her his mother’s name was not Winifred. Didn’t that take him out of the running as the Oberlin heir? She should have returned to San Antonio and resumed her search. She had a few more Russell Kleins to go through.

  But she wasn’t done with this Russell, not yet. She wasn’t done fantasizing about him. She hadn’t gotten her fill of his muscular body, his clear blue eyes and the way his mouth creased at the corners when he smiled, which wasn’t often enough. She hadn’t seen enough of the way he moved, so much a part of this wild envi
ronment, yet achingly human and all man.

  They walked on in silence for a while. They’d been hiking for almost forty-five minutes when Sydney detected a sound, something new, something distinct from the pleasant din of the woods. She looked up into the trees and saw nothing out of the ordinary. She looked from side to side, still seeing nothing. Finally she glanced over her shoulder.

  Oh, for heaven’s sake. The dog was loping along the trail behind her, panting happily.

  “Russ? Excuse me, Russ?” she called out.

  Russ stopped and turned. “Problem?” Then he spotted his dog. “Nero, what are you doing here?”

  “Can your dog open car doors?” Sydney stood still as the dog sniffed her boots.

  “He must have squeezed through one of the open windows.”

  “If he gets those muddy paws on my skirt, I’m sending you the cleaning bill.”

  “The skirt’s already ruined,” he pointed out. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  Darn it, he’d noticed her clumsy fall after all.

  Russ pulled a piece of rope from his backpack. He tied one end of the rope to Nero’s collar and yanked him away from Sydney. “What’s gotten into you, boy?” To Sydney he said, “I guess we have no choice but to take him with us. I hope I don’t end up carrying him back.”

  Sydney pictured Russ hiking back to the car with the big dog on his shoulders. He probably wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Clearly, he was ridiculously fond of the beast.

  Yet another reason she should keep her distance. As if she needed more reasons.

  Russ slowed his pace slightly, remembering he had a greenhorn with him. Sydney, however, showed no signs of fatigue. She wasn’t even breathing hard, though her face was pleasantly flushed from the mild exertions

  But the trail got rougher from that point on. They were hiking more or less parallel to Deer Creek, which had cut a small canyon in the limestone as it wound down the hill. They made several more crossings, sometimes using log bridges, sometimes hopping from rock to rock.