depends on how she does while I’m gone.” She was grateful to him for taking her seriously instead of thinking she was paranoid. Maybe a guy who’d lost his family ranch understood that sometimes the worst really did happen. “The thing is…” She paused and considered how candid she wanted to be about the falling ratings and the rumors about lack of chemistry between her and Mel.
When she didn’t continue, Clint said nothing—didn’t ask her what she’d been about to say or prompt her to keep on talking. Instead he sipped his coffee and looked out across the valley.
That was the unique thing about those blue eyes of his, she realized now. They were the eyes of a man used to distance and open spaces. He seemed very comfortable with all that emptiness stretching out in front of him. He was comfortable with silence.
She tried seeing the landscape through his eyes, a view he’d known since he was born. There was a kind of peacefulness to looking out over miles and miles of uninhabited land. She wasn’t used to peacefulness, but a person would be used to it if he grew up that way.
And she could understand wanting to hang onto a place you were used to. Her parents didn’t want to leave their bungalow in Brooklyn, even though she now had extra money and could help them buy a nicer house. So the extra money she was earning had started piling up. That might be a good thing, because she could soon be unemployed.
“Those big mountains across the valley are the Santa Ritas,” Clint said.
She hadn’t asked, but it might be good to know for the broadcast. “How about the mountains in back of the ranch?”
“The Mustangs.”
“Perfect.” She was already composing her intro in her head. I’m talking to you from the historic Circle W Ranch, which is tucked right up against the Mustang Mountains.
She’d better check out the historic part, though. “How old is this place?”
“The ranch itself, or this house?”
“The ranch.”
“My great-grandfather, Clemson Walker, bought the land in nineteen-twenty.”
Definitely historic. “I can see why it’s rough to have it pass out of the family, then.”
“I’m adjusting.”
But not well, she’d bet. “Forgive me if this is too nosey, but wouldn’t it be less painful to get the heck out of here? I would think living on the ranch and knowing it belonged to some rich dude from New York would be a constant heartache.”
At first it seemed as if he wouldn’t answer. Then he sighed. “I’ve told myself that, but if I left, George might let the place fall apart. He’s only interested in subdividing when the land value’s high enough for him.”
“But if he’s going to subdivide eventually, then so what? Aren’t you only delaying the inevitable by staying on?” She’d always been the type who wanted a bandage yanked off fast and bad news delivered immediately. Her motto was to get the agony over with ASAP.
“You’re right, of course. Stupid as it sounds, I keep hoping for a miracle so I can buy it back before that happens.”
“Into lottery tickets, are you?”
“Yeah, I do that.”
She thought of George Forester, a paunchy guy she’d met once at a cocktail party. For him this ranch was mere financial speculation, a chance to increase his considerable fortune if he timed the sale correctly. But for Clint, this was about hanging onto his heritage. She wanted Clint to win the lottery.
“You getting cold?” he asked.
“Why?”
“You shivered.”
“I guess I am a bit chilly.” But sitting here talking with Clint, she’d ignored the cold so that they could stay on the porch a little longer. Purple and blue shadows crept over the valley, and even though she wouldn’t want to spend a whole lot of time looking at them, they were kind of pretty.
“Let’s go in. José will be starting supper any minute, and I need to get the fire ready.”
“José cooks on a wood stove?” If so, she should get Jamie up here on the double, to take footage of that happening.
Clint laughed. “Nope. My grandmother used to, but we’ve had electricity for a long time. Dinner and the fire aren’t connected, except that I like to have a fire in the evenings, and if I set it up now, all I have to do is light it later.”
“Oh.” She had the insane desire to hang around and watch him build the fire, maybe because the cowboys in her dad’s beloved Westerns were forever building fires. It seemed like such a manly chore. “Then maybe I’ll go in my room and start working on my script for tomorrow.”
“What time will you do the first broadcast?”
“Early. We have time on the bird at seven-thirty.”
He laughed. “That’s not early, but what in God’s name is time on the bird?”
She pointed skyward. “Satellite. We only get so long to beam up there from the live truck, or as Jamie loves to call it, the nest. We can’t miss that time, or we’re screwed. But we’ll try not to disturb you.”
“You won’t. I’m up by five.”
“Why? I thought your foreman ran things around here.”
He looked like a little boy with his hand in the cookie jar. “Uh, I’m just an early riser.”
Yes, he was definitely playing games with her and hiding significant information. Okay, girlfriend or no girlfriend, he deserved to get zinged for that. “I like that in a man,” she said. “Someone who’d be up and ready for anything.” Then she waited for him to blush, the way he had earlier.
Instead his eyes darkened, his nostrils flared, and his voice dropped to a sexy drawl. “You might want to be more careful how you use that tongue of yours. It could get you into trouble.”
Her pulse hammered. He was flirting with her! That might mean he didn’t have a girlfriend. That would be a very exciting discovery. She decided to push the envelope a little more. “Maybe I like a little trouble now and then.”
His smile was slow and full of meaning. “Lady, nothing around here qualifies as little.”
She gulped. Maybe she’d underestimated this guy. But she was determined to have the last word. “I’m delighted to hear it. I’m a girl who likes her thrills super-sized. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to do some work before dinner.” Then she whisked through the front door and hurried down the hall.
Back in her room, she closed the door and stood there breathing hard. Good grief. She’d imagined herself in control of the situation, and then wham! Tables turned. She’d better decide for sure how she wanted this to go between them before he stole the decision right from under her…on top of her…and behind her. Damn.
3
CLINT DIDN’T FOLLOW Meg into the house right away. He didn’t trust himself not to go down that hall after her. He shouldn’t have said what he had, but she brought out that side of him and made him think along dangerous lines. What a spitfire. An exciting, arousing bundle of woman. He wondered if she’d meant any of it, or if toying with guys was what she did for amusement.
Probably the latter. He’d be well advised to keep away from someone who had Manhattan by the tail. Hell, he’d seen her picture on the front of one of those celebrity magazines at the barber shop the other day. The last thing he wanted was to get mixed up with someone who had that kind of visibility.
He shouldn’t be fooled because she’d sat on the porch with him and shared some conversation over a cup of coffee. She didn’t have anything else to do at the moment. Still, she got his blood pumping more than any woman had