but that was a subject he had never liked to discuss. “Keep in mind that your sister could have left the Red Rocket with some man and be in California or Mexico by now. I still think you ought to go home and leave the search to the lawmen. Or hire a P.L”
“I can’t do that. I can’t sit idly by. I’ve always stood by my family. Someone has to.”
He felt another clash of wills. Anger pierced him. He reached across the table and retrieved his beer, tilting it to take a drink. He looked at her full lips. She said she didn’t date often. What did the woman do—hibernate? Whatever she did, she needed to go home now.
“Don’t go see those men.”
“I’m not accustomed to taking orders from strangers,” Emily replied, annoyed with his dictatorial attitude.
“Maybe you don’t like taking orders from anybody. You could easily put yourself in jeopardy. You’re out of your element in this part of the country.”
“I suppose I am, but I need to get some answers. And that includes questions about you.” Emily wondered about Zach and his ranch. Sheriff Nunez said Zach had inherited his ranch, which meant his family had roots in the area that went way back. He was no stranger to the people here, so why the reclusiveness? She thought about the locked gates and barbed wire and chain-link fencing, and about his standoffishness with neighbors.
“Why are you locked in? Isn’t that a little unusual for a rancher?”
“It gives me a feeling of security with the kids.”
She wondered about his answer—which really wasn’t an answer. The man seemed shut in his own world with a high fence around himself. Was he hiding from something—or someone? Emily started to ask him.
A small cry came from the doorway and they turned. Rebecca stood in the door, a tear on her cheek, her eyes sleep-filled and her expression forlorn. She wore pink pajamas with lace trim and teddy bears dancing over them, and her small feet were bare. She held a worn teddy in her arms and pulled a frayed, small blanket behind her. “Daddy?” Her lower lip was thrust out.
“Come here, baby,” Zach said softly, and she crossed the room to him.
Her question forgotten, Emily stared at Zach, amazed by the transformation in him. All the harshness about him seemed to fall away. He softened into a gentle, appealing man as he spoke tenderly to the little girl. At that moment he looked completely trustworthy and gentle. And vulnerable. Then he glanced around, and she looked into his dark eyes—and the feeling of danger returned. His shuttered look made her feel that he wanted to be alone.
Emily’s gaze went to Rebecca and she was again astounded. She could see a resemblance to her own childhood pictures, a resemblance to herself now. If Rebecca saw any similarity, it was of no significance to her. She glanced briefly at Emily, then went straight to Zach and reached up. He swung her into his lap and she snuggled against him while he cradled her in his arms.
“Did you have a dream?”
She nodded.
“We have company, Rebecca. This is your Aunt Emily. Aunt Emily, this is Rebecca, who is now four years old.”
Rebecca looked around and Emily felt the direct, assessing stare of the child.
Emily smiled. “Hi, Rebecca,” she said softly.
Rebecca blinked, tightened her lips, and turned her head against Zach, burying her face against his chest. She pulled her blanket up to hold it close.
Zach stroked her hair gently, and Emily was amazed again by the change in him. She was beginning to wonder what had possessed him to many Amber, but then all she had to do was think about Amber. Men were always dazzled by her. All men. Zach looked as red-blooded as they came.
“Sometimes she has bad dreams,” he said quietly, his breath blowing against wisps of Rebecca’s red curls.
“What do you do about the children during the day when you work?”
“I hired a woman to help with the kids. She lives in a small house on the ranch. During the week and on Saturday morning she stays until I get home. Vanessa Galban. The kids call her Nessie.”
“Then do you take care of them on Saturdays and Sundays?”
“Don’t sound so amazed.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged and looked down at Rebecca in his arms. “She’s asleep.”
“She’s a restless little sleeper.” He raised his head to look at Emily. “I’ll take her back to her bed. There’s an extra bedroom. You’ll have to wait while I make up the bed, but you can have that room.”
“Just give me the sheets and I’ll make the bed,” Emily said. She stood and carried her glass and his bottle to the counter. “I’ll get the light.”
He shifted Rebecca in his arms and went to check the lock on the back door. He switched on an alarm and then turned to join her.
“You’re careful,” she said.
“Not careful enough. If I had been on my guard, you wouldn’t have gotten so close to the house. I have yard lights, but I stopped bothering to turn them on at night. I’ll go back to it, now.”
“You’re worried about prowlers?”
“You should be more careful,” he said, avoiding an answer to her question and coming to stand only inches from her. She could detect the faint smell of beer on his breath. “You don’t know what your sister is involved in. I still think you should go home to Chicago in the morning.”
“No, I can’t.”
He shook his head and turned for the hallway. “Come on. I’ll put Rebecca in bed and get your sheets.” As he started out of the room, Emily picked up the scrap of paper the bartender had given her, then switched off the kitchen light.
Leaving Emily waiting in the upstairs hall, Zach carried Rebecca to bed. Then he returned to remove sheets from a linen closet, and directed her to a bedroom. Switching on the lights, he moved to the four-poster queen-size bed. Emily glanced around a room that held a hodgepodge of furnishings, a bookcase filled with books, a cedar chest, an armoire, a small chest, and a rocker.
“Unfortunately, this is an old house. There are only two bathrooms here—a small one connecting Becky’s and Jason’s rooms, and a big bathroom connecting my bedroom and this room. You can lock the doors when you’re in it.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you always do,” he said quietly, looking down at her. Her head came up. He touched the tip of her nose lightly with his finger. “You look like the capable type.”
“I’ve had to be. I’ll make up the bed.”
“Here,” he said, flipping back a comforter. “We can both get it made in half the time.” He snapped a fitted cover over the corner of the bed, while she bent to fit the opposite corner. They worked together efficiently. But she had to make an effort to concentrate on the sheets, and ignore the flex and play of his muscles as he bent and stretched. In minutes the bed was done.
“I’ll
