Wild Wyoming Nights

Two

Four miles into her evening run, Emma regretted the decision not to take the cast shuttle back to her lodgings at White Canyon Ranch.

She’d been in a hurry to burn off the keyed-up awareness she’d felt all day working with Carson McNeill and thought maybe she could jog away that hypersensitive energy. Now, her thighs burned with a soreness that no workout had ever given her before. As a personal trainer strictly for female clients, she had plenty of thigh workouts in her personal inventory. In the future, she’d have to start recommending a day in the saddle to women who complained about their inner thighs.

Slowing to a walk on the grassy path alongside a fenced-in field between the Creek Spill lands and the guest ranch where second unit cast and crew members were staying, Emma checked her directions on the GPS. She’d asked one of the stable workers about the route she’d chosen, and he’d assured her the dirt road was good enough to drive on in a pickup truck. Running would be no problem. She’d thought she’d been well prepared, peeling off the jodhpurs and stuffing them in her nylon knapsack along with an extra bottle of water. She’d changed into a clean pair of cropped leggings along with the running shoes she’d packed for her evening workout. Her boots she’d left tucked in a corner of the tack room, at the suggestion of the ranch hand who’d told her about the path.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon, though, and it occurred to her that it was liable to be very dark at sunset. Not like her neighborhood in Studio City, where she could run at all hours of the night and still see because of the streetlamps. Taking a moment to stretch in the hope it would ease some of the stiffness in her muscles, Emma breathed in the scent of fresh air and wildflowers. The breeze stirred the tall grass inside the four-rail fence.

She was just about ready to start running again when the hum of an engine alerted her that a vehicle was heading her way. Her shoulders tensed. Yes, Emma had taken plenty of mixed martial arts classes, training that served her well in stunt work and helped to make her feel sure of herself in isolated places. Still, she couldn’t shake some of the old fears. Her ex-boyfriend was a fellow fitness trainer who’d hit her in a public place, in front of a room full of witnesses after a kickboxing class he’d taught. He’d tried to play it off like he was giving her an extra lesson, but thankfully no one else in the class believed that. An off-duty cop had been among the attendees, leading to the battery charges that kept her ex locked up for almost three years.

She didn’t want to ever need saving again, though. She tightened her ponytail and started a light jog that irritated her burning thighs.

As the sound of the engine drew closer, punching up her heartrate, she turned to see a two-seater utility vehicle with an open cargo bed in back. The compelling cowboy she’d been trying to excise from her thoughts sat behind the wheel.

Her fears dissipated fast.

Carson McNeill braked to a stop beside her. The tension inside her shifted from fright back to the attraction she’d been fighting all day. She told herself it shouldn’t matter that she was red faced and sweating. But it was tough not to be aware that she looked like roadkill when he looked like he’d just had a shower, with his hair still damp and his face freshly shaved. He wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up and a clean pair of jeans.

She paused beside the vehicle, swiping the back of her hand over her damp forehead. “You can’t possibly be here to critique my form. On my own two feet, I absolutely know what I’m doing.”

He didn’t even crack a smile. “My foreman told me you decided to run back to the White Canyon.”

“When running alone, it’s a good safety practice to let someone know where you’re going.” She’d taken extra precautions. “I told Zoe, too.”

His jaw flexed. She’d seen that look often enough today when she’d tried his patience. Now, the furrow in his brow said he was downright aggravated.

“Speaking of safety practices, how many times did I mention that a Wyoming ranch can be dangerous? That animals can be dangerous?”

“Several.” Hot, tired and sore, she was beginning to feel her own patience fray. “But since I’m off the clock for the day, I’m no longer your concern.”

“If you’re on McNeill lands, you’re my responsibility.” He swiped his Stetson off the passenger seat and tossed it in the cargo bed behind him. “Get in. I’ll drive you the rest of the way.”

She didn’t appreciate the command, but she also didn’t want to antagonize a man who still had the power to send her packing. Besides, her legs hurt and twilight would turn to full dark soon.

The vehicle didn’t have a door so she swung into the passenger seat while holding on to the roll bar. Carson revved the engine once she was seated with her safety belt buckled.

“Nice ride,” she remarked lightly, hoping he wasn’t going to hold this latest transgression against her during this extra stressful week.

She’d had multiple texts from her roommate and her mother reminding her not to answer any calls from unknown numbers this week. They were both worried about her, with her ex getting out of prison. As if Emma wasn’t worried enough on her own. But she couldn’t imagine how Austin would find her here. Hollywood made no secret of lead actors’ whereabouts, but anyone looking for information about stunt roles, especially smaller roles like this one, would be hard-pressed to find it. Another bright spot was that Austin would have no idea she’d gone into stunt work, even if he wanted to find her.

Beside her, Carson remained silent while the stars popped out overhead. One. Two. And then a million. The sight was breathtaking. She craned her head back to stare straight up, but she didn’t need to. Pinpoints of blue and white light blanketed the sky in every direction.

“Wow.” She glanced over at her silent driver, wondering if he’d grown immune to the beauty. “I’ve never seen stars like this.”

Maybe some of her wonder seeped through his frustration, because he slowed the vehicle, then stopped altogether, the engine rumbling at idle in the creeping night. They sat on a hilltop with meadows rolling out into the distance on one side, and a shadow of rocky cliffs and trees on the other. He snapped off the headlights to give them a better view and turned off the ignition. The engine ticked for a few moments and then went silent.

“It’s amazing how much the lights of a city detract from the night sky.” Carson tipped his head back, too, his hands resting on his sprawled denim-covered knees.

The right one hovered close to her leg, radiating a warmth she could feel. Or maybe it was the electric current of attraction that made her skin tingle that way beneath her leggings. She had been on a few dates since breaking things off with Austin but nothing serious. She definitely hadn’t experienced the sizzling awareness she got from being around Carson. What a shame for her body to finally wake up again around a man she needed to impress with her professionalism.

“It’s funny,” she said, needing to break the intimate thread of silence between them, “because I always think I live in a quieter area of Los Angeles.” She tried not to think about his knee next to hers. His hand close to her leg. But memories of the way he’d touched her earlier—shifting her thigh on the horse—sent a fresh surge of heat through her.

“Even in Cheyenne, you can’t see the stars the way you can out here. There aren’t many perks to ranching, but the night sky is definitely one of them.”

Straightening in her seat, she peered over at him. The breeze turned cooler.

“You don’t like your work?” She was curious about him, this man who allowed a film production company onto his property but couldn’t really relinquish control. “After seeing you on horseback today, I guess I just assumed you were born in a saddle.”

He’d ridden beside her briefly before setting her loose to try the track on her own.

“Almost.” She thought she heard a hint of a smile in his voice. Or was that wishful thinking? “But I never imagined myself overseeing cattle at my age. Ranching is fine for my twin brother, but I thought I’d be riding rodeo into my thirties.”

She hadn’t known about the twin brother. Or the rodeo past. Still, she could relate to what he was saying. She felt him shift beside her, turning toward her. A gust of wind blew through her hair, flicking strands against her cheek.

“I never thought I’d be recreating sword fights or high-speed chases, either. But sometimes life takes surprising turns.”

“I’ll bet it’s an interesting story how you got here, Emma Layton.” Her name on his lips felt as intimate as a caress to a woman who hadn’t been touched by a man in a long, long time.

The rush of heat through her veins shouldn’t have caught her off guard—she’d been feeling it all day around him. She’d run four miles to try to escape it. Even so, the magnetic force that seemed to pull her toward him was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Her shoulders shifted fractionally closer. Her knee brushed his.

She drew in a sharp breath at the contact, ripples of pleasure radiating out from the point where she touched him. She forgot what they were talking about. Couldn’t think of words to say even if she remembered. There was only the moment and the man. The endless starry sky enveloping them like a dream.

Maybe that was why she found herself leaning even closer—it all felt surreal. Like a time-out from the worry and stress of her real life, where everything was suddenly simpler. Where kissing Carson McNeill seemed like the only thing that mattered.

Her hand landed on his chest. Warm. Strong. Inviting.

She splayed her fingers wider, wanting to feel more of him. Then she tipped her face up to his. She was close enough to see him well despite the darkness. His eyes locked on hers for an instant—like two stars close up.

And then his lips claimed hers.

* * *

Carson had been wrestling with the need to touch Emma all day. For hours, they’d been in close proximity, and the urge to kiss her had been there. Every. Single. Moment.

He’d resisted. Triumphed. Walked away from her at the end of the work day, satisfied that he’d done the right thing.

But as soon as he’d spotted her treating his ranch like her personal gym out on the pasture road, her glossy brown ponytail swinging while she jogged, he knew his restraint was all out for the day. She’d worn right through it with her bullheaded determination to fake her way through a horseback stunt. Hell, she’d shredded it with her grit and bravado that rivaled any bull rider’s.

So now when she tipped her mouth up to his, freely offering the taste he’d battled his conscience over all day, he didn’t have a prayer of turning away. Petal-soft and strawberry-scented, her lips parted on a sigh, molding to his. Yielding sweetly. She skimmed her palm over his chest, sliding lower. He wrapped his arm around her, anchoring her against him, feeling the swell of her breasts as she eased nearer.

Wind whipped around them, stirring the scent of her fruity shampoo as tendrils escaped the ponytail and tickled his cheek. Hunger for more surged, hunger he couldn’t possibly satisfy. He’d never had a woman affect him like this—so swiftly or so completely. Her fingers clenched around the hem of his T-shirt, her nails gently scraping his skin and arousing a whole other heat they couldn’t possibly indulge...

“Emma.” He blinked his way through the sensual fog, hoping he’d regain reason as he broke the kiss.

As it was, he simply tipped his forehead to hers, waiting to catch his breath. Her eyes stayed closed a long moment. When she opened them, she edged away even more.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

His eyes were adjusted enough to the dark that he could see her run her fingers over her lips. The gesture made his insides twist with need.

“I wish you weren’t. Sorry, that is. I’ll be damned if I am.”

He debated starting up the utility vehicle and flooring the gas until he got her back to her room for the night. Behind a locked door. But his stepmother was being transferred to the local hospital tonight, and he wanted to be there for his family when she arrived in Cheyenne.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew why I’m here.” Emma tightened her ponytail in a gesture he’d seen her repeat often over the course of the day.

He’d be willing to bet she didn’t let her hair down often. And yeah, maybe that made him want to crow with victory that she’d seemed to forget everything else with him just now.

“What do you mean?” He forced himself to focus on her words and not the leftover heat still sparking through him. Then he started the vehicle, knowing he needed to get on the road for the hospital soon.

“I mean, I’m not an up-and-coming starlet, in town because I’m so excited to further my career.” She hugged her arms around herself, sitting back farther in her seat.

“You’re not trying to get ahead in your career?” He didn’t follow what she was getting at. “Could have fooled me given how hard you worked today.”

“Yes. Well, I want to keep my job. Desperately.” She slanted a look his way as they skirted a patch of trees and neared the lights of the White Canyon Ranch. “But that’s because I need to be anywhere but LA this week since my ex-boyfriend is getting out of prison tomorrow.”

Carson tried to process that. He hoped like hell that the ex in question hadn’t hurt her. But damn. Wouldn’t that account for her level of determination not to be in California this week?

“I’m sorry to hear you were in a bad relationship,” he said carefully. “And I’m glad to know why it means so much that you stay in Wyoming for the film. But that doesn’t make me the least bit sorry I kissed you.”

“There’s relationship baggage, and then there’s relationship kryptonite. I’m pretty sure a felon ex-boyfriend puts me in the latter category.” She lifted her nylon knapsack off the floor and set it in her lap, as if she couldn’t sprint out of the vehicle fast enough.

Carson slowed to a stop outside the deep porch of the huge log guest ranch, wanting to tread warily in this conversation, but also needing to reassure her that her past didn’t change how he viewed her.

“Your ex being in jail doesn’t reflect on you. Only on him.”

She unfastened her seat belt with a jerky movement. She was upset and he regretted having any part in making her feel that way. He’d watched her overcome one challenge after another on her horse today, admiring her never-ending supply of resolve.

“He was in prison for hitting me.” She looked at him, her gaze unwavering. “And once he’s freed, he’ll come looking for me. The last thing I want to do is drag an unsuspecting man into the drama.”

She bolted from the car as if she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell in his lap. By the time he shook off being stunned and set out to follow Emma, the screen door was already banging behind her.

Three

Emma realized she was being a coward the moment she got through the door of the White Canyon Ranch.

She’d kissed Carson and let that kiss carry her away. Then, when she acknowledged to herself how much she’d enjoyed it, she had panicked. She’d flung her past in the man’s face and sprinted. If she ever wanted to move beyond the abuse, she needed to stop acting like this. Like she was ashamed and embarrassed about it.

More than that, if she was going to move forward with her life, she had to stop putting up smokescreens when a hot guy tempted her to take a chance on the opposite sex again. She had to take ownership of her feelings.

Forcing herself to stop, she pivoted on the toe of her running shoe before she hit the first step of the main staircase. She wasn’t surprised to see Carson striding through the front door and into the huge foyer with cathedral ceilings.

Her pulse stuttered, then quickened. He’d been appealing, sitting next to her in the darkened vehicle under the stars. Here, in the light cast by the huge antler chandelier overhead, he stole her breath. His gaze locked on her as he closed the distance between them, and those blue eyes saw right inside her.

“Can we talk privately?” he asked, his expression concerned, his touch tender as he wrapped a hand lightly around her forearm.

“Sure.” She nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing.” Peering around the empty foyer, she set her knapsack in a window seat behind a floor-length curtain draped around a wooden pull back. Then she followed him back outside to the wide front porch that wrapped two sides of the building.

Although the guest ranch was full to capacity with cast and crew members this week, the property was relatively quiet now. Emma recalled seeing a bulletin on her phone that a charter bus had been scheduled to transport interested sightseers into downtown Cheyenne tonight for dinner and entertainment.

As Carson guided her toward the railing at the far end of the building, she decided to save him the trouble of asking her more about her past.

“That was wrong of me to spring on you,” she said, leaning a hip into the railing while he turned to face her.

“On the contrary, I’m glad to know so I can make sure you’re safe here.” His jaw flexed as he stared down at her. “I’m just sorry you went through that.”

“Thank you.” She couldn’t help but feel touched. His words sounded heartfelt. “It’s not something I make a habit of sharing. But I guess I got rattled after the kiss, and felt like you should know.”

“I’d like you to move to the Creek Spill, where I have top-notch security.”

She noticed he didn’t say anything about the kiss, which was probably just as well. Maybe he wanted to forget about that moment of heated craziness, too.

Her thoughts skipped ahead to her position in the cast and what he’d just said about her staying at the other ranch. “Do you mean I can keep this job? You don’t plan on making Zoe send me back home?”

A hint of a smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. She remembered what it had felt like to kiss him and got a pleasant shiver just thinking about it. It wasn’t going to be easy to forget what had happened between them.

“One thing at a time,” he cautioned. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he tapped in some commands. “I’ve got a family obligation tonight, but I can have someone help you pack your things and move you into a suite at the Creek Spill.”

“That’s so kind of you, but I don’t need help—”

The warning look in his eyes stopped her protest. “Then consider it a favor for my peace of mind. From now on, you’re my personal guest.”

The seriousness in his voice made her wonder how personal a guest she was going to be. Plenty of the first unit cast members were staying on his property, so she assumed she would be housed with them. Still, it might make things a little awkward with Zoe and her second unit crew if she wasn’t staying with them.

“I’m not sure if my director will think that’s such a good idea.”

Carson finished whatever he was doing on his phone and pocketed the device. Then he put both hands on her shoulders, causing a warm heat that made her insides flutter.

“Then you can tell her the rationale, or I will, but she’s going to have to agree to the arrangement.” His thumbs sketched a light touch along her collarbone, and her skin heated everywhere. “I just asked one of the White Canyon staffers to meet you at your room, and transportation is on the way. The attendant will help you with your bags and see you into the vehicle. You’ll be met on the other end by my housekeeper, Mrs. Tillson. She’ll show you the suite where you can put your things and will have dinner ready as soon as you arrive.”

She tried not to notice the way she wanted to sway toward him. No man had touched her this way in years. As for tending to her every need so thoroughly? No man had done that. Ever.

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.”